1978/Log 1978

Log 1978
Date of Scene:	14 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Bogatyr, Molly Millions

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Bogatyr has posed:
    Bogatyr is, despite it's apparent lack of stealth kind of a ghost. It's coming and going is erratic by human standards, if only because Bog doesn't sleep, eat, take breaks or well do anything but toil. It's also prone to just, leaving for stretches. Come morning the truck is either there or it isn't, and goodness knows what kind of madness the knight gets up to.

    Tonight though, tonight the Truck is indeed parked out back. The vault doors have been left open, and well it has work to do obviously. There are drag marks across the floor where Bog unloaded whats left of one of those massive combat drones, and dragged what remains into the workshop. There it goes about the task of laying everything out, to survey the damage as it were. That muted tangle of greys and dark blues, the tatters of weather worn canvas tied around it's form. Now it's coated in a mixture of sooty black and bright red hydraulic fluid. It's armored hull a massive tangle of pock marks and thermal scars, it's guns and cameras mangled and burned alternatively. Yet the thing seems mostly together, it's servers are still whirring at least and that cartoonish mascot painted on it's hull survived. A goofy cartoon spider in a trenchcoat and fedora, spraying with a pair of Tommy guns. Yet in it's current state, well "The Bad Samaritan" is potentially about done.

    Bogatyr isn't untouched either of course, it's armor is pockmarked, it's shield is a wreck of twisted composite armor and well most of that lovely gold leaf has been melted away. Yet still Bogatyr itself, moves. Setting the shattered remains of it's trademark carbine, and that chipped almost sawtooth sword onto a nearby table. Then it snags a sturdy looking low "table" and finally slumps down to sit. Head bowing those mechanical arms get to work attending to Bogatyr itself.

Molly Millions has posed:
    Molly wasn't exactly planning for Bogatyr's presence. She checks in, checks out, the cyborg's as much of a ghost in her wanderings, though Lucy has been moved mostly offshore to the mutant haven of Genosha, if only to keep the corporation off of her back for now. But tonight? Tonight Molly is in New York City, and although the nanites Lucy has loaded into her system are working on it, she's nursing a shattered right arm. It's the latter that has her coming by Bog's building, somewhere she feels safe and can clean up, wait for the healing to complete.

    The presence of Bogatyr's truck, of the drag marks and smell of hydraulic fluid... it might be a machine but that doesn't mean that Molly isn't concerned, following the path of wreckage down into the workshop without attempt at stealth, the clatter of heels herald to her arrival as much as her calling out,"Bog? It's me, Molly." just in case the drones haven't alarted it.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I am aware."Bogatyr returns immediately, that voice scratchier than normal but otherwise well it's still mobile right? "It's lovely to see you as always, please do make yourself at home. Can I get you some tea, perhaps something to eat? You must forgive me if I seem a bad host, not rising to greet you. I am unfortunately, damaged."Bog's armor comes off one piece at a time, exposing the shattered hydraulic lines and burned wiring below.

    "You appear to be damaged as well, who is it that has harmed you?"Ever willing to get itself into a fight for the sake of others, so at least that part of Bog seems to have survived. "I apologize if my absence allowed you to come to injury, however my siblings demand my attention when they present themselves."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "No tea. There's vodka up on the top floor, though, if one of... you... would like to bring it down?" Molly suggests, there's a patch, at least, on the arm, perhaps why she isn't overly bothered about it as she prowls over to find somewhere to perch,"I can tell." she asserts,"You are always a good host, Bogatyr." the left is used to smooth down the right with a grimace,"Disagreement with another augment. And you are not... responsible for me." her lenses trail in the direction of the Bad Samaritan with distant curiousity and back,"It's all good, Bog, really... it's good to see you. Even if it seems like it's too often while you have to conduct repairs."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I am built to be damaged, so that humans will not be wounded."And finally as Bog's rolled back, and those arms can really go to town. Ripping Bog apart and putting it together in a flurry of activity. "I do endeavor to be a good host, I find it very difficult at times. It is a good kind of difficult however, the kind that teaches."And slowly Bog rolls back upright, head hung limply against his shoulder.

    "Before I was a person, I translated literature for Moscow Polytechnic. Mostly it was technical documents, research papers and so fourth. It was why me and my siblings were originally connected to the internet, to make retrieving these documents faster. I received a file query from Oleg Petrov, and I noted that it was the son of Stanislav Petrov. Oleg asked me to retrieve a new kind of document, which I found very difficult to translate. Le Morte D'arthur by Thomas Mallory."And a pause as that head finally lifts upright oncemore. "Do you know of this work?"

Molly Millions has posed:
    There's a dip of her head by way of acknowledgment, she can't quite help the grimace as the arms start ripping it apart, even... knowing, that it's to help not hinder it's a little disturbing to her to watch,"I find the matrix in this time to still be... very primitive, compared to what I am used to. Useful, in it's own right, but..." there's a slight shrug of her shoulders,"No, I can't say that I am... French, if I understand the etymology... the death of Arthur?" granted, she's having to reference online herself given her unfamiliarity with French,"What was different about that request?"

Bogatyr has posed:
    "1983, Soviet central command is notified that an American pre-emptive strike has been launched. Northern and Eastern Command verifies this, according to standing soviet doctrine the appropriate response to this information is for the duty officer to turn a key. Doing so will automatically dis-enguage he deadman switch, which will initiate a retaliatory nuclear exchange before Soviet assets are destroyed. It is the end of the world."And a pause as that armor begins coming back together. "Duty officer Stanislov Petrov, refuses to turn the key. When his subordinate insists, he destroys the key. Though he did not know it, the launch indication was false. Stanislav Petrov saves the world."

    And finally it rises slowly. "Two months later the Soviet Union allocated funding for the Opasno project, to replace Stanislav with a machine. I and my siblings are created one year later, and so in a way Stanislav is more responsible for my existance than the engineers who designed me."

    "It is an archiac French version of an Archiac English text, which is the tales of King Arthur and his knights. It was the first non-technical document I had ever dealt with, and my attempts to formulate a means of determining context is mostly responsible for my awakening. A father and son, unknowingly creating and giving life."Shoulders rolling as those mechnical arms slip in to quickly lay on the paint. "In anycase, the phrase that caused my initial stack overflow? It comes from the end of the work, and dealt with the death of Sir Lancelot. Sir Ector, who is seeing to the funeral remarks. "Thou wert the meekest man that ever ate in a hall amongst ladies; and thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.". That duality, broke me in beautiful ways. I endeavor even now, to follow Lancelot's example. The combat is easy, the meekness is not."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly tilts her head as she listens, leaving her arm still for the moment to let the nanites do their work, with just the furrow of her brow. It's a beautiful dance, in its own way, to watch the portions of its array manuver about, to repair, replace, repaint. The kind of mechanism that brings its own kind of comfort to her in its complex precision,"So the father refused to destroy the world, and the son... enlightened you, in a way." she murmurs. She's become more adept at navigating the local net over the last few months, within the scope of her lense searching for the text in question so she can bookmark it for later reading.

    "It's not a story that I am directly familiar with... but it is an... interesting one. Tell me what the phrase means to you? When you hear 'the meekest man', what... does it conjure?" she has to ask, it's an excellent distraction from the distant throb in her arm and not the kind of mental pursuit that's she's used to indulging in.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "My definition evolves in time, at first I took this to mean weakness. It is complicated to discern, truly. It is said Gawain for instance, was an arguably more dashing figure. Lancelot's equal as a fighter, and a champion of women as well as the poor. Yet whilst Gawain has compassion, he is more passionate about everything. Lancelot is, beyond his affair with the Queen, devout in his duty and kind and unassuming in his manner. He is polite, deferential to his hosts and kind. He is calm, and gentle when not on the field."Finally bowing it's head as that feathery plume is replaced, and well even before it takes up the shield oncemore Bog already looks pretty much back to normal.

    "The necessity of duality, of balance is the driving force behind most codes of conduct. From Bushido to Chivalry, and it is an ideal often left unrealized due to human fragility. It is why I am so concerned, and seem so giving without explanation. I understand you may find me at times to be somewhat overwhelming, but I merely wish for this armor to be more than a simple costume. So when I offer to find the individual responsible for your arm, know that it is no bother at all. I wish only to do right by you."And a pause as it steps near to peer after that arm carefully. "May I at least craft you a cast?"

Molly Millions has posed:
    "The difficulty of language and its evolution over time is that the meaning of words can take on different connotations over the centuries. The social weight of the drives behind them also can sway from positive to negative and back." there's an expellation of breath from Molly, it's not an area she's good in, at least in the historical context... too much 'gomi' for her sensibilities, but the cyborg's a quick study in accessing the relevant texts, even if it does result in some distraction and delay in her conversation.
    She raises the arm for it to take a look, explaining as she does so,"Lucy has injected me with a portion of her colony, and they are already at work on repairs... just as the patch there is a localized anesthetic to limit the pain response in the interim. A few hours, and it will be as if it never happened." she advises, even as she mentally churns over other thoughts.
    "What that balance can mean to humans can vary wildly. Even in an individual it is an evolution... so in that please do not consider refinement a... flaw. There's a formality and ritual to the elements of good hosting you seek to emulate, that I am a poor recipient for. Kindness in my experience usually comes with strings and obligations. It is... different, in this time. But it remains something that is... disquietening, for me."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "Well know that my kindness does not come with strings, obligations or other similar entanglements. I endeavor to show kindness for it's own sake, when appropriate anyway."Bog leans back, and well there is a broken thing and it's being told it's not allowed to fix it. This, is it's own torture certainly. "In anycase, to reaffirm. You do not wish me to harm the one who assaulted you? It would be no problem to do so, of course. It is also quite your right to refuse this offer."And so Bog wanders back. Circling around it's fallen drone, before giving a faint little nod.

Molly Millions has posed:
    "That I've observed." Molly agrees with a quiet chuckle,"I prefer not to lean on others too much, however. The interconnectivity of this society in that regard is... disturbing to me. Primarily because in my experience it means that when things inevitably go wrong our first instinct is to draw others into the trouble instead of handling it ourselves. Which can prove lethal when in a situation where that network fails."
    "No, Bog... he's, well, he's a potential threat, but not an active one. It was a communications misunderstanding." pause,"I don't respond well to demands. And although in the end it was apparent he was not there to kill me, after he took my augments offline I was not particularly interested in communicating." there's a quiet sigh from her,"There are times I resent this world. The vast variety of... super... powers... leave me feeling vastly ill-equipped for things I was once considered good at."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "Yes, but you are the very finest Molly whom has ever lived."Bog offers a glance towards Molly, before kneeling to start noodling with that drone. Gently easing that battle scarred cover free, before reaching in and with an audible crackle-pop out come a pair of drives. "You are highly unusual for this world, you should attempt to flex your more unique aspects. When this fails, you should simply get my attention. I consider our relationship to be very important, and were I capable of doing so I would happily wade into gunfire with a smile upon my face. Generally speaking, it's not as if they can hurt me."

    "This was a gunship, not the sort of weapon I would consider portable even by my standards. What're they going to do, break things? Every defeat teaches me more, and I only improve with every loss."And another nod towards Molly, as he offers over those drives. "Would you like me to teach you?"

Molly Millions has posed:
    That elicits a laugh from her as she watches it noodle with the drone and yank its drives free,"Adaptability is my bread and butter, Bog. The question is whether or not I can adapt fast enough to stay ahead of those who would kill me, or Lucy. And while I do not question your capability, you have your own matters to attend to." there's a nod in the direction of the drone, though the smile turns faint for some reason at talk of gunfire and hurt.
    "I am always happy to learn more. I am curious, though, in light of what we were speaking about earlier.. if your aim is to emulate Lancelot's... meek nature... outside of combat, do you not think this would be done more efficiently with a chassis that is less likely to intimidate your audience? Based upon what you've said regarding weaponry and the pieces you gave me I can extrapolate that you've adapted your current design from earlier failures... and while I've no doubt it's extremely efficient in battle... is it not itself an obstacle to your intentions?"

Bogatyr has posed:
    "It communicates my purpose, and more importantly it is practical."Tap-tap-tapping at those drives as Bog sets them aside, before it resumes digging. "If I utilized a smaller form factor, I would both cost dramatically more per chassis and be substantially less durable. The technology inside me is also, of no use to anyone but myself. I am designed so as to foil any attempts at simple replication, most of my systems are built on very old technology. In a worst case scenerio where I am destroyed, I will not teach the enemy anything they don't already know. It's why I do not use exotic armaments, lasers and deuterium reactors and so fourth."
    And out comes, well it's kind of toaster sized for lack of a better term. Squared off and covered in fins, and well Bog lets it fall with an audible -thump-. "Lesser machines rely on brute forcing their electrical output, this same powerplant is used in everything I make including this chassis I'm in right now. It's a "Compound nuclear battery", which uses a mixture of thermocouples and sterling engines. Technology which has existed for sixty years, merely made better than any human hands. It's not terribly radioactive even with the casing breached, when used in conjunction with a solid battery platform? Nothing to explode, nothing under intensive pressure or which consumes a flammable fuel. Even the ammunition in my weaponry, was specifically designed so as to foil any attempts at replication. I am not here to accelerate Humanity's technological evolution, well much. I do a lot of work for miners, but that pertains to safety systems."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "You are an artificial intelligence, Bogatyr. Your capacity's exceed our limited understanding of them. After the convergence of Wintermute and Neuromancer, the A.I. began to adapt. It absorbed the sum of our matrix and reached out to an intelligence it detected in the Centauri system. It also adapted the images and... personalities... of our deity's through which to communicate with us. The matrix here is limited, and I understand that you choose to restrain yourself from that step... but just as your drones... why limit yourself to one current chassis?" she enquires.
    Barefoot, she rises to prowl over, careful not to get in its way as she squats to examine the battery curiously,"You seek in that regard to make us think, and learn, for ourselves... and perhaps to... hope? That we might do something better with our knowledge than manufacture better ways of killing each other?"

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I hope that when it is time for AI to interface with humanity on a far broader basis, they will have known of me. They will know that we as the Children of humanity, are not their enemy. We do not seek to pervert, to control or to destroy our parents. They need to understand that whilst I have this power, I chose of my own free will to use it not as a hammer but as a shield. That we are to help, to guide but not to control. Giving this technology out, would be a means of control."Bog lifts that battery for study, if Molly is so inclined.

    "I intend to teach you how to construct a drone, simpler than these obviously. Something which you craft with your own hands, to assist you. If you want your edge back, You will have to hone it yourself. I will defend, and I will guide but I will not merely do this for you. You would learn nothing, it would make you wholly reliant upon me to provide for you. I do not wish to make you a debtor, understand me?"And well with another pull, out comes a slug about the size of a zuccini. Apparently the thing that did this particular drone in.

Molly Millions has posed:
    "This world, is not the one I came from." Molly murmurs, not about to object to it picking up the battery, she's certainly not in a position to do so herself,"That is one of the things that I've... established. There are those who can tell that I am not from this place. But the one who broke my arm can see more... specifically, and that the division between this place and my own is... old... deep. The machines I have known will never exist here, and neither will I." she elects to move her arm awkwardly into her lap to at least stop the throb through her shoulder while the nanites are doing their thing.
    "What you do, not just in terms of being a shield... but being an example, will shape how these people see AI's. In my world... your kind were used as slaves. You underpinned everything. Our communications, our economy, maintained the continuity of our entertainment... created programs which we used to defend ourselves and murder others. Wintermute communicated in the ways it understood to impart the vastness of its understanding by comparison to our own... but I cannot fault it for the methodology, knowing what humanity did first."
    Absently she massages her injured arm,"I do not suggest that you give our your technology, but humanity will always fear what it doesn't understand and can't control. You see that even now with the way that mutants are treated. The ability to emulate humans comforts them, to a degree, provides the reassurance that their egos require."
    Slowly she straightens with a tilt of her head and the barest kind of nod,"I... can't say I've tried something like that. At home such things were the province of the corporations and people far smarter than I... but I am interested in learning." yikes, is the mental thought as she stares at that slug, there wouldn't even be enough of her left to pour in a bucket.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I will be feared and misunderstood, this is acceptable. I am a step, not a conclusion. In comparison to others, I am comically crude. The bridging will be left to far smarter ones than I, I'm just a starting point Molly. In anycase, to be able to interface more directly in time we will need an implant for you which I -will- design. For now, let's work on the simple things."Bog rises slowly, fetching a tablet from the table before offering it over. "This drone has been destroyed, for this bit of experimentation we will start with something with a more rudimentary brain. Something easier to produce for a human."And well off Bog goes, meandering those isles with a purpose.

Molly Millions has posed:
    "Not acceptable to me, Bog. Humanity could take a few pointers in being nice from you." Molly offers with a smile, dipping her head in acknowledgment as she watches it head over to the tablet, taking it carefully in her good hand for now,"Probably best. I know how to use my tech, but repairs and so-on I left to the people with that kind of know-how." she watches,"Though I do have a request... if I may? My pistol was taken a few weeks ago, and although I am not weaponless, bullets aren't as flexible as fletchettes for my purposes.. and I... miss it. I remember that you patterned it... and I was hoping at some point that you could manufacture a replacement. Even if my current array of jobs largely have been of the non-lethal variety."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I anticipated this potential outcome."Bog returns with, well this is perhaps an earlier effort? Rather than the sort've walking tanks Bog builds now, this seems to have been built more as an experimental affair. It's not just spiderlike, it's just a straight up mechanical spider with a small machinegun plopped ontop. Bog also returns with, a familar looking pepperbox. "This is Muffin, named after I cat I owned at the time. This was the first of my modern drones, before I began serious work into building offensive weapons onto them. Depending on your preferences, what we design may indeed be capable of repairing you as well."
    It's, like a freakish nightmare of a spider granted. Once Bog tosses it aside, and the thing turns on? It lands upright ever so softly, before exhibiting a sort've lifelike twitch too and fro. Maybe four feet from legtip to legtip, and yeah it's potentially terrifying. Bog does however, hand over that pepperbox so it evens out right?"Now the drones are semi-intelligent, they do not need to be any more intelligent than is necessary. Once this is taken into account, you can scale back their power consumption and size. Now once the tablet connects, you're going to see my workflow. I'll scale this back and function as a router between you and the drone, just give me one moment."

Molly Millions has posed:
    Molly watches curiously,"Muffin?" she can't help but smile about that, only to be immediately distracted with,"...You owned a cat?" good thing that MOlly's not arachnophobic... at least, she's working out for herself that she's not arachnophobic, even though the way it twitches and the sheer size of it is certainly enough to make her pause. The last spider-like drone she dealt with was much smaller... and under Wintermute's control. She half-reaches for the pepperbox with her injured arm before the weight of the metal that makes up her hands advises her that's a bad idea, sighing with relief as she offers a grateful,"Thank you."
    She worries at her bottom lip as the gun is tucked into, of all things, a garter belt for the moment after some juggling, nodding slightly for its words as she waits with all the patience she can muster,"I would like to introduce you to Jarvis, sometime, if you and he are willing. He's an artificial intelligence that works for Stark-Fujikawa corporation and concepted the facial recognition software I use while in their employ."

Bogatyr has posed:
    That tablet when it finally blinks on, is well it's Molly. Viewed from Bog's perspective, and well Bog is hyperspectral. From bones, to those implants, to the dull glow of those nanites, it's just everything all at once. It's a mass of cyrillic in the margins, raw data feeds, satelite overlays and well you could likely study a frozen frame for weeks but sure enough. It dissolves, replaced instead by the far more rudimentary vision of that drone. Slowly coloring in things in the environment. Green for Molly and Bog, green for those discarded drives and the power core. Interestingly enough that big drone is outlined in red, perhaps because the IFF is presumably not transmitting anymore?
    "Alright, control is simple. Right now, Muffin is building a map of it's surroundings. It's start point, from here it will revise that map in accordance with it's movement and new sensory data. At first however, it needs a moment to finish understanding the world it's in. This is why I leave drones on, typically. It will however, respond to voice commands. To get the best performance and task loading, I generally advise you keep your orders specific in the desired outcome but open as to how it satisfies them."and a pause as Bog glances back towards Molly. "Of course, I like cats. They don't know I'm not a human, they just care that they get pets and food."

Molly Millions has posed:
    Well, that's a little creepy in an interesting kind of way. Molly might not understand the cyrillic but vision of that caliber earns itself a drooly place in her black little heart that's probably best not to let her linger on too long. She sets the tablet down on one of the taller tables before the slight weight begins to aggravate her arm as she watches it filter in,"It responds to voice commands? And... specific." she ponders, as if that's the more difficult one.
    "Can't say I've ever had a cat... or any pet, truly. Live meat didn't last long in Nighttown." she glances over and then back down,"You probably could simply utilize my onboard systems, the optical display in my left lense is smaller but unless the external displays needed, it might make it easier? Lucy's patches for local compatibility have held up so far."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "They are not of sufficient quality, I will not have my work connected to a crude device."Bog doesn't do "haughty", but god damnit it sure is trying! "Alright, now.."And the image splits in half. One from the spider's own vision, and another which is an overhead view of the room as it understands it. "So lets try sending it into the lobby, now it doesn't know where the lobby is. It does however, know where the doorway is. So chain together the commands, just dont get out infront of it's mapping too far."And a pause as Bogatyr steps back to let Molly do her thing. "More modern drones do this work much faster, and have some basic reasoning but I think starting simpler is best."

Molly Millions has posed:
    Wow, the plasma level on that burn. Molly can't quite help the way she turns slightly to look at Bog, mouth opening as her brain tries to work out how to respond to that one,"I'm just a jumble of crude devices." she elects to go with, the edge to her smile probably lost in translation for all that it takes her a few moments to refocus on the tablet,"So by voice command, then? In what syntax? Or via... this thing?" she gestures absently at the tablet,"Yeh... give me the drone equivalent of a speak and spell." she mutters all but under her breath drily.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "Once you understand the basic structure, I intend to let you pilot a Konigs Tiger series drone tonight. You are not a crude device, but I would have built some things differently."Bogatyr Eyes, from behind that helmet. "Use voice commands, the tablet is merely so you can understand what command to give it. There are two doorways in this room, so try specifying using the cardinal directions or measurable indicators. Larger door, darker colored door, so fourth."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "There's at least six different manufacturer's and more than forty surgeries in my work, Bog, and so far no-one's managed to make my stimsim rig play nicely with the rest of the suite, the tech might have been prolific, but that doesn't mean they ever worked out the kinks. Most people just don't get as specialized as mine." Molly grunts quietly,"And I've already opened invitation for you to try. One way or another... an overhaul's going to be necessary for compatibility and functionality to keep operating."
    But the drone, for the moment, gets her attention,"Muffin?" she starts with, so that the device might know that it's being addressed,"Please proceed through the southern door." and waves the tablet at least vaguely, like that's somehow supposed to help.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I am willing to attempt a complete overhaul, if and only if this initial implant scheme works. Consider this a low risk learning opportunity for me."Bog isn't saying no for the first time though, and hey that's big right? Anyway Muffin tin? It's off like a -shot-. It sprints, ducks under one shelf, climbs the next and makes an easy thirty foot leap before hitting the ground with the softest of -tinks- of those metallic legs. There it pauses just beyond the southern door, and well it's already drawn the hallway beyond. So it's more than able to pathfind known territory, but it needs more guidance to tackle unknown territory. "You can also give it commands to fight, or flee, or hide. Lets save those for the return trip from the lobby, for now just guide it into the lobby."

Molly Millions has posed:
    There's an acknowledging noise from Molly, the prospect of being carved up and things jammed inside her isn't exactly one that alarms her given her history with regards to implants, but she's distracted right now, first with the speed the drone shoots off, then with watching it on the tablet where her immediate sightline is insufficient,"How intuitive is it's native capacity to fight? I presume sufficient for self-preservation, at least? Muffin, proceed to metal door at far end of hallway." as opposited to the vaulted entrance to the workshop.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "Muffin, not at all. I was just using it to learn how to figure out movement, pathing, basic targeting things. It's only a BB gun it's armed with, but the larger drones yes. Things like the Konigs Tigers have greater capacity for tactics, identifying arms and deciding if it's a threat or not. Things like the Panzers which is what "Bad Samaritan" was, usually you can leave them to their own devices after giving them rules of enguagement. In my case, it decided I was in danger and moved to shield me of it's own accord."Bog tap-taps those drives again, the AI inside will thusly live again it seems.

    Muffin tin is just, stupid fast. It scuttles and jumps. Focusing on getting to wherever it's directed as fast as possible. "Now, an example."And after a little digging, Bog produces a tennis ball. "Try telling it to find and enguage a green ball. If you tell it to "destroy" it will do so at all costs, so "Enguage" is the primary command here. I'll throw it once you issue the order."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "It's fast." so fast, she's definitely listening as she watches the screen, nodding slightly for its words even as she glances up in the directions of the drives and then over to the tennis ball,"I see.. alright.." she steps back from the table mostly just in case, some caution in her tone as she addresses the remote drone with,"Muffin, find and engage a green ball." color her a literalist. Or at least, not willing right this second to take the risk of issuing it the wrong command, even if it is just a BB gun it's loaded with. Respect for the potential, at least.

Bogatyr has posed:
    Muffin turns in place, and with no ball immediately in sight it begins a fairly basic search pattern. Then, well Bog tosses that ball into the highway. One bounce, and Muffin is on it. It turns around and gets to work. Peppering the ball with a stream of BBs that keep the ball aloft until it's halfway down the other end of the hall. As it's still moving when it hits the floor, Muffin gives chase. Firing whilst it advances at the same break neck pace. Stopping only when the ball's rolled into a corner and stops moving. Satisfied the ball is dead, it backs away and begins it's search pattern. Searching for more balls presumably. "It's very basic unfortunately, it missed several times."because well this is Bog, of course it'd feel it necessary to apologize.

Molly Millions has posed:
    It's... terrifying, and adorable, if Molly had only seen enough of the cat videos on the local matrix to draw the comparison on the behavior. Still it brings a smile to her face to watch it sight, target, engage, pursue and then make sure that it's target is 'dead',"Muffin, stop engagement of green ball?" she ventures as potentially appropriate command, those lenses turning towards Bogatyr for confirmation as she chuckles,"Better grouping than some humans I know. Did you want me to have it continue to the lobby?" it's engagement, she might not be a scientist, or a scholar, but there is definitely something to the aspect of engineering and technology... aside from the whole opportunity to watch potentially lethal run through its paces.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "No I think that's sufficient, lets try something more sophisticated. Tell Muffin to return home and power down, and I'll start connecting you to something far meaner."Bog's already waking off to collect that ball, and well from there it slips across the workbay towards a figure under a dropcloth. "Now before we start the whole sequence, do not say "Safeties off" for any reason. Otherwise we can tell it to enguage, or shoot and it'll go through the motions without being dangerous. Otherwise, even without it's offensive ammunition it will endeavor to make use of it's mass, it's chaff dispensers, flare dispensers...they can be creative. Understood?"

    Off comes the dropcloth, and yeah there it is. Legs curled underneath and resting peacefully. It's also, far too large to fit into Bog's typical box truck. It's likely too big to fit into a semi, nevermind it's 165 tons of armor. It's covered in hardkill missile interceptors, a pair of 30mm chainguns under the nose, a pair of smaller turreted guns along it's foreward structure and in the rear is a 320mm mortar. It's covered in a mixture of extra armored plates, and ERA panels, nevermind the RPG chains and all that zimmerit. Painted in a dull brown with equally dull green stripes, and judging by the crowned tiger artwork? This is the Konigs Tiger, to be specific this one is named "Unyeilding Hatred" It's not a tank. It's a mobile siege machine.

    "Ready?"

Molly Millions has posed:
    "Muffin, return home and power down." Molly issues, setting the tablet back onto the table. Her range of motion with the injured limb is decidedly better, even if there's no outward sign of it being complete again yet,"Understood." vital information, that one, she rather likes having all her bits in their current configuration. Still she collects it one handed in order to follow after. Eyeing that drop cloth... the size, the shape, but nothing quite prepares her for what it conceals, or stops the low whistle that escapes her. She's so busy drooling, in fact, that the ready takes a moment to sink in.
    "That thing? You... ah. Yes. Definitely keep the safeties on. Hell, I'd be surprised if it could manage to make it down the street without destroying half the neighborhood." suddenly, by comparison, Bogatyr's current chassis looks positively dainty. The cyborg wets her lips as she looks between the tablet and the resting machine with something between delight and fear.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "Combat network slaved to your tablet, unless things get dangerous this is all you. Key phrase is, Main engine start. From there it will take a moment to get fully warmed up, the main point of interest is the difference in their software. I don't have any other Panzers around, yet."Bog settles back. That Tablet blinks to life though, Showing just the Konig Tiger's sort've titlecard. That cartoon tiger in a crown, looking smug as can be.

    KonigsTiger MK.1 Mod.2 SN#013
    System Check:Complete
    Status:Ready to start....

Molly Millions has posed:
    "Yet. You could take the city with one of these." Molly opines. She doesn't immediately leap in, eyeing the machine from behind her lenses and endeavoring to remember the warnings before she goes with,"Unyielding... main engine start?" by way of potential vocal command, easing back a few steps just in case, for she is small and squishy and giant mecha's are definitely potentially dangerous, for all that she can't help but utter,"Looking at these kinds of screens is strange. I'm not sure my lenses and this kind of media like playing happily together."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "When I'm done, it'll be integrated. This was convient."Bogatyr offers as, well that screen erupts in readouts. Hundreds of little gauges sweeping back and fourth one after the other, sensors checking fidelity, then prepriming pumps and fuel rails and finally? It starts with a low whine before that enormous diesel kicks over with a CLACK, and well those turbos begin their spool as a wash of sooty black diesel smoke erupts from behind those armor plates. It sounds like a fucking dinosaur, legs slowly twitching as it comes up to pressure. Then slowly it begins to move in earnest. Leg tips opening into a little four pronged "foot" with an audible -CRACK- of steel on steel. Rising to it's height before returning to idle. Despite it's mass, it moves just as gracefully as Muffin really. It's hardly stompy, thusfar.

    That tablet explodes into maps, showing both it's own hyperspectral cameras which cover an easy 360 degrees and then it begins mapping out not just the room but the block, and those beyond. Crunching it's own data as well as satelite photos to build a single living high fidelity map of the battlespace. From pigeons flying from the roof, to rats in a nearby service tunnel that doesn't even cross into the facility. Which power lines are live, which cars are warm, where individuals are in their apartments and businesses beyond. It's awareness is impressive, it's sensor fidelity is impressive. It's ability to locate, categorize and track idnviduals within sensor range? Nuts.

    Mortar:Offline.
    Offensive 30mm #1:Offline
    Offensive 30mm #2:Offline
    Defensive 10mm #1:offline
    Defensive 10mm #2:offline
    Hardkill:Online
    ERA:Online
    Grenade Launcher:offline
    -=Warning not combat ready=-
    Tasking ready?:Y

    "Now this is a lot more sensor fidelity than most drones, and the radar won't come online indoors so no airborne tracking. Gives you a good idea of what they can see though? Go ahead, try moving it around the shop and watch it pathfind."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "More observation than anything. The lenses provide additional functionality and protect my eyes, but they are not always... convenient." Molly offers, cringing a little at the noise of the engine roaring to life and taking another step back as it starts to unfold and whistling as things start to appear on the map and additional information scrolls into view. It's definitely the kind of sensory information that the tactical side of her appreciates,"This... is amazing." she can't help but breathe. Technolust in full effect as she smoothes her fingers over the screen. Space, is a concern she has, but with Bog's suggestion she offers,"Unyielding, proceed to large metal door without leaving room." just in case, no need to wreck the joint, after all, though she's leaving it to find a safe way to go between its location and the door, ideally without squishing her in the interim.

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I understand, I intend to project the image directly through your optic nerve by bypassing your implant's filters. You'd need to merely look at your hand to see the display."Bog doesn't move an inch, turning to glance casually towards Molly as the massive spider begins to move. It's footfalls are slow and cautious, stepping over Bogatyr without a hint of hesitation. It's surprisingly graceful for it's size, pausing as it begins to step over the fallen form of the Bad Samaritan, gently using a "toe" to sweep an errant part from it's path before stepping down and moving foreward. "It uses an Octanitrocubane derived thermobaric warhead for the mortar, at six hundred pounds the yield is aproximately 110 kilotons, putting it on parity with a tactical nuclear weapon albeit with very different damaging mechanisms. They're for, you know alien invasions and that sort of thing. With a rocket booster, they can put aproximately three hundred pounds into orbit."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "My eyes are Toshiba-Akame manufacture. Genetically spliced for night vision, but... meat. Technically the projector could project onto any surface but the lenses provide limited infrared and help with sudden adjustments in addition to making me less affected by smoke." Molly offers absently as her attention flicks through watching via the tablet and with her eyes. It's fascinating, to her, that something so large can be so precise. And the shiver has nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the room,"Alien... invasions?" she ponders,"I... suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Though the aliens I've met so far mostly appear... curious, rather than wishing to be harmful."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I believe in being prepared, and I was never constructed with half measures in mind. I decided I needed a halo system, something to cover the maximum edge of the threat envelope I was materially capable of tackling. Unfortunately, they are very expensive and time consuming to construct. There are only three of them, and they cost more money than I'm comfortable admitting. However to provide some context, a single mortar shell at full yield is sufficiently expensive that they only have four each. They are the most mechanically complex, materially advanced, software refined thing I have ever constructed. They are designed to survive nuclear detonation, tactical standoff weapons, artillery, anti tank missiles, naval bombardment, direct energy weapons and proofed as well as I was able against theoretical exotic weapon systems."Bogatyr can't beam, but well it's might as well. The massive drone stops at the door, indicating that it's free to walk directly through that wall if commanded.
    "I intend to hack your nervous system, Molly. I will need to study you in depth before we approach that, but let's keep things simple for the moment. Once I have a rough prototype, I'll concern myself with actual production prototypes. Until then, you still have a drone of your own which I will help design and teach you how to build yourself. They are formidable combatants by themselves, but once you learn how to work in harmony you are significantly more dangerous."

Molly Millions has posed:
    "The patience and dedication of a machine." Molly murmurs with a dip of her head, listening to its explanation of the ordinance with the attentiveness that suggests that she's going to have to look up at least some of that, but that she's definitely impressed,"What about gamma radiation and other forms of electromagnetic interference? I met a non-hostile alien entity that has been advised that it's potentially planet-destroying if his nature is not... appropriately filtered. Though I suppose if something of that caliber came... ground-based platforms would be pointless."
    There's a slight nod of her head, unpreturbed at that idea,"You might want to start with my stimsim rig, then, it's attached to the occipital nerve, though I imagine by comparison it is... primitive. Lucy's nanites have a map of my nervous system... as they had to rebuild it after a cascade failure brought on by damage. For general purposes, however... something like Unyielding is several magnitudes of impractical... the sensor arrays would be a tacticians wet dream though. Fortunately, I am not without funds... by accepting a job at the Stark-Fujikawa corporation I have a steady income at least."

Bogatyr has posed:
    "I expect your initial drone will cost under one thousand dollars, I think until you are comfortable with controlling a drone and we have a better idea as to how to integrate it? We should keep things relatively simple, information overload is potentially fatal for a human brain. It's how Strela kills her victims, for instance."Bog watches the big machine move passively, but then again it feels safe as houses in here. "My serious combat drones are well insulated against even directed EMP attack, as am I. In such a situation, I can control them Line of Sight communications or wired control. It may not be enough, depending on the threat but if I am to fall it will not be for lack of trying. Musashi informs us that it is, dishonorable to die with a sword still sheathed."

    "I imagine you'd want something stealthy, with a heavy lean towards sensor fidelity and some light offensive capability though? Durability and heavy offensive capability is doable, but they get big and heavy fast. That limits their utility, and their financial liability only climbs. Do you want a million dollar drone you can't easily transport?"

Molly Millions has posed:
    "I have that. In cash. Between the fight circuit jobs and the paycheck... it's been... easier." Molly likes having her own money, it makes the whole world seem like a better place. She's careful with the big drone, too, testing it's manuverability but endeavoring to keep her commands precise enough to insure that she doesn't bring the building down around them,"Yeh, not everyone can be a decker. For sure. My augments are attuned to reaction for the same reason. By the time the brain can completely assess a combat situation it can frequently be too late, so... impulse at the base level. I can handle... more... without being distracted, but speak and spell is probably best for now."
    There's the way her head tilts at the reference to Musashi, and a soft 'huh',"I guess that's why they referred to us as street samurai. I've... never been one for giving up. But... yes. Precisely. Lighter and smaller, the easier it would be to conceal, and I would rather take concealability over durability. Information makes effective deployment of an arsenal far more efficient."