The sound of ‘breathing’ through the gas mask is a constant coming from the automata. Even amidst the scorching desert, the war-relic was donned in heavy winter-clothing. It didn’t seem bothered in the least, crimson lenses of the gas mask glinting under the scorching sun. [color=a187be]“What we will find down there is still to be seen.”[/color] The metallic voice escaped the voice modulator, located somewhere where the mouth of the mechanoid was supposed to be. [color=a187be]“My men are better at engaging the [b]anarchists [/b]from a distance.”[/color] To what exactly it referred to was anyone’s guess.

With swiping of its arm, the mechanoid motioned towards the five units which followed it. While less decorated, each of them bore a striking resemblance to the main unit itself, including the furred hat with steel skull adorning it. More importantly, each of them had a carbine slung over their shoulder.

[color=a187be]“%One of you, grab a torch and stay close to me. The rest of you, assume firing lines as soon as the space allows for it.%”[/color] The more decorated unit laid out its orders to its kin. For those without the knowledge of Analog, what came from its voice modulator was a bunch of high speed beeps and blips.

And, while one of the machines approached the parcel and grabbed one of the torches, before returning to its commander, the others were moving their carbines for a ready position, both hands now holding their guns. The same could be said for Von Mackstein, which now held its own carbine and was ready for combat.

With that, Von Mackstein and its machines delved into the dark entrance, the one who stood closer to it having already struck the torch alight.