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Post by Spinister on Feb 28, 2008 22:29:41 GMT -5
There is a knock on the door, sharp and solitary. Spinister is here, just slightly in advance, by a minute and change for seconds. He made no fuss about scheduling an appointment, although he did, privately, let Needlenose know when and where it would be, just in case the area happens to be radio dead. He'd like Needlenose to know where to go look for the body if this goes poorly.
Either way, making a fuss or protest would simply give Hook reason to be suspicious and annoy him. Spinister wants to do no such thing.
His Nebulans are with him, and they are not at all enthused. They can't help but feel that they are being taken to the vet, after all.
At least we aren't in carrying cages.
Quit givin' him ideas!
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Post by Hook on Mar 1, 2008 21:04:05 GMT -5
"Enter freely," Hook directs. He stands near a standard-looking medical table, though not next to it. In fact, what he's standing next to seem to be a pair of reclinable chairs designed the right size to fit a Predacon- or Nebulan.
They have straps as well.
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Post by Spinister on Mar 4, 2008 13:48:03 GMT -5
Singe exclaims, "Oh, heck no! I did not join this army to have a physical done by a piece of machinery."
Hairsplitter suggests hopefully, "Maybe those are for short Transformers like Frenzy and Blackrachnia."
Singe grumbles, "And maybe you could shut up."
Spinister appears to ignore his Targetmasters and instead sits down on the table, on one corner. If Hook wants him to lie down, Hook can say so, and Spinister will have to lie down on his front, unless the table can be configured to accommodate his rotor assembly. Spinister says simply, "My Lord."
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Post by Hook on Mar 4, 2008 14:55:35 GMT -5
Hook eyes the Nebulan, then makes a minor adjustment to the risers on the examination chairs. "You two will be examined sooner or later. You will infinitely prefer me to Shockwave."
For one thing, Hook has the specifications Spinister gave him of what they require to live and has lived among similar organics for over a year. He understands their limits just the slightest bit better than a mech who has never been off Cybertron.1
"However, it can wait at least another hour. Spinister, extend your legs out in front of you on the table." The Constructicon steps up to the table the Mayhem is sitting at. "Now is also the time to tell me if you want to bribe me with schematics."
---
1. Hook is not aware of Shockwave's brief trip to Earth to subdue the Transformers there. He'd argue that his point still stands even if he did know.
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Post by Spinister on Mar 4, 2008 16:18:31 GMT -5
"Vorath was bad enough," Singe sulks bitterly. His friends were right – military service is for losers.
The career soldier who shares his head has his own, contrary opinion. Obligingly, Spinister swings his legs up onto the table, although his tail boom is still hanging off the edge of the table. He holds up a hand and in his fingers is a datastick. Spinister demurs, "I wouldn't call it a bribe. Just a cross-reference, Lord Hook."
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Post by Hook on Mar 5, 2008 18:28:48 GMT -5
See? Spinister is useful and modest as befits the job that he does.
Hook plucks the datastick from Spinister's hand and inserts it into a mostly empty datapad. The plans are immediately displayed, and Hook's visor brightens a light-level in surprise.
Spinister, it seems, is quite complicated. In fact, he is too complicated to determine the positioning of his armor-latches at a glance.
The Constructicon studies the datapad, using a fingertip to direct the viewer to zoom in or out on this or that bit.
"Who designed[/i] this mess?"
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Post by Spinister on Mar 5, 2008 20:13:32 GMT -5
Assassins should be modest? Assassins should be quiet, anyway.
His blades twitch ever so slightly at Hook's exclamation. Clearly, Spinister did not design himself. That would be kinky and involve time travel. He did, however, redesign large portions of himself. Spinister is aware that he's a mess, though. He has no pride about his looks, external or internal.
His answer is, "I rolled off the Helios lines. Doubt it means anything to you."
Hairsplitter sticks near the door. Singe, picking up fragments of thought, does the same.
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Post by Hook on Mar 5, 2008 23:39:57 GMT -5
Assassins shouldn't try to explain to surgical engineers how to do their jobs. Also, Hook has yet to hear Spinister boasting about what he does, which, since he is supposedly quite good at it, must mean he's modest. Like Scrapper.
"This is not factory-standard." But he has finally worked out where the armor-latch is, and so the datapad is set aside. From the rack of cutters, Hook selects a thin file then discards it for an even thinner one with a slight hook at the end.
He inserts it into a slight seam in Spinister's lower leg and manipulates delicately until he finds just the perfect touch to release the helicopter's armor.
Yes, he's undressing Spinister. For medical purposes.
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Post by Spinister on Mar 5, 2008 23:54:24 GMT -5
Why would Spinister boast? Everyone is a potential target, and giving targets advance notice is, to put it bluntly, stupid.
Hook is a genius. Spinister knows he's not as smart as Hook. He still hopes that Hook doesn't find what Spinister has hidden. His old patch job self-repairs have healed, as have Needlenose's better repairs. Those shouldn't arouse suspicion. His mess of innards... well, it seems like it already has, to be invited down to Hook's personal laboratory.
Spinister hopes he doesn’t have to put a laser through Hook's core to shut him up, if Hook discovers it.
He notes, "I have been modified for black operations work, my lord." This is true. A post-mortem data recovery job from Spinister's corpse would have a low chance of success. "And as a Targetmaster." Also patently true.
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Post by Hook on Mar 6, 2008 12:47:14 GMT -5
Hook considers the invitation to be a courtesy. Surely, Spinister doesn't want his examination done in public where anyone can walk in and see what there is to see.
"Hnh." Hook lays aside Spinister's leg armor and begins to scan the Mayhem's lower limbs. "Whoever did your upgrades did not much fret about you getting injured, did they?"
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Post by Spinister on Mar 6, 2008 13:22:36 GMT -5
One man's courtesy is another's man's invitation to be quietly killed.
"S'pose so," Spinister agrees. He mostly tends to his own wounds when no one is looking, so it hasn't been much of an issue. He knows how he's built. For the other times? "The Mayhems always kept talent on hand, and if I'm taking major damage, the situation's gone frag-bar."
He's a ranged fighter, not designed for melee like Stranglehold. The fights Spinister likes the best are the ones that start and end with the same single shot.
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Post by Hook on Mar 6, 2008 22:08:24 GMT -5
"I'm surprised Needlenose hasn't modified you to suit his own delights. However, as long as there are suitably talented engineers on hand, there's no need for me to overhaul you."
The scan complete, Hook pauses. "I am going to need to take a complete scan of you without your armor interfering. Since I assume you do not want anyone else with access to you while this is going on, I am going to lock the door."
Always warn the potentially unstable killers when you're going to do something that might possibly be misconstrued as threatening.
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Post by Spinister on Mar 6, 2008 23:49:27 GMT -5
Near the door, Singe sniggers.
That's... oh, Spinister thinks. He's feeling rather more uncomfortable now. Spinister replies, a bit of an edge to his tone, "Needlenose can take me as I am. You can do the same, I am sure."
Spinister isn't aware of just quite how that sounds, and Singe sniggers again. You're lucky that killing you would be like lopping off my arm.
Boss, you're lucky that you have me to point these things out! Heh-heh. Point.
Spinister groans audibly at the dialogue in his head. He then static-coughs and says quietly about the door-locking, "Of course."
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Post by Hook on Mar 6, 2008 23:59:34 GMT -5
Hook is obliviously unattracted to Spinister. "I'm sure he does. I doubt you have a tendency to break his fingers during..."
The Constructicon doesn't finish the thought, but his fingers flex slightly as he walks over and locks the door.
"Turn over so I can get to your tail-boom," he orders as he once more approaches the Mayhem.
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Post by Spinister on Mar 7, 2008 8:47:55 GMT -5
Spinister inquires, mild surprise and bafflement creeping into his calm, soft voice, "Why would I break his fingers?" He sounds utterly perplexed and perhaps a bit disgusted by the implication. He isn't Vortex.
Okay, maybe he'd break Needlenose's fingers if Needlenose needed another public punishing, but he's really hoping that Needlenose won't.
Putting both hands on the left side of him, flat on the table, he levers himself around, legs now hanging off the table behind him. 'Walking' his hands in front on him, he pulls his body across the table until the whole of him is on the table, and his chest is flat to the table. Spinister comments, "My blades are breakable."
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