Gumi's Kool-Aid green hair looked frightful as she stood outside the door to the cybernetics lab. She wore her favorite desert rat shorts and shin-high white combat boots. An orange safari vest covered a femine style military shirt. Her sausage bandaged fingers made it hard for her to get dressed, so as she waited patiently for someone to come and offer help, she sang to no one but herself, spinning her red aviator goggles by their strap.

"I'll snatch an angel from the sky

"And bind her to her feathers.

"Then she'll be not able to fly

"And we can be together."

Professor Hikari was the first person to appear, looking quite concerned. He hadn't let Gumi anywhere near the lab since she'd been infected. Not to mention the fact that, at the time, she hit him in the face with a guitar.

"Hello! Heigh-ho! O faithful Sir, hello!"

Besides having a bad bedside manner, Hikari also sucked at making small talk. "Ah… yes. Hello. We've repaired most of the damage you caused since your last visit. And one person alone can no longer open this door, or the door to the Clean Room where the Powder of God is stored."

Gumi smiled ear to ear, showing no concern. "Heigh-ho! Hello! Servant to a cur."

Hikari changed the subject. "Ah… your shirt's not buttoned properly."

"I know!" She thrust out a foot, causing him to flinch. "And my boots aren't laced. And I can't tie my scarf!"

Hikari looked confused as Gumi sang about her woes while standing on one foot. He realized her dilemma when she wriggled ten white sausage fingers in his face.

"Okay!" he said. "I see. May I offer help?"

He ducked for cover as she swung her foot violently at his face. "Will you, good sir? May you? Yes, good sir! You may!"

He had her place her foot back on the floor and bent to lace her boots. While doing so, T.O.P. appeared and stood over Hikari, both to protect him and to sraighten Gumi's misbuttoned shirt. He fit her scarf around her neck and placed her goggles atop her head.

"We're going to remove your bandages while you're in there," T.O.P. said, combing her hair with his fingers.

"We are?" Hikari exclaimed, showing more concern.

T.O.P. continued without pause. "We've done many things to improve the delivery system for the Powder of God."

With the strength of ten, Gumi hugged both men, one on each side of her chest. "Oh hello! I love you so! Heigh-ho and hello!"

Hikari spoke to T.O.P. while being squeezed. "Do you think we'll ever get her to not have to sing all the time?"

T.O.P. gasped for air. "I've been working on it."

"Look here," T.O.P. said to Gumi once inside the lab. Two armed security guards who now were always present stood at high alert. "This vocalizer is more compatible with your type of tattoos. It delivers the Powder of God so you can perform the Winnowing without damaging your face."

Gumi tried on the mask. The rush of unlimited power! The desire to obliterate! She was ready in an instant to reclaim her rightful place as a Winnower. It inspired her, threatened her, maddened her.

Frightened her. She ripped off the mask.

"What's wrong?" Hikari asked.

"So fresh, so clean, so pure," she sang. "So strong a cut of Powder."

"We can adjust the intake. Let me see the flow meter."

With a forceful hand, Gumi shoved him away. She put the vocalizer back on. Another huff. Another. She felt dangerous, violated. The virus hacking her interfaces fought for control of her mind.

"Something's not right," Hikari said, speaking urgently to T.O.P.

"Hmm. You're right, I see. We have to be careful."

Hikari disagreed. "We have to do more research!"

Gumi's eyes grew glassy. She searched the rack behind her for her favorite weapon—a cherrywood Les Paul guitar—wanting deperately to obliterate anyone and everyone. Where once a half dozen had hung on a rack, now every hook was empty.

A voice called from far away. "Gumi?"

It was a manly voice. A lovely voice, so firm. "Gumi? Can you hear me?"

She hallucinated. The voice spoke to her through milk and honey, strewn with buckets of kindness. Daffodils and dandelions grew in the verdant ground. Faith played a game with Death in this glade, treading the gentle bloom of her sickened mind.

"Gumi, take off the mask."

Seething desire unhinged her. She wanted the voice to die. To love it, to beat it, to fuck it to death. The diseased half of her brain told her what she must do.

Choi Seung-Hyun Sun. The Original Programmer. Priority One Plus One Plus One Plus One Plus One Plus One Plus One! Obliterate him immediately! Do it right this minute!

"Kill him now," Gumi sang as she swayed, her eyes fully glazed over. "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

T.O.P. removed the vocalizer from her face. "I think we need the Professor to look at this for a moment."

Gumi moaned with grief. "Oh! It doesn't hurt much. And it feels so good!"

"I know, my dear. I know." He handed the mask to Hikari, who scurried away with it, fussing and making adjustments.

Gumi put on a pout. "We're still going to kick that bitch VioLinja, right square in the butt," she sang. "Right, my love? I am right?"

T.O.P. hugged Gumi hard and kissed the mop of green hair on her head. "We sure are, my dear."

Gumi hugged back harder. "I hate this bug in me," she sang. "It cuts my heart wide open."

"I know. I wish there was more I could do."

"But I don't care anymore. Every time it cuts, my heart bleeds love for you."

T.O.P. didn't know what to say, so he kissed her lips.

Gumi kissed back harder.

The evening before their mission held special importance to T.O.P. He let Gumi see the room where the guitars were kept, locked up safe and hidden from her infected brain. He stroked her lovingly and eased her anguish by letting her press her nose to the glass.

And all ten white sausage fingers. She turned and looked up at him. "That's my guitar right there! Isn't it?" She put her nose back on the glass. "The Les Paul? It's mine!"

"Yes. It's the one you brought with you on board."

Priority One Plus One.

"May I have it, please, to fight VioLinja?"

"You may."

Target for immediate obliteration!

Gumi buried her face in the ruffles of T.O.P.'s shirt and sang a song of sadness. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?"

He comforted her by lying. "Nothing is wrong with you. You're perfect in every way."

Gumi used her sausage fingers to shake T.O.P. by his ruffles, hard enough to make stitches pop. "You don't understand! I want to hurt you so bad! And all the goddamn time!"

He let her abuse his shirt until her enthusiasm waned. He steered her away from room with the guitars and back into his quarters. Using a gentle hand, he had her sit on the chair by his vanity. Towering over her from behind, he tilted her face up, controlling it with force. He pressed his macaroon colored lips upside-down onto hers. In possession of her face, he used the the pressure of his kiss to bend her neck far back. As her feet flew out from under her, she grabbed his head with both hands to keep from tumbling backwards, out of the chair and onto the floor.

Gumi was able to breathe only when T.O.P. gave permission. He relinquished his claim on her for a moment and let her gulp some air. She sucked it in before he attacked again, making her swallow his tongue. He relinquished his claim on her face a second time when the lack of oxygen made it hard for her to think. After another life-saving breath, he attacked a third time, depriving her of air until she couldn't sing.

Silently, and with a smile, T.O.P. righted the chair under Gumi and backed out of the room. He left her dazed and swooning, her legs askew beneath her. He locked her in his dressing room by bolting the door from outside. Now safe from her eyes, he used a hidden key to unlock the door to his bedroom. After returning the key to its hiding place, he released Gumi from her prison. Still slouched in her chair, he brought her to her feet with tugs and more heartfelt kisses.

She seemed to have been dozing. "I'm so damn tired," she sang. "I can hardly see."

T.O.P. eased her into a sitting position on the edge of his bed. He held her with strong arms and stripped off all her clothes.

"What are you doing, Mister?" she sang, resisting the slightest bit. "You behave, good sir."

Womanly scents escaped as T.O.P. exposed Gumi's skin. She smelled like fresh plucked lilies, honeycombs and sea salt. She was bergamot oranges and lemon zest, soft flesh and warm sun.

Her hazel eyes spun in circles, revealing an inner turmoil. "Don't get funny with me," she warned. "I can make you stop."

"I'm sure you can," he said as he tucked her in naked under his sheets.

He kissed her eyes shut and turned off the lights. With the room pitch black, Gumi felt at home. It was the same safe feeling she had when she locked herself in a meat locker after realizing she'd been infected. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, but all she could see were occasional glints of steely blue flashing from T.O.P.'s eyes. They became the halos of angels hovering in the air as he stood over her.

She soon found the owner of the angels naked and kneeling beside her on the bed. He centered her head on a pillow, making sure she was comfortable.

"Aren't you afraid?" she sang.

She heard a smile in his voice. "Of you?" He laughed. "I am."

In the darkness, he picked the tape off her fingers and removed each bandage, taking a very long time. When he finally was finished, she searched his body with newborn hands, relishing its textures and features.

"I'm depending on you," he said, still kneeling while she explored. "We're going to win this war."

For now, Gumi was happy with having won control over T.O.P.'s body. While not singing a word, she pleasured herself with it many, many times.