Setting: Entrance Room
Time: Night 12
Summary: Weapondog, meet Weaponman. Weaponman, Weapondog. House, Weaponthings, Weaponthings, House.
Warnings: Language (Baird)
1 stopped, confused, his metal claws scraping the marble as he caught himself. He lifted his head, large brown eyes taking in the scene around him, sniffing loudly. [?WHERE?] He craned his neck, turning to look behind him, checking out the entirety of his surroundings--this was not the forest. This was not home.
2. 3. WE3.
Where was 2?
[2! COME!] There was nothing--no familiar scent, no familiar sound... and no trace of WE3--he scrambled to move, losing some traction on the marble until the layered metal caught on it, providing him enough grip to move forward, ignoring the door for now as he clicked down the hall. His words came not from his mouth, however--the implant on his head produced speech in conjunction with thought, its 'voice' metallic and warped.
... there was no response. He stopped, confused, looking around at the strange things in the building. Where was he? Confusion reigned and a whine escaped his throat--his own voice this time, distinctive from the implant. To 1, however, they were the same: his voice.