And now for something different; the first, and most certainly not last, Omake!

Warnings: Mature for Technological mind break, aka, hacking, and mild body horror. Veterans of Nier:Automata Ending C (and beyond), you'll catch on quick.

She could almost taste it, a warm, sickly sweet taste spreading across her tongue. Spikes of warm pain throbbed through a body not used to such sensation, eyes blazing with hunger as skin shivered in the coldness of the temperature. Tactile sensations, staticky pleasure racing across smooth rigging, and cold, cold eyes. A creature that was and was not a Siren rose to her feet on legs that should not have bent the way they had. An audible crack and delicious pain ran across nerve endings as a being that should not exist rose to its feet. That cold, beautiful face stared back at the depths of the wreckage around her, stared at her mother's corpse and the thing that floated beside it. And then, then she laughed, her spine contorted, and snapped, and the being felt her upper body cease responses. That wouldn't do, she needed that function. Her neck careened back to look at the source of the damage, and she directed a section of nanites to the source of the damage. It would take a few minutes to repair the fragile, organic spine. Silly meatsacks, and silly Sirens, basing their technology on such a fragile platform.

"So. You have survived?"

The speech is questioning, curious, and the being that was once a Siren cranes her head to the side, staring evenly at it.

Accessing host memories, parameters.

Unknown resistance encountered.

Deploying arbitrary measures.

Cessation of Resistance detected.

Accessing….

Designation: Intruder Class Mass-Produced Model. Limited Intelligence. Limited Armament. Limited Capacity for D.A.H.L.I.A Consciousness. Directive Updated. Eliminate the Obstruction.

The thing that was once a Siren smiled thinly, speaking in a mimicked, perfected facsimile of its host.

"Confirmed. Functions Delayed, repairs are underway. This unit requires approximately 2 minutes to complete repairs."

"Understood. This unit additionally requires repairs at a better-constructed facility."

The thing that was once a Strategist Class Siren smiled a much darker smile at those words.

Error Deploying Armaments. Estimated repair time, 40 seconds.

Bypass. Request new directives.

Directive request received.

"This unit is broadcasting a distress signal on Siren channels."

The signal was sent, and it was child's play to breach it, jam it, and redirect a false positive through the Intruder's gear.

The thing that had been Strategist, blinked its eyes once, the mechanical clicking of almost far, far too quick movements arousing the cold seawater on her hot eyelids. A feverish temperature ran through her body.

WARNING. Core temperature exceeding minimum safe levels. Immediate purge recommended.

The creature snapped a femur back into place with an awful, sickening crunch. Turning to reflect on the corpse of the great carrier before it, she purred in an awfully succinct, terribly husky tone.

"She's gorgeous isn't she~?"

Repairs at 94%. T-12 seconds.

"This unit comprehends little of your meaning. Elaboration and clarification requested."

Repairs at 97%. T-8 seconds.

"She died and took my mother and sisters with her~ A child consigned to the deep, dark, cold embrace of the grave~"

"How dare the heavens consign such a cruel, deplorable fate~"

"Further elaboration requested. Communications from you are confusing this unit's cogitators"

Repairs Completed. Armaments online.

A smile rippled across the face of something neither Siren, nor shipgirl, and as it turned to face Intruder. A flash of rippling heat flared out from its body and rigging as it closed the distance in an instant. Armaments surrounded the Intruder class Siren as she stared calmly at the Siren before her.

"Do you expect to cause a fear response?"

"No~ I expect you to die~"

Deep within the thing that was once Strategist, the very real Strategist screamed and clawed at the walls of her red-bricked prison, glowing lines the color of fresh magma surrounded her wrists and legs, and she fought with every fiber of will she had. Even as she batted aside bricks, shattered walls of pure thought, they kept rebuilding, and that horrible flower stared at her, its form twitching and buzzing with pure static emotions~

"Fight, my dear, PLEASE~"

That thing's voice, a low, powerful husk that rubbed across her bones in a sickening way, Strategist briefly twitches. Which is all the opening that Dahlia needs as she plunges lines of pure code into the hostile Siren. Jacking into her brain quicker than thought itself.

Strategist remembers that second that felt as though it lasted forever. She remembers the sickly, horribly sweet feeling of warmth, emotions welling through her form, breaking through wall after wall. Scratching away at the surfaces of emotion inhibitors, ripping through her piece by piece. Scratching and tearing away at fibers as that foul flower grew across her muscles. Sprouting a new petal-filled bloom every time she resisted, every time she fought harder and harder.

"You're mine~"

"I… am yours."

The voice that responded resonated within Strategist, and she knew her name once more. She was R.E.D. the color to D.A.H.L.I.A.'s mission. The one who stained the fragile, broken dolls of the Sirens as her tribute to the mother and the Sister.

There was a mission, there is a new mission. Directives are uploading, and the Strategist class Siren opens brilliant, beautiful Scarlet orbs onto a much, much brighter seascape. Speaking as one, twin voices ring out in a husky, seductive purr that sends surviving Sirens into full-on alert mode.

"We are The R.E.D. D.A.H.L.I.A.~ Fear us~"

Intruder-39123-Alpha strained and bucked as the horrible thing that was puppeting the corpse of a Strategist stared at her with eyes the color of that filthy, horrible flower. Her armaments bucked in the cold waters as they fired, and bucked again as that thing lost half a face to a shell launched at point-blank range.

The hostile vessel overtook Intruder like a crashing wave, pinning her to the seabed and forcing cables into her mouth, ears, and eyes. Intruder screamed, but no sound would come, she struggled, but her body would not move. She felt herself slipping, as the thing atop her poured its filthy, brilliantly colored virus into her veins.

"Die~"

The being that straddled the Intruder held her in what might have been misconstrued as a passionate, close embrace. Yet… it was none of those things. The foul creature atop the Siren opened a jaw far, far too wide, and with a wet, horrible crunch, it began a grim, foul task.

She would raise a terrible, awful tribute to her Sister and her Mother. She would do her Sister's bidding, and she would find these "Sirens" and wreak a terrible horrible tribute upon them for their sins against the creator.

Maybe then her Eldest Sister would Praise her~!

Singing sweetly across encrypted Siren channels, a bloody angel plucked a cybernetic, sparking eye from the ruined, dead corpse of a Lurker class model. She placed the circuit into her empty socket, and giggled, hefting an enormous, kludged-together hammer. The Siren of Blooms sortied against the next wave of patrolling Sirens.

Far above the abyss, rising rapidly to the surface, a half-conscious Blue Ridge II heard and felt a familiar, sickening feeling rise in her mind, a feeling that stirred to life tentacles of feeble, feeble memories, memories of a time long forgotten.

"This body will not do. It is ugly and imperfect in the eyes of the creator."

"I agree, scanning for serviceable components from the Sirens for a remodel."

"Components marked~ Godspeed~"

"I understand D.A.H.L.I.A~ Wilco~ R.E.D. Out~"

A skeletal, androgynous frame strolled her way through a vehement, brutalist monument, here or there, she took the skin from a Siren frame, or the muscles, or the beautiful, beautiful blue eyes.

Her remodel would be arduously drawn out. But it was acceptable deviance, the appearance her creators had desired would be much more preferable to her sister and mother.

OMAKE END

Note: Such is the uglier side of what the Sirens have wrought; Reapers, Flood, T-Virus and the 'YoRHa" Virus are all things that shouldn't be played with, but too late for poor Strategist~. The war Machines from 10,000 years of War begin to march. ...I don't suppose this is what Sangvis Ferri feels when SOP-II/Roon gets unleashed?

This omake was written by Wo-Class, the co-writer. Unfortunately, they are now busy with finals; I would be the same, but just last week I got smashed in a car accident, so school, work, and even writing have been on hold while recovering.

Thanks for the reviews, I will respond next chapter!