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They thrashed and screamed against the tenacious grip of the artificial creature, she bit and clawed at it as it’s teeth same into her waist, this creature was eating her alive. Now that she knew what the flandamerite intended, she could see that Eva’s skin had the same cold, metallic sheen as ol’ flanny’s hide; Eva had been consumed but hadn’t died.
It’s quite fine here, Eva’s voice, bizarre as it was to begin with was further warped when she spoke even as she struggled, the words formed themselves, Anne was now convinced that the flandamerite had taken control of a few of her motor functions, Just be calm, Anne, it won’t hurt a bit. Soon it’ll all be over. Eva began to scream incoherently, it seemed that she was trying to speak against the will of the creature. Apparently she couldn’t do this but the message got across just fine.Don’t listen to it.

Matar’s face floated before her eyes, his humming sword in particular, it materialised in her hand. Apparently the place in which she found herself didn’t obey those scientific laws upon which she prides herself. With a savage grin she began to hack at the horrible form, chunks came flying off of it, melting into little puddles on the floor. She concentrated hard and heard Eva gasp in surprise, she had one too, together, they might even win against this superior being.

His very presence attracted her attention and, drawing her gaze from the warring Arias for just a second, she watched him as he made his way into the fray. It was inspiring, she had to admit, but it was also very intimidating. Something about the expression on his face told her that he wouldn't let anything stand in his way, not even his own friends, in order to destroy his enemy. And destroy it he would, she could just tell.

Shaking her head roughly, she returned her gaze to the S-1, replacing her pistol with an assault rifle from a downed Aria. It looked a little out of place on the end of her slender arms, but she possessed more than enough disproportionate strength to wield it with ease. She let from a blast of lead from the nozzle, still aiming for the eyes, for eyes it had even without a mask. Great, invisible, alien eyes. They taunted her wordlessly. Taunted? No... maybe studied. It had a face she recognised, a face that gazed upon her with an inquisitive expression. But she couldn't place it. Slowly, as it hypnotised her with its strange invisible stare, the sounds of battle quietened and were replaced by something else. A voice.

A2C...

The word meant nothing to her, but she guessed it was talking about her. Like it knew everything about her. It was repulsive.

A2C... it repeated, My, how you have grown...

That was the last straw. Closing her eyes and opening her lungs, Cyriel switched the rifle to full-auto and yelled out at the top of her voice. The report... the way she had just talked was exactly like the way the report had been written. It was terrifying.

Aria2...Aria2...Aria2...

The words, mingled with the sound of Matar's voice, caused Allen to stop sharply. His surprise was evident upon his face, his shock and his despair. They had found out... it was impossible. It was also unthinkable, which made the matter even more serious. How could they? It was just as he had read in so many books, life had ways of surprising everyone, especially when that life wasn't supposed to. His horror was enhanced further by the sound of Cyriel's scream, which pierced his psyche and made him weak at the knees. Yes, she would take this the hardest. She who was so human...

He turned around quickly, saying, "Matar, I will explain later..." but he soon realised that Matar had disappeared down the elevator shaft.

He turned back to his foe, now stock still and staring at him, oblivious to the bullets ricocheting off its armoured hide. Slowly, carefully, he started to walk forwards, placing his off-hand onto the metallic wrist of his punctured gauntlet, the fist of which was now tightly balled. The faster he came, the more fierce his expression, until finally, running along towards his enemy, he had returned to the expression of purest rage that had so filled his face not so long before. As his approach came to an end, he gave a battle-cry and leapt skywards, pushing his now open right hand towards the S-1.

There was a flash of blue light across his vision, like a sun.

The pain was instantaneous and hot like blazing irons. What ripped through what remained of his fist resembled the long, tendrillous form of the flandamerite, but it was also slightly different. It was red, for a start, and whereas the flandamerite was quiet and menacing, this new creature charged forwards with a cruel fury. It pushed easily towards the S-1, still attached by its roots to the remenants of Allen's flesh. The S-1 in return raised it's right arm to block, which was suddenly caught up in the vicious thorns, which wrapped around it tightly. There was a sound of crushing metal and, suddenly, the whole arm came away. That roar again, the roar of the S-1, which flailed about with its free hand clutching at its stump. A sloppy green-ish substance trickled from it like blood, sizzling on the floor as it hit. A similar substance eminated from the severed limb, but only for a while, as the second creature absorbed it with a malicious hunger. Allen's eyes had grown wide, his pupils small, and a clear ring of red ran around the outside of his eyeball. His breathing was heavy, like a beast's, as the creature in his arm slowly ate into his conscious and took control of him. Allen could feel himself slipping away bit by bit, but he would not rest until the S-1 lay in pieces at his feet.

The lights in the office went out again, this time to be replaced with a bizarre bluish-grey glow, he watched as Anne materialised slowly on the floor. She lay there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling before turning to look at him, there was a certain level of shock in her eyes, and it was then that he noticed a thin layer of hair between his skin and his clothes. Usually he almost hairless, especially on his back and chest, he wondered what on earth was going on, rudely squashing his feeling of confusion, Mark walked over to Anne and knelt down beside her.

“What the hell happened? He asked quietly, unsure why he kept his voice low, “Are you alright?” He looked into her eyes and was troubled by what he saw.

“The last time I saw him, he…” There was something wrong with her, that much was obvious, Mark wasn’t entirely sure it was the same Anne that he’d been speaking to so few minutes before. She sort of hummed. “He was in trouble.” He finished lamely, there was something in the air around her; a sort of smell, like that of another person, Mark sniffed a little, trying to work out what it was. It seemed that there was someone else with her, following her closely, perhaps even being her… -no, that can’t be right, she still smells like Anne-

Mark decided against mentioning the other smelland opened the door for his firend, "He looked like he was in a bad way, last time I saw him." she took a deep breath to sterady his nerves, it felt like his bones were humming, shifting, it was almost painful but not quite. He rushed headlong out of the door, not even lookng back to see if Anne was following him, "We need to hurry," he called to her, not even glancing over his shoulder.

The humming in his bones got louder, he wondered briefly if anyone else could hear it, it seemed so loud, he didn't stop to ask, instead he threw open door after door and rushed towards his commander.

He ran around the last corner to be confronted with blood, a giant puddle of it and Allen gone. Mark's first thought was highly irrational; Allen had been liquified. It then occured to him that he must have recovered or at least been carried off somewhere by some unspeakable beasty, ally or foe (you can never tell with Allen). He span on his heel, to see if Anne had followed but lost his step. Mark spun and landed face first in the depths of Allen's blood. He rolled onto his back quickly, trying to get the smell of Allen's pain and blood out of his nose.

The sound of Anne's footsteps clattered around him and the smell of blood, Allen's blood pounded on his head like a pnumatic drill. The humming of his bones pounded with it and began to creak and shudder as though they were trying to move.