The Scoundrel and the Machinist

[16:03] Armand asks, "My good sir, you said a factory? Of the specialized sort, or generalist?"
[16:04] Walter Docro says, "We're goin' to war on those laurel-born airheads. I expect every member of the Vigilant Watch to excel."
[16:04] Valero Task says, "I'll be real honest with ya'. I have no idea what the factory is used for"
[16:04] Tanya Volkov says, "I've been informed, yes."
[16:04] Armand exclaims, "Curses!"
[16:05] Armand asks, "Well, while I'm at it. Mr. Docro, was it? May I have a moment of your time in privacy?"
[16:05] Walter Docro says, "Then, you should be working full time on honing your skills. Get your pink ass out here."
[16:05] Walter Docro says, "... no."
[16:05] Armand exclaims, "O-oh, my. But it is most important, truly!"
[16:05] Walter Docro asks, "Why's it have to be in privacy!?"
[16:06] Armand says, "This is a classified project, Mr. Docro..."
[16:06] Valero Task asks, "Have ya' considered... Whispering it to him?"
[16:06] Walter squints. "You'd better not waste my goddamned time, blondie."
(Walter Docro)
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[16:06] Armand exclaims, "Splendid!"
[16:06] Armand asks, "I would, sir. But I have things to /show/, too. Whispering wouldn't do- nor would it be graceful of me, now would it?"
[16:07] Tanya Volkov says, "I anticipate hearing Walter scream obscenities in the very near future."
[16:07] Valero Task says, "As do I."
[16:07] Armand exclaims, "Let us hope not!"
[16:07] Walter Docro says, "As you should, always."
[16:07] Valero Task says, "Well! I'll be head back up to Theria."
[16:07] Walter Docro asks, "Can you let them know beforehand?"
[16:07] Valero Task says, "If I see 'em before ya'. Sure."
[16:07] Walter Docro says, "I have some -interesting- materials they might fancy in payment."
[16:07] Valero Task says, "Been meaning to pester 'em about upgrading my eye too..."
[16:07] Valero Task says, "-And interesting materials? I like the sound of that."
[16:07] Walter Docro says, "Sorry, Tanya. This moron has somethin' to say to me. Be back in a bit."
[16:07] Tanya Volkov says, "Mm."
[16:08] Walter Docro says, "Alright - what the fuck do you want."
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[16:14] Despite Walter's generally repellent behavior, Armand seemed unshakable, tauting the form of his lips into a constant, almost eerie smile.

"To start, do allow me to thank you for the honor, Mr. Docro. I have acquainted to you from afar by your fellow Triumvirs, although I have not had the chance to meet until now!"

"But alas, to business, yes?!"

From the satchel strapped across his shoulder, Armand unveils a head-sized, thumping sphere of brass and a coppery, alien alloy. It thumped rhythmically, clicking several arrays of wheels in unison with the reverbing, rubicund core at its center.

"This is a clockwork heart, a mechanical delicacy of infinite uses, which I fabricated in a recent venture that allowed me access to a specialized forge."

"I've been recently meaning to give it use, and presented my project to Mr. Montclaire and Ms. Arsali- but despite their sanctioning of it, I have had yet to familiarize you with it- you are such a chief authority, after all, hm?!"

"I could not avoid eavesdropping in your recent conversation, though. I've heard talk of a factory up in the mountains, which could greatly benefit this endeavor, in case you'd like to listen to it?"
(Armand)
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[16:19] {Item} You drop Clockwork Heart.
[16:31] As they'd waltz their way into Walter's modest apartment, his guest's demeanor would reveal an awfully familiar color. One the druglord made triumvir had acquainted himself with in length during his deep seated dabbling in the world of business.

An inventor?

The profile would fit somewhat. Armand's elegant entrepreneur sportsmanship was one that could easily meet the quota of an aspirant artificer, seeking to piece together a masterful project.

There and then, Walter's eyes linger over the particular piece. Their jade pigmented shade flickers, as the item seems to sit better and better within his set of plans. Rapidly enough, it evolves from fascination to an obsessive fixation.

The foreboding feeling Walter oozes does all but grow dim.

Finally, he vociferates once more. The severity in his voice is critical.

"Does

it

work?"

Agitated breathing. Digits aimlessly wiggling at the sides of his figure.

"I need this."
(Walter Docro)
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[16:38] "It does work, although the complexity of its mechanisms..." Armand squints at Walter, drawing premature, but perhaps precise conclusions of his state of euphoria. "Would not be adequate for a human transplant. Is that what you require?"

Despite Docro's grapple, that tender, jovial smile remains. He slowly ducks to the ground, placing the clockwork heart carefully on a stretch of those chambers' tawny, wooden pavement.

"It works, but exclusively when attuned to the bodies of a particularly large automaton or a guided, hive complex, which would comprise of a more numbering swathe of units under the control of a long-range command center."

Physiology was not beyond Armand, though- despite his work being inherently aligned to steamworks and machinery, the human body had little discrepancies to the facsimiles he produced.

"I can reproduce it, however, with funding, a factory and resources- I do retain the knowledge of how to fabricate it, and in case its necessary..." His eyes measure Walter's chest, sizing up the ample former dogman's titanic frame. It was not such a distant call. "Make it so you seize and enjoy something more adequate."

The young man comes to a stand once again, completely impassible before Docro's outburst.

"If you would, of course, elaborate your need, my gracious kinsman."
(Armand)
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[16:54] A jaw hinged and tense seemingly beyond repair unveils itself in full beam of teeth, as the kitsune berserker's upper lip curls over into a lengthy, threatening grimace. The aloofness and stoicism that had characterized him publicly whilst in service now falling to pieces in wake of vice and ambition.

"Then you'll have to -adapt- it." In a gravely, strained groan of his instrument.

At the tip of his nose, the neurotic scowl begins to simmer down in its incessant rigidness. The disintegration magi's figure follows from there on out, having attained some semblance of pacing in his breathing and thought pattern alike.

For as much as people would've failed to see, given his predative, assertive nature? Walter was perhaps one of the finest surgeons Osrona had given birth to. He'd have worked his way around fashioning several implants of variable function, to all but failure as a result. Were he to oversee the fabrication andcorrect interpolation of the project to fit organic bodies? Then, half of the battle would've been won.

"Your clockwork heart is the piece I've been missing for a project of my own." Alas, explanation comes. "My corrosive magic has hit a bottleneck. For as precise and perfected it's grown, my body cannot accommodate for its optimal atmospheric spread. With your piece as the cornerstone of myself as a new vessel, however? Such would change, thus giving us the edge in the schism."

A pause, as he finds proper containment of his cholera. The entrepreneur is regarded by his viridian gaze with some semblance of grace.

"I'll sponsor your negotiations with Theria, if need be. Oversee it's replication.

In exchange, you'll suit this prototype to my needs, as well as make yourself present for its insertion."
(Walter Docro)
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[17:02] "...oh?"

As Walter becomes manic, Armand's response is little different. A vicious glimmer rocks a wickedness within the orbs of his eyes he had not ever dared display before. His smile, thin and stretched, finally dusts away, giving place to a wide, gummy grin.

"Corrosive magic and organic reforming, all in one?"

His ventures and undertakings were certainly most aimed at defense, protection and safeguarding, but this was nothing but a product of the receptiveness of his public and the narrow matrix that united his common contractors' narrow standards.

"I would be overjoyed to."

There is no resistance in his tone or reciprocation. Where Docro was an overambitious surgeon, Armand was the manifestation of a mad doctor. Zealous, attentive and enterprising, but too driven for his own good.

"I will get to work immediately. The sooner our contact is established, the better. I surmise you require me to make it perfectly adaptable to your body's frame?"
(Armand)
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[17:02] {Item} You picked up Clockwork Heart. Dropped by Armand..
[17:16] Vanity.

Pure vanity in play. One feeds from the other, both subsequently grow exponentially.

"Exactly." Walter chants out, now allowing for a grin of his own to be morphed into. Pupils seemingly narrow in size, as Walter's pitch white corneas now run wider in their nudity.

"Yet, make no mistake. I do not care if my optimal health is compromised in the process." He pauses, nodding somberly. Walter reeks of vice and obsession. "Living a lengthy, plentiful life is not something I was ever keen on either way."

The explosion lifestyle incarnate. Combust twice as brightly, burn out in half the time.

"We'll compromise. Think of it as fair taxation. A tribute, of sorts."

His hand extends over, seeking to shake the young artificer's own.

"I'll be contacting the Culdesac as soon as possible. From it, the Therian factory may be at your disposal, depending on how my negotiations go."

Bea would surely be excited, to say the least, in working with materials of that caliber. Especially considering her end goal.

A lengthy pause takes place, then.

"... what's your name, though?"
(Walter Docro)
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[17:22] To every declaration, reminder and show of poise plus imposing, Armand simply nods his head in a vagarious, curt arc. He was used to meeting demands, for they seldom came in the way of the realization of his enterprises.

He thought of them as guiding indexes, making tiny tugs and nips at a vase that takes form and shape through motion and pressure.

"This is acceptable. I am not a doctor."

The lad twists on his heel, jerking his right hand into Walter's grip and shaking it vigorously. His grasping was meek and forbearing, but the energy with which he requited Docro's salutation was invigoratingly unabated, as if born from an interminable fountain of energy and disposition.

"I am Armand Bram, tinkerer of dreams. My pleasure, Mr. Docro."
(Armand)
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[17:25] "Armand Bram."

The shaking comes to a decisive halt. The towering kingpin turned triumvir's own appendage firmly squeezes and tightens his grip over the magitech expert's own in unflappable reassurance.

"Lest we make this partnership all but fruitful. Yes?"

No intention of introducing himself, even out of etiquette.

Walter's likeness had long since been imprinted into the essharan zeitgeist.

A self-assured bob of his head torques into a nod.

"I have 'subordinates' to educate. We'll call this meeting off, for the time being."
(Walter Docro)
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