And yet, watching the man who had crafted so many bombs for you unravel, your cry of warning catches in your throat.
After you were unmade and came to be once more, you noticed you stopped feeling empathy for those you killed. You assumed it was the transformation. That you simply couldn't care anymore. That that part of you had died.
And yet, as your friend and his livestock meet their own brutal end, you start to scream at the oncoming nothing.
He made you what you are. An invincible wall. A stalwart foe to all who would touch him. A man once more, and simultaneously more than any man who had ever been.
The cybernaut was always fragile. He passes through the veil faster than any other. You barely have time to register his consumption before he's gone.
You had helped your master construct his mighty fortresses. Helped him find the secret to air travel. Stood by his side no matter what. Protected him from every attempt made on his life.
The shrikes try to attack their end, the fools. They don't realize the futility of trying to destroy nothing.
You were there, every time! Had you not served him unflinchingly? Even when his orders sat wrong in your gullet? Had you not earned your place in his new world order? Why would he betray you like this now?
You can see your master now. He glances at you, a look of sadness on his usually impassive face. You return the look and face the void, accepting your end.
The entry goes up on the blog. He looks at it with a feeling that sits heavy in his gut. A world of ideas rests in his mind, stories unfulfilled. It was just a work of fiction, nothing more.
But he can't help but think that, right as the entry finished, he heard something. A whisper from a man made of shadows. A quiet plea from an implacable ally, who would stand by him to the end.
"Thanks for the ride."