'Con Physicals: Shockwave

[Hook]

The Constructicon begins to strip the cyclops's right arm of its armor.

"Do you want me to be afraid of you, Shockwave?" The tone is careful, not quite bland. An edge underlies it; he is quite tired of the cyclops pushing at his psychological buttons.

[Victoria Raines]

"I did not ask if you feared me."

Shockwave pauses, "Why would I want you to fear me? Your fear gains me nothing, and you are not the type to be swayed to compliance by such an emotion."

"You are a skilled engineer and surgeon, and one of the few who can not only understand my work but is also willing to offer criticism where needed. Fear colors an individuals responses, changes reactions from the true. I have never been interested in surrounding myself w/ cringing sycophants, Hook. But ours is a culture that is more easily bent by violence, and one does what one must to achieve one's goals."

"If I thought you feared me, you would not be allowed this access, Hook, orders or no. Mechs tend to try and destroy that which they fear."

[Hook]

"I suppose one does." The right arm is completely stripped, and Hook moves around to unlatch the armor on the left. He is silent as he works, his movements precise without a jot of wasted motion.

Once the cyclops is shorn of the armor on his arms, Hook takes another set of scans. After putting the new set into the queue to be organized and relayered into intelligible data, he lays aside the hooked stiletto he's been using and selects a pair of heavy needles. Their points are fine, though, as is demonstrated by Hook sliding one into a finger-joint.

However smooth it goes in and out, however, it obviously dissatisfies the Constructicon. A sneer briefly crosses his face as it is discarded in favor of a finer one.

The implements chosen, Hook steps around to stand at the head of the medical table. Now to remove the casing around what constitutes Shockwave's head. "Tell me, are you familiar with my medical records?"

Hook is not talking about his schematics this time.

[Victoria Raines]

Shockwave tilts his head just enough to watch Hook's selection of instruments. How interesting. The first choice would have sufficed, but caused slight discomfort as he worked the latches loose. Ever the professional, Hook is.

Shockwave straightens his head. He continues to hold himself very still while the Constructicon works those fine latches in the armour around his head loose. That subtle tension within him has increased, though, and the voice that answers Hook is perhaps a touch more flat than normal.

"Familiar with a version, yes. Though not so familiar with yours as with others. Your group kept such things amongst yourself even before the Devastator project. And afterwards...it was exceedingly rare for one of you to be tended by an outsider."

[Hook]

"Not that set of medical records," Hook corrects. "I trust I was still a surgical engineer where you come from."

[Victoria Raines]

"Yes, you were."

Shockwave pauses a moment, then answers, "I am well acquainted with your track record and abilities as a surgeon if that is what you are asking."

[Hook]

"Then you are aware of how many people have died on my table."

Once a set of latches are undone, Hook stabs the needles into one of his cheek-seams. A slight spin twists them in wires so they will not shift as he works.

Fine green fingers take hold of the casing around Shockwave's head and begin to peel it away.

[Victoria Raines]

"Enough to bring conjecture that such deaths were not always due to the extent of a patients injuries, but to the lack of urgency on the part of the surgeon."

Oddly enough, Hook's not-a-threat sets Shockwave more at ease. He is under no illusions about how vulnerable he is at the moment; acquiescing to this had only been done after much careful thought. The probabilities exist that Hook will do nothing, or that he will attempt to murder Shockwave. The probability is higher, though, that Hook will attempt to make a point in a painful manner, and that bothers Shockwave not one whit.

[Hook]

Hook continues to unlatch and remove the casing from Shockwave's head, pausing only long enough to flick the headfins in a flexibility test. "That is an interesting conjecture."

Once the casing is entirely removed, Hook uses a needle to pin back a clump of wiring. He slides a finger neatly into the created space, fingertip scraping against the main optic cable. "Tell me, Shockwave, how still can you hold yourself?"

---

This, and all following fiddling with Shockwave, done with player permission.

[Victoria Raines]

That fingertip on his optic cable sends a tiny tremor of sensation through Shockwave. Not visible, not outwardly noticeable, but still, it happens, and that finger, in that place, worries him. Shockwave does not wish to be blinded. He does not protest that touch, or what it implies, though, knowing that doing so might well only encourage Hook to do just that. Shockwave simply answers Hook's question.

"As still as you wish."

[Hook]

Hook's fingertip slides down the length of Shockwave's optic-cable. "Dead still?"

[Victoria Raines]

Shockwave hisses sharply, but he still does not move. Hook is pushing, testing, and Shockwave will not give the Constructicon the satisfaction of moving so much as a micrometer.

"I have been so before."

[Hook]

"Yes..." Hook twists his fingertip, catching up enough of the optic-cable in a loop to pull it dreadfully tight. Almost enough to start a disconnection.

Not quite enough.

He plucks the needle up and smoothly sheathes it in his face again. "I noticed a curious little anomaly-"

A green hand fastens on Shockwave's throat, thumb and forefinger resting on the lingering traces of almost-hidden decapitation scars. "Right. Here."

[Victoria Raines]

Shockwave's optic flares, then dims as Hook pulls that cable taut. Another tiny hiss, but those fingers close around Shockwave's throat before he can protest. That single yellow optic pulses.

When this farce of an exam is done, Hook had best watch himself.

"What of it? We all carry scars. I am no exception."

[Hook]

"Someone cut off your head. Or you wouldn't wear such a pretty smile." Hook lifts his his hand, runs two fingers along the curve of the ever-so-faint scarring. "Not a perfect re-attachment. Was there no one you would trust to tend to such matters?"