001 bullets fired
[If a machine could be said to be unhappy, then Unit HC IIIX Hercules Tres Iqus was a distinctly unhappy machine. The moment he had arrived in this castle he had run diagnostics to determine his location, as well as activate his internal tracking and GPS to pinpoint how far he was from the Vatican.
None worked. He must be severely malfunctioning to not be able to tell where he was or how to return to Rome, an automatic internal memo was filed and flagged as high importance to speak to Father William Wordsworth once he returned for repairs.
It took 0.54 seconds to run through all potential logical reasons for his relocation to an unknown place, and whittle them down to the most probable. There was to be an assassination attempt on the Duchess of Milan and her bodyguards were being scattered. A hand went immediately towards his gun holster, lips already forming the flat words: ‘Battle system: Initiated’ when his fingers met thin air instead of the metallic butt of a gun.
Weaponless.
The situation had now moved into urgent, and there was no more time to wait in idle speculation (of which he had already wasted 0.76 seconds), he must find where he was and who was responsible. Opening the door to his room, mismatched eyes processed the small plaque bearing his name and serial number, filing the information for future reference as he set off through the hallways.]
This is HC IIIX Tres Iqus, codename “Gunslinger”, requesting a geographical location immediately.
[ooc: He's baaaaack. Open over the journals or in person <3]
None worked. He must be severely malfunctioning to not be able to tell where he was or how to return to Rome, an automatic internal memo was filed and flagged as high importance to speak to Father William Wordsworth once he returned for repairs.
It took 0.54 seconds to run through all potential logical reasons for his relocation to an unknown place, and whittle them down to the most probable. There was to be an assassination attempt on the Duchess of Milan and her bodyguards were being scattered. A hand went immediately towards his gun holster, lips already forming the flat words: ‘Battle system: Initiated’ when his fingers met thin air instead of the metallic butt of a gun.
Weaponless.
The situation had now moved into urgent, and there was no more time to wait in idle speculation (of which he had already wasted 0.76 seconds), he must find where he was and who was responsible. Opening the door to his room, mismatched eyes processed the small plaque bearing his name and serial number, filing the information for future reference as he set off through the hallways.]
This is HC IIIX Tres Iqus, codename “Gunslinger”, requesting a geographical location immediately.
[ooc: He's baaaaack. Open over the journals or in person <3]