[Worm]

Seven struggled to understand why the machine was so receptive to his emotions. Most machines would not pick up on the lilt of his voice. After all, all he did was mention the creator's name. He said nothing about his feelings for her. Yet somehow, Engel knew. He scowled, a bit overwhelmed with what he was getting himself into. "I wouldn't say I disliked her. We didn't work well together." He shoved down repressed memories deep into his gut. He must've blacked out for a moment, because they were in the basement now. He looked down at his still fresh arm upgrade wound and recalled Engel's mention of the Halifax protocol. Everything in his body boiled, his hair rose, his eyes widened. This was not good at all!

"Your Halifax protocol?"He could feel the air being sucked from his lungs, he whipped his hands to his head, stringing through short, brown hair. It all made sense now... In alarm, Seven grabbed his pistol and held it close to him. They were after him weren't they? This was all planned. His thoughts were winding deeper into paranoia as he looked the machine up and down. He felt a lump in his throat. "What was her intention in doing this?" He kept the pistol moving with his hand gestures, still drunk on panic. The basement lights were florescent, blinking on in sets behind the robot. Underneath the groups of lights were tables with various projects on them. Every inch of the walls were covered in tools, weapons, scrap or some sort of metal. "I do have the file on all of my machines, there might be a way for me to transfer it back onto your hard drive." He kept his distance from the military grade mechanized weapon.