Axial Tilt
Posted: 31 Jan 2014, 23:20
"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"
Doc: Doc made notes in the file. It was a routine death by postoperative infection due to poor sanitation and lack of follow up care. He had been called in to perform the emergency surgery. As he hit enter, he saw the file was linked to another surgery. Curiosity made him pull that record up. It was the file from the death of the woman that Patty the Paladin killed. His eyes narrowed, as he looked over the autopsy file. He hadn't been the physician of record, so he never saw the autopsy report. But now as he looked it over, he saw the phrase 'throat mangled'.
Paige: Paige was having a difficult time and wanted to be alone. Wrapped in a bloodstained blanket, she kept to the shadows and found a human wearing a dress that might fit her. After two hours of searching, she discovered a transvestite smoking a cigarette outside of a club with his friends. He sported a long red dress and matching heels. Paige could not walk in heels, but she could levitate in them, so she decided to cut her losses. It took another hour to get him alone, but finally she emerged from a club and took a walk. At least she pretended to be walking.
Doc: That phrase, throat mangled, was not how one would normally describe the wounds in an autopsy file. But there had been multiple victims that evening. The trauma bays were packed. Paperwork was more than likely thrown to an intern, who working on little to no sleep wrote what they saw. Mangled would be the layman’s term. And in that term, it dawned on him he had seen that type of mangling on other bodies since that night in the hospital. When he had last seen her, she said she had been working with Wendell. He needed to review some more records. But first, Doc decided he needed to head to the morgue and take a look at the newly dead.
Paige: She had been leaving them during the month of November, and in December her new job, paired with her sire's demand that she control herself helped the bodies to stop trickling in. That night there was a fresh body with a throat injury. If Doc used his medical card and dashing charisma, he could probably spend some time with it. It was the transvestite. Paige had killed him because he had what she needed. She had nothing against men who dressed like women... she hated all humans equally. His throat was a yawning gash. His genitals were no more. He seemed to have died in great pain, his face was contorted. It would have been labeled a hate crime by the news probably.
Doc: Drawer by drawer Doc perused the cadavers for the tell tale wounds that had fast become Patty’s calling card. He was relieved that none of the bodies currently entombed in the morgue bore that mark; though his face still wore the tired, almost annoyed look it had perfected. He closed the last drawer, and an order wheeled in a fresh one. Without saying a word, he moved to help the orderly transfer the body from the gurney to the drawer. He wouldn’t normally help, but in helping, it gave him an excellent excuse to view the neck closely. And his relief at finding no new evidence, evaporated. She had struck again.
Paige: Paige needed to clear her head, so she had not gone to her sire's apartment or the childe allotted apartment. Instead she found an empty park to hover in. She levitated and reflected upon her own reflection. She could not see it. She did not make a sound when she walked. She could scarcely speak, and her blood was oil-black and dissipated into thin air. As she floated and brooded on those facts, she asked herself if she really did exist anymore. Just what was she.
Doc:
Doc pulled his cell and scrolled through his contacts. He didn’t have her number, logically he knew he could ask Cat or Wendell for her number, but then they would get curious. Cat would not let it go, she would devil him to no end. And Wendell.. well he wouldn’t devil him, but he wouldn’t forget it either. He would lock it away in his mind until he needed it. Best course of action would to keep them both out of it, until he had a chance to grill her. Murders like these were sloppy. Humans would catch on sooner or later, it was just a matter of time. This needed to be broached sooner rather than later, so that is how he found himself driving slowly through the neighborhood where he had first run into her, the low rumble of the mustang’s engine sounded like the slow growl of a cat about to pounce.
Paige: The suburban neighborhood had a communal park that nobody played in past dark. It was near a small pond, and there was a basketball court and a tennis court. Paige was hovering near a swing set. She dropped reflexively to her feet when she heard a car's slow approach. The sound came closer, and then there were headlights. Nasty intrusive things. With an annoyed growl, she turned her back on the road several yards away.
Doc:
The neighborhood was dead. The houses didn’t leave a welcoming light on, and many of the street lights had burned out or had been busted by vandals. So his speed was slow and methodical. It wasn’t until the headlights swept the park, did he see a figure by the playsets. Too tall to be a child, and it had turned away to hide it’s face. He stopped, reversed to maneuver the mustang so that headlights shown directly on the figure.
Paige: Illuminated in the light of the car, she visibly winced. Her body cast no shadow, but she expected the driver of the vehicle to be a human who probably would not notice something like that anyway. If the driver knew what was good for them, they would move on and decide not to try to trifle with her. She may have been wearing a red dress and heels, but that was no excuse to pay attention to her as far as Paige was concerned.
Doc: The figure didn’t move, apart from small shifting. It was as though it was holding it spot for a purpose. Was it daring him to approach? or was it hoping he would get bored and leave. Well unfortunately for the figure, he was quite comfortable in his car and could wait the figure out. If the figure fled, he would give pursuit. He had the advantage at the moment, and he had a specific target in mind, not any random figure. Until he could ascertain who the figure was, he was content to watch.
Paige: She intended to wait the driver out. She was expecting them to come out anyway, and heckle her or attack her. But there was not a sound from the vehicle. It just sat there, aiming everything at her. It was as though the driver knew what she was, and what she had done before. Suddenly she regained her usual posture and bolted toward the tennis court. There were some fences nearby she could scale and then take refuge in shadow.
Doc: As the figure bolted, he smirked. It had been a while since he had a good old fashioned hunt, and it shouldn’t take that long, from the direction the figured headed he knew he could cut it off. The engine roared as he gunned it and drove at breakneck speed to the junction the figure would have to cross. The figure was fast, and had a straight line to follow, but he knew the area, and he was afraid of the speed. It would be close, the odds were on the figures side, but that is what made it fun.
When the car pursued, Paige growled low in her throat. What was this? She had not been caught. She was sure she had covered her tracks. Her red dress fluttered as she levitated as fast as she could toward someone's backyard. The car almost hit her, and she grazed close to the fence. Perhaps it would make them crash and create a diversion for her to escape. Just who was this driver, and what did they want?
Doc: The chase was an impromptu thing. A moment of pleasure that just happened his way. The one thing he had learned since being turned was, he actually had time to stop and enjoy the small pleasures that came his way. It wasn’t until the fender nearly hit her, did he see her profile and made recognized her. Well ****. It was her. There went his hunt and destroy game. He brought the mustang to a halt, and stepped out. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.
Paige: To Paige's disappointment, there was no crunch of metal-on-fence. She had darted up the high fence and was taking refuge on the other side, panting. She had no gun, but her strength and martial arts skills were nothing to laugh at either. Perhaps the person on the other side of the fence was unarmed too, but she doubted it. She assumed that they had come to run her over out of some purpose other than a cruel impulse. Like a mouse chased into a hole, she kept still and watched for signs of movement between the wood slats of the fence. If she had to, she would stand and fight.
Doc: Doc made notes in the file. It was a routine death by postoperative infection due to poor sanitation and lack of follow up care. He had been called in to perform the emergency surgery. As he hit enter, he saw the file was linked to another surgery. Curiosity made him pull that record up. It was the file from the death of the woman that Patty the Paladin killed. His eyes narrowed, as he looked over the autopsy file. He hadn't been the physician of record, so he never saw the autopsy report. But now as he looked it over, he saw the phrase 'throat mangled'.
Paige: Paige was having a difficult time and wanted to be alone. Wrapped in a bloodstained blanket, she kept to the shadows and found a human wearing a dress that might fit her. After two hours of searching, she discovered a transvestite smoking a cigarette outside of a club with his friends. He sported a long red dress and matching heels. Paige could not walk in heels, but she could levitate in them, so she decided to cut her losses. It took another hour to get him alone, but finally she emerged from a club and took a walk. At least she pretended to be walking.
Doc: That phrase, throat mangled, was not how one would normally describe the wounds in an autopsy file. But there had been multiple victims that evening. The trauma bays were packed. Paperwork was more than likely thrown to an intern, who working on little to no sleep wrote what they saw. Mangled would be the layman’s term. And in that term, it dawned on him he had seen that type of mangling on other bodies since that night in the hospital. When he had last seen her, she said she had been working with Wendell. He needed to review some more records. But first, Doc decided he needed to head to the morgue and take a look at the newly dead.
Paige: She had been leaving them during the month of November, and in December her new job, paired with her sire's demand that she control herself helped the bodies to stop trickling in. That night there was a fresh body with a throat injury. If Doc used his medical card and dashing charisma, he could probably spend some time with it. It was the transvestite. Paige had killed him because he had what she needed. She had nothing against men who dressed like women... she hated all humans equally. His throat was a yawning gash. His genitals were no more. He seemed to have died in great pain, his face was contorted. It would have been labeled a hate crime by the news probably.
Doc: Drawer by drawer Doc perused the cadavers for the tell tale wounds that had fast become Patty’s calling card. He was relieved that none of the bodies currently entombed in the morgue bore that mark; though his face still wore the tired, almost annoyed look it had perfected. He closed the last drawer, and an order wheeled in a fresh one. Without saying a word, he moved to help the orderly transfer the body from the gurney to the drawer. He wouldn’t normally help, but in helping, it gave him an excellent excuse to view the neck closely. And his relief at finding no new evidence, evaporated. She had struck again.
Paige: Paige needed to clear her head, so she had not gone to her sire's apartment or the childe allotted apartment. Instead she found an empty park to hover in. She levitated and reflected upon her own reflection. She could not see it. She did not make a sound when she walked. She could scarcely speak, and her blood was oil-black and dissipated into thin air. As she floated and brooded on those facts, she asked herself if she really did exist anymore. Just what was she.
Doc:
Doc pulled his cell and scrolled through his contacts. He didn’t have her number, logically he knew he could ask Cat or Wendell for her number, but then they would get curious. Cat would not let it go, she would devil him to no end. And Wendell.. well he wouldn’t devil him, but he wouldn’t forget it either. He would lock it away in his mind until he needed it. Best course of action would to keep them both out of it, until he had a chance to grill her. Murders like these were sloppy. Humans would catch on sooner or later, it was just a matter of time. This needed to be broached sooner rather than later, so that is how he found himself driving slowly through the neighborhood where he had first run into her, the low rumble of the mustang’s engine sounded like the slow growl of a cat about to pounce.
Paige: The suburban neighborhood had a communal park that nobody played in past dark. It was near a small pond, and there was a basketball court and a tennis court. Paige was hovering near a swing set. She dropped reflexively to her feet when she heard a car's slow approach. The sound came closer, and then there were headlights. Nasty intrusive things. With an annoyed growl, she turned her back on the road several yards away.
Doc:
The neighborhood was dead. The houses didn’t leave a welcoming light on, and many of the street lights had burned out or had been busted by vandals. So his speed was slow and methodical. It wasn’t until the headlights swept the park, did he see a figure by the playsets. Too tall to be a child, and it had turned away to hide it’s face. He stopped, reversed to maneuver the mustang so that headlights shown directly on the figure.
Paige: Illuminated in the light of the car, she visibly winced. Her body cast no shadow, but she expected the driver of the vehicle to be a human who probably would not notice something like that anyway. If the driver knew what was good for them, they would move on and decide not to try to trifle with her. She may have been wearing a red dress and heels, but that was no excuse to pay attention to her as far as Paige was concerned.
Doc: The figure didn’t move, apart from small shifting. It was as though it was holding it spot for a purpose. Was it daring him to approach? or was it hoping he would get bored and leave. Well unfortunately for the figure, he was quite comfortable in his car and could wait the figure out. If the figure fled, he would give pursuit. He had the advantage at the moment, and he had a specific target in mind, not any random figure. Until he could ascertain who the figure was, he was content to watch.
Paige: She intended to wait the driver out. She was expecting them to come out anyway, and heckle her or attack her. But there was not a sound from the vehicle. It just sat there, aiming everything at her. It was as though the driver knew what she was, and what she had done before. Suddenly she regained her usual posture and bolted toward the tennis court. There were some fences nearby she could scale and then take refuge in shadow.
Doc: As the figure bolted, he smirked. It had been a while since he had a good old fashioned hunt, and it shouldn’t take that long, from the direction the figured headed he knew he could cut it off. The engine roared as he gunned it and drove at breakneck speed to the junction the figure would have to cross. The figure was fast, and had a straight line to follow, but he knew the area, and he was afraid of the speed. It would be close, the odds were on the figures side, but that is what made it fun.
When the car pursued, Paige growled low in her throat. What was this? She had not been caught. She was sure she had covered her tracks. Her red dress fluttered as she levitated as fast as she could toward someone's backyard. The car almost hit her, and she grazed close to the fence. Perhaps it would make them crash and create a diversion for her to escape. Just who was this driver, and what did they want?
Doc: The chase was an impromptu thing. A moment of pleasure that just happened his way. The one thing he had learned since being turned was, he actually had time to stop and enjoy the small pleasures that came his way. It wasn’t until the fender nearly hit her, did he see her profile and made recognized her. Well ****. It was her. There went his hunt and destroy game. He brought the mustang to a halt, and stepped out. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.
Paige: To Paige's disappointment, there was no crunch of metal-on-fence. She had darted up the high fence and was taking refuge on the other side, panting. She had no gun, but her strength and martial arts skills were nothing to laugh at either. Perhaps the person on the other side of the fence was unarmed too, but she doubted it. She assumed that they had come to run her over out of some purpose other than a cruel impulse. Like a mouse chased into a hole, she kept still and watched for signs of movement between the wood slats of the fence. If she had to, she would stand and fight.