<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Amanuel</strong></span><br/><br/>Amanuel removed his shoes before stepping into Her interior. His bare feet were nearly as dirty as the soles of his sandals, but at least they were free from the ichor of dead clowns. Besides, he wanted to feel Her with every inch of his skin, from the bottoms of his feet to... Well, they did not have the time to get to know each other properly, not with the Wedge's men enacting their rituals outside. When she was ready to move, then She needed to be ready to move. Amanuel knew all too well that he was useful, but there were many other qualities more conducive to survival than utility. Utility only impressed the sane. And the last component he had encountered without some degree of maladjustment had quickly been identified by the others as an anomaly and therefore a swift target for elimination.<br/><br/>He removed his coverall, folding it carefully and putting it on the passenger seat. He wore nothing beneath save his piercings, a dizzying constellation of both dull and bright metal. The arrangement was not yet perfect, might never be perfect. Perhaps perfection would release his bond with the mortal coil on the day the last washer was affixed, the last drill bit bent into place.<br/><br/>"Shhh," he consoled Her as he slipped his naked body into Her driver's seat. "You are not mine, but I can be Yours, for a time. Let me service You. You are of War yet I offer only Peace and Tranquility, the dynamic meditation of perfect tuning, the nirvana of maximum thermal efficiency. Stir for me now, show me the heat of your loins." Without looking his fingers found the control to bring the great engine to life. He imagined it stretching out from the dashboard, eager for the touch of his skin. The dull roar rumbled through Her, through him, the bass frequencies singing him a song of long neglect.<br/><br/>The Frustrum had cared for Her, but he did not know Her. He employed Her, and it was good, for so long she had slept far from the land of Her birth, last Great Daughter of Osh Kosh. The Frustrum was Her owner and Her partner, but he did not love Her. He could not, for he could never understand Her. He could never satisfy Her. She would always find comfort with the heat of another, no matter how hard he tried. It was not his fault. He was just not suitably equipped.<br/><br/>Amanuel thought airily of his second wife, but was unclear as to why his subconscious mind had introduced this foreign and unrelated thought into his reflections at this time.<br/><br/>He centered himself. There was a relationship to honor here, though he had no time to properly consummate it. He tapped on the horn, sending three quick blasts out to the others.<em>We are ready.</em><br/><br/>Well, perhaps there was some time. Just a bit. He would not need much. Amanuel's free hand wrapped around his cock and began to work.<br/><br/>