Take was startled by the change when he next observed Kyuuzou. There was no reaction, no matter how horrendous the images were, not even a flicker of interest. Since this was so, Take stopped the stream, and only felt a slight relaxation, a glimmer of a sigh that bespoke something along the lines of, 'Finally.' He contacted Kyuuzou again, asking in an authoritative and nonchalant voice,
'Are you ready to serve me now?'
'Why should I?'
Take balked,and felt a slight wave of amusement radiate from the Nobuseri shell that contained Kyuuzou. The voice was cold, calm, and distant. It was not the voice of a desperate man, broken, ready to surrender. This was the voice of a man who had lost all hope, and so had found other emotions to occupy the space where it had been.
'Because I created you as you are, and all your power, and all that you are, belong to me.'
There was a mild pause, as if Kyuuzou turned his words over.
'Not good enough.'
The mecha that Kyuuzou was inside broke free of the chains that had bound it, and picked up two swords, one that it sheathed on its back and the other to one side.
'I don't know if I should thank you or curse you. Until I figure that out, you will live.'
The mecha ran and jumped out into the air, turning on its engines in time to buoy it up into the high atmosphere, catching a thermal and disappearing into the sun. Take watched it go with a sinking feeling.
"I have no idea what he's capable of. He's an amazing warrior in the flesh, so what will he be like now?"
He cruised on the wind currents, adjusting himself to how a mecha viewed the world; it was not hard to do. It was free of any excess information, only presenting the facts of what was around it. It fed directly into his mind, so it was easy to process. There was no thought, no feeling in his mind except for one:
The Nobuseri must die.
He flew along, and caught the channels of communication between the Nobuseri, and monitored them silently, listening for coordinates, and planning murder. He located where the closest group of Nobuseri were, and putting his engines on silent, flew into the clouds, becoming a shadow within. He hovered quietly above the group of Nobuseri, waiting patiently. Slowly, without making a sound, he drew his swords, and held them lightly, easily in his hands. As the Nobuseri passed beneath him, he turned off his engines and fell onto them, cutting the two below him neatly in half, then landing on the ground and turning sharply, vaulting himself back up towards the rest of them. Startled, it took the Nobuseri one moment too long to attempt to defend themselves, and within a few minutes, a group of twenty had been decimated by one. He landed among the wreckage, yet felt that the cold hatred within him had barely been satiated. As long as there were Nobuseri, he would continue to murder them all without mercy, and so decide whether or not to kill the man who made him into this half-machine.