[@Skyrte][@rivaan][@Eisenhorn]


Somewhere deep in the bowels of the mansion they called a 'safe-house', in one of multiple basement rooms beneath the structure, and probably entirely unknown to those moving about and causing such a racket in the building above, sat a still and silent figure which could for all intents and purposes been the life-like statue of a man; this man would have been in the prime of his life, in peak fitness when it came to his body, and with an unnerving attractiveness that would also repel or even confuse those that dwelt upon it too long. This sitting figure, alone and forgotten in the sparse and dripping cellar, swaddled in the crimson robes of the Adeptus Mechanicus, was [i]too[/i] perfect to be a mere mortal - indeed, he was far beyond anything that made the meat-bags upstairs what they were.

First there came a small click, then a rather more audible hiss or released air, and finally the figure - more a creation than an actual person - twitched rather violently into a form of consciousness. This was not your usual way of seeing the world though, oh no, through eyes enhanced with the Omnissiah's gifts he (for he saw himself as a 'he' for the sake of convenience, though he really had no gender to speak of) could calculate everything from the trajectory of shots before they had been fire, to the most minute scratch upon the surface of the skin. Almost in anticipation of some activity, his mechandrites moved with a mind of their own beneath the folds of his robes, slithering this way and that, and very soon they would have work to do.

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In one single moment he had recalled all that he needed to know, and as per his instructions rose from his sitting position to make his way upstairs; what he would find there he did not know, nor [b]who[/b] he would find there, but nevertheless he went on with all the confidence that makes up an emotionless half-man in the service of the Imperium.

Moving his eyes this way and that, his webber gun clutched in one hand and his shock-maul in the other, he emerged from the subterranean hideaway just in time to hear the Taurox pull up outside and a heated conversation ensue. On the other hand he could also [i]sense[/i] blood particles in the air, although these were already inside the mansion, leading to another floor from which further raised voices came. Making a swift and impartial decision, he proceeded toward the location of the vehicular transport.

What he found when he got there was Stukov, Inquisitor Zhevon and a much-damaged Guardswoman who by his calculations appeared to have been administered far more painkillers than she should really have been. 

The most [i]interesting[/i] one there, at least from his point of view, was actually one who seemed to be aligned to the Mechanicus as well...

"I hope that I am not interrupting," he said in the most deadpan and monotone way possible, not actually giving a damn whether he had or not but believing this was the Human way to do things, "but the wounded within this transport appears to be perspiring, perhaps I might be of some assistance in this instance?" His words were not accompanied by any of the usual hand gestures or facial expressions of an actual person, but it was clear to anyone that he was there to help regardless.

Obviously he had not taken into account that no-one knew who he was, were likely in the dark as to [b]how[/b] he even got there, and very probably had questions for him which, with Cath's condition, should be left for later.