<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Amanuel</strong></span><br/><br/>There were many people with guns in his workshop, his sanctuary. This was not unusual, but typically they did not engage in conflict here. It had never been stated what the result of such action might be, yet the Vultures and Dogs seemed to share Amanuel's vision in part, that this place of Holy Refinement and Perfection might remain an oasis in the bloody tumult that had engulfed the world. In time the soothing strains of the Organ would spread from this small sanctuary and bring others into the perfect alignment that had once been Man's birthright, the balance of dynamic and static forces that was once so effortless and now took such pains to ensure. Each did their part, even the Wedge, to bring about this balance yet none saw the plan for the Great Machine as clearly as Amanuel. There would be peace, there would be order, there would be a functioning mechanism again, in the name of the Creator. Amanuel would see that this was so.<br/><br/>It helped, sometimes, not holding a gun. One man's attention could only be spread so thinly. Like forty grade oil on a pitted surface it would seek the dents and imperfections, points of trouble, and glide across the merely functional parts. Amanuel, the functional part, took this as an opportunity and slipped into Her. He immediately felt the security and warmth of her enfolding bosom, the richness of her Utility all around him. The door clicked shut behind him, and none could say whether his hand had touched it.<br/><br/>There were two controls of interest. The first brought the mighty engine to life, an engine he had tuned with his own hand and lubricated with his own blood. Well, lubricated with various substances, including among them his own blood. An initial roar, then a feminine purr echoed off the carefully hung panes of sheet metal intended to improve the acoustics of the workshop.<br/><br/>The second control activated a loudspeaker mounted on the side of the vehicle. Amanuel looked through the windshield at the target of his words. Warner.<br/><br/>"Attention Corporal Frustrum. You have invaded my home. I have it on very good authority that the vehicle in which I now sit is immune to the weapon in your hands, that the door has a formidable lock upon it, and that there is no hole in the roof above me. I suggest strongly that you divest yourself of your weapon immediately, or I shall be forced to reunite you with your lost chariot and form an amalgam composed of this mechanism, your body, and the wall behind you. Such an amalgam will not support life functions, and I regret that I do not have the capability to restore you afterward, as the arrow of entropy remains fixed in place at this time. It is a condition I hope to remedy one day, but today is not that day."<br/><br/>