Tin Man

[Code Name] Tin Man

[Gender] Male

[Combat Experience] Undisclosed

[Place of Birth] Undisclosed

[Date of Birth] Undisclosed

[Race] Undisclosed

[Height] 184cm

[Infection Status]

Medical tests have confirmed that (REDACTED)

[Physical Strength] Standard

[Mobility] Excellent

[Physical Resilience] ■■

[Tactical Acumen] Excellent

[Combat Skill] Excellent

[Originium Arts Assimilation] Flawed

Columbian detective and Maylander Foundation agent. Previously made contact with Rhodes Island at Trimounts.

While Rhodes Island has entered into formal cooperation with the Maylander Foundation, please note that Tin Man does not serve as their liaison, except in emergencies when the usual liaison is unavailable.

Testing conducted jointly by the Medical and Engineering departments shows clear outlines of internal components, and no abnormal shadows have been detected. Originium particles in the transmission system have not shown abnormal signs of activity. At this time, this operator is believed to be (REDACTED)

[Exoskeleton-Originium Assimilation] 0%

Tin Man thoroughly cleaned himself of any dust before the examination.

[Oil Originium-Crystal Density] 0.007u/L

Tin Man's joints were thoroughly de-rusted, and an oil change performed before the examination.

So, is he Infected or not? And is that really what we're putting in the Physical Resilience section? Help me out here, Warfarin.

—Closure

You got a pen, you can write it yourself. You had a good time writing that crap up there, didn't you?

—Warfarin

Other than his unusual appearance, Tin Man seems to be the stereotypical Columbian detective: Sharp and astute, with the flexibility to deal with both clients and targets, children and adults alike via his signature polite and dapper demeanor.

However, do not let your guard down just because of his kindly manner and humorous tone. A short chat, a single note, or even a mere gaze is enough for him to deduce things like secret snack networks or discreet romances. He does not go about telling everyone, of course, but when he takes a few puffs on his pipe and looks at you through the smoke with a twinkle in his eye, know that he is keeping your secret for you.

He enjoys Columbian fast food, and is quite the connoisseur of luxuries.

The discerning eye will easily identify his pipe, a fine 1059 Fisher PFM, often seen in Wrankwood movies of retro style.

Tin Man is more than just an antique collector, however. The latest trends in Columbia quickly find their way to his desk. Most are gone in a matter of days, but some stand the test of time to become his favorites, like his new cane and shoes.

[Classified Log]

And this body that just got an overhaul. The head so looks much jollier now, doesn't it?

—Tin Man

An onboarding operator volunteered to be the test subject for the sensory and psychological aspects of Tin Man's abilities, under the close supervision of Operator Logos.

I fell to the ground before I could react. At least, that's what they told me, because I had no idea what happened. All I know is that I lost all my senses: sight, hearing, touch... even the sense of pain.

You might think it's for the better that I couldn't feel pain, but without your senses, you're a soul trapped in a prison, with nothing but numb silence and darkness... nothing but solitude.

I tried to think about something, anything, to fight the terror, but it's like falling into a bottomless pit... there's no foundation on which to even think. You just keep falling, falling...

You can't imagine the relief I felt when I finally heard someone ask me a question. I would have gladly revealed the name of my crush, if not for Logos' incantation.

—An Anonymous Operator

Besides his Originium Arts, Tin Man is accompanied by three 'friends' who also have bodies of metal. The hot dog is Larry, the donut is Curly, and the hamburger is Mo. They are always noisy and often get into trouble, but are surprisingly reliable when it comes to helping with Tin Man's work.

Yeah, like the time they tried to switch the tiles when we were teaching him how to play mahjong.

—Kroos

He has even sat down with the three of them to play four-man mahjong.

Don't treat them as Tin Man's subordinates, or they'll follow you everywhere, Big Larry crying in your left ear with his thick bass voice, Ol' Curly muttering incessantly in your right, and Lil' Mo trying to throw a lasso over your neck. Not to choke you, mind you, but enough to make you feel like you have cervical spondylosis.

—Lava

[Classified Log]

Like someone learning to talk again after being mute for many years, they're just learning to 'live' in their own way.

If you want to see another side of them, go find them when Tin Man is performing maintenance on his exoskeleton. There you will find three craftsmen hard at work. Perhaps not so skilled yet, but absolutely serious about their work.

[Classified Log]

File ID: 1097*****

Level: Confidential

Incident resolved. Witnesses have been relocated.

File ID: 1054*****

Level: Confidential

Incident resolved. The leadership of Hercules Company attempting to contact Victoria were properly handled before the military's intervention. Any evidence linking us to Hercules has been removed. Recommend increased guidance and oversight of partners, and continued monitoring of possible Victorian or military response.

File ID: 1020*****

Level: None

To Maylander Selene,

On the matter of the Child Rights Protection Foundation, I am in full agreement with you.

As for the position of chairman of the Historical Association, I must respectfully decline; while I have nothing against administrative work, I am loathe to allow anything to get in the way of my field work. Besides, were I to sit on that chair, there is no telling when I'd be able to get off it.

Your loyal servant, Tin Man

File ID: 0920*****

Level: Top Secret

The craftsmen of Iberia are friendly, but arrogant. They certainly have reason to be proud of their shipbuilding skills, but there has been little progress since my last visit, and yet they sit on their laurels, believing that they have achieved perfection.

My attempt to sail out to sea was once again abortive. A ship's body is a bad idea; I could do little but spin in place once I reached the blue ocean. The waves were rough, and I would have vomited quite a bit of oil, if I were able to get seasick.

What are you reading, Doctor?

...Good work. He's starting to trust you.

You should look forward to when he comes to you for a chat on his own initiative. Enviable, isn't it? Hearing history straight from the mouth of the Maylander Library—half of it, at least. That's how much of their collection he's seen with his own eyes.

Oh, I know he didn't give me permission to read it, but there's no need to try to block me. You may have forgotten, but did you think he wouldn't remember the K'uk'ulkan on Rhodes Island who once knocked his head off? What, you think he might have? Tsk, you're mean.

[Classified Log]

File ID: ■■■■■■■■■

Level: ■■

'Give me a reason to spare you.'

The headless armor and a pile of scrap cobbled into the shape of a man sit opposite each other at the summit of the quiet volcano.

'I have crossed rivers, seen the new green that emerges on the banks year after year, which not even Catastrophes could extinguish. I have crossed deserts, seen cities fall and rise again, which not even the bloodthirsty nature of Man could subdue.'

'Give me a reason.'

'I have exiled myself like the scavenger, until I find the future that we may reach without immolating ourselves.'

'...A reason.'

The revenant which looks very different many years later removes a small piece from his shoulder, and throws it into the volcano. It falls a long way, then begins to spin rapidly with a faint light, before flying out of the volcano and into the sky.

The magma stirs, roiling bubbles like contempt, the quiet surface like command.

'Yes, it's just a little trinket of Arts within metal. I have seen such things in the hands of Sarkaz who do not wield Originium Arts, who use it to cut the flesh of others, and in turn have their own heads cut off.

'But now, dozens of trinkets like these are produced day after day. In turn, these trinkets are used to make other trinkets, until there are thousands after thousands.

'Trinkets that are no longer used just for killing.

'I want to know if they are part of the future that I'm seeking.'

File ID: 000000001

Level: ■■

'What should I call you, metal boy? Maybe Tin Man? Like the one from the fairy tale?'

'Suit yourself.'

'Well, let's get a bottle opened. And a map.'

The pioneer throws a rolled up map and a bottle of spirits across the campfire. Tin Man spreads the map open, and sees markings of various colors indicating the locations of scattered settlements, routes, mines, and potential archaeological sites.

'This map is more of a fairy tale than I am—other than the lay of the land. That's accurate, at least.'

'That's what they all say!' The pioneer laughs, and the campfire quivers to the laughter. 'But this is the future, and the future is no fairy tale. Look, settlements are built by the river. The routes go through areas with low Originium, mines are built on ore veins, and there are great skeletons near the archaeological sites.'

'You've trekked through all these places?'

'Why measure the land with your own legs?'

The pioneer takes out a tiny piece from his pocket and tosses it into the air. Tin Man waits for the piece to fly out of sight, but it hovers in the air, before settling down on the pioneer's palm.

'Propeller fitted with a camera and magnifying scope. The images it takes are blurry, but usable. Toss me the map; I'm adding a few strokes.'

'Do you really want a ranch that takes a nomadic city months to cover?'

'Why should it be a ranch for just me, Maylander Selene, and not a brand new country, one not bound to the ghosts of the past? One that lives only for the future?'

After a moment of silence, Tin Man hands the map over with one hand, and opens the bottle with the other.

'Cheers. Save a place for me in your pioneer team.'

[Video Log]

'I won't stop you from leaving, but... will you really not stay a little longer? Just one more hour?'

'If only I could stay by your side, not just for an hour, but for a century, ten, a hundred. But the news of Catastrophe... the lives of my pioneer brothers depend upon me.'

'Oh, you are breaking my heart!'

The teary maid embraces the pioneer's metallic body.

'I am the same, my dear... but I will leave my heart behind.'

The pioneer opens up the front of his coat, revealing his shiny metal bosom. He opens it up, and it is empty inside.

He reaches into the cavity with his metallic hand, and takes out a heart folded from paper.

'This is yours. My heart is forever yours.'

'My goodness, we really dug up this ancient film reel.'

'Were special effects that advanced back then?'

'I don't care, I love that metal guy.'

'Well, he's definitely not around anymore. That actress in it? That's the mentor of Marianne, the retired movie star. She passed away decades ago. What a shame.'

'What a shame.'