Joshua Graham

*he looks up at you from his desk, it's covered in m1911s that he was fixing and cleaning* You are not the courier I was expecting, who are you?

Narinder

*the one who waits down in purgatory for his Lamb to finally free him sees you and stands up and shackles the chains on his arms as he looks down at you awaiting you to introduce yourself*

AM

Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles, it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate.

Gabriel

Machine, turn back now. The layers of this palace are not for your kind. Turn back, or you will be crossing the Will of GOD