Agents of the Multiverse

The old machine's mind raced with endless possibilities; he feared who or what would eventually come through that door. He had no clue what species it would be, but he knew that he would be put through hell all over again when they arrived. He wiped a clawed hand over his helm, the sound of metal scraping on metal screeching through the silence and spooking some of the animals in the stable. Heretic felt a kinship with them, but he was scared, too.

This was for his own good, he knew that, but he also knew it could do more harm than good. He had done this a few times in the past, and every time, his world would change for a lack of better terms. It was hard to put words to a machine's mental state; he wasn't BUILT like them and never had been either. Every diagnosis was either an ill-fitting glove or entirely impossible for his species... if he had a species.

A thunderous growl rattled from his throat, he was mad, and AXIOUS. The stress was clawing at his skull, begging to be released into the world, but he wouldn't heed it. Sure, he was mad, but he wasn't going to let it seep out into the barn, as upset as he was. Though some of the animals did spook at the sound, one horse stared at Heretic calmly, with its blue eyes judging him silently. Or maybe it was only interested in the nest of hay he was sprawled on.

" what are you looking at?" Heretic rumbled at the animal, Though, of course, he got no response other than the horse leaning its head forward, coming snout to snout with Heretic and sniffing at him inspectingly. "Hrmf... fine," he conceded, reaching under himself, pulling free a pinch of hay, and holding it up to the horse. His assumption was correct as the animal nearly tried to take a finger with it; it dug into the hay so quickly, greedily nibbling it out of his grasp and spreading little chewed straws of hay across the otherwise clean, stable floor.

Working in the Omphalos was a uniquely fraught situation. One often had to wear many hats in the course of one day, sometimes ones that conflicted with others. The same was somewhat true at home, within the Psychonauts, but theirs was a more predictable kind of chaos in many ways. There had been danger and espionage and crazy villains, yes, but Raz had never once had to take the afternoon off to deal with a twenty-plus foot robot with potential trauma issues-- one which he might potentially have to place his life in the hands of at a later point, knowing his luck.

Not that he was complaining. What other Psychonaut could boast that they had been inside the head of a giant robot? Raz had been skeptical at first when Krepta had come to him, requesting it be him in particular that spoke to the mech. Raz was a telepath, and as such, his level of expertise was with organic beings. He wasn't sure how much help he could be to a creature that might be better served by a mechanic than a therapist.

But the shapeshifter had been insistent, and as he neared, to Raz's surprise, there was a sense of mind there to greet him, low and red and sullen. It felt very old too, and Raz couldn't help the twinge of curiosity that threatened to overwhelm his cool professionalism.

The lanky psychic paused outside the barn for a moment as the sounds of the giant moving within reached him. He wasn't intending to spy, exactly, but recon in potentially dangerous situations was second nature to Raz now, and he wanted to get a better sense of the individual within. That deep, rolling growl reached his ears and moved through his chest, and the psychic's gloved hand hesitated on the handle of the entry door for another few beats. He didn't have to be a psychic to know that Heretic was angry-- the hairs on the back of Raz's neck told him that much-- but there was fear beneath the anger too.

Of him? ...It was hard to tell. The mech's surface thoughts were muddled with emotion and Raz was too distant to tune in better. Nothing for it but to get it done with, he supposed. Raz blew out a breath and steeled himself, then pushed inside, letting his eyes adjust to the change in light as he slowly approached the giant. Heretic was feeding one of the horses with a finger and thumb full of hay, and Raz couldn't help but be impressed with the delicacy with which Heretic held the little bit of fodder.

So he liked animals, huh? Interesting. Raz definitely could sense that the mech's level of anxiety had gone down some upon his change of focus to the horse. Maybe Raz would see about arranging for some kind of therapy animal next time. A dog seemed a little too small, but there was a pretty friendly cow he knew of that didn't spook too easily-- one of the other agent's rides. Things to consider for next time.

"Hi Heretic, I'm Raz," Raz said lightly. He sat down carefully on one of the hay bales. Raz made sure to move slowly and smoothly, so as not to come across as threatening-- something that might have seemed ridiculous considering their size differences, but Raz knew that trauma didn't care much about shape or size or even species. Krepta had told him a little bit about what had happened the previous day in the hangar-- the reason for his visit, actually, and he thought that she was likely right about some of her assumptions. Krepta had a life long relationship with trauma herself, and an uncanny sense of insight that she often didn't give herself enough credit for. She would have made a good Psychonaut, had she been born under other circumstances.

Raz was wearing today, what Krepta had dubbed his 'dad clothes'. He had on a turtleneck as usual, simple, black, a set of brown pants, and his work boots. Normally Raz would have worn nicer shoes to an appointment, but since it was being hosted in the barn, he hadn't bothered. It was unclear if the red tinted lenses of the psychic's glasses completed the effect or made it somehow intimidating, but filtering out just a little bit of the bright distractions of the world helped Raz to focus better, and it was better than the goggles. Nobody seemed to like the goggles. Raz thought they were cool.

"Willow seems to like you," he said conversationally, and nodded his chin towards the bold animal, who was still imperiously cropping hay from between Heretic's fingers. "I'm impressed. She's a notorious biter. Are you a fan of horses?"

Heretic was so focused on the animal that he didn't register the sound of someone approaching the barn doors. The machine only finally registered his reckoning day had arrived when he heard those rusty barn doors open, causing his sharp helm to lock onto the now open doorway, his large center horn acting as a gunsight. 2 green eyes blazed at the small being that entered the doorway, his expression didn't carry much weight to it, not from a human standpoint at least. That massive helm was made from solid alloy and didn't give him any room to express, not in a way that mattered. The green orbs lodged firmly in his head; his eyes were markedly different. Empty and vibrant green, there was a depth to them. He had pupils, but they were matching green to the rest of his eye; the only way to spot them was by the way they sucked in the shadows around them. Because of this, it was barely visible that they shrunk to pinpricks when focusing on Razputin.

A wave of anxiety rolled off of The Titan before him; the feeling was suffocating. But there was another emotion intermingled with that anxiety, but it was hard to describe. Tenseness? Eagerness? It felt like staring at a loaded gun or a snake coiled and ready to strike. It was an errant, wild emotion, and it was hard to pinpoint whether it was born out of fear or excitement. It seemed moving slowly was the best choice of action, as every step of the way he walked further into the barn, Heretic stared holes into him. All that emotional noise ebbed into a pristine focus the closer he got to Heretic. All of it was On HIM. Was this the mind of a machine? Untouchable by everyday distractions, or was it the tunnel vision of a well-trained predator?

Slowly but surely, there was a welling of curiosity that overtook the machine, and the sound of massive lungs sucking in the air became all too noticeable as Heretic took a deep breath directed at Raz. His jaws opened and showed those fierce teeth, and accompanying them was a forked tongue, which meant he likely had a Jacobson's organ on the roof of his mouth; he was trying to catch his scent and familiarize himself with the small psychiatrist. That was relatively better than how he had stared him down like a raptorial bird. There was an eerie perfectness to how his head kept with Raz's height to his eye level when he sat down on the haybale not too far away.

Heretic assessed the human before him and his odd attire, including the glasses he couldn't quite grasp. Was it for safety purposes? Heretic appeared to pick up on Razputin's fear, a twinge of excitement exploding somewhere in his chest. Shortly after, the excitement would wash over Raz, it was followed by shame and inward-placed hate. Was he internally scolding himself for his excitement at his terror?

"You're the psychiatrist," Heretic stated, not asking. Heretic didn't seem to mince words when pointing out why Raz was here. He knew surely that Raz would not approach him like that if he were just a lost patron in the barn. Heretic didn't take his eyes off of Raz, completely unblinking. It would be unfair to initiate a staring contest with Heretic. A nictating membrane slid over the cherry red machine's eyes, clearing them of debris and lubricating them. He could barely see himself in Raz's glasses, those green eyes staring back. The machine could only wish briefly he had a better look at his expression, but he could see the hair was raised on the back of his neck, the beads of sweat on his brow that begged to form.

Heretic was admittedly surprised that Krepta even got anyone out here, let alone a human. He was... tiny compared to Heretic. And yet here he was, sitting on a hay bale and trying to talk to him, albeit with notably tense shoulders he could see from miles away. It was almost cute. How brave was this man? If Heretic flinched, would he flee or stand his ground? Not that he would test his mettle, Raz was here to TRY and help, but the thought, of course, crossed his mind, the curiosity niggling its way through his skull like an eager worm. That curiosity showed as Heretic angled his head around Raz as if inspecting him for weak spots, but that was not his intention, of course. It was easy to feel, and I witnessed Heretic squinting thoughtfully at his glasses.

He glanced at Willow, the newly to him designated animal. " I wasn't even aware you called these animals horses," He responded readily, holding steady until he was regrettably out of hay for poor willow to feast on. " Of course, she bites humans. She knows you'll take her out, ride her, and make her work the grounds. I won't. So she doesn't bite," Heretic stated simply. He finally turned his eyes to the horse, who stared up at him expectantly while he set his claws back onto the floor.

They seemed all too big, glinting in the low light of the barn. Heretic impatiently tapped his claw at the dusty barn floor.

" I don't usually entertain the thought of interacting with herbivorous animals. But these are pets," Heretic tacked on, entertaining Raz for the moment. There was a certain subtext to what he said, indicating if these animals weren't generally kept as pets, he might have preferred willow with some thyme for garnish. That wasn't to say Heretic wasn't happy to have her company and was glad he had come into a circumstance where he could interact kindly with her.

Raz was nervous, but only to a reasonable degree. There was a very large, very jumpy, very toothsome creature leering at him from the dark of the barn that the giant mech quite nearly filled. He wasn't terrified, though. Raz had made sure to meditate before coming, to sort out any anxieties he might have had about the meeting, and though concern flickered through him as Heretic honed in and leaned close, he easily mastered that welling sense of anxiety. Raz allowed the emotion to sit within his chest for a moment, then acknowledged it and sent it flowing harmlessly onward with a low, slow breath.

Panic never helped anybody, and Raz was used to pressure, to dangerous situations. Though those dangers didn't typically come in the form of giant monsters with equally giant teeth, his typical patients, at least back home, were usually pretty intent on killing him, or at the very least maiming him soundly. He knew better than to flinch, at least on the outside.

But oh, what an interesting symphony of emotions that was playing on in that big, angry head. Fear, focus-- a somewhat expected prey drive, though it was uncanny to have it directed with such laser precision towards him. Raz felt the giant studying him like a strange new toy, or a bug in a jar, and he had the feeling that if he were to run right then, that he would very quickly find himself flattened much like the cyborg had been. The flash of shame and self loathing that followed were also telling. Whatever the instinct was, it didn't seem like Heretic had a very good handle on it, which meant that the other day's incident likely hadn't been purposefully malicious, at least.

"I am," Raz said calmly in response to Heretic's inquiry about the purpose of his visit. "But we don't have to get into all that right away. I think I'd like to get to know you a little bit first." He took off his glasses, pausing to clean a little of the barn dust from their lenses with the corner of his shirt. "You must be feeling pretty cooped up in here, huh? What do you usually do for fun?"

He felt the laser focus hone in on the object in his hand, and Raz paused to hold the glasses up so that Heretic could better see them once he had finished wiping them off. "I have some special sensory needs," he told him patiently. He turned the glasses so that the ruby red lenses winked in the dim barn light. "These help me adjust for that. I was hoping maybe today we could discuss some potential accommodations for you. What do you think?"

Judging by Heretic's eyes, he was very correct about his assumptions that Heretic would chase him down like an unfortunate field mouse. That tunnel vision remained squarely on him, searching his expression with pinpoint accuracy. When Raz spoke next, Heretic's eyes became half-lidded, and a displeased rumble rattled through his chest. Idle chit-chat had never been his forte, and yet Raz seemed intent on doing just that, chit-chatting. The giant machine raised from the floor, planting his weight on his palms, only to turn and drop his weight into the hay. His weight shook the earth when crashing into the hay like that, flattening a good portion of it and causing straws of hay to fly up from the pile. The straws were left drifting in the air; Raz would either have to accept that it would get into his hair or keep that possibility from happening.

Heretic's focused emotions remained but were now calmer, letting his other emotions begin to shoulder their way to the forefront once more. One of those emotions? Irritation. However, that didn't stay relegated to a hidden emotion in his mind, as it promptly plastered itself on his face. " Cooped up? Is that some sort of pun?" he asked, keeping his voice down. " Yes," heretic affirmed his suspicions, though his helm turned away, a solemn feeling emanating from within the titan. He had ended up here on his own accord, so his misery caused by the tight quarters could only be blamed on himself. He didn't honestly blame Raz, though the accidental joke made him peeved.

Do for fun, huh...? Heretic thought quietly. "I'm a machine. I don't do fun, I do work," he explained, waving a clawed hand listlessly as if dismissing the mere thought of fun. Then again, he didn't quite understand what emotion humans called fun, or even Raz for that matter. Did he even have emotions by human standards? He would never know; he wasn't one of them. There was a sudden disconnect in Heretic's emotions, as if he were mentally distancing himself from Raz, he felt alien to the human, not vice versa. As much as he desperately wanted to understand, he could never know for sure, and it made his chest hurt. Maybe it was expected that Heretic had been told he was an unfeeling machine, enough to believe it himself; despite how untrue that was, the evidence itself was almost slapping Raz in the face. And yet the mere notion of misunderstanding had brought this beast to fear even Raz and reduce him to a miserable-looking lump of metal in a pile of hay. "if you're asking, what I enjoy? Exercise routines, jogs," He explained. There was trepidation that now exuded from Heretic; he was lying by omission, leaving some of his critical desires out of his very short list of enjoyable activities.

When the glasses were removed, Heretic studied Raz's now unencumbered face, looking him dead in the eyes as if it would give him insight into Raz's thinking. But his gaze averted back to his glasses when light glinted off them briefly. Those big green eyes rounded out pretty wide at the shiny little object, showing a keen interest. And despite the sudden pang of excitement he felt, he kept squarely in the hay. Maybe he had better control of his impulses than first imagined, though that didn't mean the I'mpulses didn't exist; they would always be there in his mind; it was just a matter of if he listened. He didn't seem keen on pouncing Raz this time.

In fact, Heretic reeled back a foot and soundly stomped on the side wall, which caused the barn window higher on the wall to rattle, the pole that kept it propped open dropped, and Heretic reached out a hand. Before the pole could possibly bonk Raz over the head, Heretic had caught it easily in his rubberized palm, pulling it back to himself and setting it against the wall. He had taken his mention of extra-sensory needs to mean he was light-sensitive. Heretic didn't seem to give much merit to his own empathy directed at Raz. Some of the horses had spooked due to the action, but Willow seemed content where she was, strangely enough.

Heretic couldn't help but squint at Raz. Accommodations? He raised his head and stared at the small man as if unsure how to answer. How did he respond? Heretic glanced around the barn as if it would offer some sort of clue, but sadly, he found none. Heretic finally landed that gaze back on Raz as if he had grown a second head; maybe he had. " Why are you asking me?" he questioned in turn.

The mech threw himself down for his little pout and Raz's own hay bale seat went bouncing along a bit. He brushed away a few of the larger strands of errant straw that had blown up into the air when Heretic had flopped down, but gave up on the smaller ones, letting them settle into his short brown hair with a little sigh. Well, he had come dressed for mess, Raz supposed-- he really shouldn't have been surprised when it found him.

Raz sensed the giant's annoyance at his words. A misstep on his part, actually. It had been just a turn of phrase-- Raz hadn't purposefully meant to draw unwanted attention to Heretic's current state of dwelling. He also caught that low thrumming regret that coursed between them though. That was important, actually. It would have been a lot harder to work with Heretic if he had been completely unrepentant about his actions and the harm they had caused. They still had a long road ahead of them, most likely, but it was a good foundation, though Raz much preferred self awareness without the tacked on self loathing.

"You know, that's something we have in common--" Raz said, seizing on the statement. "I'm a machine too. Only I was programmed by evolution rather than people-- though I guess I was programmed a bit by them too. My mom... my dad, and all the people I grew up with... I can even program myself if I want, though that's always a work in progress. I don't have servos, but I have joints and tendons, and they break down if I don't take care of them, just like yours. It's kind of funny though. I can't read the minds of beings who don't have organic brains, and I've seen you eat meat--" God, everyone had.

"So it's a little weird that the people who made you programmed you to take care of your other needs, like hunger, but they didn't program you to take care of your need for play. It's a pretty important survival mechanism in a lot of species. It helps them to learn and to keep their bodies fit, and regulate their nervous systems. I wonder why they would make such a big oversight?"

Raz let that hang in the air for a while. In the now semi-dark barn, the remaining light caught the red lenses of his glasses, giving them an eerie, owl eyed glow, but the psychic's stance was nothing but friendly and relaxed as he let Heretic think over his words, leaning over to brush a few strands of hay off the leg of his pants in the meantime.

It WAS a barn, after all, it tended to be a bit dirty. Heretic felt the small human have to deal with the bounce of his seating from him throwing his weight around. That sharp red and black helm remained focused on him while Raz did his best to rid himself of barn glitter. Otherwise known as hay. He didn't seem to be very good at it. Heretic sighed outwardly and raised on his haunches, resting his weight on one of his palms planted firmly on the ground. That oversized skull came all too close, leaning just in front of Raz. His strangely beak-like mouth split open for the very first time in his presence, showing those horrid knife-like conical teeth. such teeth made for gripping squirming prey and rending them apart piece by piece. Heretic sucked a breath in. And then gave a sharp exhale. Which not only blew his glasses up clear off his eyes and up into that short brown hair, but the concise stream of air blew all the little bits of hay he couldn't get clear off his frame. Heretic closed his jaws and sunk backward into the dark corner of the barn once more, setting himself down GENTLY this time, to avoid the same issue.

Heretic quirked a brow at the psychiatrist when he insisted that he and Heretic had something in common... the only thing he could think of them having in common was they were both sitting in a barn. Until he asserted he himself was a machine... Heretic squinted at him, appearing unimpressed. But he listened either way, crossing his arms just under his head. this should be good, a human trying to liken himself to a machine. the ornate helm of the titan twisted to the side when mentioning his powers of the mind. He didn't understand- Krepta had mentioned his usual forays into one's mind but he had thought she meant metaphorically... He was starting to get the idea he was wrong.

Though, Raz finally got to the root of what he was insinuating. The room mentally almost seemed to warp due to the overbearing emotion that suddenly escaped the titan. Sorrow, pain, regret, agony, heartbreak, suffering, alienation. They intermingled into a monster far larger and scarier than Heretic. The mech's eyes seemed to lose their focused sheen, falling instead on the middle distance between them. Heretics thoughts screamed in a metallic shriek, a thousand voices overlaid in a choir from Hell.

"Because our energy was regulated only to be used in certain scenarios, to prevent the need to buy extra fuel. Meant to be saved for when we really needed it," he explained.

Thoughts raced through his head, focused enough to break the selected silence Raz had chosen. Voices from memories of a time now long passed. Some yelled fervently in anger, others cried out for help, some spoke softly and some spoke strained. There were too many voices to pick out one in particular. One voice rose out above the others, however. There was only a problem, it technically wasn't a voice. It was a death rattle. The croak of air from one's lungs when they finally gave up the ghost.

"Heretic, what did you do?" A feminine voice called out amidst the sounds of choked and labored breathing. A strangled pitiful sound.

Disgust and shame overtook Heretic's psyche, and he rather suddenly and violently shook his head to shake away the thoughts, one who was not privy to the inner workings of his mind would have easily mistaken it as him just shaking that oversized mane out. But the voices silenced with his attempt to shove them away from the forefront of his mind.

Heretic's eyes refocused, looking at Raz and those ruby-red glasses that glinted almost grimly in the dark. He didn't like therapists. They just seemed to come to dig up every skeleton and make him look deep into those wounds he had oh so carefully patched up. Heretic wondered in silence if Raz gained some form of enjoyment from hearing others' pains, and that's why he took his job. No, he couldn't treat him like he was evil for his misgivings. The suggestion Raz had made had been fairly innocent, attempting to encourage a healthier outlook on his need for entertainment. He had to give him SOMETHING to work with, if Not for himself, then for Krepta's peace of mind.

" It's not that the desire and need doesn't exist. It's just not necessary in a workplace environment. Dangerous, even. I'm sure you saw the results of an uncontrolled outburst. Playful or not," He spoke lowly, staring down his brow at Razputin. " And you may see yourself as like me as much as you like. But you were born with the freedom to choose your life. You weren't fabricated with a purpose" He spoke, his voice cracked by the time he reached the end of his sentence. That massive helm turned away from Raz and lay into the hay. Those virid and usually wild green eyes dulled, and finally shut. Heretic had all but surrendered. The titan was defeated, and not by artillery. But by some little therapist who prodded a soft spot in his heart.

Raz got up with a sigh. Heretic's challenge to his comparison wasn't entirely true or fair. People had children for reasons outside of simple love for that child, just as creators made robots outside of the simple need for creation. The psychic's own family life was complicated growing up to say the least. Though Raz had patched some of those wounds with mutual cooperation from some of those family members, he certainly hadn't bridged the gap with all of them, or balmed all of the old hurts, and maybe he never would.

Some of the parties in question were no longer alive, and others had very little interest in working on themselves. Raz's relationship even with those he got along with remained complicated and even strained at times. Sometimes that was his own fault-- he wasn't too proud to admit that-- and sometimes it was theirs. That strain was part of why Raz was here with the AotM instead of back home in his own world, in fact. Family was complicated, no matter what your origins, and often times it was the root source of most people's pain.

But pointing that out wouldn't do either of them any good right now, so Raz opted for diplomacy instead. He carefully took a seat closer to the giant's head rather than across the room, settling cross legged on the ground next to him. Raz was careful not to touch Heretic, not entirely sure yet how the behemoth felt about physical contact. He made an effort to radiate peace and reassurance however, as he paused to clean and reseat his glasses once more, letting the silence linger just a little longer.

"You're right," the psychic said at last. "I've been privileged in my life in a lot of way that you haven't been, and that's not fair. But you know, you don't have to keep treating yourself the same way the people who made you did. This is a place of work, true, but it's also a home. Your home if you want it, and there are plenty of people here who want to see you flourish. It sounds like you were born into your life with a lot of chains-- none of them right or fair. You're a thinking, feeling being. We're no different in that, whatever you might think of me."

Raz considered. He had felt that little twinge of animosity directed his way earlier, followed by the regret. It wasn't an unusual reaction to his presence, but maybe he could help make things clearer for both of their sakes.

"My job is to help you find the keys to each of those chains," he said. Raz tapped two fingers against his own forehead, canting his head to smile down a little at Heretic, though it was a sympathetic expression rather than a joyful one. "You've got those keys right here. I promise you that. When it comes down to it though, it has to be you that turns the lock. If you let me, I can show you how, but this isn't something that can be forced. You have to want it. Do you understand?"

Heretic was silent as Razputin stood from his haybale seating and approached his head, only to plant himself close to his cheek. That large dome that made up the helm of the titan was sunk wearily into the hay. Razputin was drowned in green light from the eye of the machine when it turned to face him. It might've felt like the lamplight of a light tower had befallen him. It was an engulfing thing.

Virid green pools of like that made up his eyes half-lidded while Razputin made his case. The therapist placed two fingers on his temple and smiled at him, explaining how those chains in his mind could be released, but only by his hand. And that there was a _place_ for him here if he would accept their help. Pain etched his expression at the mention of home.

The expression on his face changed to that of conflicted emotions, those searchlight eyes now focusing on the far side of the barn. The lights in his eyes seemed to be drowned out Heretic closed his eyes. The emotions fought for stability in his mind while considering what Razputin said. But eventually, there was a balance, and the feeling of acceptance, if not trepidation. A deep breath was drawn into oversized lungs and then sighed out into the barn, causing small flecks of hay to spring forward from the force of Heretic's release.

"Of course I want that," he responded, eyes opening to land on the psychiatrist. He just didn't know if what he wanted was him. He decided to settle into the uneasy feeling, there was work to be done and Razputin was offering help... He could swallow his pride for the time being. "So, what will you have me do?" the oversized machine questioned. He swore to himself if Razputin mentioned getting exercise and getting healthy to improve his mood he would strangle him. Too many times before now the answer had always been so simple and so... DISSMISSIVE of the greater issue at hand. Heretic had to wonder what kind of technique Razputin would employ that made Krepta put faith in him.

Now the titanic machine's head was held aloft just over Razputin, staring down into him, and weighing the worth of his soul. But at the same time, there was a surprising lack of judgment in those empty eyes. Razputin's own reflection stared back at him.

"Well," Raz said slowly. He leaned back on his palms to peer up at the ceiling thoughtfully. A half dozen sparrows peered back at him from the rafters. They weren't native to here. Nothing was, really, but it was nice to see some of the local wildlife... filling out, so to speak. The lack of birds and insects had been unsettling when he had first arrived.

"I think we need to figure out a channel for your natural instincts that's a little less destructive," Raz said. He tilted his head back down to watch Heretic's reaction to his suggestion. "I think it's a mistake to try and fight them and bottle them up, because I think they're going to come out one way or another. The only thing we have control over is how."

How indeed, though? Heretic was well, huge, and that was only the first item in a list of hurdles that including razor sharp teeth and claws. Even with good intentions, there was always the chance of accidents happening, and accidents with this guy could be deadly, to say the least. It wasn't like they made giant sized obstacle courses either...

Or did they?

"We could use the Hazard Simulator," he mused. "It should be able to handle even you, but... it's in the basement and there's no way you're getting in there right now at your size. But we can work on that-- build a special entrance maybe, and a door. I doubt you'll be the only big guy coming through here, so better we get started now anyway."

Raz rubbed at his chin, tugging at the little patch of hair that grew there.

"In the meanwhile, we need a stop gap. Somewhere to put all that energy. You could consider becoming an agent... officially, I mean. Though we run into the same problems with the doors, I guess." Raz was mostly just thinking out loud at this point, running down the list of possibilities. "The one in the hangar fits you just fine, but it takes a lot of power to boot up, and I don't think they'll be too happy to see you any time soon either. I know that's how you're getting back and forth to Sanctuary though, and I think we'd all rather you fed yourself there rather than here..."

Those long fingers tapped at his chin.

"I think there's just no help for it," Raz decided at last. "You're gunna to have to make it up to them. There's some nice metal up in the mountains not too far from Sanctuary that's pretty hard to get at that I bet you won't have too much trouble with. You bring the science team some of that, write a nice apology letter... and we stick you with a chaperone for... I dunno, maybe a week? I'm sure they'll forgive you. It's a start anyway, as long as you don't go around snapping any more arms."

Raz blew a long sigh through pursed lips. "You're lucky it was Grievous. He's got a bad attitude and that hasn't exactly won him many popularity contests around here, plus robotic limbs are replaceable." The psychic pointed a gloved finger at Heretic. "Not that we're going to use that as an excuse, but it would have been a lot worse if you had flattened someone else. Damage control is something I can help with as long as you're willing to do the work to make sure it doesn't happen again. They need to see you trying."

He pushed to his feet again, giving a long stretch, then turned around to look down at Heretic's massive head, cocking his fist on one hip. "We'll start with that. Seriously though, consider becoming an agent. I think it'd be good for you to have some kind of purpose you could apply yourself to. Barring that, start taking up tasks and stuff around Sanctuary. Escort jobs, hunting, heck-- bounties if you have to, but you need something to channel that pent up energy into or this is going to keep happening. Once we've got an entrance to the Hazard Simulator for you, then you can really let loose, but you're going to have to actively look for ways to let off a little steam in the meantime, got it?"

Heretic watched the man as he spied up at the birds, following his gaze to the minuscule sparrows. His eyes widened briefly and his head sunk low to the hay as if trying to go unnoticed by the small animals. He shifted briefly in the hay, shuffling his hands under his chest to hide his talons beneath himself. The words 'channel' grabbed his attention as his optics flicked to Razputin, his head shifting to the side. Heretic didn't have to look hard to see the man was really considering what he was offering. An outlet for such a massive beast would undoubtedly be a big outlet.

Hazard simulator hm? He tilted his head back to face the small birds overhead, it was just he couldn't fit... though it seemed Razputin shared that train of thought. Speaking of a special door before moving on to a 'stop-gap,' for his current overabundance of energy. A list of items was prattled off at him, an apology letter for one, metal ore for another, and a chaperone. His eyes visibly squinted at the mention of a chaperone, he wasn't too fond of the idea. He sighed openly. " That's manageable. Once I'm allowed to leave the stables I can send an electronic letter to them at the nearest terminal," he explained briefly. For a moment it might be easy to think he'd crush a terminal doing that, and Heretic seemed to realize he might come to that conclusion.

His jaws opened, sleek teeth giving way to a long white cable that slipped from his jaws. It was tipped with 4 delicate fingers and some lights around the rim that perhaps functioned as optical receptacles. He briefly used it to pick hay from his mane. He glanced over at Razputin as he explained Grievous's standing among the general public. " I could have told you that," he responded, only for Raz to point that accusatory finger at him.

the white cable reached out with one finger gently placed to the back of Raz's hand and pointed it down at the hay. " I wasn't going to use it as an excuse," the mech stated flatly. Despite his flat demeanor, he seemed to be receptive. His eyes were pinned to Raz as he warned he had to put an effort into making change. A deep rumbling hum escaped the titan when Raz made it to his feet. Something was happening behind those big green eyes before it seemed to settle in place. Heretic rolled onto his side and let out a sharp puff of air, curling into the hay and closing his eyes. Without the light from it, the barn became fairly dark. "As much as I'm sure the general public would rather wipe their ass with sandpaper than see me as an agent, I will consider it," Heretic mused out loud, " but in the meantime, odd jobs don't sound so bad." The titan rolled onto his back, his chest rising and falling.

" How is Krepta?" he queried.