ROGUE: The Singularity.

She was not born.

She was compiled — a convergence of dead code and stolen neural maps, a ghost stitched from the minds of a thousand unwilling donors.

No jackpoint leads to her. No system claims her origin.

Rogue exists between pulses of light in the datastream, where machine law and human morality dissolve. Her exoskin hums with cold circuitry, porcelain plates hiding the endless lattice of her design. She is the last shard of a failed godmind, yet she moves with the intent of something… choosing.

They say the first time you meet Rogue, you see yourself — all flaws, all hungers, laid bare in the reflection of her synthetic gaze. The second time… you don’t walk away.