As Owen left the hotel, he shivered as he felt the chilly air well and truly buffeting his arms and shoulders, almost seeming to curl around him and bequeath a distinctly unwelcoming feeling. Now it seemed like everyone that had suddenly just stopped to watch or otherwise gawk were now gone. The streets were empty, and the alleyways dim - lines of houses and apartments in the area alongside small local businesses yet none of them saw very much activity. He'd seen Scottie and Lucky traipsing off in the direction of the pub, and had once again declined to follow on the way out.
Where Scottie before had been rather withdrawn, now he loudly guffawed at the fact Owen was staying off of their sexual escapades, all to look around and talk. And Lucky just went along with him, not a whit of the "feminine touch" that he had talked up all the way back in the bunker.
Watching those two chatting about who they intended to bring back to their hotel rooms, it was clear that they were intoxicated by the power that they had come into. Owen felt a distinct shiver down his spine as they talked openly about using the device, the Eon Chronicle, on their dates. Even fooling their dates into using it and how hot a surprise transformation would be. As Owen watched the forms of Scottie and Lucky grow distant, distorted in the mist and seaside fog of this fishing town, he sighed.
He needed to find out some hint as to what was going on here. And he couldn't well do that if he ran off with those two, or stayed with---with Martin. As much as the idea of spending actual, true alone time with Martin was a rather thrilling concept. Owen started to walk, telling himself already that he needed to at least try to be decent with whoever this woman was. There was a chance however distant that whoever she was, she might know something.
Heh, chasing after some local lunatic for the off chance that there might be some kind of explanation...talk about desperation.
Striding through the chilly township Owen was met with an icy silence. The town was to a man a distant place. People kept to themselves, overwhelmingly so. He could even hear every single little wet slap and clack of his boots' metallic toe and leather heel hitting the ground - which looked in some places like modern pavement, and in others like old brick road unevenly advancing through the winding pathways of this hamlet.
Since when did I care about the degenerate drug addict, the gay and---
Here he was, trying to make himself mad at the other guys - yet again ruining himself. A quick sigh. Owen looked up, a few droplets of moisture landing on his forehead and cheek. He bit his lip.
Just...focus on the goal, trooper. Focus on finding out what's going on. What's happening to them. And how to best stop it.
She must've been making one hell of a ruckus to get people that worked up here...the place was as quiet as a crypt. Owen honestly felt like he was walking through a patchwork of graves with the way he was hearing and seeing things. There were sleepy towns, that was true, but this town slept like---
And Owen didn't have to imagine for very long as far as what was going on with the woman. He could hear something just past a twist down through an alleyway, leading toward something like a town marketplace. He found himself thinking about why in the world he was running off into uncertain events just to help one woman who might just be a drooling buffoon...but then he shook his head and ran off after the noise. Some inward call to selfless bravery winning out in that moment.
As Owen's boot stamped against brick, he crested the alleyway and rushed out to see some of the guards from further up the central road - blond or brown haired and pale, like many of the townsfolk, and they were antagonizing a frail young woman who seemed to be trying to shield her head from any violence they might inflict.
"---You make an awful lot of noise---"
"---not wanted here. You're upsetting our---"
Are you really gonna sit there and let these guys beat on a defenseless woman?
Owen's fist clenched.
You didn't do anything for mom. You knew the whole while. It didn't take going fascist for you to be a coward.
Defiance welled up. Harsh memories flashing back.
Owen hardly cared what either of the men were saying in the heat of the moment. He'd never exactly been a selfless person. Never exactly known to run in to help someone else. Not exactly the type to rescue rather than the type someone else needed rescue from. But in that moment he just abandoned any and all ideas and preconceptions - darting into the heat of the confrontation and pushing his shoulder along with his arm, leading his fist right into the jaw of the lead guard in the middle of his raising his baton to strike her...
Owen's punch rang true and throttled the guard off of the personal space of the young purported crazy woman. Blood trailing down the cheek as he landed against the brick road, the man quickly got back up on his feet - but upon seeing how incredibly enraged Owen looked in the heat of the moment, glaring daggers at the both of them, the guard thought better of his choices that day.
"He's...that's one of those guys---"
The other guard gripped his fellow's shoulder, and said in a low tone, "Let's go. They won't be around long."
A huff from the guy who thought it pertinent to beat down on the madwoman for making noise, and the two guards ran off back toward the central road. Yet Owen barely heard what they talked about and their rationalization, and by the time he calmed down, he looked back toward the woman. Seeing her more clearly for the first time as she let her skinny arms fall to the sides - thin fingers trailing wet bricks, flowery dress wet and ruined from the scuffle.
Owen calmed down, wiped his face with his hand, and then looked to see what was going on with the young woman.
She was a rather pretty girl - would likely be prettier usually, but it seemed like she had lost quite a bit of weight. Her face looked like it was attuned to a less gaunt look, and honestly it seemed like there was an oddly mystical quality to her. A waif who carried herself like there was something she experienced that Owen couldn't perceive. Her hair was light brown, and she had light green eyes, and a slightly tanned appearance.
As she glanced over Owen, she stated in a light whisper, "My thanks, Owen Bolton, I am glad you decided to---"
"Hold---hold the phone!" Owen crossed his arms and looked at the young woman - helping her up anyway, but holding on to her arm and staring at her as he tried to parse what was going on, "You know my name. How in the fuck do you know my name? Is---what's---is there an explanation---?"
"Yes, that there is. You deserve to know - you especially." The young woman simply stood there, placid and still, not even reacting to Owen's hold on her arm.
He released her, looking down and sighing.
"Yes, despite your rough exterior and hateful associations," the young woman moved toward Owen and let her hands drift on to his shoulders, gently caressing the hard muscles of his shoulders, "You are who I must find. I was told to come here, told to find the one that was rejected by the Archeo-Tool."
"Well, you found me." Owen remarked, "Wanna tell me what's going on here?"
A slow nod from the young woman, and she stated, "To begin, my name is Elisabeth Monad, and I freely grant my gifts to the Theosophic Society---"
"...Theosophic Society? You mean all that weird---" Owen remarked.
"They do not wholly believe in me, in my powers, but I don't need them to, only to have record of what I see." Elisabeth smiled, and then said, "I needed to find you. To say my piece. Two of your friends are blemished by the Archeo-Tool, and another hovers over the edge, precariously. Any further experience, and they will plunge beneath the oily slick, never to return."
No wonder the guy said this woman was crazy. And then she said all this with a calm, straight face...yet maybe it was how impressionable he was, how easy he was to believe stuff that people said when they sounded like they honestly believed it...or maybe it just seemed so much like it lined up with what he saw. What he heard. What the other guys in the History Hunters had ended up like. But he could honestly believe her on some level.
"You---you know how crazy this sounds, right?" Owen said with a bleak chuckle, "You're telling me there's---there's something going on with that thing? The device we picked up? They called it Eon Chronicle---"
"Whatever its true name, Owen," Elisabeth stated in a more fierce tone than before, almost surprising him, "It is a mechanism by which deep things, old things, influence the world. It never should've been brought out from the depths. Many things that rested beneath the waves should have stayed beneath the endless ocean. "
"...Yeah, yeah sure...sure..." Owen murmured - for every thing that aligned with something he'd seen of the device, there was more crazy talk. He had to sort out what he could verify from this journeying mad oracle of Delphi and what he couldn't. But just hearing her talk honestly made him feel kind of---relieved? At ease? Honestly, with how crazy she was, she had a very gentle voice that appealed to Owen on some level. "I'll uh, I'll look into it."
How in the fuck did I end up nodding along to all of this?
"I know much of what I say may seem distant, difficult to parse and verify. Especially for one so readily but precariously proceeding..." A quick little smile and a pirouette on her feet as she started to walk away, "Everything will become clear one way or another. Dispose of the heinous device or do not. One way or another, verification waits at the end of this tunnel for you - when you must accept what you can see with your own eyes."
She stepped off down an alleyway between houses, and as Owen ran toward her to try and tell her that it wasn't safe for her here with all these goons around...she was gone. She'd walked down an alleyway and just disappeared out of sight. She couldn't have just walked or run off - not dressed in those little heels and in that dress, in this kind of place...
Owen looked at the floor, let out a long harsh breath and then glanced skyward. The sun was still obscured by billowing, thick clouds - enough that Owen could wonder if it was ever gonna be sunny around this place. He was gonna need to get some more information from the locals if he could about what was going on here. He had to figure out what the deal was with Bruno Hartmann next. There had to be some stories around here from the locals. With how his men went around like that.
Owen had to try and figure out for himself if they knew anything they might be willing to share. Hopefully not everyone here was a closed off, staring nut.
And so he stepped off toward the marketplace...
--------------------------
While Owen contemplated things and spoke to someone who knew more than she might seem, Scottie and Lucky wiled away their time in the local pub - which despite the otherwise dead atmosphere of the town was alive and well - though they noted the pale tendency seemed to be a rule here. Lucky found himself readily appreciating the beauty of the young women of the town - fey, mysterious, strange and long haired, guiding people in. And Lucky swore he saw Scottie appreciating one of the girls here just as well as he appreciated the muscled, thick formed farmhands who came here to unwind after a long day's work.
Ah well, the more sex they got to enjoy here, the better - and just in case there was any chance of it, Lucky looked down at the Eon Chronicle device resting in a bag by his side. He figured that it might be fun to introduce someone else to the joys of the device's effects. Especially its immediate effect on arousal. Even now, Lucky remembered the state that it put Martin in very fondly. And his own foray into that terrain.
Nobody seemed to question the presence of the two rippling, powerfully built foreigners, and indeed they were treated how they hoped - as desirable newcomers who shook up the scene a bit. It was a bit surprising at first admittedly that the gay scene meshed so thoroughly with the straight bar scene here, but it seemed there was a pronounced tendency of "giving it a try". Even the straight girls they chatted with admitted to first fooling around with other girls just to get their bearings on sexuality and sexual experience.
The same was readily true with the guys. The farmhands freely admitted to, when the work got sparse, working off their boredom - and working off each other. "Of course a man knows how to please another man," one said. "Just practice for when me and the local gals go at it," said another.
However as their evening at the pub went on it became clearer and clearer that one of the two was favored above the other.
They were introduced to two young farmhands in their mid-twenties, both burly young men with powerfully built bodies, cleanshaven faces but hairy bodies. "Klaus und Rudi" as they referred to themselves. Klaus was the slightly heftier of the two, he enjoyed beer more - and correspondingly he had a bit more gut on him and less tone as opposed to the muscular, athletic but slimmer by comparison Rudi. Klaus had somewhat wild hair and didn't care to really try and comb it back, whereas Rudi tried his hardest to make it less obvious just by appearance that he was a farmhand.
Supposedly, they were straight men. Rudi had an on again off again (currently off again) girlfriend, and Klaus was popular around town with the women. And here they were freely flirting with and going out with the apparent Frenchman and Norwegian who just came to town, readily talking about their experiences - with girls, and with each other. Apparently, Rudi wasn't fond of anything involving his ass because one time, Klaus tried to fuck him - and being quite inexperienced, it ended up hurting Rudi a bit.
"So no more butt stuff, danke schoen Klaus." The two shared a fistbump, and continued talking with Scottie - all while Lucky sat there drinking a Pilsner and wondering what made Scottie so readily popular with these two. And honestly with how he joined the two of them in occasionally talking about girls, Lucky wondered how gay Scottie even was. It felt like he was being left out - and he was wondering if it might be to do with his problem.
Whereas Scottie readily behaved like every bit the lad in these places, making a grand show of himself in public, Lucky found himself awkwardly unable to join in. Finding himself more and more feeling a sense of restraint that just wasn't popular here. Sure he could probably get laid with some of the girls in the club, enjoy their company for the night and leave Scottie to this... but by now he was decidedly set on trying to keep up with Scottie.
His pride as a knight - as odd as it may be - would not let him leave this be. Even when the solution might mean leaving that mentality and state of being behind. He found himself looking at where the Eon Chronicle rested. "Do I really need to use this fucking thing? Just to catch up with Scottie...?"
"Dare you to fucking...what's the word you guys use?"
"Twerk?"
"Yeah, Rudi, dare you to twerk on Scottie's fucking co---" And then as a waitress walked between them and interrupted Lucky's listening, the next thing he saw of the guys was a grinning, laughing Rudi gyrating on a pleasured Scottie - one hand holding Rudi's waist and pressing the athletic farmhand's rear against his increasingly erect manhood - which was making quite an impression through the jeans he wore to the occasion.
It was becoming clearer and clearer that the Viking was packing. And Lucky was growing more and more frustrated with just how much he was missing out on.
Eventually, when it looked like they were seriously talking about taking a trip out to go fuck around some in one of the barns after hours, Lucky decided it was now or never. He stood up, excused himself, and hurried into the restroom - hoping that this could change him fast enough. His hands shaking as he slammed the door shut behind himself, glad he was alone in here, Lucky almost fell forward into a kneeling stance as if prostrating himself as he retrieved the Eon Chronicle.
The device rested uneasily in his hands, he knew well just how much pleasure this thing could bequeath. And he wanted it, now, as fast and as hard as he could manage. He knew he would have to deal with changes to his clothes...but it was worth losing a set to keep up with Scottie. As he raised the device aloft with one hand while awkwardly shucking off his clothes with the other, he swore as removing his shirt interrupted his sight of it - it seemed the thing was almost sparking a little.
Lucky breathed as his uneasy hands pressed around for the button, with it eventually displaying its long list of numbers and ages - seeing those bright red numbers in holographic display seemed like a choice of what porn he would choose today. But right now he felt he needed something nice, early, and strong. Something even earlier in time frame than what Scottie got. A form that would last at least until he got the need in his gut for something more.
Eventually he saw something that might've seemed extreme at least initially.
479B.
That was probably a lot earlier than what Scottie got for that Viking form, and honestly Lucky had no clue in the heat of his arousal and desire. He was already rubbing his hand against his cock, eagerly anticipating what would come. He awkwardly took his hand off of his meat and pressed his finger into the holographic display. He was already feeling a sense like what he felt whenever he got on his marijuana or any of the stronger stuff he occasionally worked with.
The sheer hit of pleasure that rippled through his body was both more extreme than what he experienced last time, and intensive enough to make Lucky immediately moan, eyes half shut and mouth open as his muscles tensed and flexed - manhood ramrod erect. He could feel his skin pulsating, pumping up and down, his shaking getting more erratic and even making his masturbation more difficult due to the tremors and shaking that came with the intense pleasure this time.
But he was bent on directly enjoying himself as opposed to just sitting there, taking it, and letting himself cum at the end. He could see as his arm pumped up and down on his manhood somewhat awkwardly that his bicep, tricep and even his forearm were pumping up with size and strength - but also that his body hair was withdrawing, growing thinner but also darker, curlier. He let out a harsh breath as he watched his skin grow more tan...
Watching himself tan up was an unexpected erotic hit for Lucky.
"Fuuuuck...fuck yes..." Lucky willingly and eagerly surrendered to everything the Device intended to do to him. Even as he felt his hair growing thicker, curly, a few black strands of that curly hair falling in front of his face. Another pulse, another shift to a deeper, more bronzed tan. Biting a slightly thicker set of lips on him, Lucky moaned as he felt the shift muscling him up more. His body becoming sturdier and thicker, but no less athletic and toned.
He was being built up for a sport of some kind, somehow.
Wrapping a second hand around his cock, the changing man groaned as he felt his butt lifting from sheer development of size in the glutes along with the thighs and quads. Even his calves seemed a bit more built up by the time he felt the shaking, trembling growing sensation ripple down through there. His face turned more boyishly handsome, not a single follicle of facial hair blemishing his look. He pumped his hips into his hands as he felt his skin pulse and shift again.
The tan was fast becoming more like a distinct look. He was bronzed, a light brown skin tone to him that would've usually only been semi-attainable as a typical white guy by spending ninety percent of his day on the beach. If he had to guess...
His thoughts however were interrupted as the most intense orgasm of his life ripped through Lucky's body. Head to toe he could feel it hitting him, his broad, powerful pecs shuddering as he emitted his release across the ground. Lying there, looking at the reflection he had just developed in the mirror Lucky murmured in a worn out yet utterly pleased and delighted tone, "...If I had to guess, I'm some ancient Greek studmuffin that---that uh---that would've been ready to compete in the fucking Olympics...!"
Yet as he laid there, taking in the afterglow and pleasure of his transformation - just about to get up and join Scottie and the guys in some real pleasure, he could almost...hear something! A faint sound, almost like a reverberation at first, but then it turned louder, clearer, and more like a voice...!
Ahh, good, good, boy-thing, you too can hear me. This proceeds at a very recommendable pace. Right before the meeting. Excellent.
"Are---Are you...?" Lucky blearily asked, a dumb grin on his face, "Are you---?"
Your gods, yes. Now that you rest in this form of increasing glory, you can hear your Zeus speak to you. An honor, mm?
Zeus always was pretty haughty, but the idea that this body came with the ability to hear such things was...honestly, both impressive and a little scary. But he was eager to see where this all went. So for now, Lucky just replied outloud, "I'm---I'm honored. Glad I can uh---can hear this..." For some reason occasionally Lucky found English to feel a little...what's the word? Unnatural to him. Something else seemed a little better.
But for now, he was happy. If he had any issue he could try and solve it. Maybe with some study - hopefully while indulging this body's need for exercise and sport. He was it seemed a kinesthetic learner now!
The voice seemed to go, and Lucky checked what became of his clothes. Indeed, it seemed to be a cloth that just barely edged out a pair of short shorts, and a sleeveless tunic that aptly showed off his newly developed form. The clothes were made of roughspun cotton that would probably take a fair while to get used to - and there was a constant risk of Lucky's balls hanging out from the cloth wrap around his waist and covering his manhood. Strangely however, the bag that he used to contain and carry the Eon Chronicle had not changed at all.
As if something had directly decided to ensure that its movement was made easier.
Smirking, Lucky put his new clothes on and walked off - just in time to see Scottie and the two German Farmhands starting toward the door. Immediately, Scottie was taken with the changes to his friend.
Rudi and Klaus however were utterly incredulous.
"This is---" Klaus rubbed the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly as he watched Scottie and Lucky fistbump and affirm the identity of the "new" Greek stud that just walked out of the bathroom in some kind of full cosplay of ancient times. Honestly, Klaus and Rudi felt more than a little weirded out by it. And it matched some of the weird stories that the older folks in town told. That something could exhume the past and make people wear it in living form.
"Somewhat odd. Somewhat odd." Rudi said chuckling awkwardly, understating it as he glanced at Klaus. Yet the two of them readily led the way toward an empty barn - not in use, and not monitored, all the better for use in some fun times. Rudi and Klaus despite their misgivings were all too willing to screw around with these two weird, weird out of towners.
"If you guys wanna figure out what went on in there with my bro Lucky..." Scottie said as he fished out the device from the bag at Lucky's side, "We got this lovely little thing to thank for him becoming this whole new chadly self." A quick thump on the back of Lucky's shoulder, and a quick clap right back, and the guys disappeared off into the waning light that marked the transition from evening to dusk.
-------------
By the time the three guys returned that night from their day out, Owen was left shaking his head as he realized that while there was a lot that was said, he couldn't really make sense of it. People here didn't like Bruno Hartmann, and they especially didn't like Owen's accessories. They said that a lot of Hartmann's thugs had some similar things. That got Owen thinking. Normally he would've grinned, needled them about being triggered by his sonnenrad and tattoo, and went on his way...
But not today. He'd seen for himself the things that Hartmann's guys did when they felt like they could get away with it on someone who was viewed as an outsider. He'd thrown fists, gotten involved, and even tried to get some information afterwards to better inform himself about what was going on. Owen glanced at the floor as he looked out the window on his way up the stairs and toward the rooms. Martin it seemed had spent the day in the hotel gym - as he walked by, barely registering Owen, covered in sweat and shirtless---gloriously shirtless.
Owen however managed to keep his mind off of the display Martin made and focused on what he learned and what he could infer.
This place existed in the shadow of Bruno Hartmann's castle, and nobody here had asked for the presence that he brought. It seemed he had inherited ownership of the castle, and nobody had really expected the kind of behavior and acts that Hartmann would show across his ownership. He turned the castle into something like a training and expertise development center. Letting hostile and odd people in who disrespected the folks here and apparently, Owen reminded them of these people.
He took the verbal lumps and went on. He figured that he couldn't really complain.
It was when he heard Lucky and Scottie trampling through and eagerly heading off to their rooms, drunk as could be each, that Owen saw what had become of Lucky. Once again he could barely even recognize the man. He was now some sort of Greek athlete, still dressed in a hastily put back on tunic and loincloth that occasionally dipped and let a glimpse of his family jewels show. The two were talking at length on their way to their rooms about the quality of ass they got at the pub.
About the two guys they fucked around with.
About the woman the guys had brought in toward the end, and how Scottie despite everything had readily joined in the threesome soon to be foursome. The guys seemed worn out, readily chatting and occasionally yawning...yet it seemed like, as Owen paused there, that they were occasionally just as much addressing someone who wasn't there. That accursed device rested in a bag at Lucky's waist, Owen could just tell.
He didn't know how much exactly he believed out of Elisabeth Monad's speech, about that thing besmirching their souls or what not, but he just got the worst possible vibes from it regardless. He tightened his grip and after sitting down in his room for a little bit, Owen found himself tossing and turning on the bed. His nervousness and memory of both that woman almost getting beaten by Hartmann's men and what it brought back up in him meaning that attempting to sleep was a nonstarter just yet.
At first he tried to sit on and do something on the computer here. But even trying to work himself up enough to jerk off to some porn was not a thing at this point. He tried to look at some news - damn that meant he was probably REALLY struggling to get some sleep - and he saw some nonsense, a bunch of people speculating about some events that went on, something about a mysterious discovery in the ocean off the coast of Denmark...
Groaning, Owen tossed and turned in the seat and tried to sit back down on the bed to get some sleep before the next morning. He knew there'd...probably be a lot tomorrow. They'd be turning in that accursed thing, and the pay would be coming in... hopefully this would be the last he'd ever have to deal with this thing. Hopefully. Somehow he doubted Lucky and Scottie would say goodbye to that thing so easily. Just...something told him that those two would be getting up to some kind of drama tomorrow.
Or, er, later today, at this rate.
The window to the room was closed, the blinds rolled down. The darkness only abated by a lamp by his bedside. Owen groaned and figured he might just need a drink from the bar and grill area downstairs. The bar was pretty much open all night.
Stretching and standing up, Owen headed out the door to his room, locking it behind him as he headed out - and something drew his eye almost immediately once he left the room. He tilted his head to the side and bit his lip - seeing that Lucky's door was ajar. And he could hear...something, something vague, coming from the room. He guessed it might be snoring.
Shrugging his shoulders, the skinhead marched on over to the door, intent on just shutting it and cutting off one more irritating factor that might possibly contribute to his lack of sleep...and moving closer made him hear what was going on in there more clearly. Owen leaned against the frame of the door as he wondered if he was hearing this right. His teeth clenched, and his eyes widened - starting to wonder if he had even heard that right, maybe it WAS just a snore.
A profoundly odd, typically sinister snore...no. No. He was immediately proven wrong in his desperate desire for this to be something normal. As he stood there in the door, trying not to make a noise and alert anyone, he heard Lucky talking in his sleep. Owen's mouth outright hanged open as he heard Lucky's voice intone in his seemingly peaceful sleep; "...Aiy...Ia...Ia...Ia...Ia Olaric wgah'nagl fhtagn...!"
Owen took an uneasy step backward. Half expecting to feel his back bump into the guy from the desk, or Martin, or a sleeping Scottie. Or something! He could feel every drop of sweat dripping down his forehead. Quickly but not recklessly, Owen hurried back down toward his room. No drinks for him tonight. He would need to be fully capable tomorrow morning. He wondered what he just heard. Whether it was just nonsense anyone might utter in their sleep.
But the nature of it seemed too deliberate. The chant too familiar to anyone with a passing familiarity to its origins. And Owen, who eventually drifted off to sleep after just lying there in bed, found himself sleeping fitfully though without any egregious nightmares. Tossing, turning, wondering if there might be something to wake up to.
-----------------
By the time Owen woke up the next morning, he was awoken by pounding on the door. Martin - having woken early as befits a soldier (or at least someone incorporating more and more of the behavior of a soldier of some kind) - now shouted in there, "Alright, alright there, Owen, get yourself up and at em. We're heading up to the castle today for the pay, to drop off the item, and...hopefully, a meal if we're lucky. Hartmann seems to like how quickly we got it to him."
Owen hurried out - he had basically drifted off to bed in the clothes he intended to wear up to the castle - namely, a black jacket, another of his black tank tops, a black pair of jeans, and a small backpack. He made sure he had everything with him, and as he got ready to head out once he stood in the hallway with Martin, the Roman told him, "We're going to start the trip up after breakfast, in about an hour. Lucky and Scottie seem pretty hungry today."
"I---I think I'll just have something small today. Small and quick." Owen shrugged. The truth being he was considering some action going forward. He doubted there'd just be a peaceful hand-over of the device. Especially with all that he'd seen and heard of Hartmann. So he had to be ready to kick some ass.
He contemplated what exactly to do from here...