Quel's march came to an end when he once again reached the bridge, by now some of the consoles had been cleaned up and repaired by the slaves who worked the ship. They were like parasites who served the barge and managed her to prove their worth to their tormentors, it sickened Quel to think that some of these parasites were tasked with looking after [i]Killer's Heaven[/i]. He pushed those thoughts aside as he marched through the bridge with his newly painted armour, his rounds sore to the state of a fraction of the large battle barge, damage was minimal and only the aesthetic of the ship had really changed. It forced a sour frown on Quel's face as he had hoped for a reason to open [i]Killers Heaven[/i] and fiddle with her more intimate parts.

The desire had begun to pass as time ticked by, Quel's meltagun was cold and he'd wondered what type of machines he'd turn its gaze to in the coming future.