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The fire was brutal, unrelenting as the Clunkers closed in on the Anthro's position. The manufactorium they holed up in was raining flakes of rust and chips of sythsteel. Vandal was picking off charging Clunkernaughts.

"Doktor! We have to leave! NOW!" Shouted the Wolf to his compatriot. The Dragon was working furiously to stabilize a hemorrhaging Anthropomorphic, his blood-soaked medickind coat a clear indication he was not succeeding. "No! I won't leave one!". "If we don't leave now, there won't be anyone left to save!" Retorted the Wolf, throwing himself off the ledge of the window as a .50 caliber ripped through the frame. Growling and shaking off dust, he leaped back to the window and pop a few more shots off.

Vandal ducked back down, venting the barrel and ejecting the spent plasma cylinder. Slamming a new cylinder in and closing the heat vents, the Wolf returned to the window, keeping low this time, picking off more Clunker's trying to assault them in the brief interlude of gunfire.

Doktor swore, holding back tears as he lost his forth comrade. "Grieve later! We have to go! Grab their dog-tags and your rifle, and GO!" shouted Vandal, clearly about drag Raurien by the horns if he had to.

"Fuck... whatever... Which way is out?" Muttered the Dragon between heavy sighs. He secured the dog-tags and checked over his rifle, reading himself again for the battle ahead. Vandal muttered prayers as duo ran through the crumbling manufactorum. At times, Raurien wondered if the prayers where truly for what Vandal said they where, or, rather, as a means for the Wolf to stay centered and collected. No matter, a question for if they survive this war of Mans'.

"This way! We'll sneak out the back garage and-" The Wolf was cut off, rubble collapsing, choking the air with rust and dust and ash. The two stopped, waiting for their vision and lungs to clear. Synth-metal, jutted and twisted, pilled high and jagged, blocked the path. "Dammit! Okay, we'll drop down a few levels, go through the assembly yards!"

Doubling back, the duo made their way to a service staircase. Quickly as they could, descending the iron steps in leaps and bounds, ever ready to engage ant Clunker's making their way up to rout out the anthro's. A dreaded idea, as a stairwell is not at all the optimal conditions to fight in, between no space to fire a rifle properly, as well as the sheer strength the Augment's can have in hand-to-hand combat.

Unhindered, the two exited onto a landing that lead to the gangplanks and catwalks overlooking the assembly yards, the vast cavern opening up before them. Across six assembly lines, Machine Men where struggling to start the mechanical components to a large tower that stretched the height of the manufactorium; the terminus point was that of multiple orbs affixed to coils.

"Uh, I think those are Lightning Coils..." muttered Raurien. "Ya, I uh, think they are... Wouldn't happen to be wearing any Insulating Coils under that medic smock, would you?"

"Fuck no..."

"Run!"

As the duo sprinted off across the catwalks, a low hum reverberated through the entire causeway of the assembly yards. Vandal's fur began to stand on end, and a dull ache began in the back of Raurien's head. Growing louder still, the hum became a low static hiss, resplendent energy brought up and empowered through the dark rituals of techno-craft.

Without warning, the Machine Man tending the to towering coil, began to convulse and spasm, flailing and stuttering, his vox box blurting out guttural words and static screams in binary, in a poor attempt to bring the Lightning Coil to heel. For his transgression, he was engulfed in sparks and arching electricity, before finally being turned to slug then evaporated in a flash of blinding light. The other complaining Machine Men where pleading in binary for the Lighting Tower to return to dormancy, but already angered at having been aroused, uncompleted and fractured, lashed out at it's rescinding of awakening. Lighting poured from the tower, reducing the other Machine Men to husks, withered and dried.

Fully awakened, the Lighting Tower turned it's anger to the surrounding environment, discharging into cognatior banks and construction equipment, exploding much into a virulent of colour and sparks. Flames rose from deformed motors and various stagnate fluids. Lighting ripped metal and sheered plates asunder, the scream of metal-on-metal echoing through the assembly yards.

Vandal struggled to not let his hyper-senses overload his mind and cause him to black out, reciting litany after litany to focus his mind and keep his feet moving. Raurien was struggling simply to block out the pain of excess energy from melting his mind. The catwalk seemed endless, explosions rocking them to and fro as the structural integrity of the metal began to weaken, bolts shaken from housing and support beams buckling and snapped. Only one way to go, pelted now by shrapnel and molten metal, the lighting arching closer to where it was, the rage of such a machine reaching near critical heights.

The catwalk buckled and screamed as metal sheered, crumbling to rust as lightning sang through the framework. The two sprang forth, clasping an armature each. Helping each other up, they struggles across the crumbling planks, lighting arching over there heads, disintegrating the intrinsic lacework and frescoes on the roof and walls, countless pictorials of rituals and construction techniques, destroyed in a flash of light.

Hauling themselves into the next stairwell, the duo panted hard, sprawled out on the floor, fire and flames lapping at the frame of the door, electricity arching and crashing against the reinforced walls. They quickly regained their composure, and quickly having their wits about them, sprinted forth through the assembly yards, lighting and thunder reaching for their tails. The catwalks shook and the air stank of ozone, static pulling and arching at Vandal's fur, a buzzing of a hive of bees in Raurien's skull.

Then the cavern of metal was still and silent, the duo slowing to jog as they looked back at the crumbling Lighting Tower.

A great flash of light, tinged blue and disintegrating, spread forth from the mechanical death machine, enveloping itself into its own sphere of destruction, soundless in nature and spreading ever-forth as a wind of plague and decay.

In a renewed sense of agency, the Dragon and Wolf sprinted forth, knowing well they would be consumed by a maw of light. Still, they ran, pressing their xeno and engineered muscles to their limits. A force they could not stand against swept them from their feet and batted them to the ground floor of the assembly yards, smashing through wiring and piping; caustic chemicals and burning fluids wrapped them in a cocoon of acid and stringent; toxic smoke and acrid fumes scorched their lungs and stomach.

Finally, what they could perceive of having been hours tumbling through hell (for those who lack an imagination of what this pain could be felt as), instead hit the jagged and ruined ground floor of the assembly yards. Gaping chasms exposed sparking wires and burst pipes, slag dripped from melted machines and toppled ore foundries. Nothing was left untouched, light illuminating the smoked clouded epicenter of the flash, no traces of the Lighting Tower ever having been constructed was left, only a gaping, glass and glowing slagged maw marking the area of detention.

Vandal coughed up black fluids, or was it blood and bile? Tasting of metal and chemical fumes, the Wolf spat it out anyway, caring not think of what he swallowed as he gasped for air in the dizzying tsunami of retina-scorching light. He blinked away the burning light from his vision, slipping and squirmed in the oil-thick fluids that clung to every strand of fur and orifices. He felt through the rubble, crying out for his lost companion, but only garbles of more of that black acrid fluids spilled from his maw, polling and coalescing with the myriad of other puddles that began to singe his fur and sting his flesh.

His vision cleared, his ears no longer filled with a buzzing and ringing noise. Steadying himself and orientating his thoughts, praying to his Lady most beloved as best as he could muster his cognitive functions, stood tall, shaking and stumbling slightly as he began to comb through the wreckage and ruins for his friend. A garble of words mixed with moans of pain filtered over the sounds of burning wreckage and exploding components.

Digging through concrete blocks and metal slabs, he found Raurien, half submerged in black slug, as thick as tar and hot to the touch. Clawing through this wrap of poison, Vandal pulled out the broken and battered body of his dragon friend, who gasping for air and coughed up the thick tar. Vandal wiped what he could of the tar and sludge off of Raurien, slowly hauling his body up and out of the rubble and onto a generally dry pile of debris.

"Breath dam you, breath!" Vandal pried open Raurien's maw and scooped out what he could see and reach of the tar in the dragon's gullet and throat, more pooling out as the dragon took staggered breaths. "Cough it out, you think skull bat-brained brat! Cough!" In a shower of tar and spittle, Raurien heaved hard, drawing in fresh breath and panting painfully fast as his lungs struggled for more air. "What...What happened..." The dragon muttered before he started to drift off, eyes fluttering as his brain became fully aware of the body's injuries.

"Dammit! Stay awake! We need to leave before the Clunker's show up!" Vandal was straining to speak as his eyes twitched in despair, a bead of water forming in his vision. "She... calls..." Murmured Raurien, "Time...to go... home..."

"NO!" Cried Vandal, struggling to hold his composure. "Not yet..." a whimper in in the cacophony of destruction happening around them. Hauling his friend up and over his shoulder, Vandal held tight as his burning muscles and aching joints struggled to support the excess weight. His body was struggling to repair itself after such a strenuous flight, never mind support itself, how his brain simply had not shut down into a coma state to quicken the metabolic functions, he did not know. He simply focused on carrying them both out of what has become a burning wreck of a city.

The explosion must have loosened something, as a low tremble worked through the ground and rubble, a ring in the air echoing from every pipe and tunnel. Slogging through dank water and jagged metal, Vandal struggled in his endeavor, continuing on in spite of the growing pain coursing through his body, his engineered body failing to keep pace with his injuries and the added stress.

Still, he continued on, muttering a small plea, the Litany of Forgiveness slipping from his lips, breaking only to draw breath, vapor collecting at the bottom of his lungs. He struggled to pull his feet from the mire, sludge pooling and weighing down his boots and sinking him deeper into the waste around them. He stumbled, Raurien gasping in pain as Vandal tempted to steady himself, knowing if he was to collapse here, it would be the mire that would claim them, the rubble making a fine tomb.

A cold breeze, unlike anything inside this wrecked maze of concrete and synthsteel. The Wolf's ears twitching, thinking he had heard a song on the breeze. He turned his head, a tunnel that was untouched, speckles of ice hanging in the air. What choice did he have right now? Pebbles rained down on their heads, a strut coming lose and tumbling to the massive factory, spewing dust and rubble in the air when it impacted.

Looking up, a chunk of the roof started to heave, cracks spider-webbing over top of their heads. Vandal heaved Raurien on to his back once more, straining his broken body once more; coxing his weary soul onward again. Step by step, the cracking of rock above his head making his ears twitch in worry. He cried and pleaded with his Lady to give him one last ounce of strength, and with a great, strained howl, launched himself up and over the jagged concrete and synthsteel, for but a moment, feeling all of eternity slip away from his conscious mind. A flash of light from the tunnel, crystal wings reaching from the darkness itself; a pair of immaculate hands, reaching for them.

When he woke, Raurien was out cold next to him, motionless. The Wolf blinked hard a few times, coughing as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the stark blackness that engulfed them. He knew not how they had landed a meter or so clear of the entrance, knowing not even a Kangaroo fully loaded with one's wargear could have leap that far. Looking back, it was best that they had landed where they did, a part of the roof having landed and rolled partially into the hallway, support struts sticking out as a spiked tire.

Now able to see, and their imminent death having been postponed, Vandal had noticed that wherever they where, it could have easily fitted one of the Clunker's heavy tanks with space for infantry to walk three across along the walls. Thinking a vehicular depot might be further along, the Wolf checked the Dragon once over, vital signs there, barely. With a quick murmur of the Cant of Thanks, Vandal took Raurien into his arms, and with a grunt of pain, lifted from his knees, taking a slow, uneasy steps.

_ "One in front of the other..."_Vandal urged himself on, his legs remembering how to walk steadily, his body slowly regaining its strength, his mind clearing and slowly focusing ahead of him. Ahead was a light, blue in tint, ice crawling along the walls with more of the ice flakes hanging heavily now in the air. Vandal noticed too, that there was more cables, conduits, and piping slowly worming across the roof and high walls, becoming thicker and more tangled the further he walked on.

What had seemed like hours (minutes though, his mind long having lost track of time), they arrived into a chamber, doused in low blue light. Icicles clung to the ceiling, frost making the air crisp. Upon a grand dais, sheath in a glinting blue light that danced around the base as if the aurora was beneath it, stood an impressive Panzermann battle unit, primed and waiting for an occupant.

Vandal stood still, staring upon the steel steed. Looking down at Raurien, limp and unresponsive, the Wolf decided on his next course of action. Was it not fate, that She would have led him here? Although, the prospect of entombing his closest companion, quite possibly for the rest of the dragon's natural lifetime and indefinitely for the rest of the machines operation, was a heartbreaking decision he would have to grapple with for the rest of his own existence. How Raurien would handle it, if he even lived, was altogether another set of questions he had no time to answer.

Running up the icy steeps to the awaiting chrome throne, Vandal heaved Raurien up and into the cold innards of the machine, tears glinting down his cheeks as the machine roared to life in a scream of steel hydraulics and warning sirens, the weight of what he had done, of the life he had sealed of his most cherished companion, bearing down on his exhausted and ruined body.

Taking a few steps back, the battle unit began to seal itself as body bracers closed in around the lifeless dragon, life-sustaining tendrils snaking around his limbs and puncturing the silken skin as the needle slid effortlessly through the scales. A red glow emitted as the battle unit snapped closed with a hiss, a dense fog now filling the pilot's throne and obscuring the view-port and Raurien's face. The siren's lazy wail turned to a frenzy bleating, the room now enshrouded in blood red light. A women's voice came over a vox nestled in the chaotic mess of wires and pipes in the roof.

** "WARNING! XENO TISSUE DETECTED WITHIN PANZERMANN BATTLE UNIT! PURGING UNIT WITHIN SIXTY SECOUNDS! LET NOT THE UNCLEAN SULLY THE PURE!"**

The Wolf did not need to finish translating the warning before he sprinted to the nearest console. At least one could rely on the Clunkernaught's Machine Priests to make the main console the largest to double as a shrine to the Machine God. Quickly summoning up his Russian to English, Vandal took to navigating the sub-menu's riddled, convoluted wording, and redundant ritual speak and instructions, to find the necessary overrides. The alarms returned to their lazy wail, the voice booming over the speaker again.

** "PRIMARY OVERRIDE INITATED. BEGINNING PRIMARY MEDICAL SUSTANINMENT. PROGRESS: PRELIMINARY INTEGRATION FINISHED. BEGINNING FLUID INTEGRATION. LOOK TO YOUR TOOLS TO GUIDE YOU."**

** "WARNING! LIFE-SIGNS ABSENT! BEGINNING EMERGENCY RESUSCITATION! STAND BACK! REMEMBER YOUR RITUALS AND PRAYERS!"**

The Wolfe's fur began to stand on end, a faint buzzing grew before a low click of discharge sounded. Silence, then the buzz returned, slightly louder this time, the same click, then silence. It was the third time that he realized that it was a defibrillator within the unit itself attempting to restart the dragon's still heart.

** "INITIATE EMERGENCY MEDICAL AID! ADRENALIN DUMP INITIATED. INCREASING DEFIBRILLATOR STRENGTH. OXYGEN TUBE INSERTED. STAND BACK! THE FLESH IS TO BE MADE BETTER BY STEEL! ACTIVATING AUTOMATED MEDICAL ASSISTANT MATRIX. STAND BACK! TRUST IN YOUR MACHINE TO AID YOU!"**

The Wolf watched in horror, the clarity of his mistake becoming more apparent as the automated systems within ran through a checklist of medical aids administered. Synthetic blood was pumped through the dragon's veins, clotting agents applied to open wounds that were still slick with coagulated platelets, electrical conduits applied to specific areas to mimic natural rhythms and life-sustaining pumping. Pinpoint lasers seared closed deep wounds as pincers closed larger ones and staples fried to keep them close. A terse silence suddenly filled the chamber.

Once more, the lady bellowed across the air.

** "LIFE SIGNS DETECTED! PRAISE THE MACHINE GOD! RESUMING PRIMARY INTEGRATION. FLUID CONDUIT INTEGRATED SUCCESSFULLY. PRIMARY NEURAL INTEGRATION INITIATED. STAND BY! THE WEAK ARE TO BE SEPARATED FROM THE STRONG OF MIND!"**

A laser carved through the scales to expose the skin beneath, a scalpel now making shallow cuts between the vertebrae. Small gold inlets were inserted, the tips resting against the nerves of the spine. All along the Dragon's broken body, neural conduits where cut and placed within, his entombment within nearly complete.

** "PROGRESS: NEURAL INTEGRATION COMPLETE. BEHOLD THE WHEAT OF YOUR LABOUR! TESTING NEURAL LINKAGE. STAND BY! THE LIFEFROCES COURSES THROUGH ALL MACHINES! LINKAGE SUCCESSFUL! YOUR DESTINY BE DONE, HIS WILL MADE MANIFEST! RUNNING HARDWARE TESTING! GUIDE THE MACHINE AS IT GUIDES YOU! TESTING SUCCESSFUL! RUNNING SOFTWARE TESTING! THE MACHINE KNOWS BEST! TESTING SUCCESSFUL!"**

** "BEHOLD: THE PANZERMANN INTEGRATED BATTLESUITE! BEHOLD: HE WHO HAS GIVEN EVERYTHING, AND WANTS OF NOTHING!"**

The sirens silenced, the room turning gently to a hue of blue as the conduits and wires fell away, gas and mists escaping as the Panzermann slowly came alive. Stepping slowly up to unit, Vandal slowly held his paw out to touch the chase, the cold metal strange and alien to his fingers.

"Raur... Raurien?..." Vandal whispered. No reply came, only the whine of the power pack keeping the machine active and functional.

Suddenly, the suit lurched up and back, the Gatling gun spinning up, the Panzerfaust rocket launcher clicking as safeties where released. A cry echoed from the vox unit, cold and metallic, the crackling of the transmitter as it pushed out a sound beyond its range. A low burble and gargling seeped out, the arms flinging back and forth, legs taking uneasy steps back and forth, vying to topple over. Finally, the unit settled down, lowering itself and gazing into the eyes of Vandal, who could finally see his beloved friend's eyes back through the view slot.

In a low, raspy and broken breaths, a voice came through the vox, one that was devoid of the warmth and eagerness to learn that Vandal once knew of in boot camp. Instead, grating and cold, anger underpinning every word that seeped from the mouthpiece.

"What... have... you... done... to me?..."

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Raurien... I had to save you..."

"What... have... you... done?... Why... is the world... so cold..."

Tears streamed from the Wolfe's eyes, unable to bare the weight of his actions anymore.

"Vandal... where... are... you?... Is this... my punishment... for Archangel?..."

"I had to save you... So I put you in a Panzermann battlesuite..."

The metallic body of Raurien slowly straighten itself, the machine still as it's pilot began to access the full programming of his living sarcophagus.

The room rattled and shock with the fury and despair of the realization of Raurien's new prison. Raising the weaponize arms of the Panzermann, the Dragon screamed to the heavens, realizing what had happened to him baring down in his drug-addled mind; the dream of flying among the amber and amethyst skies of his home-world, now but as foreign as the metal encasing his broken body.