[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/vMv2No5.png[/img]

[b][i]CONTROL CENTER, PARADOX ENGINE[/i][/b][/center]
[b]Mentions:[/b] Ash - [@Eviledd1984],  KITT - [@Atlantic]

Having been completely unable to make head or tail of the multitude of unmarked buttons embedded in the terminal she'd examined - and presuming that trying to 'trial and error' them was a Very Bad Idea - Rarity's scrutiny and train of thought were thrown by the newest arrival to the station. Glancing over, the pony privately admitted that, clearly-mechanical hand aside, the man was ... 'unique'. 

Ash seemed to leave his half-muttered question hanging for the moment as he examined KITT. Rarity plopped back onto all fours again and trotted up to Ash, ensuring that she approached him from the front to avoid startling him.

"A question, my dear," Rarity started, holding herself aloof as she stopped before Ash. "I'm sure we're all trying to answer." She extended a forehoof to Ash, bowing her head slightly in greeting. "But forgive my rudeness; the name's Rarity. Or, if you're wanting to be formal, [i]'Miss Rarity'[/i] or [i]'Miss'[/i] will do fine."

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/7JlVIHT.png[/img]
[i][b]MEDICAL BAY, PARADOX ENGINE[/b][/i][/center]
While those stranded occupants of the Engine who had come to the Med Bay saw to their own treatment, a secluded part of the infirmary further back held a far more unusual - and terrifying - find. A squat sarcophagus, hewn out of obsidian and carved with runes in a long-dead tongue, sat amid a tangle of crunched bed framing and cast-about machinery; the flecks of carbon around its base seeming to indicate that the coffin had not been an original part of the facility or had been taken in by ordinary means.

But it was not the coffin that would instill in any finder of it dread - but the lack of its lid and the armoured form of the man inside. 

The individual that lay in the recess was clad helmet-to-sabatons in a futuristic battle armour, coloured in military-green and unmarked, save for a mysterious rune above the helm's HUD visor. At his belt was the menacing iron-like form of a sword's grip and blade=guard; the blade itself seemed nowhere to found and it lacked a scabbard, but the emblem in the guard repeated the same runic device. A glance at the man's left vambrace would allow the viewer to make out what looked like a spring-loaded blade, as long as a desk ruler, and sharpened to a gleaming shine. Finally, two longarms were locked in place to the man's left and right. It was if the man had been entombed within, but dressed and given all the accruements and tools of a soldier.

As if he had been readied to fight again at a moment's notice.

The man's eyelids, closed and concealed behind the severe tint of his helmet's visor, began to flicker ...