Recruitment.

[King]

You'd think that, being a mage, Aristotle would have developed a more convenient method of travel opposed to walking. Unfortunately, he hadn't. Of all of the focuses and schools of magic he'd practiced and or mastered, time-space was not one of them. Honestly though, he preferred to walk. Considering most of his time was spent in dusty libraries with his face buried deep in the pages of some book or another, he enjoyed the fresh air whenever he could get it. That, and he enjoyed the sight-seeing; there wasn't anything more beautiful than nature's finest scenery.

"When we get there, please let me do the talking." Having had dealings with Echo in the past, he was quickly beginning to understand her attitude and how she reacted to things. If he demanded something from her, she was most certainly going to do the exact opposite. Though it was entirely characteristic of him, he decided to try and play the nice guy. "Like the document said, we're just here to interview the candidate and make sure they're what the Dead is looking for in an operative."

They weren't far from the Electric Chameleon, or the alley he'd arranged to meet aspiring member. "The quicker we finish this, the sooner we can leave and I can fix your seal." He hadn't said anything about it before, mostly because he wasn't sure what had caused the minor hiccup. However, after several long hours of scrutinizing the seal, he'd come to realize it had been severely weakened over time. Whoever had placed it there was pitiful.

Still, Aristotle saw no reason to explain just how he knew about it. She'd find out in time, anyways.

"We're here," he'd inform her before turning into the back alley way. Cautiously, he looked for their mark.

[circa.cipher]

Echo would casually glance up at Aristotle every now and then, a thin smile on her face, eyes slightly narrowed, as if she were plotting something while looking at him. There was plenty of time to talk on the walk, but Echo had generally found men preferred silence over words unless they spoke first. Even then, the majority preferred elusiveness. It apparently made her seem more mysterious.

Her opening came when Aristotle told her not to speak on the mission. An actual hurt pinched in her chest as she looked up at him curiously. "Why not? Why am I even on this mission if I'm not here to talk!?" She stopped walking, digging her feet into the ground to refuse wasting her time. The look on her face was confused, and somewhat annoyed, but she refused to show the hurt he'd caused by pegging her abilities as useless.

As he responded with what the mission was, she glanced to the side with a soft huff, starting to follow him again with silent disappointment and a sour expression. "Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Ari," she muttered under her breath, adding the nickname she'd decided to use for him. Especially when she was mad, since it was actually a girl's nickname.

Once again, he surprised her with the mention of her seal, and she stopped her walking once more for a brief moment before she caught up to him. "What the heck, Ari! Why didn't you tell me the seal was screwed up! Do you realize how many problems this might cause!? Wait a second," she stopped again mid-sentence, "Why doesn't it effect you?" As she'd thought before, her voice had effected everyone she'd encountered previously, and his resistance to it confused her. Was his brain malfunctioning? She tentatively approached him, lifting her hand in a small fist towards his face, slowly enough that it was clear she wasn't trying to punch him. With this hand, if it made it to it's destination, she would gently knock on his forehead while placing her ear to his chest. "It sounds okay... everything's where it's supposed to be," she muttered to herself, as if she could actually hear something.

She laughed as he ended her shenanigans, either by moving away or making her stop, and followed after him again to the meeting spot. "Seriously, though, how am I supposed to help if this is interfering?" She whispered to him, glaring.

[King]

There was a lot to reply to and not enough time. The alley wasn't ominously dark as one might've expected, nor was it incredibly wide or long. With nothing more than a glance, Aristotle caught sight of of a silhouette merely a handful of meters down the way. It was probably their mark. He spoke quickly, but his tone remained fairly low and devoid of any real excitement.

"Did it ever occur to you that I just liked looking at you?" he inquired with a lofted brow. "Anyways, I didn't know your 'seal' was acting up until a little while ago. I had to make sure that's what it was at the apartment before I just started making accusations. And yes, I do know how many problems it can cause, which is why I asked you not to speak."

While he wasn't sure how large her ego might've gotten from his admittance to her irresistible figure, he didn't dare dwell on it. "It doesn't affect me because--"

Is she really this spazzy? Aristotle found himself falling silent as she began her childish onslaught, pressing a hand to his forehead while her ear rested against his chest. His expression was, for the lack of a better word, blank. Once he was sure she'd been satisfied, he'd begin his slow approach toward the figure up ahead.

"You'll see why it doesn't affect me in a few moments." Pausing, he stopped to turn and gently scoop her chin with the hooked-pointer finger of his right hand. "But until then, just stand here and look pretty for me. Okay?"

[circa.cipher]

Echo's protest would stop and a slight blush would color her cheeks as he mentioned enjoying looking at her. She would fall silent for long enough that he could get out his explanation about the seal before she realized his flattery had distracted her from her point. "Hey, wait a second! I'm not in the Dead to look pretty! I'm here to pay off a debt, and I'm not about to wander around being useless with some guy who, although good looking, is only using me for my looks! This is a mission; if you want to stare at me, come find me in my apartment later!" she huffed, turning from him and shooting a quick wave over her shoulder before she started away.

Her procession would be exactly like that of an angry child's, involving clenched fists, a curled posture, stomping, and huffing up a storm. However, his failure to reveal why her voice didn't effect him caused her to turn back curiously. She really wanted to know why... Rocking back and forth on her heels and biting her lips, she'd finally sigh and angrily drag her feet after him, her posture hunched once again in defeat instead of anger.

Crossing her arms and begrudgingly resuming her spot at his side, she refused to look at him, curling her lips down in distaste. It was unfair that he got to stare at her all he wanted without paying. He'd seen her practically naked just earlier that day! He should have to pay up for that! "Yeah, okay, I'll come with you, but for a fee!" she snickered, waggling her finger at him. "If you wanna look at me all you want, you'll have to pay up. And I refuse to treat you like a partner. You're my client now!" She'd nod her head triumphantly at him, grinning and putting her hands on her hips. Take that!

[Propagandist]

The figure was sitting on the floor near the back of the musky alleyway there was rubbish haphazardly placed around the alley seeming without order, just tossed away to be someone else's problem. Although not particularly long it was still isolated enough from the main street that someone would not notice a figure within it unless trying to find one. The figure was clothed in a long hessian cloak that covered all of its body parts from exposure, bar the face, which was shadowed from cloth overhang. Although the Hessian hid what Galatea had come to find out was unnatural in the form of skin -- or rather lack thereof. The Hessian did not hide her ungodly form. If she was human the figure would look half-giant and severely deformed. It's funny how the first thought most humanoid lifeforms had was that everything should look like them and if they didn't it must be disfigurement. It was typical egocentric view their lifeform shared.

As they would approach the soft tick-tock of a multitude of cogs and gears running like the hum of a productive bee hive working and reverbing through an alloy tube could be herd within the clock-work-run figure. The dead stiffness of the figure would come to life momentarily with the head moving to bring them into vision a small amount of light would trace the smooth contour of what would appear to be a masked featureless face with a slight beak and 8 minute spider like eyes. That unnatural awkward stillness would set-in again locking the head in position monitoring them. Before Galatea finally decided that they had come too close and with enough confidence that they must be the ones that she had spent all this time waiting for. Raising to her feet Galatea form would suddenly grow to a looming 7'2" -- under cloak it would appear that without the hunch she could easily reach in excess of 9' -- her feet would shift to get a better balance and the monstrous presence of the two-adult-men's-weight shy of a ton figure would become reality, the combination of size and slight tremor of her tremendous weight on cobblestone was imposing to all but the most war hardened. That awkward unnatural stillness would return again as the figure stood with all appendages remaining hidden below the fall of Hessian sheeting. the head of the cloaked figure rested at 6'3 and would slowly descend pronouncing the hunch even more so till it rested at around 5'8" so to be about face to face with the man who approached in front followed by a women. Galatea was a women of few words and would give them no more sign of acknowledgement or reverence apart from the act of standing and dropping of head to a less intimating height.

[King]

"Well, I guess it's a good thing that I've got a lone of mon--" the mage's attention was stolen mid-sentence, his lone eye returning back to the silhouette that was quite obviously more than your average person. Despite the mechanic hum and abnormal size, Aristotle's demeanor hadn't changed too much. He'd seen far worse in his early days, and equally as bad during his employment under the Dead. It'd take a lot more than some golem or disfigured beast-of-a-woman to shake him.

In an attempt to appear more professional, Aristotle straightened his posture. Both of his hands were stuffed into the lining of his pockets, and very carefully he made his way toward the cloaked figure. He didn't stop until a meager handful of feet, nearly five or so, separated them.

"Galatea, I presume?" She definitely wasn't what he was expecting, but the Boss man had his reasons. "I'm Aristotle, and this is Echo; we both represent the organization that contacted you about this meeting."

Once she answered, or at least gave him some kind of response to confirm his suspicion of her identity, Aristotle would step closer yet again. He spoke while he moved, both of his hands raising to back of his head where his finger slowly began to unfasten the eye-patch. "I don't really have any questions for you; I really just need you to do one thing for me. Just look me in the eyes, please." With the patch removed, his left eye was revealed, though still closed.

"And please, don't blink."

[circa.cipher]

Echo's face would begin to twist in surprise as Aristotle responded with the status of his money. She'd not expected him to agree with her. However, her thoughts were immediately torn as a large war-machine began its ascension upwards in the alley they were walking towards. Her immediate reaction was gut-wrenching fear. Her abdomen seized up, and her hand shot forwards, grabbing Aristotle's coat sleeve to stop him from walking any further. If he'd chance a glance back at her, her eyes would reveal her feelings with an oxymoronic paralyzed trembling.

However, this state would blow over in a matter of seconds, her clutch becoming a faux punch against his arm. "Hey now, you better not be joking with me! I really do expect that money!" she'd whine at him, turning her normal, blue eyes to fall upon Galatea. Since Galatea was a machine, she did not have a human brain, and therefore Echo's voice would have no impact on her. She clenched her fist in a small Yes! of appreciating her good fortune. There was no reason she couldn't talk now.

But before she had a chance to open her mouth to say anything to the recruit, Aristotle would begin removing his eyepatch. Echo would halt in her tracks, slightly behind her superior, and release a confused note past her open lips before watching him in silence. His words rang in her head, explaining to her the purpose of the eyepatch removal. He wasn't hiding an empty socket -- far from it. He was hiding something special. Something he didn't want the average person to see. Why didn't he want people to see it? What was he hiding?

Her feet would come together below her, and a soft exhale would punctuate the step, her eyes turning to Galatea's hovering face to see what her reaction was. Would this strange artifact even work on the machine? And what was it he was trying to pull anyways, with her staring into his eyes? Was he trying to seduce her or something? A small giggle would bubble silently into her mouth, yet it accompanied a furrowed brow. Was he trying to seduce her? "Hey, don't forget you're my client, wise guy! Don't get too lost in her baby... reds.." The sour taste of a bad joke made Echo roll her eyes at herself, the comedic relief settling her boiling veins. However, the irritation would rise once again as she recognized the feeling. Good Lord, Echo! Were you jealous just now? Stupid, stupid, stupid! He just likes your looks, idiot! Glancing to the side in irritation, she'd flip her hair back over her shoulders in one swift motion before settling her eyes, once and for all, on Galatea, cheeks burning red in embarrassment along with her veins.

[Propagandist]

Galatea would watch them as they approached closer. As Aristotle began to circle her Galatea would reposition herself out of programing to maintain the man in front of her. The slide of hydraulics and whirl of motors and the thud of footstep rang out a chorus of unnatural sounds not to be herd by many in this land more reserved for the to come late-industrial period of this worlds future. Galatea action seemed almost animal like in its defensive nature -- as if circling defensively in return to Aristotles actions. Galatea already termed Echo as a none-threat, she like Galatea showed reverence and non-aggression through her fear of Galatea. Aristotles sterness made her wary, mind you she wasn't ready to attack just ready to defend.
"Yes."
The voice seemed peculiar rining tinnily from somewhere unknown within the golem. It rang out with sweet, young and innocents dripping of honey -- although that metaphorical honey was also reverberationating and echoes off a metal structure distorting it.
"The dead."
Her answers were curt. It'd be hard to work out if this was because she was just a machine and thus unable of conversation or if she was generally nervous about this meeting. Most would assume the former. Galatea did as she was told and looked into Aristotle eyes locking her head movement and placement with mechanical precision with the bob of his head as he circled. She maintained an exact distance between their faces with robotic perfection all eight eyes which had a slight glisten with no emotion to them appear soulless and dead.
"I am unable to blink"
She would again deliver a very manner-a-fact answer to his question. She was a machine any magic to do with the mind would have no effect on her, unless he was accustomed with the exact arcane magic that had been used in her forming process of which their was many. Unlike typical golem's she was not made of the binding of a spirit to form, she was rather the chimeric combination of science and arcane knowledge to birth mechanical sentience before its time.

[King]

To say that magic, namely that which dealt with the mind, would have no affect on the golem due to her being a machine was, in Aristotle's eyes, foolish. The complexity of what a mind truly was, especially in such an estranged world where black and white came together in an infinite variety of gray, was incomprehensible. Galatea had a 'mind', even if it was nothing more than a complex coding, crossing of wires, turning of gears and assembly of metal. She could think, reason, rationalize, and perhaps even dream. That was all Aristotle needed for his spell to work.

Opening his left eye, Galatea would find all eight of her emotionless orbs transfixing on the golden iris. Feline in nature, the dragon king's eye would borrow deep into depths of her very existence; and whether it was coding; ancient lost magic; expert craftsmanship; or something entirely in between, the chances of the dragon's eye being unable to discern it was highly unlikely. It was a process that would've felt like it'd taken ages - this soulgazing, as he liked to call it - but in all actuality, would've lasted merely a second or two. The fact that she was more machine than anything would've made it a lot easier, though.

He wouldn't have to worry about her passing out from stress.

This was by no way a one-way transaction, and just as the mage would be able to pull information from her like a database or library, from images she's seen to knowledge she personally possessed (in whatever form it might've been), the golem would have been able to do the same with Aristotle. Naturally, more obscure thoughts and the like would've been infinitely more difficult to render, the more casual were easily accessible to either party. If she so desired, she would get a crash-course experience in what the Dead was truly about via Aristotle's memory. She'd have to act fast, though.

After a moment or two, he banked his head slightly to the right, severing the 'bridge'. He'd would've learned everything he needed to from the short gaze, namely that she was acting of her own accord. The last thing that the Dead needed was cop pulling the beast's strings, or an assassin planting a seed in the root of their organization. Presuming everything had gone well, he would once again begin fastening the black patch upon his face, comfortably covering his left eye.

"Welcome to the Dead, Galatea." He flashed a smile. "I'm sure you'll make a good fit here."

[circa.cipher]

Echo stared in wonder at the back of Aristotle's head. Clearly something was going on, for there seemed to be an intangible energy flowing between the two of them. It was such an overwhelming feeling that Echo suddenly felt a great, desperate loneliness overwhelm her. All the life that seemed to saturate the air around her left, and she felt incredibly cold.

Backing up against the brick wall, she'd press her hands to her face and shrink down to the floor. She'd bring her knees to her chest and press her face into them, a great feeling of despair filling her body. Once he'd finished soulgazing, air would rush greedily into Echo's body and she'd realize she was crying. Her lungs were starved for air, and she hadn't even realized they were empty of it before. The entire world had just become an incredible numbness.

Looking up at Aristotle in confusion, she'd wipe her tears away with the back of her hand and stand slowly, shakily. "What the hell did you just do, Ari?" she'd rasp out, her voice feeling foreign. "The energy you used for whatever that was... it stole... even my will to live. Don't invite me along for that next time!" she gasped, hoarse and shaking her head as she propped herself up on the wall. Unsteadily wobbling over to where he and Galatea were standing, she'd smile weakly. "Congratulations. Welcome to the Dead. It'll certainly be interesting if we work together at all!"

[King]

Though far more entrenched with the "soulgaze" occuring between the golem and himself, Aristotle couldn't help but notice the slightly violent reaction occurring just shy of his flank. The physical aspect of the occurrance wasn't nearly as interesting - or frightening, for that matter - as its metaphysical counterpart. He'd be lying if he said that the thought didn't cross his mind; after all, he didn't know all that much about the seal within Echo's throat. The probability of it reacting in a negative fashion to the 'static' his eye caused when activated was, of course, high.

Magic, in Aristotle's eyes, worked very much like any regular machine or systematic process. It was giving purpose to an otherwise ambient energy. And unless programmed to fluently and seamlessly merge with another system or network, there would obviously be problems. Likewise, there were times when some magic - Aristotle's eye, for instance - requires a very large sum of arcane energy to use, and gives off (or radiates) an equally hefty sum. This residual energy, or static as Aristotle calls it, is fairly volatile. It tends to fuck with shit.

Still, he should've been more cautious.

"I apologize," he replied with a genuine frown. The patch was once again situated around his eye, and thereafter he started in Echo's direction. From afar, he couldn't really see how bad it had effected her. That all changed once she was within an arm's length. "I didn't know you would have such a strong reaction to the Eye. I'll make sure not to use it again while you're around, at least until we fix your seal."

Feeling entirely responsible, which he was, Aristotle stepped closer. He didn't doubt Echo's ability to recover, or her retardedly strong will to prove a point. But, she was a lady; she was a lady that Aristotle found extremely attractive, but more over a lady that he found extremely attractive and was in obvious need of some assistance. It was the perfect damsel in distress situation that he'd read nearly a million times - quite literally - while combing through some of the old literature in the countless libraries he'd scowered in his lifetime. Whether she liked it or not, and he couldn't see why she wouldn't, he planned to exploit their circumstances.

With the firmness befitting one of his stature and rank, but the gentleness of a gardener tending to their most prized flower, Aristotle softly plucked Echo from the earth with one arm hooked beneath the back of her knees and the other just above the middle of her spine. Once she managed to get situated against his chest, probably somewhere between her protesting and realizing that he wasn't going to let her walk, he'd turn to face the new member. "Your first assignment is to return to base at your earliest convenience." The location of their main head quarters would've been exchanged during their brief gaze. "You're more than welcome to follow us, though."

Whatever the mecha chose was irrelevant. Aristotle and his companion would already be exiting the alley, retracing their steps. "Just get some sleep, doll." For the first time since they'd encountered each other, Aristotle smiled at her. "We'll be home soon, and then we can get to business on that seal. . . among other things."

[Propagandist]

A transfer? It would be the hope that Aristotle mind was heavily trained to deal with information and to filter because this soul gaze was the equivalent of two computers handshaking. Now if he could gather information it'd mean he'd have a readable format himself the transfer would begin as Galatea transferred excessive amounts of information if his mind could filter it he'd get what he needed if not his mind would be filled with trivial information, of temperature reading, light levels, complex pieces of visual data shape recognition algorithms, of many voices also sharing this same information. A strange thing would be that certain pieces of data were simple blotted out and censored certain words covered with a loud blurt. Information such as the exact location of the vault, name, makers, specifics of golem builds, defences of the vault and exact details and visuals of the artefacts in the vault none of these would be accessible as if Galatea herself didn't know.

As Aristotle approached the information of the current time things would become much clearer as if a haze lifted he'd now be receiving information solely from Galatea a lot of the chase of the many voices and the sheer magnitude of trivial data returned to a single persons trivial data. Aristotle would glean her prime directive and the fact she has been made adaptive towards them to achieve them, that the meet up with the dead was seen as a direct way to achieve the goal of achieving this prime directive. It was a little unsettling how single minded she was about this, so clinical, however this could be expected from a machine.

The share wasn't one way just as Galatea has managed to shove copious amounts of information into Aristotle mind the process, Galatea would attempt to retrieve copious amounts information from his. She worked fast the challenge of being quick didn't apply to a machine that could process calculations much faster than a human mind. Any information that was at access was instantly retrieved; details about his personality everyone knew; trivial information about the town; people he knows; opinions on colours; a complete library of the weather conditions his seen; conversations recently of little consequence; the download was completely non-discriminative in what was taken.

She would get to work on any secretly stored away information at this point once the trivialness was downloaded, any mentally walled up information, if he was attuned he would feel her scratching and chipping away on the walls of his mental fortitude -- it wasn't violent however, it was inquisitive. The information she would glean would depend on how much he tried to fight her any process that was fought would be forfeited by Galatea -- she wasn't here to make enemies after all.

And like that the stare was broken, it didn't feel longer than it was, time dilation has no effect on her, she had a chronometer. She would thump up behind them at the same rate as Aristotle she also showed general concern for Echo, however upon seeing the sudden romance of the whole situation she was actually stutter in her movements before backing off. The robot movement would of completely changed a shred of personality could be seen in the movement and it was very childlike and slightly feminine.
"...is echo going to be okay?"
the honey sweet metal bucket voice would ask with the sound of genuine concern. Galatea hadn't quiet familiarised herself with the idea that just because the information is available doesn't mean the friendship is forged. A single hand would come from under the cloth, a saucepan in shape with with four fingers and two thumbs outreached slightly in a motion of helplessness in being able to help in this situation before promptly returning. She realised the comfortableness of the situation at this point, the moment was slightly romantic, romantic moments didn't need a truck thudding along behind it. Aristotle had started to departure at this time while Galatea was in thought.
"Wait! Are they expecting me??"
A massive golem trudging up to there base of operation might be a little bit of a mistake if they weren't expecting it.

((Sorry for the late post, CHRISTMAS time! I haven't proof read this I hope it isn't shit. WILL DO SO WHEN I GET HOME!))

[King]

"Of course they--" Aristotle was cut off mid-sentence by a sudden telepathic surge, one that he recognized instantly. It was head quarters.

'Yes?'

'Have you rendezvoused with the subject?'

'I concluded her interview just a moment ago. Checked her from top to bottom. She's clean; we won't be getting fucked.'

'Good, because you've got a new set of orders. You, Echo, and the new recruit will be heading out on a recon assignment. Forwarding the coordinates to you now.'

So, not only did he have to conduct her interview, but he had to take the hulking golem on a field test too? Aristotle mentally shook his head, but kept a fairly straight face. 'Understood.'

Images of places he'd never seen flashed before his mind, imprinting themselves into an seemingly endless storage-room like container of knowledge. Aristotle's lone black eye seemed to glaze for a moment as he processed the information, his gaze becoming long and distant. It was only for a second or two, however; he blinked away the stary-eyed expression, pivoting on his heel to look now at Galatea. "There's been a change of plans. You'll be escorting Echo and I on a recon mission of sorts."

From there, he turned his attention back to Echo. "Looks like we'll have to hold off on that last bit. But, we'll fix your seal as soon as you're feeling better."

[circa.cipher]

Echo would yelp in surprise as Aristotle plucked her from the ground, naturally responding with fighting due to her confusion. However, once her brain registered what was going on, which didn't take long, a soft blush would cover her bewildered face. She wasn't used to guys taking the initiative towards her, and also wasn't used to the delicateness which Aristotle was using as he held her. Her surprise was clear due to her expression and how tense she must be in his arms.

However, once the shock passed, she'd feel embarrassed and turn her face into his chest just to hide it, pushing on his chest with her hands. "Come on, Ari. I'm fine now. I can walk on my own!" Her pushing would eventually subside as she glanced quietly up at him, still shielding her face with his chest, her fingers clutching some at his shirt. In a tiny voice, she'd quietly inquire about his statement. "Um... what other things...?" He would stop walking, seemingly distracted by something else, and she'd poke him gently right in the middle of his chest, and then wave her hand in front of his eyes. "Hello? Anyone home?"

Echo would flail some as he turned on his heel to talk to Galatea again, yelping in surprise once more. Listening to what he said, a soft look of dedication would pry its way onto her features, no longer allowing any surprise or girlish fantasies. "Let's get started then, Ari. And... you can most certainly set me down now."

[King]

"Well then," he scoffed, "I suppose I should."

Aristotle wasn't entirely put off by Echo's sudden change in demeanor, but he definitely wasn't going to continue fighting her on the subject. If she said that she was good enough to walk, especially in such a tone, then he'd take her word for it. Carefully, he'd ease the soles of her feet down against the concrete, lingering just in case she was more bark than bite and decided to take another tumble. Once it was clear that she'd be able to hold her own, the space between them would grow into a comfortable distance.

The pause in his exit of the alley had come to pass, and Aristotle once again began a casual pace. The two young ladies that had been assigned to escort him were surely close in pursuit, or to either of his flanks. Whatever the case, the coordinates were a considerate distance away. They'd all have enough time to get to know each other a little better before they reached their destination.

"So, why did the chicken cross the road-- ?"