Deus Ex Machina The Abandoned Factory

[Glow]

The Abandoned Factory ​

An old husk of a building situated not far from the slums, this factory once manufactured automaton parts for many years, until the company went bankrupt and shut it down. It's a single story brick building with boarded up windows and a few smoke stacks at the top. The front doors of the factory have been broken and stand crookedly on their hinges.
Once you enter the factory you'll find yourself standing in a large room, dimly lit by the blue electric lights from outside. The floor is dirty and the silhouettes of large machinery loom in the shadows. There are crates scattered across the entire floor most empty some are not. Scavengers come through here quite often. The local children say that the place is haunted. Of course, that's nonsense. But still... don't go there at twilight.

 

[Smarmy]

Careful steps filled the building, was it night, was it day? None of that mattered to the trained eye of Beeswax. Moving through the rubble with graceful steps, he dodged and weaved, making his way towards a shiny item, a faulty bronze turbine, caught underneath several tons of hardened concrete. This posed the conundrum: how would he get it out? He paused in thought, situated close to the stuck machinery. Grabbing it with two hands, he exhausted the first option, he simply couldn't pry the turbine out. He'd hate to leave it. He could melt this for scrap, and in doing so allow him to design his next automaton.

With a click, he summoned down his observer. The machine stealthily dropped beside him, making scarce a noise than the clicking of its wind-up sphere. Arc stood taut, staring at the rubble a tree the exact same time. With a silent nod from Beeswax, Arc moved in, tried what Beeswax had done before. No change. This feat might have been doable if Anvil had came. They stood there, deep in thought. The dank darkness enveloped them, a drop of icy water dripped onto Beeswax's dirty scalp. Beeswax ruffled his hair and turned his head, tapping a tempo of impatience with his foot.

With the turn of his head, Beeswax spotted an upturned steel rod, also caught in rubble. "Grab it." Beeswax barked, under his breath; his breath frozen in the cold air. With an unnatural leap, Arc reached the rod and attempted to pull it out of the ground. Being unsuccessful. Arc delivered a sharp punch, swivelling his frame into the base of the rod. The steel-on-steel dented the rod, but it wasn't completely broken yet.

"Go on! Put some force into it!" Delivered Beeswax, Arc gritted his teeth (if he had any) and delivered another glancing blow. The sound reverberated through the factory. With one more direct punch, the rod snapped and spun, with a low twang as it landed on the floor. Taking the rod in hand, Arc made his way back to Beeswax's side. "Drive it in." Commanded Beeswax. Arc stepped back, placing force on the soles of his feet, preparing to launch himself into the air.

With a push, he launched himself up several feet, twisting in the air, albeit clumsily, and bringing down with him the sharpened steel towards the concrete as he fell. The force was great, and it pierced a good few inches into the rubble. It wasn't enough though. Raising the makeshift weapon above his head, he stabbed it down a number of times, finally tearing free the largest piece of rubble. Arc stepped back, as Beeswax brushed the rocks aside and gripped the bronze turbine, pulling it out with a sudden jerk.

Holding the turbine close to him, Beeswax prepared to leave with his bounty, with a stealthy gait. It was less than desirable to be seen with the turbine in hand... after all, this was most likely the product of a dead automaton.

 

[Glow]

Micheal - The Abandoned Factory
​

Micheal stepped cautiously through the door with his gun drawn. There was someone in there. Great. He had come down here to check on his latest shipment of goods. This old building was a great place to hide it. There where plenty of books and crannies to stash things where no one could find them. Even so, the last thing he needed was for someone nosing around in there. He would need to make this quick. With with a swift movement he leveled his gun at a humanoid shape in the shadows.

"Hey!" he growled. "unless you want to look like a siv, get out."

 

[Smarmy]

Eyes alike a cat, Beeswax blinked with emphasised iciness, with the invisible words poised upon his lips, reading clearly 'So what?'. He was still taken off-guard, but he did not let that take influence upon his features. The man adjusted his glove, carrying with it a wordless whisper, with a momentary cover of his head, ensuring that his lips could not have been seen to move. With that, he communicated to Arc that the newcomer was an issue. With a short motion he cast away both of his gloves, letting them fall to the floor. With that, he stretched his fingers, moving his slender digits as if they were tasting the air. His large frame took a step forward, soundlessly upon the concrete below, approaching the man.

His gait was slow, and he took deliberate relish in the tension provided. He paused a few feet from the man, staring him up. His voice gave out a quick, jarring bark, unfitting of his demeanour. "Drop the gun."
Attempting to twist the dynamics of the scene, he placed himself as the force in control, commanding the man to step down. It would be most preferable to not be injured, within this engagement. He could take a single round, but risked breaking a rib. That didn't matter. Arc would be there within a second. In the space of the time in which Beeswax had approached, Arc would have readied himself, placing the gear down with utmost care. He would be slightly out of view, given the myriad of rubble covering the ground. This gave Arc a unique opportunity to apprehend the man.

There was only one flaw: the tick of the gearbox. But it was ever so quiet. You'd have to know it to recognise it - after all, he could just be the chirp of cicadas, or the ticking of any machine in the destitute factory. Arc was poised, intent on incapacitating the intruder. Now.. Incapacitate? Arc had other options in mind. This intruder was most definitely a threat to Beeswax. Wouldn't it be best to deal with it now, rather than wait for it to fester? He could be a threat in the foreseeable future, and that was worrying. Killing would be simple, but it'd only be required on one condition: if the man remembered Beeswax's face. After that, he'd have passed the point of no-return.

With this in mind, Arc decided to follow after Beeswax, and avoiding a hasty decision. If he suddenly revealed himself then, then he risked Beeswax being shot. He'd have to see how the man responded to Beeswax's order.

Beeswax stared, pondering. Why in the world hadn't Arc came yet? What was holding him up?

Maybe he'd have to deal with him himself.

 

[Glow]

Micheal - The Factory
​

Micheal let out a harsh laugh, still keeping his gun leveled at the man. "Look pal, unless you have a gun of your own, that won't do you any good." If the man thought that Micheal was some
scared kid he was gravely mistaken. His eyes had fully adjusted to the dim lighting. The man was fairly tall. A shot to the leg would disable him quickly if it came down to it. "Now leave before I decide not to be so polite."

 

[Smarmy]

It was clear that the situation wasn't defusing. A breath of silence emanated through the cold air. The automaton gripped a small length just-revealed rebar, picking it up from the ground. Now, a distraction. Arc pivoted upon his front-facing leg, extending his right ar and spinning his chest, using his left arm as a counterweight. At a low angle, he released the metal with as much force as he could muster. An earth-shattering clang emerged, with the rebar approaching speeds of 160km/h (~95mph) as it collided. Shrapnel richocheted from the impact, showering the two men with an onslaught of dust and small rubble.

Beeswax was caught in the blast, and left with deep penetrations into his arm, and s grazing stone near the skull, non-fatal, but painful. Immediately, he fell prone, clutching his head with an expression of distraught. His ears rang, by the gods they rang. His eyes stung, his entire body felt clutched in a cocoon of fire. As soon as the pain was there, it left, leaving Beeswax with a dull ache.

The throw was done with such force, that even Arc felt the brunt of it. His elbow disengaged, ripping clean off the delicate machinery, and hurtling it in the same direction. The metal arm landed with a clang, spasming, with a huge dent upon the top. With a face of aghast shock, Arc stared on. Normally, he wouldn't feel the removal of his arm, if it were at the elbow. The damage was dealt past the elbow, reaching half-way up the bicep.

He limped, in intense pain, clutching his 'stump'. He'd finish the job. He had to.

 

[Glow]

Micheal - The Abbadoned Factory
​

The loud crash caught Micheal off guard. He fired off a few shots which missed the man completely and richoched off the stone walls. Then he dove in the opposite direction to escape the flying rubble. He was largly successful, but still managed to get scraped up. A string of very profane curses spewed from his lips. There was more than one person here. This wasn't good. Still cursing, he ran towards the other end of the building and slid behind one of the pieces of machinery. He peered around the corner. His stash was hidden under the floor boards of what used to be the factory office. He just needed to get to it and then get out.

 

[Smarmy]

Beeswax could taste the iron in his mouth. A rough shard of shrapnel just tipped his lip, leaving an open cut. With a contort of his lips, the wound teased further, spilling more of his blood upon the grime below. Beeswax flared with anger, rising from his prone position, just to catch the unscathed man make a speedy escape, down a dark hallway. Scared off the little fucker; served him right for his arrogance. He'd give pursuit, if only he hadn't spotted the wounded Arc.

Beeswax was in turmoil, he certainly knew the explosion was caused by Arc, giving him the overpowering urge to sock his bot in the face, but enveloped by a sense of concern. Gathering on the edge of his tongue, Beeswax nearly growled a glancing remark towards Arc's actions, but seeing his condition, he thought nothing of it.. Dazed, yet angry he stared at Arc, before offering the wounded automaton with an arm. The arm must be here somewhere. Arc must of bloody punched the wall and ripped his arm off. Beeswax let out a frusturated exhale, it wasn't the first time Arc had been so reckless.

With an awkward trot, with silence besides the labouring grunts of Beeswax, he scooped up the arm off the floor, hanging limply in his free hand. Arc lolled slightly, before remaining conscious, and heaved forward, blocking out the extreme pain through sheer willpower.

The gear?

Fuck it.

They made their way to where they had came. They'll come here tomorrow. This time, properly armed.