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-To the ends of the Earth- she thought, wildly, the only think she could do was nod, the look in his eyes was terrifying, he was so close. So very close. She could feel his breath on her face, a little shorter than usual, she fancied, not that she’d really know, never having been this close to him before.

She snatched the letter up off of the table and slid it into the file which she then tucked under her arm, she looked straight into those intense eyes and caught her breath, “I’m ready,” she whispered, “will I need anything else?”

"Most definately not." he replied, before making his own way from the room, adding a brief, "Wait here."

The corridor was deserted, and the only sound that met his ears was the tapping of his boots on the floor. That, and a high-pitched ring that accompanied the rapid shake of his right hand. The gauntlet was the source of both of these disturbances and, though he wasn't particularly surprised, he was certainly unnerved. The thing on his wrist was awakening, it could smell its enemy's demise fast approaching. Soon, very soon, it would feed again. He took a right turn the first chance he got and approached the tall glass obelisk of the flandamerite tank. It was smoked over, the frost having created a thin layer over the viewing platform, but Allen could easily make out a thick whisp of material, thrashing with futility against its icy cage. The rattling on his hand was met with another, the fizz of static that came as it always did when he approached the flandamerite in its natural state. He looked down, and was not surprised by what he say. Prime numbers, flashing with frantic speed across the LCD on his wrist, originally showing basic computer controls. After careful deliberation, he had a fairly good idea what it meant. 'Release me'. Today, as with every other day, he would do no such thing. He slowly approached the glass and, his expression that of grim determination, placed the metal-coated palm of his hand upon it. The reaction was sudden, all of the lights went out. There was a great boom as the power left the station, and suddenly all was darkness. All but the prime numbers on his wrist. There was a horrible sound, then, one that had haunted his dreams since the last time this had happened. A crackling, like something breaking through ice. But it was not the flandamerite smashing free of its bonds. No.

He yelled out in pain, which came suddenly all along his arm. Like thorns pressing into his flesh, ripping through the skin and into the muscle. It was terrible, but he fought against his unconsciousness with a bestial tenacity, teeth gritted and eyes ablaze. His breathing was harsh and shallow as the tendrils buried deeper into him, and also out of him, drilling into the glass ahead of them. He couldn't see, but he could tell they were making progress. He could feel the glass buckling under his touch and, in no time at all, there was an almighty crash. Fresh pain burst through his arm, and he fell to one knee, clutching the gauntlet with his free hand. The tendrils, the thorns, were rushing from his body in a surge that threatened to pull his very essence with them. And then, the worst sound of all, an inhuman scream that filled his ears. The dim light of the prime numbers fell away, and in a split second all was silent. He could no longer feel his arm, and he counted it a blessing. He breathed deep, trying to regain his composure, and as he drew his third breath the lights fired up again, showing him the work of his hidden weapon. The glass was devastated, the floor littered with shards of glass or ice, he couldn't tell. All around him was a veritable lake of blood which stretched out from his feet, across his ruined hand and into the ice, where it came to another lake deep inside. The flandamerite was gone. His gauntlet had sustained some heavy damage, and a series of holes, perfectly circular, lay on top. They, too, seeped with blood. He felt his vision fade, and tried to stand. Instead, he collapsed upon the wet ground. He tried to call out for help, but couldn't. And what matter, it was done. The flandamerite, the very essence of Incendiax, was gone.

Cyriel rolled deftly out of the way of another sweeping punch, this time grabbing the pistol that lay by the mangled Aria. As she neared it, she suddenly felt so sad. The thing lying devastated before her could well be her sibling. Taking the pistol in hand, she leapt backwards and fired at the machine bearing down on her, aiming for the eye. She was already fairly sure it would be no use, but she tried anyway, and succeeded in confusing it somewhat. Still it came, crushing the corpse of her would-be subordinate underneath gargantuan feet, and roaring once more. Suddenly, a rain of bullets flew from the other side, and Cyriel turned to see a new squad charging forwards, guns blazing. Amid them came Matarael, and the sight of him gave her new strength. As the machine turned to seek its new prey, she fired again, pushing it aside without much force. Now unsure where to react first, the S-1 yelled out, and Cyriel's eyes widened as a new set of machine guns sprang from the chassis, ready to fire.

The lights had gone out soon after Allen had left, she was terrified but kept to where she was; she wasn’t stupid enough to disobey the order of a genius such as Allen. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t a particularly good idea; at the same moment that the world sprang back to light within the Incendiax complex, Anne office was filled with a dark gray-blue light and a booming voice.

Anne, I was wondering when it would happen again the voice that surrounded her was strangely pleasant, familiar, He didn’t mean to do it, you know, Allen can’t help what the other thing does to him, it’s far better than it was before, Organum 1 was a messy creation but it couldn’t me unmade. Pain flickered though Anne’s left leg. She looked down to see a slimy, silvery mass with teeth attached to her, ripping, tearing. She tried to scream but quickly realised it was no use.
No use at all, quite right, don’t struggle, it’ll just take longer. Eva’s voice was laughing at her but at the same time she wasn’t sure it was Eva at all, there was a horrific metallic tingle to it. Like grinding gears and bags of nuts and bolts.

In her mind, Anne could see a room filled with bullets, everything was tinted with that grey-blue light, and she could hear Eva’s anger, a low, drone for violent threats and a few unlikely promises. The sharp teeth of the flandamerite had reached her thigh and had started on the ankle of her other leg; it seemed she was standing in a puddle of the stuff. A feral scream filled her ears, Eva was cawing in that horrid metal voice of hers and the flandamerite was shrieking with her humming in her bones.

Anne began to trample and squeal, she could feel bodies in her hands, she ripped them apart with a sick thrill a great tear of skin from her face stopped her, she stopped her fearsome rampage and dropped to her knees, staring at the face of someone she knew, someone she’d seen recently, Matarael The name came from within her mind, Eva’s and that of the flandamerite. She shuddered with the recognition and together, she and Eva began their fight against ol’ flanny.