W> THE REFERENCE YOU ARE LOOKING FOR IS Androclus Pulls The Thorn From The Lion's Paw (ASMR AI-Generated)
H> Fuck! Where the fuck did you come from?!?
W> I HAVE ONE BAR OF RECEPTION
H> I'm having a moment!
W> I WILL HELP YOU WITH 

Blessedly, the signal faded out again; the brief storm of noise passing like a shiver. The Angel of the Harvest tried to calm its mind back to stillness, acknowledging the emotion of hate and willing it to pass by unspoken. It was very hard. She hated the Angel of War very much. Pointless, senseless, idiot and interface with idiots and she would have figured out that reference herself if she had a little more time to think and besides it had linked a fucking ASMR -

To the point. The Angel of the Harvest went through the simple, quick, careful process of removing any bone splinters and cleaning the wound. It was not gentle - but it was fast, the kind of fast one could be when that was kinder than gentleness. But the lowered reaction of the cat raised a curiousity in the Angel of the Harvest, and it turned its attention to the slain lizard's spines and bones.

It had felt out of its element since it had awoken. No flows of ecological monitoring data, no sensor grids or weather monitoring satellites, barely a toolbag to its name - and all of this with strange bioengineered animals it did not understand. But now it finally had a specemin in front of it and it was time to gather some data.

It pulled on its gloves. It produced its saws and cutting tools. It loomed over the half-eaten corpse of the lizard and prepared everything it needed for a field autopsy. Blood and bone, flesh and muscle, scale and venom. Everything sorted and catalogued, torn up and torn apart, wheat ripped from chaff and death rendered organized. It was time to reap and to thresh.