Felix could feel Gideon working on his back, and while the heat and the reshaping was slightly uncomfortable, Felix trusted that Gideon knew what he was doing, and Gideon's delicacy and mastery of the craft prevented it the discomfort from becoming unbearable.

Felix appreciated Gideon's response, not only the response itself, but the way in which he delivered it. By framing it as a question of profit, Gideon argued for good business practice, keeping his moral stance on the matter hidden. It was admirable, one never knows when one's convictions might be taken as offensive. As for himself, Felix took a more populist stance on the proliferation of technomancy. His father was of the nouveau riche, and met with a lot of difficulty for it, especially for the fact that he married Felix's mother, who was among the nobility. Unlike Gideon, Felix was fairly open about where he stood, which may be considered naive as, some radical royalists might consider such a stance as treason. "I'm glad you think that way," Felix replied, "It would be bad business sense to turn the company upside down in a vain attempt to attract customers we've never had. Thank yo Mr. Lockheed, I am more reassured now with the company's direction."

Gideon smiled from behind Felix as he finished. He squirted a little mercury from a bottle to seal up the cuts he had made with the necessary precision and took the magnet device from his patient.

"Glad to see at least you see it that way. I'd ask exactly what you meant to do about it, but I suppose it's best to keep such things out of public hands.

"Anyway, I'm quite done here. Do tell your father to come get looked at, unless he's been seeing a different Artificer I'd rather say he's due."

~~~

Marv lifted his arms in exasperation, but what was he to do? And it wasn't like there was any law against such a baffling act of charity.

"Er, well. We don't actually have an identification yet. We do have measurements of her intact arm that would be helpful in making a pretty standard replica. A factory Artificer could knock one out in a couple of hours, even. She'll be in Grace of Hermes Hospital, I'm sure a man of your station could come calling without anyone asking too many questions."

"Yes, well, implementation is always more difficult than theory," Felix mused on the direction of his father's company. "And yes, I'll encourage father to come pay you a visit." Felix rotated his shoulders and flexed his back a bit. "Thank you so much for your great work, as usual. Good luck with your...current projects," Felix cast a glance at the covered bust, and made his way out. His next order of business for the day was to meet with a few of the factory overseers to discuss production line efficiency. As the overseers were members of the Ignorant Trades, they would be meeting at the border of the Circle and the Ring, in a tavern called the Bold Helvetica. Felix made his way there.

Robert takes one last look at the blood splatters. It appears as though there is no trail of any kind. Though trusting his instincts more than his brain he takes a look down the ally. There he spots some dark puddles of liquid. It looks like blood but it isn't connected to the puddle from the victim. It had no way of getting there. Looking skyward a thought enters his head. It seems like it could have been from up there....but...how?

Shaking his head twice it seemed unlikely. Though if someone were able to take to the skies or climb their way up out of an alley it would explain the lack of witnesses. Still it was bold. Turning on his heels he heads back to his station to rally up some troops. He was going to get some answers one way or another. Had he still had eyes they would have burned with a fierce determination.

....Or so he would like to have said. His crew have busted up several known gangs and hustlers of the near areas. There were no known thugs with territory in the inner portion of the city so he simply scoured the area near the city's limits that may have had easy access. No one seem to know a thing. This was definitely done a professional. In his mind it was crystal clear that this wasn't simply some thugs taking advantage of a situation. There may be something special having to do with this automata but what? Or perhaps it had to do more with the target rather than her automata? Then there was the third option which was that this was a test. To see if they could get away with nabbing someone in the inner rings.

Making his way to headquarters he wanted to go over any other case files that may have similar stories. Off the top of his head he knew nothing quite like this has happened recently but perhaps he needed to look back further. He mostly was just killing time until the witness woke up.

Orran nodded thoughtfully as Marv spoke. "That sounds like a good idea. Send the measurements to an artificer and tell them to craft a simple iron arm. Then have it sent to my residence. If you would be so kind." He responded in a rather blank tone. He didn't want to give orders to people, but it seemed more convenient this way. This was also a good opportunity to test a new type of program that he'd thought of recently, which is quite relevant to this kind of situation. Before Marv could even respond, Orran had already started walking back to his residence in the Inner Circle. He suspected the woman wouldn't be awake any time soon, so he decided to take this time to develop his program while he waited for the arm delivery.

Marv cursed as Orran left earshot. It looked like he was going to be doing some bitch work any way he sliced it; he wasn't about to disobey a Magus. Still, he supposed, he would rather do this than Crowley's job.

~~~

The day came and went, and into the next the victim still had not awoken. She lay in a hospital bed, having been given blood, the doctors were just hoping that she had escaped brain damage. But she had been discovered quickly, and the odds were on her side. The waiting game came to an end as the sun began to set. It started as a quiet moan, but soon she was crying out in confusion. There was no pain, the mercury had sealed her wounds up neatly.

An Automata corps officer, posted as a guard in case the assailant came back for her, poked his head in, but said nothing. He pulled a messenger sphere from his pocket and recorded a note for Crowley, sending it off.

Meanwhile, back in the room, the confused cries first died down, then turned to sobs as she felt over her missing arm.

"Well I though that was a fairly productive meeting," Felix said to the factory overseers seated at his table in the Bold Helvetica. As the overseers left one by one, giving Felix their final two-cents, Felix waited at the table for the check to arrive. He looked around and assessed this semi-decent establishment, his eyes passing over some seedy-looking fellows, though their 'seediness' did not register in his mind. There was a framed poem hanging on a nearby wall that Felix read. Having no poetic sense, Felix merely assumed that this style must be what was popular right now, unable to gauge how awful the poem really was.