An unearthly scream rose up from the tangle of female forms. The voice is Sienna's. In a mirroring of movement, both of the women sink clawed hands into one another's throat. Both begin to flicker through the repertoire of faces and forms that they have. Control has been lost.

Both women scream his name simultaneously in a bid to win his help. Whoever he helps lives. And neither want to perish. The problem is telling which is his angel. He is no longer forced to spectator. He is now a player in a very real game of life or death.