Alexander Mercilus had known that he was bound to fail the moment those black and red armored clockworks had began piling into the Supreme Commander's throne room. Yet, some part of him still believed it was possible to take down the king of Valencia.

He recalled that the humans would have called this state one of desperation, of utter, complete desperation.

And now this desperation would be his undoing.

Strangely, however, the clockwork felt no fear, just like it had not felt wrong for him to be fighting against his own kind.

Perhaps it was due to he was certain of his own fate.

He was certain that he would be executed, that those other clockworks under the command of their Supreme Commander Kane II would tear him apart, just as they had done with so many other Resistance assassins before them. And he welcomed this fate, for what more could they do? Nothing could be worse than termination, and once it was done, it would all be over for him.

"Supreme Commander."

Alexander's gaze instantly turned toward the sound of the voice, the same musketeer officer that had stunned him earlier.

While from where he was, chained to the wall of this cold metal cell, it was utterly impossible to see who the officer was speaking to, but truly, it did not take a high level of intelligence to realize who would soon arrive.

A small shiver ran down Alexander's back, at how the piercing, void like eyes of the Armada Supreme Commander seemed to look directly through him, even separated by the metal bars of the cell.

And it certainly did not help that a moment later, the clockwork king of Valencia stood directly before him, no more than perhaps a few feet away.

"Now now, who exactly are you?"

Those six words were spoken in a monotonous voice, far too monotonous to be natural even for a clockwork like him. And those words sent another shiver down his back, almost enough to be visible on the clockwork.

Alexander blinked, almost unable to adjust to the sudden change in lighting when the clockwork king's hand suddenly lashed out, ripping the hood that had been obscuring his face away.

Void - like eyes met amethyst ones, a voice, more powerful than he had ever heard, boomed from unmoving, sculpted lips.

"You are not him, yet you fight like him."

Is he referring to my Creator..?

The Supreme Commander's words were dangerously vague, almost far too vague: while Alexander knew he was different from the other clockworks with his appearance (having eyes of amethyst and opal, with a silver corona around the sockets instead of having two voids), he was also no exception to the fact that he also depended upon statistical calculations to function in battle.

And without those calculations, it was almost utterly impossible for him to properly function -

DANGER.

The tip of the blade that had shot from the Supreme Commander's sleeve had stopped mere millimeters away from his throat.

"It's a pity that an Eden - being like you stands with that bastard."

By this point, it was impossible to not feel the fear that had crept through him and made its way to his core like the coils of some infernal snake: a chill creeping through Alexander's entire being at how reverent those monotonic words seemed to be.

"A perfectly made Eden clockwork..."

The Commander's words, as though the gap in the factors were not enough, were ever so vague, as one of his white gloved hands reached out and delicately traced over his jawline.

Alexander was certain that if he had possessed a human's heart, it would have stopped right then and there.

Far too many unknown factors, what is he trying to achieve?!

It was a complete contrast to what he had been just mere minutes ago, almost hostile against him -

RED ALERT.

A gasp had tore its way out of his throat, his air supply cutting off to a almost dangerous degree by the hand that had clamped down around his neck with an almost bruising grip.

Then, as fast as it had appeared, the hand drew back.

Alexander found himself gasping for air, furiously cycling it through his systems in an attempt to gain back the precious oxygen it had been deprived for in what he was certain only a few seconds.

What-what is it you are trying to accomplish through all of this? I thought all clockworks had a reason behind every action-!

His gaze scanned a few more times over the Supreme Commander of the Armada, over Kane II's stiff, professional stance. Perhaps he could gain a few clues as to why the clockwork king was acting this way through observation -

"Perfetto..."

Far too many unknown factors, far too many of them for his liking. And to Alexander's horror, the gaps between what factors were known had widened significantly, making it nearly impossible to calculate the precious percentages and statistics.

Was this how the humans felt having the ground yanked out from underneath them?

Nothing had changed in the clockwork king's face, the thin line of a smile remaining upon those lips.

Eerie, the humans called this, he remembered, a condition in where something ordinarily would not have been capable of inducing fear suddenly becomes capable of doing so.

No word could have fitted this situation better.

Yet even with his knowledge of emotions, nothing could have prepared Alexander for the next thing that happened.

It was in that very moment that the Supreme Commander of the Armada reached up and plucked away what Alexander had thought to be his face this entire time.

The delicate, porcelain - like mask now laid in his white gloved hand, and his real eyes now gazed into his. Alexander could not decide what appeared more unnerving, his masked face, or this real one.

For his real face was nothing like the perfectly shaped mask he had worn as his face before.

It was thinner, almost far too thin for a human, just on the verge of too thin to be healthy, with faint traces of black lines underneath his eyes from being deprived of a proper amount of sleep. And those eyes, those eyes almost burned into his soul, with the thin, red lines of the capillaries branching out from the irises with the color of fresh blood.

But such was not why his eyes were horrifying in the very least for Alexander.

It was the reverence, the utter and complete worship and longing within those bloody red orbs, blended with complete hatred.

How this was possible, Alexander could not comprehend. How could a human display both worship and hatred at the same time?!

"That bastard does not deserve someone so perfect!"

Kane II's true voice, unlike his nearly cadaverous appearance, was hauntingly beautiful; a smooth, silken tenor with the accent of those born in Valencia.

"You will be mine, and mine alone!"

It had taken Alexander several seconds to realize what he meant, sending another jolt of horror through him.

"No-!"

He could not even finish, for the pain from the light was so strong it all but vacuumed the energy out of him, replacing it with a feeling he could only describe as the blood in his veins turning into fire, searing each and every inch of his frame.

Creator and Commander, no this can't be!

Already, each of the memories associated with him, his creator was changing.

He is not your creator, he is your enemy-

But he brought me to this world-

The Supreme Commander is who you serve!

It was as though a signal had been set off within his processor at that final thought, that alien thought he could no longer find alien, and the pain faded away just as fast as they had suddenly appeared.

Alexander could not even find enough energy within him to maintain his standing stance, both of his legs giving out underneath him, leaving him suspended by only the manacles around his wrists.

My name is not Alexander Mercilus.

Just remembering the surname attached made him feel almost ill, like some force was threatening to make him spew out his own blood through his mouth. This name bodes of nothing good, nothing good in the eyes of his Commander, yes, that's right, he served the Supreme Commander of the Armada, he was Kane II's loyal soldier.

Forcing himself to muster all the energy there is left in him, he locked into the crimson colored eyes of the Supreme Commander, words spilling from his lips before he could even register them.

"For the glory of the Armada, Supreme Commander."

He served the Armada, he was his soldier.

"Argentius Domitius Septimus, Armada Commodore, welcome home."

Behold, brand new clockwork character introduced! Now we see a little bit more of Atticus' plan unfold, as well as how bad Ulysses' little obsession is at this point in time.

Poor poor Argentius, I truly do put him through a lot, but damn I am not sorry for the crap ehehehe.

Reviews are much appreciated! Until next time, my dear readers!

-Hades