Breaken the Younger rode the lift down underneath the Industrial tower alone, and silent. His mind dwelt momentarily on his sister, Maggie. He had taken her life, in a way. Tossing her like a piece of scrap meat to Diego after he had learned of her treachery, her “love“ for Jordan. Deep inside he sneered. He had felt an inkling of remorse as he walked away from his dying sister the night before, but he discarded it as vestigial emotion he no longer wanted or needed. Another Maggie could be made, Clare she would be called this time. Indeed, he himself had been grown just as she had, as had his other brothers and sisters. As had his “father” and “mother”. He had, once, contemplated the implications of his family. The same two people being grown and re-grown in perpetuity, but he had no fondness for philosophy, so implications didn’t particularly matter. What mattered was that the Breaken clan were strong, and would last until the end of time. He would make sure of that, just as his predecessors had, even if it meant destroying your own blood.