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Post by Spinister on Nov 2, 2010 15:57:51 GMT -5
Day 19. At the coroner's office wherein Perceptor works. It's an office building with other stuff on other floors, so there could be awkward coincidences. Open.
Spinister mostly feels like spending all his time sprawled out on his berth, sipping the blandest of bland purified medical energons, staring at the ceiling and mentally debating what gauge bore he'd need on a rifle to take potshots at passing satellites out his room window. He probably should be resting.
However, resting does not pay the bills or buy him gifts to amuse his partner with the pricey-pricey tastes, and while most of his job requires him to be healthy, there are a few tasks he can still do while sick as a server without a firewall.
Though Spinister does think that making a robot in a wheelchair tow a corpse on a gurney is definitely hazing. Two corpses. Hazing for sure. Spinister wonders, what apathetic waste of space will be here today? He pauses a moment to soundlessly let himself in and then tugs the gurneys in the lab door. Might be rude not to announce himself in hopes of scaring lab geeks, but he may as well get his kicks somehow. He's in uniform, so hopefully there won't be any Tommy guns drawn over the matter.
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Post by Perceptor on Nov 3, 2010 0:30:24 GMT -5
"..with a two meter incision down the dorsal line of the main trunk," Perceptor speaks into an archaic looking little recording device. Barbaric, what materials they require the staff here to utilize in order to satisfy their "evidencial standards". They should have a full visual suite with holographic capabilities, not a measly little vocal recorder! Perceptor's own databanks are far more advanced than this "official equipment!"
"No traumatic discoloration of the exposed muscular tissues of the flank, indicating a lack of external force applied to..." he pauses, clicking the recorder off as he hears the doors swing open. Turning, he flicks up the mask covering his face - he already had one of these Chalrysian Land Squids on a table here, and the last one literally blew up in his face... he's not repeating THAT experience again! - as he turns.
"Another delivery?" he asks, spotting the gurney before he actually takes not of the individual towing them along. "You can place them over..."
Is that a mech? In a wheelchair? No... it's a Decepticon in a wheelchair. A very ill Decepticon in a wheelchair. Or a very curious coincidence of a local Pz-Zazzian with helicopter kibble and gaudy colors who matches Xaaron's description of... who was it again? Oh, Spinister. In a wheelchair. And a police officer uniform.
How quaint. The Decepticons have hired themselves out as officers of the law. And, if his sensors are not misleading him with false readings of the volatile chemicals associated with the decay of internal Cybertronian systems, have run into Blight, one of Pz-Zazz's nastier little surprises.
He places his scalpel on the table and wipes his hands off with a thin frown. "Just a moment, Officer, and I will assist you."
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Post by Spinister on Nov 3, 2010 0:43:01 GMT -5
Spinister does reek of decay, to those who have the sensors to detect such things. He's being treated for it properly, and he's been pacing himself, but he got hit with a live strain (or was that two different live strains?), and live strains are nasty. Spinister's doing very well, all things considered. He also has some problems with tremor, particularly in his extremities. That's why he's in a wheelchair. His central data column and legs are theoretically fine, but he simply cannot stand up on his own - he falls over.
At least the uniform covers up the wound in his side, the one that has to be regularly abraded and repaired, because it keeps crumbling. Spinister is thankful for that small mercy.
There is an Autobot working here? Perceptor was a rebel cell leader on Spinister's Cybertron, one who believed that technology would win the war for the Autobots. Spinister's blades prick up a bit; he must be careful here, as he always is, but sometimes, even careful does not suffice.
Spinister holds up a slightly trembling hand and waves it dismissively. No need for help, Autobot, and then he tries to tug the two gurneys over... well, Perceptor never finished where he wanted them.
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Post by Perceptor on Nov 3, 2010 0:59:00 GMT -5
Perceptor finishes wiping his hands clean, tossing the towel back onto the counter beside the table he is working at and strides over to snag one of the gurneys. Stubborn Decepticon. He should just point and watch Spinister hurt himself more by trying to maneuver them both into place alone.
Sometimes, it would be simpler to care just a little bit less.
"The other can go against the wall, there," he instructs, pointing to an empty slot a few spots down from the door. "I assume that you have the appropriate paperwork?"
Ordinarily, he would not wish to be swayed by notes accompanying an investigation he was about to initiate, however, he has long since determined that 1) most of the notes that do accompany the subjects whose internals he must peruse are limited at best, and outright incorrect at worst, and 2) occasionally do give him a point at which to begin his investigation.
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Post by Spinister on Nov 3, 2010 1:12:55 GMT -5
Spinister lets Perceptor take the other one, since the Autobot seems bound and determined to be helpful. He silently glides the reaming gurney over to the indicated slot. Shaky as he is, he's quiet as a whisper. Once the gurney is in place, he holds up a clipboard with paperwork.
Perceptor will find that the paperwork has been filled out sloppily in black ball pen, but that someone has gone over it with a glittery purple gen pen in a shaking hand, aggressively marking up all the egregious errors, including spelling errors, as well as documentation and procedure.
Apparently, a happily married couple, by all accounts, was found dead in their swanky hotel room. The door was locked from the inside; no one was in there by them. There was no sign of struggle, but they, aviform native Pz-Zazzians, died badly all the same - beaks clenched and stained with bloody froth, their skin blued with livid red spots under their bright, iridescent green feathers.
The officer on the scene, presumably with the black ball pen, seems to write it off as a double-suicide. In glitter purple, Perceptor will find comments such as, 'Didn't check the room for poisons? Idiot,' and, 'Haven't interviewed all the hotel staff yet? Too lazy?'
If that shaking purple script belongs to the officer in the wheelchair, perhaps he can be forgiven for having some pent-up frustrations and a binary bonded weapon notorious for splitting hairs.
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Post by Perceptor on Nov 3, 2010 4:05:33 GMT -5
After securing the other gurney in an empty slot along the opposite wall, he returns to accept the clipboard, quirking a single brow ridge up at Spinister's silence, before turning his attention down to the forms. The notes in black are expected. The purple, however... He doesn't often receive forms with corrections on them at all, much less having a Decepticon do the correcting.
"Purple. Cute. At least the corrected information is more obvious," he muses, flipping through the various forms, checking them over and noting the information there. He's already cataloging the chemicals he has left in storage here to work with in order to perform the necessary analysis required to hopefully determine what the toxin had been. "I must admit, I am perplexed as to why you would bother to make corrections at all."
After all, Decepticons? Upholding law and order? Really? Pull the other one. Xaaron might be interested to hear about Spinister's weakened condition, though. It's a measure of how much Pz-Zazz is beginning to affect Perceptor that he's even considering telling the Autobot commander, full well knowing that Xaaron will likely see it as an opportunity to reduce the Decepticons ranks by one.
Then again, it looks, or rather "smells", like Spinister is working on removing himself from the Decepticon ranks on his own. The decay bothers Perceptor. He's already seen too many victims of the popular street drug, and the senselessness of it... rankles him.
"I am also surprised that Shockwave is allowing such a free hand with recreation here," he observes with narrowed optics, his gaze sweeping down to Spinister's side where the highest volume of those volatile molecules are being given off. "Most users inject in an appendage. Trying to hasten the process?"
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Post by Spinister on Nov 3, 2010 10:18:17 GMT -5
Glitter purple gen pens are amazing. They write so smoothly! And the glitter improves visibility, in case Spinister ever needs to shoot those pieces of paper later.
He shrugs when Perceptor confesses that he's perplexed about why Spinister would bother correcting forms. That's great, Perceptor, just go on being perplexed. Spinister is not a mystery to be solved, though really, given how notorious Hook is, is it so much a stretch that a few other Decepticons might also have a bent towards the overly punctilious? Do the Autobots really believe they have a corner market on proper procedure?
Then Perceptor tries to goad him. Spinister's first reply is a simple, "Heh," his voice quiet and soft, whispering like the wind that howls and tears across the open metal plains of Cybertron, and then he adds, with just the barest hint of Iaconian accent, "Kup could tell you why. Wonder why he didn't."
Really, Spinister wonders why Kup didn't. Not telling the Autobots that one of the Decepticons' shooters is out of commission? For shame, old man, for shame.
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
Posts: 247
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Post by Oil Slick on Nov 3, 2010 19:08:49 GMT -5
OOC: Just using Oil Slick as Scenemod here. It's actually a local, not Oil Slick in disguise.
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While Perceptor is busy being perplexed and Spinister is busy being the spookiest pink and teal invalid ever, someone has shown up at the door - it's a local, clad in dark grey body armor, including a helmet that envelops his whole head, the face rather reminiscent of a gas mask with big glowing red optics. Over the armor, he's wearing a tattered brown trenchcoat. Sharp eyes will note a gun on his hip, and the logo for a local delivery service on his arm.
He also has a medium sized-box in his hands, and a clipboard on it. He finally speaks - "Looking for the coroner - Mr... Perceptor?"
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Post by Perceptor on Nov 4, 2010 0:26:19 GMT -5
Everything is a mystery to be solved, Spinister. A curiosity to be examined. Some things are just better off left alone, even if they can be studied. Not that Perceptor has lumped Spinister into that category. Not yet, at least.
"Oh?" Perceptor inquires, tilting his head as he studies the battered sniper. Hmmm... Hadn't it been Kup who had added the information to the database about Blight? Using such a foul and nasty chemical, even on a Decepticon, doesn't seem much like Kup's style. Kup is a warrior, not an assassin, even if he does have the ball bearings to put a good beat-down on a Decepticon. Poisoning one to deactivation just... wouldn't suit the old war-dog.
Perceptor hopes, at least.
"Hn. Blaming someone else?" he muses, turning toward the door as it pushes open again.
"Yes? I am he," he replies, leaving Spinister for a moment to cross to the delivery carrier. Not the first delivery he has received. In fact, he is expecting a new shipment of glassware for the lab. Perhaps it has finally arrived?
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Post by Spinister on Nov 4, 2010 0:40:40 GMT -5
Spinister would just as soon leave, now that he's dropped off those stiffs, but look, there is a delivery man to block the way! The sniper looks so very disgruntled.
Does Perceptor really think he can prick Spinister, he who runs cold-blooded, who stares right through friend and foe alike?
That's adorably naive. Spinister just has to have a go at this, and he explains, "Don't see why I should take the blame when it wasn't my fault. I was assigned to watch over a bounty hunter, your Kup, and make sure he put an end to a serial killer who had been taking out informants. At one point in the case, I had to rescue a singer, K'ire, from the Angels of Entropy hospital. She was a recovered Blight addict... they hooked her up to a drip." Spinister shrugs. If Perceptor really knows his stuff, he'll know just how bad that was. "Jumped out a window with her. A sniper hit me where you've been staring the whole time. Blight bullets. What will they think of next? At another point, after we'd found Tweety Jill, a reporter, and Kup was taking her to safety, I stuck around to find the serial killer who'd done, oh..." Spinister pulls out a copy of one of the glossies he'd recovered from that vile place. "...something similar to this to her. Sicko strapped me down to a table, did a hackjob on me, and wouldn't you know what he put in my drip. When we were getting out, a sniper had a shot lined up on Kup. Kill shot. I jumped in front and took it here."
He points to his shoulder and stares up at Perceptor, pompous, judgmental, sanctimonious, smug, self-satisfied Autobot that he is. "But Kup could have told you all that. Wonder why he didn't."
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
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Post by Oil Slick on Nov 4, 2010 0:50:50 GMT -5
The armored courier walks in, and lays the box on an open table near Perceptor. The label on the box matches those of Perceptor's previous equipment shipments. Picking up the clipboard, the courier then holds it out to Perceptor for signature. "Need a signature, then I'll be on my way."
He makes no motions to being interested in the conversation. Though he wonders what kind of cracked out cop would take a shot for a drinking device. Then again, said cop is also talking about being on Blight...
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Post by Perceptor on Nov 4, 2010 1:05:08 GMT -5
Ah, perfect. His equipment has finally arrived. Accepting the clipboard, Perceptor scribbles down his signature - standard procedure - and hands it back. "Thank you," he replies absently as he picks the box up and takes it over to another table. He nearly, however, drops the box when Spinister relates his tale.
Setting the package down, Perceptor turns back, an incredulous look fixed upon his features. Rescuing a recovering addict? Blight bullets? (Kup did mention weaponized Blight, now that Spinister mentions those) Taking a shot meant for Kup? Perceptor isn't quite certain which thing boggles him more: that a Decepticon would risk himself for strangers, or that a Decepticon would risk himself for an Autobot.
"Probably because they think I am soft enough as it is," he manages to blurt out. Wouldn't want their good doc getting too much more sympathetic to their enemies, right?
Now why Kup hadn't apparently mentioned it to the others... Could he have been attempting to pay Spinister back for saving his life by not making a target of the sniper?
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Post by Spinister on Nov 4, 2010 1:20:14 GMT -5
Spinister stares steadily up at Perceptor. Soft enough as it is, huh? Shockwave's going to love to hear that, Spinister is sure.
Sounding slightly amused, he comments, "I'm need to know? I'm flattered. You shouldn't be."
Being fed dross and kept in the dark is for creeping rust, not a real Transformer, Perceptor. Spinister tries to wheel himself a bit closer to the door. That courier should be gone soon.
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
Posts: 247
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Post by Oil Slick on Nov 6, 2010 0:31:34 GMT -5
The courier gives a curt nod once he gets Perceptor's John Hancock, then turns on his heel. He's gone in a few moments.
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OOC: Skippable until it's time for Perceptor to open the box!
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Post by Perceptor on Nov 6, 2010 17:17:29 GMT -5
Perceptor doesn't even notice the courier leaving; he's too busy staring at Spinister. Just when he starts to think that he is figuring out the Decepticons, they go and do things that turn his suppositions on their head.
And Spinister is about to see why Perceptor just said what he'd just said.
"I am working on a better treatment for the various exposures," he says softly, waving a had at the collection of bodies scattered around the morgue waiting for their date with Perceptor's tools. He steps to one side, ceasing to impede Spinister's egress. "I will notify Shockwave when it is complete."
After all, he cured Megatron during the middle of the war when it would have solved everything if he'd just let the warlord expire. Treating Spinister in an alternate reality where they may, ultimately, have to work together to get back to their various homes? That's a no-brainer.
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