The team of scientists and officers who seemed to want to better look at him came to crowd around and look him over as if he had suddenly taken on features that they had all been hoping for but only just now realizing were there. His metal arm was examined, and it was a true show of his obedience when he didn't choke the smirking officer with the heavy Soviet look who was speaking to a technician next to the man. Someone had clearly won a bet on the underdog of this battle, but for him it had never been about winning or losing. It was about showing that he was a weapon that could be bared and turned on the designated target.
His head turned at the resounding sound of a palm meeting with flesh, and even the chatter around him softened as many turned to watch the other weapon take the show of displeasure. He watched silently, his muzzle still covering his expression, but he lifted his chin slightly as his weapons were removed and taken away as they stood there in the combat grounds.
Most of the observers were leaving by this point, the show over and the possibilities displayed in full. He would apparently be rewarded, which meant he would be fed and possibly allowed to rest laying down rather than ordered to try to doze standing. He knew the other weapon would not be so lucky, that the other suffered well enough for a perceived failure that was neither fair nor earned. Life was not fair though. They both perhaps were the only ones to truly understand that in the fragmented darkness that came with a lack of memory.
Most of the technical staff involved in his project was drawn away to be put to work preparing for surgery. The single technician left in charge of him ordered him to stand next to the other weapon, as if the man was putting two weapons on a shelf side-by-side. He shifted closer subtly while the man was writing down notes and talking to parts of the other technical team, and he eased his weight up against the blond's to take some pressure off of that injured leg.
no subject
His head turned at the resounding sound of a palm meeting with flesh, and even the chatter around him softened as many turned to watch the other weapon take the show of displeasure. He watched silently, his muzzle still covering his expression, but he lifted his chin slightly as his weapons were removed and taken away as they stood there in the combat grounds.
Most of the observers were leaving by this point, the show over and the possibilities displayed in full. He would apparently be rewarded, which meant he would be fed and possibly allowed to rest laying down rather than ordered to try to doze standing. He knew the other weapon would not be so lucky, that the other suffered well enough for a perceived failure that was neither fair nor earned. Life was not fair though. They both perhaps were the only ones to truly understand that in the fragmented darkness that came with a lack of memory.
Most of the technical staff involved in his project was drawn away to be put to work preparing for surgery. The single technician left in charge of him ordered him to stand next to the other weapon, as if the man was putting two weapons on a shelf side-by-side. He shifted closer subtly while the man was writing down notes and talking to parts of the other technical team, and he eased his weight up against the blond's to take some pressure off of that injured leg.