"Technically, yes... But due to several unknown factors, possibly during the implantation of ReLIC, I am 'biologically immortal'. Which is to say, I cannot die of old age, or disease."
He sighs heavily, scratching his snout under his helmet.
"A blessing to some, hell for others. As for my armour, it is plated, I can move rather quickly if need be, but it is... Difficult."
Wearing a kilt and sash declaring him a Gordoner of Inverness, a harried Scotsman bursts through the door.
He is breathless and looks about the pub chaotically, obviously looking for someone.
Approaching the bar rapidly he slaps a c-bill into a puddle of Sidewinder, and begs the bartender,
"Oy! Ave ye seen any o' th' Wake's crew?"
"Not latel...."
He is a blur heading for the door.
Slapping his commcard, he shouts,
"Not 'ere. Fire up the burners."
And runs out the door, the wet c-note and the startled looks on the patron's faces the only sign he was there.
X walked back into the cold, dark lounge... Holding his rifle across his stomach as he always does. Walking past the bar and the small groups of people having their petty, pointless conversations. But instead of going to his usual corner, he walked over to the view-port, looking out curiously, the injector on his back glowing a faint yellow.
I wonder what's on the minds of these creatures tonight... I wonder who might bug me.
The soft sound of hydraulics. The purr of synthetic muscles. The smell of death. A clicking came from the door, evenly spaced as the abomination pushed the door inside, sticking its smooth, tooth-filled head into the room. The eyeless form of smooth, angular steel swept left. Then right.
The odor of blood, death, and something much more pungent caused the compatriots of the bar to turn towards the horrendous creature. It stepped forward with a thin, yet armored leg. Twin knees with vicious blades along its length; a talon-stricken foot with powerful actuators.
Its body was sleek, agile, and slender. The overall appearance made it seem fast and efficient. The arms were equally slender, yet powerful. Each one ended in hands that were filled with a quagmire of fingers, cutting blades, sickening surgical tools, and various grips.
People parted out of its way as it stepped towards the bar, very heavily. The light didn't reflect off its matte-black hull, leaving no shine to its appearance. Random runes, presumed to be painted in blood, dotted its body.
"We greet you," It spoke in a hushed voice that didn't fit quite right. The bartender that it had addressed only stared up in silent horror.
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
X's eyes swiveled around to observe the new apparition, raising his left hand to scratch his snout before lowering it back to his rifle, his armour now reflecting little to no light, the scratched out markings seeming near invisible. Strange...
Indeed it is, Commander.
Any idea what -it- is?
Negative.
The injector on his back lit up in a pretty red as he turned around, still not showing any real sign of emotion as he continued to observe the machine, not even raising his rifle.
Slowly, the abomination pivoted to view the thing that had addressed it. Its head tilted to the left, like a puppy. "We are Gizmo. Father made us," It spoke with a cheery edge to its voice. "He is very proud of us. We love to please him!" Its hands came up, patting together in an awkward clap.
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
![[Image: 4ZLnMzL.png]](http://i.imgur.com/4ZLnMzL.png)
![[Image: DeathMachine.jpg]](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c25/menoth/DeathMachine.jpg)
![[Image: Tyrael.gif]](http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070319171309/diablo/images/a/a5/Tyrael.gif)