The Imperial Mana Reactor pointed a single brass finger at the hinge of the counter's flap. "Oh," said Gluggs, "you want me to lift that for you?" Of course, aware he was condemned, Mr. Gluggs politely lifted the counter flap and conceded to the eerie metal man. "Come on, let's go into the back."

The clockmaker felt a cold, metallic tug on his neat shirt collar. IMR lifted the old codger an inch clear of the floor. As an android, the IMR was destined to do one thing: carry out its orders in a cold-hearted way. Together, the fragile old man and the immortal golem spilled from the well-lit shop into the shadowy back alley. The prisoner lurched from his captor's grip for a moment, Gluggs wanted to close the door behind the two of them. After all, he didn't want to frighten his customers with the unpleasant sounds of what was about to happen. Being a horologist meant he was acutely aware that midnight was upon him. However, when his time came, he wanted it to end with the mere tick of a clock, and not a scream or a whimper. Of course, Gluggs was honest with himself. He understood that, as much as he wanted to, he might not meet his demise with quiet dignity. He knew the end would gruesome, he knew dismemberment was coming. Gluggs knew because he had helped build the infernal contraption to begin with.

After the door had clicked shut behind them, the android pulled a written note from its ill-fitting coat pocket. Feeble-handed, Mr. Gluggs took the note and began to read it, mouthing the words through his thin, old lips. The old man took a sharp, hasty breath. "So," he said as his mouth dried out, "that's what the Emperor wants, is it?" The paper fell from his grip and into the drain of swill that ran central to most urban back alleys. The ink from the paper seeped into the waste water, and blue swirled into brown.

The Imperial Mana Reactor could not reply with words, but it could reply with a solemn nod of its brass head.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Gluggs offered, "the new Emperor is a bonafide tyrant in the making." Standing tall, as tall as his bent back would allow, the old clockmaker continued, "You'll have to forgive my final words, but I hope your false Emperor's plans fail miserably."

It was then that the Imperial Mana Reactor initiated the mana draining procedure. He tugged the old man's wrist towards the whirring blades of his razor sharp turbine. The flesh blender was positioned within the machine's chest.

"But, more than that, I wish I'd never helped to create you... you are my biggest failure!"