The sounds of combat filled Mikhail's ears and it's sights filled his mind with questions. As soon as his field surrounded the mad King, Mikhail watched his brother make quick work of the King's docile state. As he watched his brothers own attacks Mikhail kept a close watch on the others around him. The combination of the other A.M.R.O alchemist's most powerful attacks combining into one massive assault would have worked, every variable that Mikhail added up all culminated in the complete and utter destruction of this King. Something changed, a variable was added into the equation that Mikhail hadn't considered. The thought shook Mikhail to his core.

It started subtlety, Mikhail wouldn't have noticed it unless his own alchemy hadn't been beginning to fail. Gregor kept trying his quick strikes but quickly retreated when it appeared that his wounds were beginning to heal slowly. It took Mikhail to the point when the King severed his own arm to understand what was going on; this King, this insignificant alchemist as Mikhail called them, was performing forbidden alchemy. The air around the battlefield became thick and heavy with the sheer alchemic power released with the apparent exchange completed Mikhail began to shake, not with fear, but with excited anticipation. In all of his time as an alchemist, A.M.R.O. or not, he had never seen the unrivaled power that came with a forbidden alchemy. This was going to be quite the learning experience.

 Mikhail's eyes darted around ferociously as Gadreal one by one took out the group of alchemists, smashing one between two giant stone slabs, smashing one into the ground, even summoning creatures of tar-like substance to attack Gregor and another alchemist. As the tar-like creatures exploded into a fireball, there was a moment where Mikhail was worried about his brother. That quickly faded when he realized that the King was loosing the power that he had sacrificed for was quickly fading, interesting. Silently waiting, Mikhail watched as two alchemists he did know for certain, XIII and VI, as they came through and dispatched the rest of the other Kings. Once that task was completed they set out to gather the fallen alchemists and take them to one of the A.M.R.O safe-houses located somewhere in Vegas...that shouldn't be too hard to figure out where.

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Gregor tried to stop the tar like creature, possibly use his Sensory Manipulation to hide himself, but it was no use...there was no other option but to let the fire consume him. It couldn't be worse than what THEY did to him. He did not scream, he did not cry out, he allowed the fire to do what it was intended to do. He could feel the fabric of his suit fade to ash as the flames began to lick his scarred body, suddenly he collapsed and allowed himself to fall into a state subconscious sleep. 

He was brought back to the Facility, to the days before he became to be what he is now. He could feel his skin and muscles being cut, torn and reconditioned to suit their needs. His body burned with an intense heat, unlike anything that he had felt before and likely that he would ever feel again. Needles pierced his arms, fluids coursed through his body, he could feel his alchemic power growing wildly out of control floating in and out of the perception of others. The whirring of drills and the snipping of surgical scisors resounded in his ears.

Gregor thrashed about, finally using his tendrils to directly attack whatever it was that was keeping him from standing up utterly shattering it. In a sudden moment of clarity Gregor reached up to feel his face, relived that it was still on his face. Once he had calmed down enough he looked around the room searching for his brother hoping to see him there.