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Musical accompaniment: "Echelon" by 30 Seconds To Mars

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Flames rose from the glowing orange mass that was once Kore's warehouse. The roof had long given way to the intense blaze. Concrete walls, slowly mangling with their melted steel frames, crumbled and collapsed in heaps, and threw into the wind a flurry of sparks.

Aren stood in the rust-red street beside his waiting Screamer. His grey eyes were intent on the fire. Selphie stood at his side; her hand was wrapped in the metal fingers of his glove.

The building was near-destroyed, and its flame was dying down. Its occupants, human and otherwise, living and otherwise, had long become ashes. But Aren was alive. He had sworn to himself long ago not to fall victim. He had promised to make something of himself, despite his shortcomings, or his adversaries, or whatever stood in his way. He would grow stronger; each wound would serve as a lesson learned, and never would he make the same mistake twice.

He wondered if he was growing close, if he would ever become "somebody." If he would ever be able to rise above his pain, his pity, and be the great man he wished to be.

His blank grey eyes looked down at Selphie. Her eyes were still fixed on the lessening blaze. But her hand was locked together with his; she swung it gently to and fro.

Aren nodded inwardly. He was not sure who he was, or what it was he wanted to become. But something deep down said he was off to the right start.

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