This thread is permanently archived
(Setting) Cathedral-2, GCPD Morgue
| >Bodyguards take formation around their boss, and the group starts making their way towards the building's entrance.
| >The Desk Sergeant stiffens up, seeing the sight of the five men, hand hovering over the panic button. The new guards at the front of the desk stand attention, hands hovering over weapons.
"Sir, I will have to ask you to stop and be searched."
| >Bodyguards slide behind the boy in complete silence, while he approaches the sergeant.
"If you want to know whether I or my bodyguards are armed, then the answer is, obviously, yes."
>Blond boy declares while he keeps walking.
"But sure, go ahead" >He said, stopping.
| "Sir. Please comply."
>One of the door guards waves at the Desk Sergeant, who promptly locks the front door. The other guard begins to check the guards, and the silver case.
| (Not front doors, Doors to the Morgue.)
| >Around the staff entry, hangs about Detective Peterson. Having worked 5 years in Vice, and 2 in Homicide, he knew this case was wrong. He entered the staff entrance, waving at some fellow officers.
"Ey! How's it going Jones?"
| >A women bursts into the scene, sitting in what appears to be an antiquated wheelchair, her legs covered in bandages
"I made it!"
>She takes a 'Guts' pose before taking in her surroundings... at which point she tenses
| >>181967
>Each bodyguard has a laser pistol hidden underneath their jacket, as well as combat knife in the sheath on their belt.
>The silver case is, hovewer, biometrically locked, and the guard carrying it doesn't let go of it.
>Boy himself also sports a laser pistol in the hidden holster on his back.
"You satisfied, officer?" >The boy ask in a very annoyed voice.
| >'Oh crap, it's the wonder boy with the spooks... what the fuck did I just walk into...'
>The wheelchair girl is looking around, profusely sweating
>'What the fuck was I even gonna do here? It's not like they'll let me in, am I retarded?'
| >>181974
"Hey Peterson, what case you working on this week?"
>One of the officer replies back.
>>181975
(The hell's a guts pose?)
>One of the officers just casually glances at the wheelchair gurl, dismissing her.
>>181976
"Sorry sir, you will have to hand over all the weapons, and the case, if we don't see what's inside."
>The officers stay precistent, not letting the people in.
| >>181985
"Just the Angus case. Nothing special."
>Peterson goes over to a terminal, begins typing in his credentials.
| (accedental submit)
>He then begins to look for the case files for AMs suicide.
| >'Should I call put to him? He seemed to know AM... but does he even remember my face?'
>She looks around
>'Think for a second, you goddamn cripple! That genius brain is going to waste...'
(A pose where you pump one fist and raise the other, coined by a Japanese boxer)
| >>181985
"And you will have to look for a new job in about an hour. Albert, give me the case," — >Boy in yellow buisness suit said, waving to his bodyguards.
>After taking their weapons out, they silently give them over, without a trace of emotion. Man with the case hands it over to the boy.
>Teenager opens the case and shows the contents to the officer.
>Inside is a strange, oversized diadem and a couple empty vials.
>Boy's glare made the room's temperature drop a degree.
| >>181985
"And you will have to look for a new job in about an hour. Albert, give me the case," — >Boy in yellow buisness suit said, waving to his bodyguards.
>After taking their weapons out, they silently give them over, without a trace of emotion. Man with the case hands it over to the boy.
>Teenager opens the case and shows the contents to the officer.
>Inside is a strange, oversized diadem and a couple empty vials.
>Boy's glare made the room's temperature drop a degree.
| (goddamnit, sorry for that)
| >>181990
>The Terminal shows exactly one case file.
>#153426.
>There is a bunch of information, half of it redacted, Including where exactly the body is.
>>181992
"Thank you sir, but you have to understand that this is only procedure. All your firearms and weapons will be returned to you at exit."
>The officer take the weapons, putting them away in to a locker.
>The doors stay locked.
"What is your reason for visit?"
>Asks the desk Sergeant.
| >'He's going to leave you DIMWIT!'
>The girl visibly steels herself
>'Just walk- FUCK, WHEEL, WHEEL, over to the guy, no funny business, I need to get that G-'
>She grasps her head, and groans before slowly and carefully approaching the security guard.
| "HUH?! Me? Yeah, all fine, I swear, except the legs! Haha! G-Ge- I'll shut up, sorry."
>She tries to laugh, but she's sweating and shaking
| >>181995
"I am here to see the body of my employee. Name is John Doe, it should have been brought here today."
>Boy said in flat voice, as he closed the case.
"I will not take 'no' for an answer. I have all the legal rights to do so."
| >>182001
"Ma'am, are you sure? Is there anything I could help you with?"
>The officer says with worry.
| >>182003
"I'm... hu- Looking- no, not exactly..."
>She looks around, panicked
>'What the heck am I supposed to say! Think, my BRAIN...'
| >>182002
"R-right."
>The desk sergeant types in the name, as per request, and looks at the officers checking
>"Fucking idiots are going to get my ass grilled!"
"Uhhh... Right. Sorry for the wait. This way to the Morgue, Mr. King."
>The desk sergeant points to the door to the Morgue.
| >>182003
>The women seems to come to a conclusion and replies in what seems like a shitty southern accent
"Yeah, am here to see some commotion, yo!"
>She gets silent
>She cups her face in her hands, blushing like crazy
| >>182005
"Ma'am, please don't worry, deep breaths. Everything is fine. There is no need to cause commotion ma'am."
>The officer says, patting the gurl on the back.
| >>182010
"Thank you, officer."
>King said with a smile, that could kill on its own, He went into the morgue doors, one of his bodyguards taking the case from boys hands and following along.
>The remaining three bodyguards remained in place.
| >The girl shakes and shivers before suddenly looking up
"Sir, We are looking for something, a body, It's here, need info, He had it, must find it, must, find, find."
>She's babbling incoherently, but suddenly shouts
"MISTER IN THE SUIT, OVER THERE!"
| >>182014 >>182015
>You get to a large, chilled room filled with body drawers. Some drawers are open, bodies being inspected by morticians. You can see your own breath, condense as you breathe.
"Hey! What are you three doing here?"
| >>182021
>King ignored the question completely, turning instead to his bodyguard.
"Albert, where is the body?"
>Bodyguard looked around the room, easily reading nametags even on the drawers in the farthest end of the room. Sunglasses clearly were no problem for his apparently augmented vision.
| >>182044
>The Morticians move aside, recognising the King. The bodyguard finds the correct drawer, surprisingly close to them.
| >>182021
"Fuck off, I'm on a case."
>Peterson waves aside the morticians, looking for AM's body, unaware that King is looking for the same thing.
| >>182053
>Bodyguard nods towards the drawer, and Kings marches to it. After checking the nametag, he turns over to the bodyguard.
"Albert, case."
>Man hands over the case, and boy opens it, to take a pair of gloves from a small, very difficult to notice pocket near empty vials. He hands now open case back to the guard, puts on the gloves, and finally opens the drawer.
| (Sorry for the late response, PD2 got me deep.)
>In the drawer, is the man himself. AM. His body battered and burnt from his suicide, missing his metal arm.
| (Nah, I'm pretty tired myself)
"Tch."
>King let out, disappointed. His cheek twitched slightly upon seeing the body.
>He took a small syringe from the same pocket in the case, and stabbed it into the vein on AM's neck, extracting a blood sample. Once done, he injected the blood into one of the two empty vials, and closed it. As he put the first vial back, he took out the second one, along with the small scissors, that were lying underneath.
| >>182093
The blood is a normal, crimson red, But did the body just twitch? No, must have been your imagination.
| >>182093
"hey what are you up to?"
>Peterson walks up, and sees the body.
"Oh shit. He really is dead..."
| >He handed the emptied syringe over to his bodyguard, then turned back to AM's body. He cut off a small clap of hair from AM's head, and put it into the vial. King returned both the vial and the scissors back into the case.
>Third thing extracted from the case was a small piece of plastic, with a blot of red on its end. King carefully opened AM's mouth, and poked the thing into dead man's tongue. If it were the same body King once gave his cigarettes to, blot would change color.
| >King kept working, ignoring any distraction.
| (A quick re-write of >>182118. Pardon the lazy writing from that.)
>The blot test shows plots of colour change, while other parts stay the same colour. What you gather from this, potentially, is that AM transplanted his spit to this fake body. He lacks any hair from his Acid attack, only showing his melted scalp, under the bloody, burnt bandages.
| >>182116
>King turned his face up, meeting man's eyes with his own. Peterson would feel his heart skip a couple beats.
"Do not. Tell me. What I can. Or can not. Do." >Boy spit words through his teeth, his tone of voice colder than the air in the room.
"I am confirming the identity of what appears to be my employee's body."
>He added, as he switched his attention to the blot. He smiled.
"Smart. But how about this." He mumbled, as he put the thing back into the case.
| >Finally King took what appeared to be a diadem from the case, and carefully put it on AM's head, pressing a small button on the thing. It started making a low, humming sound, scanning the brain for it's residual activity and signs of possible probing.
>His bodyguard meanwhile kept staring at the gun in Peterson's hands.
| >>182125
>Peterson shrugs the stare off, probably considering a better diet for his heart.
"Great, you done? I need to conduct an actual investigation.
>Peterson puts his gun away, seeing the guard stare.
"Anyone every tell you that it's rude to stare at another man's gun?"
>Peterson jokes with the poor innuendo.
| >There isn't much in terms of probing, but the residual memory is muddled by the alcohol and anti-depressants.
| > The familiar image of a man wearing a black helmet approtched the entrance with his hands stuck in the pockets of his very baggy black hoodie. He wandered toward the gate with all of its protections and waited for the guards to notice him.
| >Blond boy turned his device off and put the diadem back into the case.
"Yes, now I'm done, — >he said, taking off his gloves and putting them into the case as well, closing said case along the way,
— You can now go ahead and pretend to be investigating to your heart's content"
>King waved to his bodyguard, and they went towards the room's exit.
| >>182136
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remove the helmet, before entering the station."
>One of the Police officers asks.
>>182140
"Great, have fun with the bandage samples, creep."
>Peterson begins to look at AM's pockets and jacket, trying to see if AM left anything to find.
"I know you cock-goblin ain't dead."
| >Meanwhile King returned to the main hall. His bodyguard waved to the rest of their group, who still stood where they were left, and the trio became quartet once again. Boy looked at the desk sergeant.
"Our weapons."
| >The desk sergeant quickly hands over the weapons.
"Here you go, Mr. King. Sorry for the inconvenience."
| "Thank you. Good luck with new job."
>King dropped, and headed towards the exit. His bodyguards, now fully armed, took formation around him.
| >>182158
"*Fsssht*...Are you familiar with cranial prosthetics? Are you sure you want me to remove this helmet?"
> He replied casually his arms crossed.
"*Fssht* I have no intention of causing any trouble. I just want to pay my respects to John Doe."
|
| >The woman in the wheelchair, after shouting towards the wall, once again smacks her face with an open palm, muttering 'sorryi'msorryforlivingmompleasedon'thitme'
| (Hate it when I nap and then die for over 12hrs -c_i9)
| "Ma'am, everything is going to be fine, I'll take you somewhere safe."
>The officer talking to c_i9 takes her to the morgue, to reach the staff only area.
| >>182957
>Suddenly snapping back to her senses, the woman sends a weak smile to the officer while staring into the morgue as she passes by.
| >>182959
>She sees a corpse, covered in bandages, being checked by a young detective, as she gets wheeled past.
| "Wh-What's happening in there, if you d-don't mind me asking?"
>The girl seems scared, pale after seeing a body
| "D-don't ma'am, it's one of the detectives working a case."
>The Officer leaves, to go get a blanket and some water for the girl.
| >As the officer leaves and the woman is left alone, she clicks her tongue
>'Guess it's never that easy... but the report did mention something like bandages...'
| > The black helmeted man holds up his ID. *Of course* this ID was the one that had him and his helmet on it. The sound of a synthesized sigh followed before he spoke.
"*Fffsht* You gonna check me for weapons or what? I'll turn them in freely. I just want to see the man off since his funeral isn't going to be public."
| "Sorry sir, just procedure. Weapons will have to be handed over."
>The Desk officer sighs. Why are people visiting that guy?
| > So of course the man in black took out a small gun from his right sleeve and from his belt, hidden under his hoodie. He handed both over and cracked his neck.
"*Fsssht* Where do I find him?"
| "Door to my right, follow the signs. His body is being checked by one of the detectives."
>The Desk sergeant points to the door.
| "What? Does he think the man was murdered?"
> He questioned before slowly walking in with his hands stuffed into his pockets.
"Regardless of whether or not he was...He's wasting his time."
| >Peterson's skin shivers, as he keeps looking through AMs belongings.
| >Outside, King has finally got into his limousine, the rest of the guards following.
>One of them, however, stopped before getting into the car, turning towards one of the roofs on the other side of the street.
| >>182968
The officer returns, with a blanket, and a bottle of water.
"From what I get, you've lost someone?"
>The officer puts the blanket on the girl, and hands her a bottle of water.
| >Neon wonders into the the morgue and notices Peterson at work. He keeps his distance only for a moment, then moves close. His gaze, hidden behind the hazy blackness of his helmet's reflective screen, scans over the body.
"*Fssht* Where'd they put his arm?"
| "Huh? Oh sorry. I was only finishing. I think they kept the arm in evidence, along with most of his stuff."
>Peterson finishes studying the AM's body, peeling off the blue latex gloves.
| "*Fssht* Did you get coffee with REM?"
>Neon asked simply, not out of curiousity, but to identify himself as someone who knew the person he was doing business with. He let the question hang for a moment before speaking again.
"*Fssht* She and I are business associates. This man was someone we did business with on occasion. At least who he's supposed to be is."
> He moved to pull out a steel pen-length and sized item that opened.
| >Neon leaned forward and moved to open the only visible eye of the corpse and scanned the retina after examine how well intact it was and if there was any trauma damage or degradation due to no longer being alive.
| >>184003
"I guess you could say that... didn't know him really well, kept to himself..."
>she sniffles
"He saved my life... and I never got to thank him..."
| >>184050
>The Eye has a lot of veins popped due to impact, and has begun ageing, but the retina can still be made out. The eye is a cold, Steele grey.
>>184204
"I'm sorry to hear that ma'am. Where you here to... Visit him?"
>The officer tries to lightly step on to the subject, worried for the gurl's mental health.
| >>184696
>she nods, before bursting into tears
"H-He shouldn't have died... I-I should've..."
>She sobs
"I'll never see him again..."
| >>184715
"I-I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to bring it up."
>The officer sheepishly tries to prevent her from crying fully.
| >>184865
>The woman looks up to the officer...
"C-Could I see him... I need to say farewell, to thank him..."
>She sniffles again, tears pooling in her eyes
| "Are... Are you sure ma'am?"
>The officer grabs the wheelchair, ready to go on her word.
| >>184869
>The officer reluctantly wheels the girl over to the morgue, where another person is looking at AM's body.
| >The women looks at the body and begins crying anew, she seems quite shook, she's mumbling what sounds like apologies and thanks...
| >>184877
"You're right... I'm done here."
>She turns away, towards the officer and gives a weak smile
"Thank you, I mean it. I have to let this go..."
|
| >>184879
>The officer begins to wheel you towards the front desk again, where a pupper stands, ears folded, looking for someone, whimpering.
| >>186635
>The woman begins heading out, but turns to the officer one last time
"Thank you, I can't thank you enough."
>She smiles weakly as she exits the building, phone in hand
>As c_i9 finally put some distance between her and the building, she lights a cigarette and heaves a sigh
"Well, that was a whole lot of work for almost nothing... guess he did die. Crap."
>She bites down on her finger
"So... back to planning I guess."
| >A familiar catboomer woman in white steps out of a levivan with five men in suits of the same color.They walk toward security, all ready preparing to disarm. The Cat boomer speaks.
"Hello, I'm Aethia of White Lightning...Is the body of John Doe still here?"
| >At this point, nothing phased the Desk Sargent, who the hell is this John Doe, and why is he so famous?
"Yes Ma'am. All weapons to be left behind, door to the left."
| >>187387
>As you head toward the morgue, a man robotically marches by, completely chromed with what appears to be thick armor- the only part of him that appears to be exposed is his chin and mouth, while the rest of his head is covered by a thick visor. You soon realize that he is dragging a couple of street thugs with him, both of whom are sporting matching bruises on their face.
>The chrome man drops the two delinquents at the feet of the desk sergeant.
"Book them."
| >The chrome man turns to look at the two street thugs before turning around.
"Stay out of trouble."
>He then marches out of the police station.
| "Fucking new guy. Will he ever do his own paperwork? Bah."
>The desk sergeant groans, as 2 officers nearby cuff and take the 2 gangers to the jail, for further questioning.
| >>186921
>c_i9 turns to the dog
"What? Got something for me, buddy?"
>Unlike her previous attitude, she seems quite cheery
>She pats the dog
| >>187456
>The german shepherd pupper jumps on to her lap, tipping the wheelchair ever so slightly. The Dog has a name tag. 'Hope'.
| >>187460
>She smiles
"What a cute dog... So, what do you want, buddy?"
>She gives it a few pats
"I got some time to kill, might as well."
>She heaves a sigh
| >>187461
>The dog designates you as it's owner, considering the previous owner's condition. Yawning in the comfy lap.
| >>187462
"Huh... well... whatever."
>c_i9 just takes out her phone
"Wonder if they'll take the dog in the cab... otherwise I'll have to drag myself home, not something I wanna do."
>She looks back at the dog, still patting it
"... Good dog."
| >>187395 >>187387
>And so it began. Aethia walked on inside while her bodyguards collectively, single file went through their weapons. By the time they were done the front desk's storage was probably full or near it. June, the largest of them simply scoffed. He had no weapons on him. He walked in after Aethia and they all want for the morgue. Only pausing to watch the cyborg pass.
"Busy day, I guess."
| >>187471
Inside the morgue, only one drawer is open, due to the amount of people visiting the body. The body itself is covered in burns, and dried blood, from the fall, and the burns from. Self-immolation, or hell, who knows with AM. Some spots of bandages have burnt away, revealing scar tissue, completely covering his arms, upper torso, and head.
| >>187475
>Aethia's expression upon seeing this remained generally somber, her eyes glossed over...but she didn't make a sound. The group wandered over just as the black Helmeted man stepped aside.
"You know...When it came that I began paying people to keep up with you, it wasn't without anger in my heart."
>Aethia said this to the corpse with a distant expression.
"If you're AM...In some part I feel responsible for your end and for what it's worth...I did learn a lot from it."
| "If you're really dead...I wish you peace, AM. May you at least find it where ever you are now."
This thread is permanently archived
| >A long, white limousine makes it's way through the intense road traffic, usual for this time.
>Car soon reaches it's destination, and pulls to the side of the road, stopping against big concrete building, serving as the GCPD morgue.
>Four similar nondescript men in black suits with sunglasses step out of the car at the same time. One of them is carrying a silver case, while another kept the back door open. From it a fifth person, tall blond boy in yellow buisness suit, emerged.