Blind Mag strode to her dressing room like a robotic creation of the world in which she lived, not feeling the cool brass of the doorknob on her fingers as she entered her dressing room. Sinking down into the seat before her vanity mirror, Mag gazed at her reflection. The lenses of her famous eyes shifted in adjustment to the light, focusing on the pale face belonging to the Voice of GeneCo.

These eyes were useless to her now and had been so the moment Marni and Shilo had died. Mag felt no pride in her singing, felt nothing for anyone - not even Nathan Wallace, who used to be her one connection with the life she had once thrived in. Mag only felt disgust for the world in which she belonged, a world devoid of goodness and love and anything worth living for. Shriveling like a dead rose, society had become a superficial hell, with Death waiting just around the corner for anyone vapid enough to walk into his arms.

There was little Mag could do to break the never ending current of loathsome nothingness she was immersed in. Glaring at this hopelessness, Mag turned away from her mirror, unable to look at the eyes which were her constant reminder of the bond which kept her from her freedom. Once she had thought the eyes were beautiful. Now she hated them. They itched like crawling bugs, sometimes, and she felt the desire to pull them out.

At least, she consoled herself, she had been marked for repossession. Her mind drifted back to the uncomfortable moment in which she had informed her employer of her departure.

"You realize, Mag, that you cannot keep both your eyes and your money. You will have to pay the remainder of your debt if you wish to leave GeneCo." Rotti said obliquely, fingers laced together as he studied her from his desk.

"You know I don't have the means to pay it," she replied blandly, refusing him the dramatic reaction she knew he wanted.

"So you accept the alternative?"

Repossession.

"Yes." He let out a breath of frustration as he sorted through his files, pulling out Mag's and slapping it down on the surface before him.

"I don't want to do this to you, Mag. Is this what you want?" His hand hovered over the stamp that would secure her fate.

She nodded, watching with a morbid satisfaction as 'REPOSSESSION' appeared in blood red ink over the white of her papers.

"I shall get word to you about the farewell concert." His voice was guarded. "Until then, you are required to hold to your contract as the Voice of GeneCo."

She nodded once more, holding back a smile as she turned to leave the room. How ironic it was that the news of her impending death should fill her with more happiness than she had felt in years . . .

The happiness had not lasted. It had bolstered her for a week, perhaps, but then she had drifted back into her depressed mindset. With luck, death would come soon and the grief would not last much longer.

Just as Mag could feel herself slipping into the desolation she usually did everything to avoid, a knock at the door broke her trance of misery.

Mag was perplexed to see two GENterns, one brunette and one redhead, gazing at her mysteriously from beneath their red masks.

". . . Yes?" Mag said slowly, her eyes zooming in on their perfect faces.

"Your presence is required at the Largo apartments," the brunette said smoothly, her tone betraying not an inkling of her purpose. Smiling sweetly, the redhead added under her breath,

"You may want to bring an overnight bag . . . "

"What was that?" Mag asked sharply, wondering if she had heard right.

"Nothing. Now please, we mustn't be late," the redhead replied, taking one of Mag's arms in a surprisingly strong grip.

Mag only had time to grab her cloak from its hook by the door before she was dragged off to the back exit of the theater where a slick black limo was inconspicuously waiting. With any luck, the singer's swift disappearance would go unnoticed by the dwindling theater guests.

As Mag was shoved none too gently into the backseat of the limo, she tried to discover the strange reason for her being rushed to the Largo apartments at such an hour. Surely if Rotti had instructions for her, he would send them on her wrist communicator. Perhaps, Mag realized with growing alarm, this meeting had to do with her announcement to retire from her position with GeneCo. Dread threatened to overwhelm her mind at the thought of a Repo Man waiting for her just inside the darkened doorway . . .

It was strange as well for GENterns to be used as escorts while there were valets already designated for the job. Mag tried to flush away her panic, telling herself there was no sense jumping to conclusions, as she would know nothing until they arrived at the Largo apartments anyhow.

Moments later, the limo came to a stop outside its destination. The GENterns ushered Mag through the doorway and into the elevator that would take them to the floor set aside for the Largos.

As the heavy metal doors clamped shut, Mag felt they were sealing her fate. A feeling of uneasiness settled over Blind Mag like a cloud of fog as the elevator began to rise. Something was waiting for her, and it was bound to be something unpleasant.

Mag's uneasiness grew as the GENterns led her past Rotti's office to the door at the very end of the hall - a door Mag did not recognize.

The brunette GENtern rapped lightly on the door, then opened it, revealing a sumptuous sitting room, furniture swathed in lavish hues of red and gold.

As Blind Mag drank in this sight, a hand was placed firmly on her back and, before she could protest, she was pushed into the room.

The door shut behind her with a foreboding click.

Not a good sign.

Mag wrapped her cloak more tightly around her and gingerly ventured into the middle of the room, running her hand over the lush fabric of the love seat. Could this be Amber's room? Luigi would never stand for the decor -

"So nice you could-a join the Pavi, mia bella."