She’d ignored this question long enough, its size and consequences too much to bear. Since she’d left Cortex, her body had been stiff with tension, the enormity of Takamatsu’s offer overwhelming. The very idea of having an interlink, of leaving humanity behind, was repellent to her. She’d spent too much time in the filth of the streets to ever be able to leave that behind with a clear conscience; she couldn’t save humanity by turning her back on it. Where she had come from, and what she had been through, made her who she was. She needed nothing more, had no desire to be rich or a leader of men; she just wanted to live a life free of shortcuts. Her left hand was a piece of junk, but she would replace it herself. Takamatsu, Toko, the NYPD, and FBI could all go fuck themselves; she was nobody’s backup plan.