[u][i]47[/i][/u]

After Arsenic left with Citrine and Cheshire, the elevator doors opened. Petite little 47 walked in hefting her spoils, quickly making her way through the large white room. Laraxis eyed her with a narrow glare as she joined him at the console. 

[b]"The stolen goods were recovered, Master Valco. The IDs in particular are still in excellent condition."[/b] She placed the duffle bag at his feet, a small smile programmed on her lips. 

Laraxis was not amused. [i]"Your objective was to bring in my thief, Operative Rook. And where, by chance, did you put him?"[/I] 

[b]"He refused to cooperate, not to mention his vulgarity on top of that. I let him go as he gave up what he stole. He would be very hard to convi--"[/b] Laraxis' palm smashed across 47's cheek, front-handing the girl with a slap. 

47's sensors caused her face to contort into a look of hurt; the Master's response was an incredibly negative one. She fell silent, touching the skin mesh and metal of her cheek. There was no pain, she had no concept for that. But she thought she completed her objective correctly. The goods were returned, were they not? What caused his burst of anger?

Laraxis swore under his breath, working the sting out of his searing hand. He almost forgot it was hard metal under that pretty face, not ideal to commit punishment upon. He sniffed dismissively, gesturing to the duffle bag with contempt. [i]"Put this shit away. I have Operatives in the armory, be a dear and supervise them, would you?"[/I]

Without another word, 47 scooped up the bag and left, keeping her eyes from making contact with anyone else's. She ignored the blue line leading to the armory, instead heading to a room filled with specialized filing cabinets -- the Hardware Information Room. The duffle bag was placed on an empty table for someone else to sort and put away. 47 didn't enjoy this room all too much, there were lots of secrets hidden away in its locked vaults. Secrets that divulged her programmed trigger word to shut down, or self-destruct. Awful stuff. 

The armory brought a sense of satisfaction to the child hostess as 47 entered the open door. It was very lovely to see background objectives check out in the lower levels of her RAM capacity. The tools of this room were being placed in very capable hands, just as they were intended. And the Operatives seemed acceptive, almost enthused from their gifts in the locker. 

Arsenic spoke as 47 walked past the aisles of velveted steel tables. [i]“Neh, Citrine, where have you been these past two years?”[/i]

Ah, her database was filled to the brim with this kind of intel. Courtesy of Master Valco, of course. In the case of emergencies (Operatives in need of restraining), it was better to know everything than steer blindly in the dark. She may have been a robot, but not even robots were indestructible. Her Master liked to pretend so, but she was acutely aware of how fragile her inner circuits were.

[b]"Ms. Citrine abandoned her conning practices in the name of lying low after Obsidian's destruction. For the past while she's had a legitimate job working at a cafe in Portland with little to no government interference."[/b] She stated, pulling a small feather duster from her velvet sleeve. There was a noticeable bit of lint curled up in Cheshire's cat ears, which 47 brushed away. It satisfied the secondary cleanliness aim always running in her background, 

Citrine raised an eyebrow, tearing her eyes away from the yellow jacket. [i]"You know an awful lot to be one of Laraxis' lackeys. 47, was it?"[/I]

47 blinked her rose eyes, her face expressionless. [b]"I am not a [i]lackey[/i],"[/b] Her synthetic voice played the word an entire octave lower. [b]"My serial code is 4A185038W-47, but Master Valco shortened it to 47. He created me using ideas from borrowed NASA plans, but for the most part I am my own original. I am Master Valco's second-in-command, and have been my whole life."[/b]