[center][h3][color=black][b][u]Faust[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[IMG] http://i.imgur.com/mJkZauP.png[/IMG]
 [b]Location:[/b] Sartre Penitentiary >> inside Sentinel HQ
[b]Interaction:[/b] [@smarty0114] [@Jin Of Mana] [@Knight of Doom][/center]

Silence was what Faust offered to the residents of the room, none of whom seemingly had anything to say to the portentous phantom now in their midst, and it was silence he maintained when Archer entered the room.  Though he could not say that he wished for yet another human in this place, the new man's arrival put an end to the vile shrieklike laugh uttered by one of the fools nearby.  Archer's greeting felt to the machine like gruel without meat; only after he uttered a few meaningless niceties did he proceed to admonition for doing so and then, at last, the preparation phase for something that might concern Faust.  Others seated themselves in chairs, but the behatted robot saw no reason to plant himself anywhere else.  To his credit, ‘Archangel’ didn’t take long to deliver his initial briefing, but he took long enough to give Faust time to examine him.  The man didn’t seem to be any sort of bureaucrat or bean counter, as evidenced by his bearing and manner as much as his codename, and judging by the content of his little speech he would be acting as team leader in terms of strategy, organization, and perhaps combat as well.  Faust thought it a lot of responsibility to heap on one man, whose well-veiled nervousness hinted that he hadn’t seen action for some time.  Maybe the man even fit the bill as an old hero, acclaimed during the previous life of the Sentinels and only just now called back to the front lines.  The incorporation of part of his real name into his codename suggested a lack of imagination, or perhaps some kind of ego.  At the very least, Archangel was a man whose presence commanded respect, but in the vein of the war veteran, not the drill sergeant.  Faust imagined himself smiling.  Men liked to think themselves more complex than machines—that humanity held something more special than programming, yet with practice a keen observer could read them as easily as he read code.

This little diversion retreated into Faust’s databanks as Archangel mentioned the true objective of the group.  How interesting, he thought, that the first goal of the new generation of heroes was slaughter.  He didn’t blame Archangel.  Some heroes were needed to look good on posters, and some were needed to get their hands dirty.  Doubtlessly a few of the people here would have qualms about killing, even if those involved were supposedly guilty.  The situation seemed an excellent opportunity to prove his usefulness right off the bat.  With yellow eyes he scanned the pages of the file laid before him.

The first voice to rise in reply to Archangel’s question belonged to a very hi-tech individual that Faust could tell was a man in armor and not a robot.  He seemed dubious.  Why would one of the goodies start getting suspicious right away, Faust wondered.  Personally, he cared not whether the mission proved to be real or falsified.  Killing his way out of troublesome situations never failed to satisfy.  After Zeus spoke a black-haired woman, her voice almost quivering in trepidation, which irritated Faust.  Why speak at all if one could not do it without wallowing in embarrassment?  [i]To thine own self be true.[/i]  yet she made a good point.  He murmured to Archangel, [color=black][b]” Such as we are made of, such we be.  I am suited to this task; send me.”[/b][/color]  Some others took turns speaking afterwards, but they did not contribute anything of value in Faust’s four eyes.

Archangel answered without delay.  As it turned out, everyone would be going after all.  [i]I hope this doesn’t become too easy.  I shall have to work hard…to shine like a dark star.  They must know my name.[/i]  The machine did not say anything, instead listening to Archangel speak.  [i] Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.[/i]  That man revealed that he would not be leading this mission personally, leaving the suggestion to hang in the air that he might do so with other jobs at a later date.  Fervently, Faust hoped that he would not be forced to wait in this overstuffed room for much longer.  He desired stimulation.