Chapter 666

Frank waited patiently.

Don't misunderstand—the matter with Bonavia had been resolved long ago. What he was waiting for now was the repair of his weapon.

Under normal circumstances, Frank was not a very patient man. Sometimes he had no patience at all, such as when facing those damned men and xenos. But people all had two sides.

The artisan in front of him raised a hand in great distress and knocked on his own head, producing a clang of metal on metal. "By the Omnissiah, what in the world did you do to this gun?"

"Used it to kill seventeen Orks," Frank replied. "But not by pulling the trigger."

The artisan's protruding pair of red electronic eyes suddenly trembled—his incredibly stable modified mechanical arm almost slipped and dropped the gun to the floor. "...My lord? Are my auditory sensors malfunctioning?"

"They are not, artisan."

Bonavia sighed and began explaining to him on Frank's behalf. The Punisher's language function seemed to regress when he was dealing with humans; he could always make things sound either terrifying or vague. At times like this, it was her turn to step in.

"As you heard, the truth is exactly as my lord said. He beat seventeen Orks to death with this gun. So, can it be fixed?"

Frank glanced sideways at Bonavia, then turned back and nodded. "Can it be fixed?"

The artisan's mechanical face began to twitch, proof that he was running calculations. Like all his former Adeptus Mechanicus colleagues, this former Tech-Priest had learned far more advanced science and technology after arriving at Terra Space Station.

Most of them immediately modified themselves, such as with sturdier outer materials, more precise sensors, and the addition of a whole pile of inexplicable functions—but this artisan was an outlier. He had little interest in anything