Post by Dominik Dankovski on Nov 24, 2012 0:33:23 GMT -5
Laboratory 13 was a low security lab in the heart of the capital's Government complex. Not a great seat of innovation, it was primarily designed with mages in mind and had a highly generalized selection of equipment. Currently it held two occupants. Sort of.
The qausi-occupant was laying on a slab with its belly cut open. It had once presumably been a male human, for the ears, eyes, lips and genitalia had been removed. The other occupant, the only one still alive, was dressed in a lab-coat and surgeons apron, all splattered in blood. A small lamp and mirror on a headband illuminated the cavity of the chest as the blood-spattered human reached in and ripped out the upper intestines. The organs found their way unceremoniously to a small metal tub already overflowing with human organs. The smell in the chamber was atrocious, overflowing with the scent of putrefying human flesh.
A buzzer sounded, and the living occupant looked up at the doorway high up on a catwalk on the opposite wall.
"Come in! Mind the smell. Breath through your mouth."
The metal door swung open to permit grey-coated officers to step through. Several of them failed to heed the warning and gagged immediately. One of them, the highest-ranked, had the good sense to cover his mouth and nose with a kerchief.
"Secretary Dankovski? De Lonsk is dead. We think a Resistance assassin was responsible."
There was a wet ripping as the stomach came free. Plop, into the tub it went, another piece of rotting human detritus.
"De Lonsk?" Dankovski did not look up from his work as he picked up a scalpel. Very carefully, he began to cut a series of small holes into the chest cavity, avoiding the ribs. "Good. Useless moron, diverting department resources to pursue petty personal vendettas..." The soldiers on the catwalk winced. De Lonsk has a reputation, and few liked to be reminded of it. "How do we know it was Resistance anyway?"
"We didn't at first. We assumed cardiac arrest, but while we were doing our standard 'Speak With Dead' debriefing his corpse alerted us to a small 'sting' he had felt shortly before going to bed that night. We checked and sure enough we hound a hypodermic needle puncture. We're bringing in a psychometrician to analyze the body for the kind of pois-"
"Keep the body on ice, I'll look at it myself. I have Psychometry and Insight, I'll get a better read on the poison than a standard Psychometrician," interrupted the necromancer. He lifted a small mechanical device and slid it up into chest cavity through the abdominal cavity, lined up its external components to slide out of the holes in the chest, and began to bolt it to the ribs. "The idiot had family, yes?"
"A wife and children, sir."
"Get state television to run something sappy on him. Brave hero, loving family man, heinously murdered by resistance assassins. 30 seconds, prime time. After dinner, not before. Get the widow on board with this, maybe get her to do a press conference." Tools were slid up the chest cavity to tinker with the small device. Something clicked. Very, very slightly, the body twitched.
"Sir... She is legitimately bereaved."
"Good. People can tell when they fake it. Anyway, compose a list of officers to fill his position. I don't give a damn about name recognition, get people who are smart and practical, with good counter-terrorism and counter-guerrilla experience. Maybe someone looking to transfer out of the intelligence service. Get it to me by tomorrow, I want De Lonsk's office filled as soon as possible."
A wretch and a splatter announced that one of the soldiers had finally lost the battle to keep from inhaling through his nose. Noone looked at him. Dankovski continued to work, now shoveling small white crystals into the chest cavity. Natron.
"The Minister of the Interior would like to speak to you, Sir."
"The ten-o-clock, yes, I know, I'll be there. I can keep my own schedule, Commander Drovski, I do not need to be babysat. You are dismissed." The soldiers crisply saluted, and marched single file out the door. It shut, and again there were only two bodies in Laboratory 13.
One living.
One dead.
For now.
The qausi-occupant was laying on a slab with its belly cut open. It had once presumably been a male human, for the ears, eyes, lips and genitalia had been removed. The other occupant, the only one still alive, was dressed in a lab-coat and surgeons apron, all splattered in blood. A small lamp and mirror on a headband illuminated the cavity of the chest as the blood-spattered human reached in and ripped out the upper intestines. The organs found their way unceremoniously to a small metal tub already overflowing with human organs. The smell in the chamber was atrocious, overflowing with the scent of putrefying human flesh.
A buzzer sounded, and the living occupant looked up at the doorway high up on a catwalk on the opposite wall.
"Come in! Mind the smell. Breath through your mouth."
The metal door swung open to permit grey-coated officers to step through. Several of them failed to heed the warning and gagged immediately. One of them, the highest-ranked, had the good sense to cover his mouth and nose with a kerchief.
"Secretary Dankovski? De Lonsk is dead. We think a Resistance assassin was responsible."
There was a wet ripping as the stomach came free. Plop, into the tub it went, another piece of rotting human detritus.
"De Lonsk?" Dankovski did not look up from his work as he picked up a scalpel. Very carefully, he began to cut a series of small holes into the chest cavity, avoiding the ribs. "Good. Useless moron, diverting department resources to pursue petty personal vendettas..." The soldiers on the catwalk winced. De Lonsk has a reputation, and few liked to be reminded of it. "How do we know it was Resistance anyway?"
"We didn't at first. We assumed cardiac arrest, but while we were doing our standard 'Speak With Dead' debriefing his corpse alerted us to a small 'sting' he had felt shortly before going to bed that night. We checked and sure enough we hound a hypodermic needle puncture. We're bringing in a psychometrician to analyze the body for the kind of pois-"
"Keep the body on ice, I'll look at it myself. I have Psychometry and Insight, I'll get a better read on the poison than a standard Psychometrician," interrupted the necromancer. He lifted a small mechanical device and slid it up into chest cavity through the abdominal cavity, lined up its external components to slide out of the holes in the chest, and began to bolt it to the ribs. "The idiot had family, yes?"
"A wife and children, sir."
"Get state television to run something sappy on him. Brave hero, loving family man, heinously murdered by resistance assassins. 30 seconds, prime time. After dinner, not before. Get the widow on board with this, maybe get her to do a press conference." Tools were slid up the chest cavity to tinker with the small device. Something clicked. Very, very slightly, the body twitched.
"Sir... She is legitimately bereaved."
"Good. People can tell when they fake it. Anyway, compose a list of officers to fill his position. I don't give a damn about name recognition, get people who are smart and practical, with good counter-terrorism and counter-guerrilla experience. Maybe someone looking to transfer out of the intelligence service. Get it to me by tomorrow, I want De Lonsk's office filled as soon as possible."
A wretch and a splatter announced that one of the soldiers had finally lost the battle to keep from inhaling through his nose. Noone looked at him. Dankovski continued to work, now shoveling small white crystals into the chest cavity. Natron.
"The Minister of the Interior would like to speak to you, Sir."
"The ten-o-clock, yes, I know, I'll be there. I can keep my own schedule, Commander Drovski, I do not need to be babysat. You are dismissed." The soldiers crisply saluted, and marched single file out the door. It shut, and again there were only two bodies in Laboratory 13.
One living.
One dead.
For now.