Orbital Detention Facility 045X
TSA Territorial Airspace
Holding Area Of Jail Scaglietti

The footsteps echoed against the faint, cool colourless walls of the cell in which Scaglietti was imprisoned. He was not afraid. The Legion knew well the scent of fear, for all that emotion twisted it and masked it into something unrecognisable. No, Scaglietti did not fear death. Perhaps he could sense the brimming lifeforms of the combat cyborgs in planets far from here, his creations, born from his genius. For as long as even one of them breathed and lived, the criminal feared nothing.

Scaglietti's eyes were on the Legion as it watched him, eyes fixed upon the base of his neck. His mind surged, almost uncontrollable, with possibilities and answers. Anything.

The door had not opened to admit his new "visitor". No, this creature had emerged silently from the air itself. It reminded of Scaglietti's of Sei's ability to forge gateways through stone and steel, through ceilings and walls.

He felt the laughter welling up his throat as he laid substance to his words.

"You are not one of mine," he chuckled.

Metal hissed against metal as fingers coalesced into a steel-like drill. The Legion raised an outstretched arm which ended in a perfectly smooth and constructed series of spikes, reaching out for the prisoner's head. This would not be quick, nor would it be without excessive pain, but it would most certainly be efficient.

Scaglietti was still laughing, in fits on the ground of the cell, laughing fit to burst. He clutched at his stomach, the shackles and binds on his body barely holding him together.

"Combat cyborgs!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath. "Sent to kill...me! Me! The irony of it..." The mad smile slashed across the side of his face for a second, disappeared and then was replaced by swift cunning. "Go on, cyborg. Do it. End my life." The mad chuckle built up deep inside his throat again, threatening to overtake him completely. "And when you do, I will live again once more – inside the bodies of my own creations! Free! Free to begin my plans once anew! Do it, cyborg – I have been waiting for this!"

The Legion stared at him for a moment, its unblinking eyes hidden deep inside the black husks of its own artificial features. It's AI cautioned it against conversation with its own victims, but the alien's own reasoning took precedent. It could do no harm.

"Negative," the creature said mechanically. Its voice was human and pleasant to the ear, but not the nature in which it spoke. "The TSA has neglected to tell you of all the facts. Your copies are deceased."

Scaglietti's right side of his face twitched spasmodically for an instant. "Deceased?" he repeated. "My combat cyborgs live on still, mechanoid. As will I!"

"True," intoned the Legion, taking a step forward. "Many of the combat cyborgs from the JS Incident are alive and well. However...as you were so willing to tell Fate Testerossa of how you intended to resurrect yourself, the TSA had prior warning of the copies lodged inside your creations." It paused for a moment as if to readjust the scope of the drilling arm. "Your "copies" have been removed from the bodies of all of the combat cyborgs by the TSA itself."

Uncertainty flashed across the criminal's face for an instant, wavering. "That's impossible," he muttered, "...impossible. Yes. I had it all planned!" The laughter came back to his eyes in an instant. "My copies could not have been removed. I made sure of that!"

"Negative," said the Legion with deadly certainty. "The TSA did not want to take the risk of you coming back in a world where one of your creations currently ran free. And not all of your cyborgs were entirely comfortable with having to prolong your life, in light of recent events. There are no copies, Jail Scaglietti. The only body you have is the one you are living in right now." The drill-arm came up to shoulder level. "You will not be coming back."

For the first time, the familiar stench of fear was ever-present in the cell. Scaglietti stared at the cyborg in front of him for a moment – was it even a cyborg? It didn't act anything like any of his own creations at all – as the helplessness of the situation dawned on him. At the same time, he didn't give in, didn't scream out for help or for the guards. The madness flickering in the inside maintained the illusion that the words he were hearing were lies. He couldn't die. He was going to live on. His science had to live on -

"Extended Skull Bind."

Savage chains shot out of the walls around Scaglietti, binding his neck and head in position. Panic and confusion struck him at this kind of move – there was a high-level AMF constantly in effect in his cell at all times. A spell of this kind shouldn't be possible...and why...Scaglietti was already bound by his shackles. Why did the creature want to bind his head?...instead of just killing him once and for all?...

"Cyborgs don't use high-class mage spells," he breathed through his constricted air passages. "What...why are you..."

The Legion lowered its right hand, the incantation complete. "My purpose here is not primarily to end your life," it said. "The effects of my actions, however, will not allow you to live."

"Wh-what...what do you - "

The drill-arm spun rapidly and reached out towards Scaglietti's forehead. "My client wishes to acquire your brain, Jail Scaglietti. It will not be kept alive, but we would prefer that it was kept warm."

The rapidly-moving machinery descended into the side of the criminal's head as the mad scientist struggled in the grip of the binds in vain. Blood spattered the walls of the cell and the screams began in mounting agony. Yet not one sound escaped the small confined room, blanketed out by silencing spells wielded by the Legion's right arm. In less than a minute, there was only silence.