"It's better," he repeated. There wasn't much actual reasoning going into what he was doing right now. His mind felt foggy enough. Like times back then when he really hadn't realized what he was doing, early on.

This time was better, wasn't it? He'd chosen this for himself. No one had sold him out, left him to be taken prisoner and tortured until he started doing what his captors told him. He'd simply come, heard the call. The others hadn't been violent, just brought him far in enough to see reason.

"That doesn't matter. None of it matters here."

So why was Miller trying to talk him out of it? Didn't he see that it'd be better here?

No. It wouldn't be better here. It would be wrong here, Miller was right. Even if it was less violent, even if he hadn't been betrayed by his country, even if he'd come down here of his own free will, this wasn't him.

Never be game over. It's not over yet. Wasn't going along with this giving up? Miller was absolutely right. He'd had to deal with being a flawed clone. With not being able to really be himself. With living in his father's shadow, created to not be able to live up to it. Was he giving up all his efforts just to become part of... whatever this was?

But it wasn't over. He still had more people to help. Starting with Miller.

His face looked more troubled than blank, even as he tried to guide Miller farther into the base. It was clear he didn't fully believe it. It was a lot of trouble trying to fight it, and trying to fight himself trying to fight it. "What?"