The jungle was a living thing, all that lay within it constantly churning and changing, growing and evolving.  Trees extended their reach ever higher, massive leaves grasping for the sun, even as vines crept up their sides, forming parasitic networks of life.  Small animals scurried to and fro in both the undergrowth and the canopy, shrieking and chirping and hooting at each other as they went about their frenzied business of survival and reproduction, ensuring that their cells and genes lived and prospered for as long as possible.

The ground?  Covered, with hundreds of different species.  The air?  Warm and humid, ideal conditions for the sustenance of such dense and varied creatures.  It was a strange jungle indeed, being situated on an alien world far beyond the borders of explored space, but the sights and sounds were still recognizable to any who had trekked through similar ecosystems in more familiar lands.  It was a classic, storybook landscape, a place where everything was alive...


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...except one thing.

Animals of every shape and size scattered and fled before the sound of the heavy, measured footsteps.  A shadow moved through the strange trees, quiet and implacable, striding over tangled roots and thick vegetation without so much as faltering. Its movements were fluid, almost graceful, but unnaturally so.  Every kind of animal had its quirks and inconsistencies, those tiny little tics when muscles didn't do quite what they were supposed to, but this newcomer had no such margin of error.  Its every step was precise, moving the exact same distance with the exact same timing, making only minute adjustments to compensate for terrain.

Though it dressed in elegant silks, as though it were some high-society gentleman, it was neither human nor alive.  A vessel, shaped roughly like a man, its skin a dull grey metal and its insides a tangle of wires and gears, pistons and capacitors, and all manner of complex and intricate mechanisms.  A dead, soulless construct.

The mind behind the machine was a vast distance away, and yet he saw what it saw, felt what it felt, and commanded its every movement.  Johannes was perfectly in sync with this body, this hand of metal that worked to spread his influence in distant lands.  It provided the raw strength and firepower, and his mind supplied the knowledge and cunning to use these.  

A deadly combination indeed.

At present, the drone was hunting, trekking miles through the wilderness to track down a mysterious and elusive target.  A young gunslinger-mage who his informants had told him might be dangerous.

Johannes didn't like that kind of danger.  It represented a risk, even if it was a small one, to his plans for this place.  Such unknown factors could not be left alone, lest they spring up at an inopportune moment and cause undue disturbance.  Better to deal with them quickly, and move them somewhere they could be controlled, turning the risks into potential assets.  Or, if it became necessary, simply eliminate them.

The drone's blank eyes swept back and forth over its surroundings, methodically taking in every minuscule detail it could find.  All that it saw was recorded, information stored in dense databanks for later use.  The shape and size of leaves, the texture and thickness of what passed for bark around here... Johannes was no specialist in biology, having devoted his life to the ways of MicroClockwork, but he could still appreciate the little intricacies of life from time to time.

Something caught his attention.  A tiny glimpse from a clearing ahead, a sign of movement slightly out of the ordinary.  Was it his target?  It was hard to tell.  Johannes wasn't going to attack immediately, however- if the mage was here, he would confront him openly, and offer him a chance to surrender.

"Thomas Minlors."

The voice was calm, the tone of someone speaking rather than shouting, and yet the drone projected it as such a volume that it the sound boomed outwards, alerting anything nearby.  Insects and animals took flight or hid themselves away, alarmed by the sudden noise.

The machine, meanwhile, was striding slowly forth, making its presence clear.  "I know you're there, Thomas.  The Engine will no longer permit your presence here, and as its highest authority, I am now enforcing this.  You will surrender yourself, and abandon whatever business you have here.  Cooperation shall not be punished.  Resistance... will be met with as much force as necessary."  Though distorted by the speakers through which it sounded, there was no missing the hardness in that voice, more unyielding than even the steel skin that carried it.  

"You have five seconds to comply.  Five..."