She stopped breathing. The warm shock of the man’s body against her side was nearly enough to make her short-circuit. Never had she been touched in such away, and honestly, she’d forgotten what flesh even felt like. Without her hands, it was only the tops of her limbs in combination with her head and torso that had functional skin. Even if the man’s clothes were wet, she could feel the warm press of his skin beneath the softened fabric. The flesh of his shoulder was firm with an inner softness; it was almost like pressing against a cushioned spring. 

Nemesis let out a small huff, shuddering as her nerves came back to life. The man must have known that she was having difficulty standing, much less walking, because his arm wrapped around her back and effectively held her to his side. His hand, coming to rest on her waist, felt like something of a hot beacon. Had he any idea it was the very first time she’d ever felt skin with her own?

[i]He’s so… soft. I do not understand. Organic matter is weak, so easy to tear apart, yet this is the strength delivering me now.[/i] Humans were… different up close, that much was becoming clear to her. It took her a moment to regain her senses, but it was much easier to move when she could lean her weight on him, dragging her bad leg between them. Her head was sagging away from the man, and she honestly didn’t have energy to spare in correcting her posture, but the only thing that mattered was that she could see the ground and move accordingly.

She wasn’t eager to go through the fence again, but the human had done a decent job in clearing a path. When they were through it, she felt a new buzz of energy: they were really heading back towards human society. What awaited her amid those strange lights and shadows?

"Since it seems like I might have to help you for a little while, mind telling me what you go by? You can call me 'Zac.'” His tone was still light, almost soothing in its calmness. Then again, he wasn’t in the middle of freezing to death.

“My designation…” Nemesis stopped short, realizing in a spark of thought that her designation, Nemesis, was not actually a name. She’d been called that by the drone testers because she was the “Boss Level,” their literal nemesis. Her purpose no longer seemed to be a nemesis, and thus, her designation was meaningless. If the human was going to help her stumble from the abyss, then—

“Call me by whatever title you deem most fitting… Zac.” She wasn’t sure if Zac was a title of command or one of those personal titles called ‘names,’ but she found she had an inherent liking of its sound. “My former designation no longer serves a purpose in my identification.”