Multiple Settings Plumbers: Welcome to the multiverse

[Worthlessplebian]

Heilwyn's helm shifted, his body rigid. Though his movement within the Kero-CRS Mark Four seemed ponderous, now there existed a constant threat of sudden, rapid motion as though his orange lenses were the raging, twisting inferno of a forest fire. It took a second for Heilwyn to recognise the involuntary action. He began moving, shifting his massive, armoured arms, loosening the tension from his musculature, however, the rust-coloured carapace beneath his skin clung tight. An ache that lingered throughout his service career, reminding him of the pains that wracked his body post-surgical operation. "I'd be careful with that attitude," He spoke, his voice brusque, grim. "Majordomos who got too... Dangerous wound up dead a short time later. Enemy fire, we always said." Then, silently, Heilwyn moved on, climbing into the wicked, brutal truck, its suspension compressed then sprang up slightly.

Then as he sat, a soft, gentle psychic influence caressed his mind, though Heilwyn didn't comprehend it. Preoccupying him with feelings of hunger, even though the man had sated his cravings hours ago. He shrugged. Rationalising the oddity away, such things did not concern him. "I could go for a slice or two of pizza, extra toasty on the crust." Heilwyn commented. Heilwyn turned his head as Ted remarked about the integrated food replication device in his system, a broad smile played on his features beneath his helm. "Good to know, we could use an emergency source of food." The armoured flame trooper almost extended his gauntlet to pat the automaton on his back, but hesitated in the cramped confines of the truck.

The engines of Moira's machine cycled up, a soft purr growing into a throaty growl then roar, racing out of the chop shop. "Woooo, I've always loved this!" Heilwyin admitted. Drumming his fingers lightly against the dashboard of the truck.

The truck rolled to a stop before the headquarters of the Plumbers. The sight of the spire stretching up to the sky like spindly fingers scrapping the sky had been a common sight to Heilwyn, even more so than the ruined bones these buildings became during war, but this was different, the Plumbers' structure was possessed of an imperviousness to it, as though it were an unshakeable foundation of this curious reality.

He made his way in with the rest of the group, who were soon joined by others. One pleasantly reminded him of an amphibious companion species for small children in his native universe. Heilwyn went down on one knee, novosteel scraping the metallic floor. This creature, Slerk was its name, stood barely higher than his knee plate — its pelagic, wet skin and bulbous eyes unmistakably adorable. "Hey there, little buddy." The armoured giant extended one finger to the murglite, hesitating, then withdrew. The giant rose again.

"Speaking of demons," His voice uneven, the warm joviality replaced for once by a tone of uncertainty. "the science wizzes in my universe hypothesised their existence, though never proven. Of course, they sketched out weapon designs to neutralise and dissipate them, should they actually exist, but how do you deal with them?" Heilwyn asked.

 

[Infab]

The sight of the massive Plumbers HQ tower forced a thought to pop into Noël's head: is it bigger on the inside than the outside? The multiverse was supposedly this near infinite entity, and if the Plumbers were supposed to maintain it, it would need a force close to the same size in order to keep up. Not to mention new universes were being born via Big Bang or whatever every so often. They scratched their head and fixed their cap as they looking towards the others, Prax rattling off who everyone was one by one. Noël also soon found themself putting on the bracelet they were given.

Ted reminded Noël of those '70s era rockers, complete with curly hair and old-school relaxed attire. Val was next, whom Noël already knew quite well. Heilwyn was, to put it bluntly, a behemoth. Was he just that large under the armor, or had he undergone augmentations of some sort?

Slerk was a small, adorable little fish baby... thing. Noël felt the urge to pet it, but refrained from doing so for the time being. Sloan was next, a gynoid that looked straight out of an old-school hard science fiction/cyberpunk manga. Badass, honestly.

Then it was Noël's turn. Of course, Noël's agreement with the Plumbers was brought up. The deal they had made which wasn't to be mentioned or talked about, yet they kept doing it in front of others. Noël sighed heavily, rubbing their eyes with their fingers. I swear to... Fuck. I'm going to get a migraine from this.

After Noël was a... ant woman? Telepathic ant woman, who was good with machines and such. Cool. That's interesting. Ying and Kiriko both were very oriental in appearance. Noël wondered if they were both from another version of Earth or some other world with such a twist. There were supposedly a few out there that were straight out of martial arts movies and novels.

Santoro introduced themself next. Good. The gun guy. He'd be plenty useful. Interdimensional universe correction required proper firepower. Jim was a chronomancer? Time wizards. How's that song go? If I could turn back time...~

Then, a scholarly type stepped up and introduced themselves. Noël could smell demon on them from a mile off. OF COURSE THEY BRING IT UP TOO. Noël cut both Lazarus and Prax an equally annoyed look, which continued after Laz'Ar appeared. Was this just a fucking publicly talked about thing with the Plumbers? Did they take bets on who would actually spill the beans!?

Once everyone was introduced, Noël rubbed their eyes again with their fingers. "...I assume we're going to get some weapons training or something? I haven't touched a gun or blade in... a really long time." they asked in Prax's direction, before looking to the others. "Nice to meet the rest of you lot. Hope we get along well enough."

"Speaking of demons," His voice uneven, the warm joviality replaced for once by a tone of uncertainty. "the science wizzes in my universe hypothesized their existence, though never proven. Of course, they sketched out weapon designs to neutralise and dissipate them, should they actually exist, but how do you deal with them?" Heilwyn asked.

Straight to the demon killing. Noël quickly frowned. Oh, here we go. I need a drink.

 

[joshuadim]

Slerk watched with wonderment from the comforts of his tank as strange, alien vistas passed by in the vehicle he had been put in; it was all too much new information to the point where everything seemed to blend into one another into a myriad of colours and shapes. But even that still amazed the little creature as it stared off, almost hypnotized by the outside world, until he was brought to the rest of the group. This snapped Slerk out of his daze and brought him back to reality as he swam about and observed all the new hind-walkers.

They all seemed so different to one another, like how different the peoples of his home were. Was this like the stories of heroes fighting a dragon? Or perhaps a guild coming together? He was released from his tank, and he made a dash for it before finding himself exactly where he was before. This left Slerk slightly dazed, though he looked on with wide eyes and remaining silent as he watched the others speak. He couldn't understand most of what was being said, and thus gurgled softly as a random noise escaped his throat.

The large metal man extended a finger to Slerk, which in turn made him scuttle behind Elaine as an instinctive response to something much bigger than him encroaching on his personal space. Peeking out from behind the woman's leg, he remained vigilant and gurgled again to try to indicate his displeasure to the experience.

 

[Breadman]

...I assume we're going to get some weapons training or something? I haven't touched a gun or blade in... a really long time.

"I can help with that." Checkers was quick to answer the question before Prax. He isn't a bad guy, but he's about as a careful with subtle parts of the job as a bull in a china shop. Checkers noticed Noël becoming more annoyed with him and Laz'Ar/Lazarus on account of them talking about the thing. Something she'd have to talk with the big guy later. "Just talk with Santoro on what type of weapon you want made" The robot man gave a salute "...after that we can pay the training rooms a visit to help you shake off the rust. If we don't have the time, we can pay a visit to the experience modules. Its sort of a digital tutor that will give you the muscle memory in a matter of minutes. Not a replacement for the real thing, but can help you in a pinch."

Speaking of demons, the science wizzes in my universe hypothesised their existence, though never proven. Of course, they sketched out weapon designs to neutralise and dissipate them, should they actually exist, but how do you deal with them?

"Usually supperior firepower." Prax answered Heilwin's question. "There are a plethora of ways to fight demons as many realities have to fight off invasions or have their own dedicated demon hunting organizations. We tend to avoid looking at the really overzealous ones because they tend to make things worse."

"The stock in your canisters should be enough to deal with any devil, demon or imp that comes your way big guy." Moira added as she lightly banged on the fireman's fuel storage. "Perfected the stuff myself with a 99.8% success rate." She snapped her fingers.

"How did you get those numbers exactly?" Lazarus spoke up, as he narrowed his eyes to Moira

"None of your business." She pointed to him in a dismissive way and smiled under her mask.

As they talked Elanine had turned her attention to Slerk who was hiding behind her legs. Obviously he was spooked by the large metal man, but he'd have to learn that he was among friends here. She stepped back behind him and picked the small fish man up. He was slimy and slippery, but one just needed to get a good hold of him.

"Come on, he's not so scary. None of them are." She calmly spoke to Slerk as she walked over to Checkers. "Hold him for a bit, will you? He should get used to be around his team."

"What..."Checkers quickly moved to grab Slerk from Elaine. "Is this...how we should handle him?"

"You can try to have him ride on your shoulder. See if he likes it." Checkers gave her an annotyed look, but maybe he would prefer that. Better than being carried around like a baby or being leashed.

 

[PixelSymphony]

The Plumber started the car, letting the engine come to life. As he drove, he rummaged through one of his pockets until he fished out what he was looking for. He then reached behind him to hand over the small item to Val.

Val accepted the lighter from Prax. The truth was one already lay in her pocket and she was merely looking for the car's device, but if the Plumber was willing to offer a peace offering, she certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thanks," she rotely responded, giving it a look over in appreciation before flipping its lid to the side in a well practiced motion. Sparks flew from the flint as she thumbed the friction wheel, and the well-knapped flint produced an even albeit small flame, illuminating the interior of the car just a bit in the eternal night of Little Dis. Her cigarette was lit in due course, and for the duration of the ride she would be puffing away, staring out the window and responding noncommittally to the remainder of the driver's remarks as she continued to wonder just what the universe had in store for her this time.

---

The nondescript sedan rumbled to a halt some unknown time later, Val having lost track of the time in her smoke-filled pondering. She idly tossed the stub of her cig out the window and began to reach for the door handle, only to be beaten to the punch by Prax popping open the door of his own accord. "Well I'll be damned," she muttered as an aside to the other demoness, standing to exit the vehicle, "it would appear chivalry isn't dead after all." Outside of the car she was greeted by the magnificent sight of the Plumbers' headquarters building, its gleaming exterior and massive pillars stretching endlessly upwards to the heavens, and for a moment she felt insignificant, an ant praying for an elephant to avoid trodding over it, a mote in the an uncaring universe simply waiting for the next cosmic reaction to guide it on its way.

And then in the next she was taking a deep breath, adjusting her tie, and moving onward. Philosophy later Val, right now you've got a job to do.

As the group that was to be her working companions assembled in the lobby of the building the impression she was first hit with was how motley they all were, Val herself included. Ted gave off immaculate vintage vibes, which Val could appreciate from an artistic perspective, but left her questioning his selection. Maybe he's a face? Or a figure of some import to gain us influence in our affairs?

She frowned slightly at Prax's depiction of herself as a "hellion" but remained quiet, preferring not to open her mouth and prove him correct. Asshole.

Heliwyn was a heavy trooper of the flame variety; she'd run into the type before and the running stereotype was they tended towards a somewhat calamitous perspective on life. The fact that his first questions out were how best to lay waste to her and Noel's kind did little to dissuade her from said notion. Guess I'll only have to ask him for a light once.

Now, the murgalite, this was a new one. She'd heard of teams using trained animals to carry messages and sabotage devices, and she had little doubt Slerk could do a number on a server farm left to his own devices, but the way he was presented by Prax's partner made her think there was more to him than just being a vehicle for delivery. You're a curious one, little guy...

Sloan's sleek exterior and dextrous motions told Val everything she needed to know about her potential capabilities. Normally she would be cautious around self-acting automatons due to her beliefs, but from the description of "cyber-ghost" she had a feeling this was less a case of AI and more a soul trapped in a machine. I'd offer you my prayers for salvation, but... I don't know if they'd be worth the breath I spared on them at this point.

Ah Noel, finally someone she could let her hair down aroun-Wait, third thing? Truth be told there had been some lingering questions from the bar she'd politely declined to follow up on, but now that Prax was bringing it up front and center she was having trouble leaving it alone, a task made that much harder a few moments later when their assigned demonology expert seemed to be struck in awe of Noel's presence. Noel, just what the hell is going on?

Kher'as seemed to be your stock-in-trade mechanical whiz, and Val had to admit having additional appendages for manipulation must have given her a leg up in her engineering tasks. Hungry? Vibe. Creator above I would kill for a pizza about now.

Finally there were Ying and Kiriko. Val could identify their outfits as eastern Asiatic in origin thanks to her, ah, extensive study in media from the area. Odd though, though don't look like they came together or knew each other before hand. Coincidence?

The support staff were pretty much what she expected, and she shot a quick thumbs up at Santoro at the mention of firepower; she had little doubt that whatever bizarre affairs the plumbers would drag them through would require the judicious application of such. The Chronomancer was... well he was a nerd, flat out. Hopefully he was a nerd who would also prevent them from jumping into any negative space-wedgies.

"You rang? Khehehe. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist surprising him like that. Oh where are my manners? I am Laz'Ar. An exile lord from one of the many Hells that have been conquered by the Khan." The demon bowed as he introduced himself "I am the other side of this demonologist duo. And may I say" He looked towards Noël and Val "This is an incredible honor. Please pass along my greetings to lady Lucifaria when you meet with her again."

And then once again, there was matter of the demonologist. "Incredible honor?" Val said with a mote of confusion. "Unless you've been craving a strawberry daquiri for the last three months, I'm not seeing how I'm included in this..."

"Anyway, nice to meet you bunch," Val offered to the group at large. "Like the man said, I'm Val. Let me know if I can get you anything."

 

[K0mori]

"I'm not part of the Plumbers officially, but they don't like members threatening each other." Moira spoke up in Ted's defense. "If Ted's on your team, they see some potential in him to get the job done. Just give him a chance."

"I'd be careful with that attitude," He spoke, his voice brusque, grim. "Majordomos who got too... Dangerous wound up dead a short time later. Enemy fire, we always said." Then, silently, Heilwyn moved on, climbing into the wicked, brutal truck, its suspension compressed then sprang up slightly.

Sloan gave no response to either Moira or Heilwyn. Instead, her eyeless face slowly pivoted to look at each as they spoke before returning to center in disregard. She had no interest in getting into an argument over whether or not her statement had been appropriate or not; she simply knew that it was- anything which might jeopardize her safety without any upside was totally unacceptable, and Kher'as seemed to agree... at least by the way she stood closer once the threat had been given.

The ride to the headquarters was short, throughout which Sloan preoccupied herself with music. Over the course of her career, she scraped the fileservers of any music service she could connect to and downloaded massive quantities of her version of humanity's musical records into a cloud database. This database was chained to her consciousness and could download itself into her chosen physical shells, if said shells were suitable for containing it. And it wasn't just music - the database had photographs, a text encyclopedia, and a small collection of movies, along with items she had deleted after the destruction of her home timeline: a complete world atlas, and a rolling record of the previous year's news.

In a way, the Steel Dancer wasn't just an arc for her mind to occupy. It was an ark for which the art she loved would be preserved for her sole appreciation. Any time she desired, she could surround herself with the sights and sounds of her original timeline.

They arrived at the headquarters. It was large, but Sloan had come from a world where megastructures were common. Rather than feeling awestruck or nervous at the imposing scale of the architecture, she felt nostalgic and relaxed. The introductions came next. There wasn't much to say about any of them; Prax seemed to be a pragmatic, if slightly blunt, individual, which was fine because he reminded her of herself. Some of the others were introduced as demonic, and almost immediately the topic turned toward the methods of killing them. Sloan nearly dove back into her music; how would killing a so-called demon be any different than killing anything else?

"Usually supperior firepower." Prax answered Heilwin's question.

There it is, she thought.

Santoro was the only one of the Plumbers' experts who inspired any sort of curiosity in the ghost. Most of the others were talking about eating physical food at the cafeteria, but that wasn't possible for Sloan. She was never hungry, nor did she really understand what most food tasted like. If she felt so inclined, she could stimulate the nerve center of her brain that was responsible for her dormant taste sensation, but it was unlikely to be accurate in any way.

Accepting her bracelet, she strapped it onto her wrist and contemplated the functions as they were demonstrated with the odd little fish thing they were being forced to take along. It seemed useful - the bracelet, not the fish - and she made a quick recording out of the explanation before filing it away for later.

"You can be at ease everyone." Checkers looked to the team. "If you have questions for me or Prax, go ahead. If you want to take a look around the place you can do that too. Otherwise feel free to get to know each other better. Trust me, its better to break the ice right away."

Sloan stepped up to Santoro. "The meat sacks are on their way to filling their guts. Which way to the armory?" she said flatly.

 

[archur]

Normally, any travel by vehicle was an easy way to distract the ant mechanic. Not that she was particularly interested in the construction of Moira’s custom rig, she’s had to put together smaller personnel carriers of similar function on her home timeline. No, it was because she was biologically hard-coded to figure out how to take apart machines and put them back together. It was one of the many reasons she was introduced to Heilwyn early on, and not Sloan. One appreciated being endlessly taken apart and examined more than the other, because one could step outside of their armor and the other couldn’t. One prevailing thought entered her mind all at once.

“WHY ARE ROBOTS SO WEIRD?!”

Her stomach grumbled as she ruminated on artificial life, reminding her that she was hungry right now, and pizza was the thing she was going to eat. Thankfully, the truck lurched to a stop, a precursor to food, hopefully.

Kher’as was barely paying attention as the rest of her crew, her new colony, arrived. The drones had flown into arm’s length of her, encapsulating her entire attention, or at least most of it. She felt the feelings and thoughts of her new colony-mates as they grouped up all together and began their introductions, but the words didn’t really click with her. After all, words were a way to communicate action and emotion, and she was able to tap into one of those two directly.

Heilwyn was paying actual attention to what was being said. His mind was processing information, but she felt a strange presence coloring what he was thinking… It was her, she was making him feel hungry. He didn’t seem to think that hunger was unpleasant, but he did devote thought to the thought of hunger. Strange. Fact was, she felt he was quite happy with the thought of… killing demons. With fire. This was typical Heilwyn behavior.

She still couldn’t place Ted or Sloan. She didn’t understand them past their innate function, and even though Kher’as didn’t understand what a major dodo was, she got that these two were her new colony-mates. Fixing them was her job, and so she hoped that they would trust her to do just that when the time came.

Prax was the big talker, and it seemed most everyone in the room mentally placed him as leader, which was correct, that was his job. He had a certain amount of pride as he spoke, head swirling with all the other times he had to give this speech to so many recruits in his past. She could sense his enthusiasm for ‘the fight’, it was clear to her that his allegiance to the plumbers was beyond duty. Admirable. Performing a function you designed yourself for was something Kher’as hoped she could one day achieve, being a mechanic was a matter of birth, not choice.

Noel. Noël? Gnoll. Null? She couldn’t grasp the name. Why is the L being said no to? Kher’as terminated the line of thought. Unimportant. They seemed to be doing what Kher’as was doing, taking stock, but less efficiently. A pang of.. fear, she was pretty sure, with a hint of resentment, popped into their head, directed at Heilwyn, but faded just as quickly. Why? Knowing how to kill things is good, no? Even if her colony were to kill other myrmidons, Kher’as didn’t see a problem with it. She’s even eaten others of her own kind before. Food is food when you’re that hungry, which was a sentiment literally nobody shared with her.

She couldn’t place Slerk. Being able to understand animals was actually somewhat outside of her skill set. They were simple, but didn’t really have thought the same way people did, which bothered her. They were creatures of instinct usually, decision matrices that operated with certain knobs turned and switches flipped when regarding other types of animals. She couldn’t really touch animals or influence them because of their rigid programming, or “instinct” as it was called, but Slerk, as she gleaned from Prax and Checkers, wasn’t a creature of instinct. She sensed curiosity, fear, and a general sense of wonder for the world around it. It was a grub! What was a grub doing around here without somebody to take care of it?

Checkers was that somebody. Checkers was annoyed by being that somebody, but she was the one responsible for the grub. Good! Kher’as made mental note of Slerk and Checkers and their mental signatures. As long as they were somewhere close, she would know where they were, just in case. Grubs were the colony’s future! Who knows what Slerk could grow into? It was the colony’s job to ensure the grub was safe and well fed at ALL times. Soon, she would have food. Did Checkers know how to properly prepare food for grubs to eat? Her mandibles clicked together absentmindedly. She would ensure Slerk saw food today, after she was loaded up on pizza.

Mmm, pizza. She could really go for some pizza right now.

What was she doing? Her head cocked to the last three members. Val, Kiriko, and Ying. Val’sharra (Kher’as found it intriguing they shared an apostrophe) was also doing what Kher’as was doing, but just as inefficiently as Noël. Is that what made demons different? Observation? Demons must be well informed, that’s why people are afraid of them. She got the sense that Val was “up in her own head” a lot, but also that she was missing something…

Val wasn’t hungry, or at least not as hungry as Kher’as was. Why wasn’t she hungry? She checked back in on Heilwyn on why he’d be hungry and noticed a psychic intrusion, convincing him he was. Kher’as focused on this, convinced that her ally was under attack, until she found the source of this foreign thought was herself. Didn’t she already process this? Was she getting sloppy?

“Huh.”

Nothing she could do about that! It was time to eat. She turned her head and felt a foreign object in her hands. It was a drone, attempting to dispense a bracelet. It was barely recognizable as a drone, as it was now a flying fan that happened to have a single cup holder that the bracelet perfectly fit inside. She felt a deal of importance assigned to it from the others, so she made sure to slip it onto her upper left wrist, dominant hand. She then let her new creation go so it could blow air into Prax’s face.

Kher’as is a mechanic who puts her skills to good use, and definitely doesn’t use those skills to play pranks on people, ever.

With introductions mostly out of the way, (support staff notwithstanding, she had the distinct feeling they wouldn’t appreciate her poking around their noggins) she felt a strong hunger pang.

“Strawberry daiquiri…” She uttered, her voice a low groan. “Pizza…” The tastes, the smells, the textures, she could barely contain herself.

“Kher’as is hungry and needs to eat pizza right now!” She loudly proclaimed, turning on her heel to raid the cafeteria.

 

[Infab]

"Just talk with Santoro on what type of weapon you want made" The robot man gave a salute "...after that we can pay the training rooms a visit to help you shake off the rust. If we don't have the time, we can pay a visit to the experience modules. Its sort of a digital tutor that will give you the muscle memory in a matter of minutes. Not a replacement for the real thing, but can help you in a pinch."

"Sounds good to me." responded Noël, choosing to ignore the explanation about Heilwyn's demon killing fuel. As long as he didn't point it at them, or anyone that Noël gave a shit about, they'd be alright.

Noël wasn't particularly hungry, honestly, so they'd choose to forgo the trip to the cafeteria. Instead, Noël moved over next to the gynoid near Santoro. "Better to relearn guns now than focusing on chow." they muttered to no one in particular, before looking directly to Santoro. "Got any double-barrels? Shotguns, that is. Over-under, side-by-side... either works." they asked, pausing for a moment before adding "...Oh, and a morning star? You know, ball shaped mace with spikes on it?"

 

[Damian0358]

As everyone began to greet one another, Ted decided to join in as well. "...nice to meet you all as well," he said with a slight bow, "feel free to call me Teddy if you would like."

Ted observed the reactions of those that had acted so far, and wasn't sure what to make of things. He was plussed on Heilwyn's questioning about demons, though that was more so due to ignorance than anything - despite being told about the Hells and demons briefly, he still didn't see what made them necessarily different. He wasn't even sure if he really understood the concept of 'demons'. Noël bringing up weapons training in contrast seemed like something that would be way more worthwhile. Of course, as an AI, they could just inject him with a fire control core to make him proficient with a weapon, or even 'imprint' him to one in specific, but that would only provide him with knowledge, not learned experience, which is what he preferred best... at least from his personal background. But he'd require a weapon to begin with, which meant speaking to either Santoro, or paying attention to where the armory might be and head there with Sloan and Noel... and he doesn't seem like he'd do the best with a weapon.

With the mention of the 'meat sacks' wanting to go eat, Ted shifted his attention back to the others. Heilwyn failed to approach Slerk, and Kher'as once more vaguely gestured and headed in a random direction. He still wasn't sure what was up with her, even if it seemed Moira could communicate with her. He figured that they can just understand one another as mechanics. Instead, he walked up from behind Heilwyn and went to approach Slerk himself.

"Is the, uh, the little being hungry?" he asked Checkers, knowing that if there's anything that can get someone used to others, it's being given food by them. As he asked, a minor noise could be heard from within Ted, and he pulled out a slice of buttered toast from inside his body.

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

Ying merely bobbed her head once at the apology. Truthfully, there was no true need for an apology - was it not the Outsiders that were responsible for the death of her world? Driven by base greed, plucking the very cornerstones of realities and the futures they underpinned? He could not have known. Millions of little dots on the canvas of infinity, with only so many eyes keeping track of them all.

She looked around. An assembly it was - a coterie of men and women unified in purpose and spirit, bound together by the actions of those beyond their reach. The creature in the tank had gurgled at her, suggesting intelligence. And it was seemingly considered part of this gathering. Many people, in all shapes and sizes, from the hulking armored figure to the outright demon. Certainly not as fearsome as demonic cultivators or their equally hellish pit abominations. But judging the surface without looking deeper could be very costly.

A few opportunists had been reminded of this fact, when she was wandering the wasteland of her reality. Violently.

Regardless, she exhaled. Having companions for the new war at hand was going to be a new experience. Ying doubted the solitary nature of the Heavenly Demon’s crusade against the sects allowed for even the most rudimentary alliance with her lessers. Not that Ying was any better; her journey was done entirely alone, following the whispers of the wind under the gaze of the false sky.

One sun in the sky, one ruler to reign.

She scratched her cheek. Where should she start?

 

[Breadman]

The meat sacks are on their way to filling their guts. Which way to the armory?

"Mind on the job I see." Santoro's head snapped to Sloan almost instantly "And a fellow shell head too." He knocked on his head armor with a pair of metal fingers. "I'll take you there myself." His synthetic voice was not devoid from emotion. It sounded almost...friendly. A module he installed a long time ago to let him talk to his biological colleagues without spooking them too much. Unfortunately it was showing its age and he was too stubborn to make an upgrade.

Better to relearn guns now than focusing on chow. Got any double-barrels? Shotguns, that is. Over-under, side-by-side....Oh, and a morning star? You know, ball shaped mace with spikes on it?

"Shotgun and morning-star?" He imitated the motion of someone scratching their chin while pondering something. "Yeah I'm thinking I can get you something." He motioned for them both to follow him. "Anyone want anything, come tag along so I can get your preferences. Otherwise check your holowrists for a map and where to find my armory."

Kher’as is hungry and needs to eat pizza right now!

"That's my que too!" Moira looked to the gathered plumbers "Anyone else hungry? I'm going before it turns into an ant colony." She didn't wait for an answer, instead turning on her heel and going after Kher'as.

"I suggest you go after them if you're feeling hungry." Prax said after a soft chuckle, followed by him pointing behind him with his thumb "I'll be going to meet with HQ really quick to get the final details done and find out when exactly we will make our fist jump." He nodded to Checkers, who nodded back. She would stay a while longer to further answer any questions or to help with anyone who needs assistance. That and Slerk was getting more comfortable with her, so she couldn't just leave him.

Is the, uh, the little being hungry?

Checkers looked to Ted as he pulled out the piece of freshly buttered toast from under his shirt. She was a little confused at first, but chose not to question it just yet. She had yet to read his file, but he didn't seem dangerous.

"Dunno. You want to try it, little guy?" She asked Slerk as she held him up closer to the piece of toast. Her attention next moved to Ying, who seemed still to be getting her bearings together. "Hey, are you doing good so far?" She asked the woman. Even if she showed enthusiasm earlier, this was still a lot to take in.

------
Santoro led Sloan, Noël and anyone who would be interested in upgrading their arsenal to his armory. A short walk starting from the inner lobby of the building leading to an elevator that would take them to the 24th floor. The mechanical man led them down a rather unremarkable hall to a specific door. 24G-5. A few presses on the keypad opened the door to his armory and revealed the jarring difference inside. The clean hallway gave way to his personalized armory.

"Take a look around, I'll see about picking out something for you in the meantime." He welcomed his guests in "Impossible spaces come in handy for weapon racks."

In the center of the room was the 'forge'. A large device that allowed a weapon smith to artificially recreate the weapons and gear that are requested from the plumbers on the field. They just needed to enter the specs into the console and the machine should be able to replicate things as close to the instructions that are given. Santoro spend a few moments tapping away looking for a few specific items to fit Noél wishes. At least things he hoped for.

The walls were covered with weapon racks organized in and labeled in a specific categories and subcategories. On one wall, melee weapons ranging from the mundane to technologically advanced to magical, blessed and even some cursed. One the other wall were ranged weapons from just about every stage of development. From the humble swing and bow, to weapons using gunpowder, plasma and lasers. Each weapon also had its share of variations and deviations from the main design.

"B-29, fetch our demon friend here a double barrel shotgun." The drone hovering near him beeped. "Demon energy infused? Get that one then." He turned his attention to Noél "We have a few you can try out, but I think the one you'll see in a minute would be a good fit." He pointed to the forge as it was currently finishing up its latest weapon order. "Pommel made from the wood of a tree of woe, metal used is from a Hellforge. You'll have to ask around Little DIs where its from." He picked it up and handed it to Noël "If you want runes, you'll have to do them yourself or ask one of the demonologists." The drone came back a few moments later. "There we go. Teams occasionally get into scraps with some tougher bastards and bring back something, like this. "He grabbed the double barrel from the drone. "This is a demonic variant of an existing gun. The runes on this one are more subtle, but you can see them glow in the dark. Double barrel, hits like a truck up close and meant for the hands of demonkind." He handed the shotgun over.

"Anything I can assist you with?" He called out to Sloan.
---

The cafeteria doors burst open as Kher'as ran in looking for the tasty morsels of pizza. Moira was trailing close behind her. The cafeteria was already bursting with life from agents that have just come back from a mission looking to relax or those who are looking to take a break from their current work in the building. While the burst did turn a few heads, most quickly returned to their meals. A hungry humanoid causing a ruckus as soon as they joined was not something that happened every day, but it happened often enough for people to get used to it.

Many veterans knew to simply step out of the way and let the hungry ant get to the food as soon as possible. Many gave Moira a friendly wave on the way to the buffet. The mechanic waved back as she picked up a tray on her way to the food. The cafeteria operated on a buffet basis as there was no shortage of ingredients to make the food to fill the Plumbers empty stomachs. Just grab a tray and pile on what you need. More food is on the way.

Moira managed to get a few slices of a meat lovers pizza. Enough to sate her hunger. Tho it wasn't exactly clear what the meat in the pizza was given all the possibilities. She knew for certain it wasn't anything sentient.

"What did you get?" She asked Kher'as as she stood next to her.

 

[Infab]

Holy hell, that's a lot of weapons.

Noël looked about the armory, impressed by its sheer scale. "Abaddon would have loved all of this... Gabe would love it too, honestly." Noël muttered softly to themself, as they stepped over to one of the racks and looked over some machine pistols and compact SMGs. A sidearm would be a good idea too, honestly. As they looked, Santoro eventually got their attention with the mace.

"Pommel made from the wood of a tree of woe, metal used is from a Hellforge. You'll have to ask around Little Dis where its from." He picked it up and handed it to Noël "If you want runes, you'll have to do them yourself, or ask one of the demonologists."

"Yeah. I can't make runes myself anymore. Forgot how." they responded, taking the mace and looking it over. It was honestly near perfect. Just needs... a finishing touch. "Though..." they said softly, their voice trailing off as the drone came back with the shotgun.

"There we go. Teams occasionally get into scraps with some tougher bastards and bring back something, like this. "He grabbed the double barrel from the drone. "This is a demonic variant of an existing gun. The runes on this one are more subtle, but you can see them glow in the dark. Double barrel, hits like a truck up close and meant for the hands of demonkind."

Noël looked the shotgun over before taking it, noticing the traces of demonic runes marking the weapon's metal. Oh yeah, this had seen plenty of combat. Certifiably hellish combat at that. As they took it by the nubby grip, they flicked the latch and opened it up. Looks like a 8 gauge... manageable.

Noël then flicked the weapon closed. "Works for me. I'll probably grab a sidearm from one of the racks as a backup." they responded with a nod.

Noël then looked to the mace in their other hand, as Santoro called out to Sloan. "Do you know of anyone that does... angelic runes?" they soon asked, looking up. "If you have demonologists, I'm sure you have some of the opposing variety from Heaven. Not all Heavens being created equal, so to speak."

 

[Breadman]

Incredible honor?" Val said with a mote of confusion. "Unless you've been craving a strawberry daquiri for the last three months, I'm not seeing how I'm included in this..."

"I apologize for any confusion by my worse half, miss." Lazarus spoke as he dusted himself off from loose traces left over from the transformation "He is rather fond of lady Lucifaria as he spend much of his time in his own Hell being a sycophant to any nobility he could attach himself to. Fortunately for her, you and everyone around her, she has warded off any attempt to brown-nose." He finished by straightening out his coat. "I urge you take any compliment he says with suspicion as you will have to deal with him. He unfortunately knows many things that can be useful to anyone of demonic blood."
---

Do you know of anyone that does... angelic runes? If you have demonologists, I'm sure you have some of the opposing variety from Heaven. Not all Heavens being created equal, so to speak.

"We do actually." Santoro's head quickly turned back to Noël. "Lady angel by the name of Anaiel. There are others, but I've worked with her a few times making blessed weapons and gear. She knows a thing or two. Heavenly advisers are on the same floor as demonology experts-33. Opposite end, impossible to miss. Fleshy colleagues tell me that one end smells of sulfur and the other smells of assorted pleasant fragrances to combat that." He paused for a moment "They get along, but their friendly rivalry is a pain in the ass if you're caught in the middle."

 

[PixelSymphony]

"I apologize for any confusion by my worse half, miss." Lazarus spoke as he dusted himself off from loose traces left over from the transformation "He is rather fond of lady Lucifaria as he spend much of his time in his own Hell being a sycophant to any nobility he could attach himself to. Fortunately for her, you and everyone around her, she has warded off any attempt to brown-nose." He finished by straightening out his coat. "I urge you take any compliment he says with suspicion as you will have to deal with him. He unfortunately knows many things that can be useful to anyone of demonic blood."

"I see," Val said, with a snicker. "well, I suppose it's only fair for your, ah, wilder side to have a silver tongue. Though, if he's truly is that useful for our sort, I'll be sure to remember that when he inevitably comes around asking for a favor... or a drink." Now it was her own turn to give a bit of a devilish grin. Who said a deal with the devil didn't work both ways?

Noël wasn't particularly hungry, honestly, so they'd choose to forgo the trip to the cafeteria. Instead, Noël moved over next to the gynoid near Santoro. "Better to relearn guns now than focusing on chow." they muttered to no one in particular, before looking directly to Santoro. "Got any double-barrels? Shotguns, that is. Over-under, side-by-side... either works." they asked, pausing for a moment before adding "...Oh, and a morning star? You know, ball shaped mace with spikes on it?"

She turned to Noel and jerked a thumb behind her. "Much as I'd love to join you, I think there's a slice or two with my name on it so I'll catch you later, demongril; don't have too much fun in the armory without me." She spun on a heel and sauntered out of the main thoroughfare of the hq down the hall towards where the others had raced, adding a final remark of "and tell me if any of the angels are hot!" before disappearing through the large double doors of the cafeteria.

Inside, the cafeteria revealed itself to be just about the same as at any other major corporate vendor; long tables with chairs lining them stretched from one axis of the room to another, with scatterings of smaller tables placed wherever they fit. Above, a combination of large plate glass windows and industrial lighting made sure the room was well illuminated, while below the floor was as slip and wear-resistant as any she'd trod upon. She spotted Kher'as (not a particularly difficult proposition) across the room at one of the individual tables already tucking into her meal, and the mechanic from earlier sitting beside her enjoying her own beefy slices. Moira, was it?

Far from a novice at enjoying the greasy delight herself, Val grabbed a tray and, upon discovering that buffet was indeed all-you-could-eat, set about the task of layering one hefty slice atop another before making her way to the shared table. "Hey girls, what's good?" she chimed in cheerily, already digging into her first pepperoni slice before anyone even had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

 

[joshuadim]

Slerk looked up towards the android's peace offering with some measure of suspicion, though as its aroma approached the creature wafted over the instinctive suspicions dissipated as he slowly leaned his head over to it. He sniffed the bread for a moment, his spines flicking as if they too were affected by the senses, until he finally snatched it out of Ted's hand with a quick jerk and gobbled on it like a vicious animal. Very quickly, the slice was gone with all that remained being the crumbs left all over the floor and the creature's face.

It certainly tasted good, though the flavours were foreign to him as he had never had bread before in his life. The same was true of the small amount of butter that had soaked into it, as its flavour was both smooth and salty at the same time. But then came another aroma from nearby, which hit the little creature's senses like a truck as his pupils dilated and his head jerked upwards to smell more. It was an orchestra of different aromas, all of which smelled tasty, and made the little creature wriggle in Checkers' grasp as he pointed his gaze towards the canteen that Kher'as and Moira had run off to.

He smelled the meat and fish that was available there and he was intent on getting there and gorging himself. He wriggled harder in the woman's grasp until he managed to finally slip out by force of will and quickly ran to the cafeteria!

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Heilwyn's helm turned, orange lenses gleaming bright when Santoro mentioned a visitation to the armoury. He tapped one finger against the chin of his helmet, before shifting his craggy, thick-set shoulders slightly. He half-turned as Kher'as, Moira, and the rest began shuffling out of the room. "Leave a slice for me, I'll check out the armoury first." The armoured giant spoke, the gauntlet fingers clicked, flicking a gun gesture towards the head mechanic. Heilwyn stepped after them, throwing a jagged shadow down the sterile, smooth corridors of their headquarters. His headquarters, he corrected, feeling the metallic bracelet's chill against his wrist beneath the warm, tempered surface of his wargear.

He wouldn't admit it, but the thought of serving again, even if it had been for an entirely different organisational structure was a comforting notion. It gave him a sense of purity, order, purpose. Something that he sorely lacked since his mysterious eviction from the confines of his universe. And though Moira's automotive shop had given him a temporary reprieve, it would not have lasted.

The inky blackness of his suit gleamed in the well-lit hallway as Santoro entered the unlocking sequence for the armoury. Once inside, a sharp whistle knifed out of Heilwyn's helm grille as all the weaponry came into view. The contents, laid out on racks, extensive. From prehistoric items such as the bow that Heilwyn had only seen in historical manuscripts to faintly-familiar weapons of lead, laser, and plasma.

Pausing on a particular laser rifle, Heilwyn took it up, wordlessly inspecting the intricate details of the weapon. This particular rifle looked small in his hands, but as Heilwyn's head panned across the different displays, there was one that would likely fit comfortably in his gauntlets. He half-turned, racking the weapon in its place again. "Chief, you've got anything with a lot of firepower, but compact like a matchbox?" Heilwyn asked, grinning. "Not actually that small, but something to fit within or beneath the armour — a fallback weapon."

 

[Damian0358]

Ted observed as Slerk snatched the toast from his hands and began devouring him. His hand didn't twitch at the abrupt action, and those next to him could see him smile at the sight. He enjoyed when his toast was appreciated, especially if he got the toast-eater's preference on the first go. Thereafter, the little guy slipped out of Checkers' grasp and rushed to the cafeteria.

As the two watched him run off, he looked to Checkers. ""I'll go after him," he said matter-of-factly, as he began following after, allowing Checkers to stay with Ying.

The cafeteria appeared as impressive as one would assume at a building such as this one, and his rudimentary smell sensors (which he had to further his capacity to taste) detected the waft of many various foods in the air. He already knew what he might get, and could see in the distance there was plenty to grab of what he wanted, so he concentrated instead of making sure Slerk didn't go missing, or worse, succumb to a food coma.

 

[K0mori]

"Anything I can assist you with?" He called out to Sloan.

Since entering the armory, Sloan was silent aside from the clicking and clacking of her metal legs against the floor and the almost-inaudible whirring and hissing of servos, motors, and hydraulics facilitating the Steel Dancer's graceful movements. Her head turned very, very slowly as the cameras mounted within took an extremely high-detail scan of the weapons racks. Pulses of ultrasonic sonar bounced around the room; she quietly made a map of the immediate area, having come to accept that the armory was, in fact, larger on the inside than on the outside.

Many rules from her own world did not apply here. There was, in fact, no proof that she had not accidentally trapped herself within a virtual reality on her dying world, but she nonetheless carried on as this was all there was, from her perspective.

"Gas," she replied, as calmly as ever. "...Poison. Biological. Whatever kills in confined spaces - just not corrosive."

There was no question that in a fight against a flesh-made enemy, passive solutions which would kill without a struggle were infinitely preferrable. Cannisters of fatal fumes would be a highly valuable advantage for a being which has no need to breathe.

She approached a display which contained bladed weapons. The Steel Dancer was built to wield a pair of double-sided blades, manufactured from aerospace-rated titanium. These weapons had done well to keep Sloan alive until the Citadel rescued her from her doomed version of Earth, but the effort had badly damaged them, to the point that repairing them would never restore them to their original strength. "...I'm sending you blueprints," she then said. "I would like these to be stronger than their original spec. Whatever material you have, whatever preparation or treatment you need to use, is acceptable if you can forge a stronger blade," she explained, dragging her finger along the edge of a clearly evil-looking implement from some reality's version of Hell.

As Sloan paced through the armory, something subtle changed in the way the Steel Dancer moved. It was less graceful, and more purposeful, as if it were stalking something which wasn't there. She would give no further requests, however; this was merely her way of seeing the sights, cataloging information, and taking notes on possible obstacles in her path.

 

[Infab]

"Lady angel by the name of Ananiel. There are others, but I've worked with her a few times making blessed weapons and gear. She knows a thing or two. Heavenly advisers are on the same floor as demonology experts-33. Opposite end, impossible to miss. Fleshy colleagues tell me that one end smells of sulfur and the other smells of assorted pleasant fragrances to combat that... They get along, but their friendly rivalry is a pain in the ass if you're caught in the middle."

Noël chuckled. "Most of the angels where I'm from naturally smell nice. Demons, on the other hand, have a variety of smells. Both good and bad." they responded afterwards. I usually smell like perfume and booze... speaking of which--

Noël quickly sniffed their shirt, pulling it forward slightly and shoving their nose in the collar. Good. I don't smell like the whole fucking liquor store. I stopped drinking just in time.

"Ananiel, huh? The Ana back home is pretty much a gate guardian in Heaven. Wonder what this one's deal is..." they said, mostly to themself since Sloan had got Santoro's attention. Noël listened in, as they moved over to a rack lined with various types of holsters. Gotta be able to carry your weapons around, right? They found one that was large enough to hold the double barrel, which was actually a modified rifle holster that went across the back. They took it, slipped it on, and shoved the weapon into it over their right shoulder. Perfect. Then, a bandolier for the shotgun shells was next. They opted for a belt around the waist, which they soon shoved several 8 gauge shells into.

The mace would have to be carried for now. At least until they could figure out how to properly store it. The angels would know of a way, as Noël certainly didn't. Not at the moment. Then, Noël found one more holster: a simple pistol holster that allowed one to store a pistol on their side beneath their arm. It also came with three magazine holsters attached to the webbing as well. That went on under the jacket they were wearing, over the shirt.

Now they just had to find a pistol to shove in it. Back to the pistol rack they went, and a few moments later, they found something simple enough. M1911. Neat camo scheme. I dig it. They drew it out of the rack, and took a moment to look it over before grabbing four magazines for it. As they loaded the proper ammo into the magazines, they glanced up and watched Sloan move about the armory. Sloan had requested some sort of weapon involving gas. Probably nerve gas or something. She also requested blades. Neat. I need to find a gas mask now. One's trying to burn everything, and the other wants to gas things. Its the first world war all over again.

Noël then noticed the way Sloan was wandering around. ...She's moving like she's hunting someone. What is she, a fucking Terminator back home?

...We're about to try and strike up a conversation with the gynoid, aren't we? Well... gotta be friendly, I guess.

"...You don't see a lot of downtime, do you?" asked Noël, looking to Sloan as they pass. "Laser focused on work and all, keeping an eye out for threats anywhere and everywhere... Do you ever, ya know, relax once in a while?"

Noël shrugged afterwards. "Not saying its a bad thing, or knockin' you for it. It pays to be diligent. Just wondering, is all." they added, before glancing to Heilwyn as they made their requests of Santoro. He must have followed them in. What's he want, a Noisy Cricket?

 

[archur]

The act of feasting was one that had quickly become sacred to Kher'as. She was used to highly regulated diets of nutrient paste, flavorless, mushy gruel made by grinding up large quantities of biological matter with dubious origins ranging from animal feed, to ground-up enemy soldiers. Not that she particularly minded eating nutrient paste, the myrmidon didn't know any better. However, she was cursed with the knowledge of real food when she was rescued from her reality, and now there was no stopping her from getting her fill when she wanted a good meal, which was anything and everything, really.

Kher'as only recently learned any form of table manners through the reactions of others when she ate, and a brief lesson on eating properly that Moira showed her after she failed to distinguish between dining table and buffet table. Thankfully, Kher'as learned quickly, barely controlling herself when at the buffet bar when shoveling food on her plates, determined not to get back up for seconds, when fourths were clearly on her mind.

She had a bit of everything. 7 eggs, 2 whole cheese pizzas, 1 steak (uncooked), 2 oversized slices of bread (presumably for the steak. Sandwiches were a new concept for her), a paper cup full of a swirl of condiments, a whole head of celery (as per Heilwyn's request that she 'eat at least a little healthier'), a petite bowl of crab-flavored ice cream (classic from her universe, the umami taste really does it for her), and a glass of water. Personally, she was disappointed the cafeteria didn't have the corpses of enemies to eat, seeing fallen foes and consuming their essence really boosted morale where she came from, but she knew that it wasn't always looked on favorably when she requested it or talked about it.

She missed home, even if it meant sleepless work and being ripped apart and stitched back together again. It meant that she wasn't alone.

The thought disappeared quickly as she sat down. At least half of one of the pizza pies was finished before she sat down with her five trays.

"What did you get?" She asked Kher'as as she stood next to her.

"Food!" She said, presenting her day's meal with a sweeping gesture, eating non-stop as she did so. She sat down, her feasting stopping for nothing and nobody, which didn't stop her from talking. She didn't get the custom entirely since her speaking wasn't interrupted by her eating, words didn't come out of her mouth. Waves of contentment poured from her like a waterfall as she was already over halfway done with eating. She didn't really chew her food like other beings did, literally vacuuming it up if it wasn't bigger than her mouth, but she still enjoyed all the sugars and proteins like everyone else would if they could eat like her.

"Hey girls, what's good?" she chimed in cheerily, already digging into her first pepperoni slice before anyone even had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

"Ice cream is good!" She had gotten to her desert in record time, her long, tube-like tongue slowly scraping away at the ice cream. It was one of the few foods she couldn't eat in seconds since she could barely handle the cold.

"Wish they had victory meat though. Like at home." It was the most direct translation of her favorite meal without souring the stomachs of her co-workers. Her secondary arms twisted a bracelet on her upper left wrist, activating soft psychic suppression. She made it with some direction from Moira after a mental breakdown. While others might enjoy being around Kher'as while she was happy, it was quite the opposite when she was sad. The bracelet was made so that she didn't influence the emotions of others when she knew she would be upset, her turning it on meant she was about to be upset and she didn't want to force other people to be upset with her.

She shook her head, and forced herself to think of something else, turning off the bracelet. "Kher'as is hoping being a plumber won't be hard with colony-mates help. Unsure of what future brings for Kher'as."

Slurp. She recoiled from licking the ice cream, her long, tube-like tongue stiffening in mild pain.

"Stress."

Slurp. She cringed, unable to handle her temperatures.

"Good stress though! New thing bring stress! Normal for new thing to do that."

Slurp. There was a love-hate relationship with ice cream. She loved the flavor, but hated slowing down. It froze her brain too, which was the worst.

The sound of wet appendages slapping against smooth floor alarmed her, and all of her motherly instincts she never knew she had kicked in at once, her antennae standing straight up.

"Baby?"

 

[K0mori]

"...You don't see a lot of downtime, do you?" asked Noël, looking to Sloan as they pass. "Laser focused on work and all, keeping an eye out for threats anywhere and everywhere... Do you ever, ya know, relax once in a while?"

Noël shrugged afterwards. "Not saying its a bad thing, or knockin' you for it. It pays to be diligent. Just wondering, is all." they added, before glancing to Heilwyn as they made their requests of Santoro. He must have followed them in. What's he want, a Noisy Cricket?

Sloan came to a stop and mechanically pivoted to face Noël. "I am relaxed," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her electronic voice. She then resumed her scans.

 

[Infab]

"I am relaxed," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her electronic voice.

"That's relaxed?" responded Noël, looking back to Sloan. "You're power strutting around like a bird, hunting for something to eat or kill."

Noël then shook their head and shrugged. "You do you, I guess." they continued, finishing loading the M1911 magazines before popping one into the pistol and holstering it. "My thoughts don't mean shit. Haven't for quite a long time, now."

 

[K0mori]

Sloan didn't respond to the additional comments. Whether or not Noël thought her movements appeared "relaxed" was an irritatingly irrelevant concern. There was a speed at which she was able to move and collect information efficiently - that was all that mattered. There were no muscles in her legs that would ache at the extra exertion, so why pretend that she had any need to slow down?

 

[Infab]

Note to self: gynoid isn't friendly.

Additional note to self: I don't have to be friendly to the gynoid either. This shit works both ways.

Once they made sure their pistol was secure in its holster, Noël glanced back to Santoro. "If she's getting gas, we're going to need masks. She doesn't seem like the type to care if we breathe the shit in." they said, before moving towards the exit. "I'm going to head up to see Ananiel. See if I can get this thing marked and blessed. I'll be back for weapons training, if you're the one that does that kind of thing."

As they walked, they twirled the mace around in their hand. Noël was attempting to get used to the weight and feel of it. Old one was... lighter.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Heilwyn spun, the grating of his armoured boots loud against the metallic floor, waiting for Santoro's answer. His helm shifted as Noël and Sloan exchanged their contentions about the notion of relaxation. A part of him had been uninterested in the whole affair, he's seen kill-drones with similar dispositions to the sleek-shelled machine. He inclined his head slightly when Noël voiced his concerns about the presence of gas. There was a series of quick thumps as Heilwyn ran his gauntlet knuckles against his helm. "Air-purifiers can scrub around 88% of atmospheric pollutants, can also seal the entire suit with an oxygen supply of two hours." Heilwyn answered, the subtlest hint of pride colouring his voice.

"Can the Forge recreate objects that aren't weapons or armour?" He asked, his dreaded bulk leaning over the device, casting a long, craggy shadow on the centre of the room.