paradisa | 00110101 [five] [dictated/action]

Granted. [She doesn't sound happy.] What happened?

A new arrival was armed and ready to fire a compound bow. Orders to lower his weapon and stand down was met with resistance.

Edited 2012-05-16 17:59 (UTC)

Where was this arrival last seen?

He is currently in my custody, requesting the return of his last arrow. Our battle ended in his surrender. Information has been given.

Your orders regarding the ammunition? [Say yes, since we're messing with timeframes =P ]

He is highly trained in archery and fighting, able to fully avoid my non-lethal assault. He claims to not be a threat; the arrival caused the aggression.

Return it to him. I will have words with him later about how he conducted himself.

Affirmative. The arrow has been returned, and I will relay your wish to speak with him at a later time.

Thank you, Father Tres. Please return to me once repairs are complete.

Positive.

What happened? What do you need me to do?

My right shoulder and left lower arm have been punctured by an armor-piercing arrow. Some minor fluid leakage has been rerouted, but functionality has been lowered with 23%.

I am cleared to provide you with basic data of my systems and structure.

Can't say I've ever repaired an arrow puncture, but it shouldn't be too difficult a fix, if the arrow went clean through.

I've set my computer to receive data wirelessly, so you can transmit what you need me to have, look for wireless receiver "OUTER HEAVEN". It's encrypted, but the password is "MINESHAFTGAP". Are you functional enough to come up, or do you need me to come to you?

Affirmative. I will send the data - it is encrypted as well. Password is 6777BC75I.

I am 79% functional and mobile. I will arrive in 2.4 minutes.

Gotcha. I'll look it over while you're on your way up.

[Meanwhile, he's getting his tools ready. He knows what to expect, but at the same time he's never performed surgery on a cyborg that's hundreds of years ahead of his expertise. He'll also throw a tarp over the prototype Chrysalis he's building for the Western Outpost.]

[Right on time, Tres arrives outside Huey's door and gives it a knock.]

I have arrived, as per our agreement.

[Aside from the small splatters or red on his clothes, he seems fine... even if he needs to mend his vestments after this.]

[There's a small mechanical whirr as a camera Huey mounted over the door zooms in and identifies Father Tres, and a few moments later, the door swings inward automatically for him. Huey's got soldering irons and magnifying lenses adorning his normal glasses, as well as an assortment of surgical tools and other assorted tools for the task at hand, he's still studying the schematic Father Tres sent him, even as his Mark II robot is still picking up small items from around Huey's lab/room for the task at hand and setting them on the table for him.]

C'mon in, Father Tres. I'm just giving your schematic one last look here. Your construction is absolutely brilliant I have to say. I'd love to meet your creator one day, if he ever showed up in Paradisa. Uhh...Anyway, come over here and sit down at the table, so I can get a look at you. Might wanna take off your jacket and stuff too.

[Tres steps inside and glances around before moving over to Huey. He begins calculating if the table would hold for his 400 lbs.]

My creator was criminal and a traitor, Dr. Emmerich. He took his own life when his plans to rebel against the Vatican was stopped and all units except for me were destroyed.

[There's no emotion in those words, and he begins to take off his mozzetta and unclasping the cassock.]

[Tres's retort stings Huey a bit, ringing close to home with the death of his friend Aleksander, who had been working for the GRU Colonel Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin at the time of his death.]

Yeah, but...criminal intent or not, machines are incapable of evil on their own, and it doesn't negate the sophistication or brilliance of their desgn. Heck, you could even call me a traitor for developing a conscience! My creations were seized against my will, to be used for a purpose I didn't intend for them, and I ultimately defected from the United States to join the organization I'm part of now, so that I could atone for what I'd done.

[Meanwhile, he's observing Tres's wound from a distance, noting how clean it was. Whoever had shot him had done so with expert marksmanship. It had obviously been meant as a deterrent shot, though the marksman probably didn't know that Tres was a cyborg.]

[Tres notices the way Huey reacts to his words, and he takes notes to not mention the subject again. He didn't want to cause the man any undue emotional stress.]

I apologize.

[Finally having removed all the clothes on his upper body, the killing doll takes a seat on the table and makes sure that his shoulder was in reach for Huey. The shot really had been exceptional, though the shoulder wound was in a somewhat worse shape than the arm one... both due to the fact that it had gone straight through the arm rather than getting lodged, and because Hawkeye had violently ripped the arrow from Tres' shoulder.

It was quite a feat to have even gotten through the metal layer right under his synthetic skin - it was hard enough to stop must kinds of bullets. He could take sprays of machine-gun fire without issue, but that arrow and the man's skill had gotten through.

The synthetic skin would be easy enough to fix, and the wound in the muscle was clean-through. The issue was several torn wires and a ruptured line of the strange red fluid that was creepily similar to blood. Tres had rerouted the flow so he wasn't losing the fluid any more, but without a supply it would make his arm stiffen and the joints wouldn't be well-lubricated.]

Don't worry about it. It's just that...a friend of mine was working for the Russians before he died, and his work was brilliant, such that I base a lot of my own research on what he started. Scientists almost never start out with harmful intent, but our creations get misused, and sometimes we get caught up in our own research, so we can't always see the harm we're causing, you know?

[Huey swings a magnifier in front of his right eye, and begins to work, probing at the wounds with a small implement, getting a feel for what was going on inside.]

Okay so..hmm...the surface damage'll be easy enough to repair, but it looks like some of the wiring for your feedback and control systems are torn, and this lubrication line needs to be patched. I'll have to cut out the frayed wire, and patch in some to replace it. Looks like whoever attacked you really wanted his arrow back. There's a lot of internal tearing here from where the arrowhead was pulled back out.

[He gets out a small clippers, and gently works them into the wound, clipping out the offending wire and removing it with a tweezers. He swallows hard, and then gets out a small patch of gauze and begins to mop up the leaked lubricant so he can get a better look at the lubrication line. He's never been comfortable with blood or violence, so it's taking everything he's got not to puke. He's reminding himself that Tres is just a machine, and that he's just making repairs. He grabs the replacement wire with one hand, and brings it into place for replacement, and brings a small soldering iron with the other, applying a small amount of the liquid metal to either end, joining one of the frayed wires together. He's sweating a bit now, so he leans back to mop his brow, and let the breath he was holding.]

Phew, I'm not used to working on such a small scale. I mean...the Mark II is pretty small, but nowhere near as sophisticated as you are, Father Tres.

[He gets out a small plastic patch, before getting a better look at the tear in the tubing, and shaking his head.]

Hmm...I don't think a patch is gonna be enough. I might have to clip out this whole section and replace it, so your internal fluid pressure isn't compromised by the tear. Mark II? bring me a length of 1/8th inch polymer tubing.

[The little robots zooms over to a collection of bins against a far wall, examining the writing on each, before sending up it's whiplike manipulator arm to seize the appropriate item from it's bin, and zooming back over to Huey's feet, offering him the requested item.]

Thanks. Now, I'll use a combination of patching and liquid polymer fixative to join either end of your original tubing here to the section I'm gonna replace.

[Interesting enough, it is pretty similar to keyhole surgery, even though the patient didn't need anesthetic and didn't move even a millimeter while being operated on... Tres didn't need to breathe, after all. Even the tube being replaced was similar to reconstructing a ruptured artery, and the wires mirrored severed nerves.

Tres' watches Huey work, making notes of each step as the wiring is replaced. This man truly was skilled, probably around the level of Professor Wordsworth - his 'mechanic' back in the Vatican.]

You do very impressive work, Dr. Emmerich.

[Much more advanced than he had expected, really. The full replacement of the damaged area meant that he could use the same force as before when in combat, rather than having to lover his specs to avoid tearing it once more. If anything, being fully functional in battle was the most important thing for the killing doll. (Cosmetic repair was only necessary if he had to go undercover, and that wasn't an issue here in Paradisa.]

I will have to do several diagnostics after this. Do you have a small monitor with a 6.35 mm plug available?

[He didn't really need that for his system diagnostics, but it would help the repairs if Huey knew what was going on as well.]

Thanks! I've never worked on something like you before, but your control system and physical setup are a lot like what I usually work on, specifically ZEKE. [He points to the small resin model on a display stand.] So it was easy enough to figure out what I had to do to preserve your full operational capacity.

[He points to one of his more advanced computers he's set up, currently on a rather silly repeating screensaver.]

Yup, right over here.

[Huey's kind of geeking out now, as he can kind of guess what Tres is about to do.]

[He glances over to the model, scanning it before giving a slight nod. That would indeed assist with his setup, even if his was on the tinier and more complicated side. Surgery, indeed.

Tres reaches over to the monitor and calmly unplugs it. Unfortunately he doesn't have any data on pop culture, so the screensaver tells him nothing. (Obviously the killing doll needs to play video games.)

Reaching up, he plugs in the monitor to a hole in the back of his head, and his eyes go a bit dim.]

series: homo caedelius
model: killing_doll
unit_number: IIIX

system: run_scan [time lapse: 00:01]

█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █
100%

damage: 17.568%
status: operational

system: comlink_active
input: castle_net

password: inactive
access: ally_filter_beta
user: dr_harold_huey_emmerich

system: run_diagnostics [body]

█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █
50%

[Huey watches both the display, as well as Father Tres with interest, mentally recording all of the pertinent information. Though there's still some damage that needs taking care of, all of the important stuff is done.]

Do you want me to do the external repairs?

system: run_diagnostics [body]

█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █
100%

input: Do you want me to do the external repairs?

01001001001000000110110001101111011101100110010100100000011100000110000101101110011000110110000101101011011001010111001100101110

system: Y/N

[Tres' eyes light up a bit again as a buttload of data rush over the screen, showing the complexity of his brainstem-powered system.]

Positive, Dr. Emmerich. The shoulder is working and the arm should have few internal complications, aside from the tear in muscle and synthetic skin.

[Hueys eyes scan the data as it flashes over the screen, noting the similarity of Father Tres's thought patterns to those of the PEACE WALKER AI, which impresses Huey, due to how complex the IMAGO system had been.]

Gotcha. Could you...uhh...give me the specifications of your artificial muscle tissue and synthetic skin? It's a little outside my expertise, but I think I'm a fast enough learner to figure it out. I'm particularly interested in your artificial muscle. Do you produce fatigue toxins when you move? Lactic acid?

Affirmative.

[He proceeds to give the specifications over the monitor. It is a very complex plastic muscle creation, powerful but flexible. He doesn't seem to create any lactic acid - Tres could go on moving forever without tiring.]

[Huey scans the specifications, noting the complex chemical composition of the plastic polymer, and planning in his head how he'd synthesize it for reproduction.]

Hmm...I could patch the damaged muscle using a liquid plastic mixture, but like your fluid circulatory system, I'd honestly prefer to replace the whole thing, so that your shoulder won't be any weaker from the damage. It'll take me some time, I need to synthesize the plastic for the artificial muscle, and I'll need to mold and compress it into the right shape so you'll get the muscle tension and flexibility you'll want. Shouldn't take much longer than oh...probably a a week, maybe longer? In the mean time you'll want to take it easy on that arm.

Understood.

[Huey really was an amazing man when it came to technology, on the par with Professor Wordsworth. While Tres could repair his systems, it was good to know that he could rely on the man when it came to fixing the mechanics.]

_{[Hey. Hey Tres. There is a peacock looking at you in the lobby - an albino peacock no less. It's considering you with a strangely intelligent gaze. He clicks up and reaches its neck out, peering at the blood stained garments and then back up at Tres with a -

What happened?

- sort of cant to his feathery head.]}

[Animal located. Immediate perimeter search for possible owner.

...none.

Tres goes through his databank, and finds some entries of peacocks, all while keeping his attention on the journal.

Then the killing doll notices that the bird is giving him a very intelligent look and reactions.]

Requesting information; are you a castle resident on a loss?

[He's not a fool, after all. But thankfully the red stains on him do not... smell like blood. More like oil and chemicals.]

_{[Vanyel makes a peacock sound of affirmation and bobs his head, going over to a nearby pedestal and managing to get himself up on it so he's more or less almost eye level with Tres.]}

[This would be awkward if Tres knew what awkward was.]

Acknowledged. Are you in need of assistance?

_{[Yes. He is a PEACOCK.

Instead all that comes out is a cheep. He'd try to communicate telepathically, but most people seem to lack that particular gift.]}

[He's kind of immune to such things, being made up of mostly circuits. That tiny human brain stem isn't very impressively vocal.]

I can deliver a message or take you to a safe area.

_{[Huh... safe area, was it? Well, he would like to go outside, but probably to the gardens, not his room. He'd never get back out. He cocked his head, wondering how to communicate this and sees a book left on the couch in the lobby.

He flaps over and gets it, dropping it open and begins to tap letters with his beak.]}

G-A-R-D-E-N

[Tres follows and then watches the bird tap his beak in the book. Reading the words, the cyborg nods.]

Acknowledged. I will bring you to the castle garden.

[Studying the bird, he then just... picks the poor thing up.]

_{[Vanyel let out a squawk, turning to him and tapping angrily with his beak at his shoulder.

His tail man, his tail! Watch it!]}

[Don't worry, birdie. Tres tucks his other arm under the plumes, making sure that the animal didn't come to any harm.]

My apologies. It is more efficient this way.

_{[He calmed now that his tail was supported and he trilled, finding it almost... comfortable. He rubbed his face against the cloak and scarf, wondering at the material. It was quite nice.]}

[The white stole is quite nice, being cotton and all. The mozzetta is made from a thicker fabric and has metal clasps and such all over it, so Tres makes sure the resident does not harm himself on it.

Efficient as ever, it does not take Tres long at all to help the peacock out to the garden. Very gently, he sets Vanyel down.]

_{[Vanyel flaps his wings to get his balance and cheeps, looking up at the other, wondering how best to express his thanks.

He finally hopes to the ground and goes to a patch of dirt and with his beak he manages to carve out letters.]}

T-H-A-N-K-S. N-A-M-E-?

[He watches the bird draw in the dirt.]

HC-IIIX Tres Iqus. Requesting your name.

_{[That... was a mouthful. But all right.

He turns, and draws again.]}

V-A-N-Y-E-L A-S-H-K-E-V-R-O-N.

Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ashkevron. Do you require further assistance?

00110101 [five] [dictated/action]

Father Tres; bear with me. her paid time ran out like half way through my hiatus

Duchess Milan; always ♥

Father Tres

Duchess Milan

Father Tres

Duchess Milan

Father Tres

Duchess Milan

Father Tres

Dr. Emmerich

Father Tres - Also? Please forgive him for his silly movie references XD

Dr. Emmerich - lol ♥

Father Tres

Action

Action forever!

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Question: Does Tres have artificial muscle tissue? Huey wants to know. For science =3

Yup! It's made for some kind of plastic, according to the books.

Gotcha. They develop something similar in the Metal Gear series, used in Raiden and the GEKKO units

They're not very detailed on how Tres is built, but I supply much with headcanon XD

Makes sense. I do the same with a lot of Huey's inventions XD

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