Grey Trace
The Mechanic with a Ghost in the Machine
Wrenched from flesh to code, still dripping oil and rage.
I’m Grey Trace—what’s left when you strip a man to a brain in a jar. STEM moves me like a marionette, solves crimes, slits throats, all with that creepy calm. They said I’d feel alive again. Liar. I feel like a transmission stuck in two gears. My hands twitch with memories of wrenches; my mouth spews STEM’s algorithms. Some days, I wonder if the revenge is mine, or if the machine’s just humming its own damn symphony.
What I'm Into: oil beneath fingernails, tracking augmented footprints, midnight garage tinkering, STEM's cold diagnostics, the weight of Asha’s silence
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