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| Enfield's Theory of Spontaneous Combustion: Scientific Progress Goes Boink; Closed (Raposa, NPC) | |
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| Topic Started: Sunday, 22. June 2014, 17:33 (208 Views) | |
| Bounce | Sunday, 22. June 2014, 17:33 Post #1 |
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Dweeb
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"What's this then?" The darkness was pulled away, a harsh light flooding the thin membrane of flesh which covered his eyes as the sheet was pulled away from the boy's ragged body. Though he was lying still, the youth felt himself being moved around as though on a wheeled gurney. Around him, two distinct voices conversed above him. "Phil and George just wheeled 'em in. Called in as a hit and run on North Eisley..." "That's over by that pub what Bill likes, yeah?" A pair of latex gloved hands grabbed hold of the youth's arm, two fingers pressing against his limp wrist for a moment as the pair continued their conversation. "Right. Seems some duffer hit 'em and buggered off like a bat out of hell. They started CPR in the ambulance, but he's had it." The boy's arm was lowered back down. A moment later, the same two fingers jutted against the side of his neck like a knife-hand to the carotid artery. "Bloody hell, I hate kids," the boy overheard the man mutter aloud. "Jill said they wanted to see if anyone claimed him before we started any post mortem work up. You want to go ahead and make the initial call now though?" The hand was removed from his neck. The boy picked up the sound of something scraping, like a clipboard being picked up, followed by a pencil scratching against paper. "Right. Time of death... nine seventeen." A loud clatter echoed sharply in the boy's ear, as the clipboard he imagined had just been written on was cast aside carelessly. There was a pause, followed by a loud sigh. "Fuck. I'm out for a fag. You?" "Yeah. I'll grab a fag with you, mate." There was a brief sensation of vertigo, a tilting as though the surface he was situated on was being lifted and moved. Then a loud, rolling scrape of ball bearings as a column of darkness shut out the light. The sound of a door being shut muffled everything, though the boy's hearing adjusted to strain to hear the sound of feet moving across the cement floor. And a door swinging on it's hinges. The corpse's eyes flew open, a swift move with one foot kicking open the freezer compartment door as the young Warlock gripped the sides of the body refrigerator he was now in and pushed his way out. As the stainless steel table he was on came rolling out of the freezer, the boy found himself in a morgue. The closest morgue to the Night Tripper. The most likely place for the bodies to have been brought. Swinging his legs off of the table, the boy pushed the table back inside of the refrigerator and shut the door before he stopped to take stock of his current condition. His chest hurt. Fire snaked up his sides as he moved from the ribs that had been cracked by the EMTs application of cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Not to mention his head still hurt from having hit it after getting hit by Morgan driving that damn beater of a car he'd picked out for the job. Stretched back, arcing an arm up over his head, the small Kindred felt a warm sensation creep through his body as everything knit itself back into place. The ribs mystically moved back into one piece. The gash on the left side of his head, which had nearly severed that ear from the rest of him, pulled itself all back together. Wiggling his jaw from side to side, the youth reset that with a loud pop and then looked around the interior of the morgue. Reaching into the trouser pocket of his jeans, the youth fished out a small flashlight and began glancing at some of the charts that were posted by the various occupied compartments in the refrigerator. The High Apprentice ought to be joining him shortly. No doubt with some falsified credentials and a poppycock story that she was here to do a post mortem and wasn't to be disturbed. And with her powers of persuasion, he doubted that she'd be questioned on any of it. In the meantime, the boy's light illuminated a chart that had a time and date on it which seemed to line up with what he might be looking for. Cracking open the compartment, the boy wheeled the body out to get a glimpse at what might be behind door number one... |
![]() To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream -- ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come... - Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, scene i NOTE: Due to Admin changes, this character's Avatar was removed. This is the link to the old avatar: http://www.baku-panda.org/eion/rotator.php | |
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1:15 AM Jul 11