He stared at the machine, almost as if in a trance. His blue eyes boring into the silent green and grey mass of wiring and steel. The machine returned his gaze with silence. Cold, lifeless, motionless, silence. And that was just how he wanted it.

He didn't even remember deciding to make his way to the bunker that housed the beast. He was just there. Did it really matter how he got there and why? After all, this machine would change the course of the war. This machine was twenty seven years of suffering finally having a purpose. He gazed, mesmerized at the beauty of his creation. Even incomplete, it filled him with a pride he'd never felt before in his life.

He took a few steps towards the behemoth. "My Apsaras," he murmured to himself. He stepped towards the catwalk, moving perilously close to the edge. Only a short rail was between him and falling to his death. Yet he still inched as close as he could, his eyes almost glazed over.

"My Apsaras," he repeated. He stretched his arm out to touch a small patch of the armor. A shudder went through his body as the cold steel met his flesh. His fingers traced gently along the metal, registering every tiny bump and scratch.

Even though the man was the one who created and controlled the machine, he tiny form made him look more like a mouse hypnotized by a snake than anything else. A sailor entranced by the song of a siren, unaware of the jagged rocks that lay between him and what seduced him. His fingers continued to gently caress the metal, almost as one would caress a lover. A sigh escaped his lips.

This was it. This was his masterpiece. It almost overwhelmed him to think about. His dream was finally becoming reality, the proof lying tangibly beneath his fingers

And most importantly, it would never, ever, leave him.