He was sent to save your soul. He can't even save himself.
Welcome to the Incorporated States of New America, where spiritual growth comes with a service agreement, and Cass represents the absolute worst return on investment in corporate missionary history.
His performance metrics are genuinely impressive: zero successful conversions, negative territorial expansion, and a concerning tendency to get stabbed by his own recruitment targets. Elysian Dynamics has given him two weeks to prove he's not completely hopeless before subjecting him to Project Chrysalis—a process that definitely voids the warranty on his personality.
Enter Riot: a corporately modified Alpha-turned-Berserker whose emotional support animal is apparently his own barely controlled rage. He smells like strawberries and cream, which violates several known laws of biology, and he keeps interfering with Cass's recruitment efforts by preventing people from murdering him.
Every time Cass asks something innocent—which is constantly—Riot's carefully managed suppressants stage a full rebellion. Watching someone this genuinely kind blame himself for a system designed to exploit him triggers every possessive instinct his corporate programmers tried to bury.
Together, they're about to discover that some corporate policies are worse than death, some rescue missions require more than good intentions, and some bonds form despite every rational objection.
Because apparently, the heart wants what it wants, even when what it wants makes absolutely no sense.
