Horreurs Mécaniques IC

[TechnoScrabble]

The tall man paced back and forth on the exposed walkway outside of the hab entrance, thoroughly soaked despite the overworked servitor that awkwardly hobbled after him with a gaudy umbrella. Thick strands of black hair clung to his forehead, the grease that once held it in a perfect coif running down a brow wrinkled with worry and leaving a web of black stains behind it. His hands worried together until his knuckles were raw, rain pit-pattering off the sides of the galvanized metal and rockcrete buildings that closed so tightly around the alley. When were those investigators going to show up? It was bad enough that the enforcers had just shrugged and left after cordoning off the apartment, claiming better things to do, but now he was freezing in this rain in some cramped alleyway, perfect prey for any underhive scum that wandered up here. He looked up, shivering, at the sound of a groundcar approaching, and a small smile crossed his face as the investigators stepped out.

The acolytes' dataslate got another update today, and a note slid under the door giving them the address and time to meet here at the mid-spire hab block Mister Cannad made his home in. It's still raining, doesn't seem like it's ever let up since they got here, warm air from exhaust pipes and freezing water coating the city in condensation and steam. It'd be a very pretty effect up at the top of the hive, but even here down in midspire, it's filthy enough that it all just becomes more mud and pollutant circling down the street drains. A tall, somewhat pale man, soaked through and through and shivering, waves at them as their groundcar pulls up, a crippled and aged servitor hobbling after him with a sparkling umbrella.

http://i58.tinypic.com/10oenv8.png
Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EB88LUvWNg)

[Ionbound]

Elena wraps a coat around herself, and says to her fellow Acolytes, "Well, then. Shall we go to this murder scene, then?"

[Wes Keynes]

Tybalt casually checked his autogun - yes, there was a round in the chamber, and yes, the safety was on - before getting out of the car, and quickly assessed the environment for possible threats and available cover. Granted, that was a somewhat paranoid behaviour, but given the nature of both his former and current job, it was now standard procedure for him.

"Let's go.", he said, answering Elena.

He covered the distance between them and the waving man, feeling the cold rain falling on his recently-acquired synthetic cloak, which had the triple advantage of being waterproof, common (and therefore unremarkable) and allowing him to keep his autogun out of sight. The arbites actually liked the weather around here - he always liked rain, provided he could stay more or less dry and warm. But back to business - he adressed the man as soon as he reached him.

"Mister Frei ? High Tower investigation. You called us."

[Jjeinn-tae]

Novus follows, content to let the arbitrator handle the contact, after all, he was doing this before being approached.

He glances around at the surroundings. Murders aren't exactly an uncommon occurrence in the hive, and that this specific one was attracting attention had him a bit uneasy with the neighborhood, more-so than normal.

[roll0] My halved statistic here is 17, so I'm not really expecting much.

[Lord Magtok]

"Does the rain ever stop?" Elihu gripes as he follows the others, reluctant to leave the warm, dry groundcar for the wet, ugly world of rainfall and mysterious murders just outside. Why in the world did they engineer such madness, anyways? Back home there was never a need for precipitation to drop unbidden from the sky, dousing the heads of any and all caught in its path. Water rations were given to those who needed it, and precisely when they needed it. This just seems wasteful and absolutely foolish.

[Vetril]

Wrax steps off the vehicle; on the concrete, his steps sound heavy. Without a word, the armored figure stops next to their contact. The venator seems to examine him for a few seconds - it's hard to tell, with the full helmet of the armor obscuring his face - before shifting his attention to the servitor, completing his exam with a quick look at the surrounding buildings.
Finally satisfied, the soldier stands completely still; the only sound that comes from him is the noise that the raindrops do as they hit the metallic shell that shields his body.

[TechnoScrabble]

The man stopped for a moment to stare at the acolytes as they exited their vehicle. They were an odd bunch, even for a hive, and the sight of two men clearly of the Mechanicus would cause apprehension in anyone not learned of their ways, especially when one stops so close and stares at them. There was a brief moment where he'd be stuttering, had a sound come out of his mouth beyond the clacking of shivering teeth. He nodded and wiped some of the grease from his forehead.

"Yes, sir," he said, "I am Jean-Claude Frei. Your, ah, secretary, he said you could handle this for me, sir? It's a dear colleague of mine," the man extended a shaking hand towards Tybalt, "He's, ah, he's been released from this mortal coil of ours, it would, ah, seem. The Enforcers, they say, ah, they say it isn't their problem. Which is, ah, a problem?"

The acolytes got the feeling that between the nervous tic and the accent that placed too much emphasis on 'e', Jean-Claude's voice would get very annoying, very soon.

The servitor is well made, but has clearly been repaired and rebuilt many times past any warranty would ever cover it, and despite its attempts to dutifully serve, is near the end of its 'life'. The alley has gathered a good inch and a half of water, carrying away some of the cardboard boxes and garbage out into the street where the drains are quite as badly clogged. The frames and doors and supports of the buildings are aged, pitted black metal, with equally despondent and acid rain worn rockcrete filling in the spaces between, sheets of corrugated metal covering patches where the polluted air and rain have worn through.

[Ionbound]

Elena closes her eyes, seemingly ignoring the man, and casts her senses out into the warp, trying to detect any Chaos or Daemonic involvement in the murder, as well as any other warp signatures nearby.

Rolling Psyniscience: [roll0] vs. 33f

[Wes Keynes]

That guy was annoying, and it was doubtful that someone thought otherwise. Yet it was, in a way, expected - if only from his clothing and overall attitude. That was probably part of the aloof reputation of anyone involved in liberal arts. Anyway, he didn't have a choice - he had a job and dealing with Frei was part of it.

"Name's Tybalt, sir. A free-of-charge piece of advice : never rely on the local enforcers."

That was, in fact, his genuine opinion. Throughout the sector, the enforcers rarely were more than mercenaries... And always had corrupted scumbags in their ranks - the only difference being the proportion of said scumbags.

"Now, I suggest you show us in before we're too soaked to check the scene without drowning the evidence."

[TechnoScrabble]

The place was clean, psychically speaking.

Well...no. No place could ever be clean, not with the state of the universe at large, but there were levels of background emotion and warp 'radiation' that could be considered...depressingly standard. The mundanity and drone of hive life and manual labour was the prominent factor there, and the stain in the warp that always surrounds places where someone recently died violently, but Elena couldn't find anything hinting at the involvement of Chaos or daemonic influence.

A relief, it would seem.

Frei was...well, he didn't want to say he was 'intimidated', even if he was only saying it to himself, but he certainly didn't feel comfortable around these people. They were certainly a step above underhive rabble, but which path that step had lead them down was uncertain. He nodded and wiped his hands on his vest, not doing much more than getting some diluted hair grease on it and ruining what had been a very expensive Model 6 Overland Baby Blue.

"Yes, ah, right this way, sir."

He turned, almost tripping over himself, and lead the acolytes through the heavy metal sliding door into the dimly lit hallway of the hab-block, leaving a mess of dark, wet footprints on the remarkably clean brown and violet floral carpet. Three doors down and on the right, that's where it was. A simple flakboard door with a large red 6 painted on it, crisscrossed with shiny yellow Enforcer tape that looked like it was put up half-heartedly.

"This is, ah, this is where Arthur stayed," Jean-Claude said, gesturing towards the door, "He, at times, did business here as well. Interviews. He was an, ah, a talent scout, foremost. Not that it took much, most hivers would gladly, ah, give up their careers for a life as an actor. Especially here in Aveen-non."

The acolytes had the feeling he mispronounced it on purpose.

[Vetril]

Wrax steps up without a word.
Moving aside the tapes, he operates the door to reveal the room inside.

Assuming it's not locked - otherwise, he'll stare at their contact until he opens it.

He stands on the door for a moment, and all of sudden, a flash of red light comes out of the optics of his helmet. Some device comes alive with an electrical noise. The circuits powering up are clearly audible for a couple of seconds, before the noise fades away.
The Venator's voice, distorted and metallic, comes out through the vox devices of his armor.

"Scanning."

Wrax's head slightly tilts from left to right, as his sight passes over everything he can see a couple of times, examining the scene for any trace of crimes or activity. One can almost imagine his eyes wandering, under the skull shaped mask that is part of his helmet. Guessing his thoughts is probably more difficult.
Moments pass and he still stands motionless, the rain breaking the monotony of his silence.

Wrax activates his Auger Arrays implant.

He stands outside of the entrance to avoid further disruption of the scene.

Awareness check at +20 to detect anything suspicious or that might be related to the crime: [roll0] vs 51.

Tech-Use to detect anything inside the room that is not visible to the eyes: [roll1] vs 36.

[Ionbound]

Elena purses her lips as she follows Wrex, nervous and slightly jittery...There was no warp interference...So then what killed this man?

[Wes Keynes]

That's a reasonably nice hab-block, by commoners standards...

The deceased probably enjoyed a certain degree of comfort until his demise. Talking about comfort... Private interviews taking place in the auditor's flat... Maybe his job just made him over-suspicious and blasé, but it sounded like it was likely that a few good-looking actresses (or actors, for that matter) got a role after a thorough and intimate audition.

He was about to get in the hab itself, but the party's skitarii was somehow faster despite his mass, and started... Scanning ? Tybalt frowned.

Well, that's interesting...

Well, maybe it would be a good idea to ask a few questions to Frei while the mechanical man did it's thing. 'Might keep him from freaking out too much...

"Mr Frei, what can you tell me about Arthur Cannad ? What type of work did he do, what were his habits, did he have enemies of some kind, that sort of things... What kind of man was he ?"

The arbites then went in, after Wrax finished his analysis, and started to look around the scene, trying to get an idea of what happened in there, while listening to Frei's answer.

Awareness : 27
[roll0]

[Lord Magtok]

"Were you the one who found him? Was the servitor there at the time?" Elihu asks of their contact. Might as well question the withered old bag of circuits, if it knows anything. At least pretend Elihu is doing something useful, as opposed to gawking while Mister Blue Hair Arbite does all the work, effortlessly running through the motions of the job he's been doing his entire life. Omnissiah, that guy is just the coolest.

[Jjeinn-tae]

Novus follows into the room, trying to avoid being scanned in the process. Something about that was just plain unsettling to him. As the arbite dealt more questions out, he figured he might as well poke around the room here, he first looks towards the final resting place of the victim itself.

I'll be doing skill checks when we have a better knowledge of what the room is like. Especially if there are windows or similar things. But first, I'll probably sing a passing song for the victim, assuming he's here.

[TechnoScrabble]

The door swung open with hardly a push, creaking quietly on its hinges to reveal the living room beyond. The carpet in here was a tan shag, stapled haphazardly to the floor around the edges, and the room actually extended back far enough that it had a large, shattered window in a dark frame set into a half-hexagon alcove, looking over the drop off the edge and into the underhive below. From high up, the wretched base of the hive looked almost peaceful, what with the smog and lights blocking the view of the toil and bloodshed below. Glass scattered the carpet inside, and the panes are cracked and twisted where the plastiwood had broken,

The room's walls were covered in aged, peeling maroon wallpaper with a similar floral pattern to the hallway's carpet, and the frames of the doors and moulding near the floor were made from the same dark painted artificial wood as the window's frame. A fold-out partition leans against the wall where it was knocked over, the paper screen of the middle section sporting a large tear. The table and chairs in the corner near the kitchen were smashed, the table collapsed in half and the chairs in splinters next to it, clothes were strewn about the place, and blood splatters covered the wall and carpet in copious amounts. It didn't take a magos biologis to know there was a lot less blood in that in a single man. What's more, not all of it was fully coagulated, and Wrax's auspex was picking up on nonstandard materials in the sanguine fluid.

To the left was a doorway leading into another room, to the right was a walk-in kitchen with a small refridgeration unit, particleboard countertops made to resemble dark marble, and white cabinets that really just threw the whole decor off. The victim was pinned to the near the doorway, a slightly overweight and hairy man in his underclothes, his face, neck, and arms heavily bruised, pinned to the wall with fragments of plastiwood and large shards of the window's glass. Several cuts covered his body, including one large slash across his neck, but Tybalt and Elihu had the feeling there wasn't enough blood coming out of that cut, there should've been more, especially considering how much covered the room. A more professional autopsy wouldn't have been a bad idea.

"Arthur...ah," Jean-Claude murmured a bit to himself, still staying out of the room and peeking in only briefly before pulling back in horror, "He was a good friend of mine, ever since we were, ah, children. He was, ah, a hard worker, always good about being on time, never, ah, missed a day of services at the cathedral. Ah, he, ah, he did drink a fair bit, but I'd never, ah, seen him in a fight before. We went into showbusiness together, when, ah, ah, Lady Calist gave me the offer. I...I wouldn't think he'd make, ah, any enemies beyond maybe a little, ah, grudge or two?"

As Tybalt searched the scene, glass crunched and scraped underfoot. Something caught his attention, though, when he felt some sticking to the bottom of his boots. He reached down to pick it out, and noticed tape on one side of it. In fact, there were little scraps of tape on a lot of the shards. On a hunch, he looked up, and noticed that the broken panes twisted outwards, not inwards...

"My servitor?" Jean-Claude asked Elihu, wringing his hands even more, worried he was being implied in the murder of Arthur, "N-no, ah, I bring it with me on rainy days, nothing more. It's, ah, a gift, from someone Arthur and I, ah, introduced to the business. I, ah, was on my way down here last night to meet Arthur and, ah, and the enforcers were here, taping it up, said they'd, ah, gotten a call about a disturbance, and, ah, that's when we had the argument."

Arthur Cannad wasn't a fit man, as Novus could observe, but not too unhealthy. Up until the moment of his death, of course. Hairy, squarely built where fat hadn't rounded the corners, hazel eyes hanging open, curly brown hair, skin darkened slightly by chemlight and smokestains...There was a lot of blood on and around his fingers and mouth, the blood that hadn't coagulated yet. Novus started to put two and two together...something about that was important.

A pair of trousers and a grey button-down the front shirt, both obviously Cannad's. A black vest, probably his as well. Several costume pieces, an orange feather boa, a damp rainjacket too small for Cannad, and a light blue sports brassiere made for someone rather small, with smeared intitials on the inside. 'JS'?

[Jjeinn-tae]

Novus's anatomical knowledge was enough that he knew blood didn't stay around exposed to air this long without it drying out. He avoids touching Arthur, stands up and softly sings a portion of a passing song for the man. When he's sure that Jean-Claude isn't looking in the room, Novus he snaps his fingers hoping to get Wrax's attention, points to his eyes, then to Arthur, then to his mouth. Assuming Wrax responds, he wanders over to the shattered window, to see what's out on the other side.

...and lest the Warp unmake you, may the Emperor take you.


For singing, while he does feel that Arthur should have some respect here, Novus at the moment is primarily hoping that it'll smooth relations with Jean-Claude. So, I'm using Charming Performance here. So with my 38 Fellowship, I should need lower than 28 unless there's more adjustments, right? [roll0]

And then another untrained perception check out the window, probably (effectively 17). [roll1]

[Vetril]

Wrax doesn't seem to react in any way to Novus' call for help. He takes a few steps indoors, plausibly to expand his field of view. The pieces of glass crack under his weight, as he enters the crime scene.

"Unknown substances. In the blood. Lead."

Wrax's head rotates to face the destroyed window. The position he assumes is quite unnatural - his torso does not follow the movement of the head, but stays in place - it would probably be uncomfortable for anyone else, but the warrior from the Cult Mechanicus holds it for a long time nonetheless.
Curiously, the activity of the other acolytes does not seem to faze him, as they move around the room.
The Venator stops in front of the corpse, and gives a long stare at it. Maybe he aknowledged Novus' suggestion, after all. Or maybe his examination is part of a standard procedure.
Without warning, a vertical, thin red line made of light appears on Arthur's chest, and slowly crawls up, passing on his face.

More rolls, in case you need them.

Awareness: [/roll]1d100[/roll] vs 51.

Tech-Use: [/roll]1d100[/roll] vs 36.

[Ionbound]

Elena squats next to the corpse, using her training from when she was young to give it a proper examination, looking for broken bones, and other visible, yet more subtle causes of death beyond the man having his throat slit.

Alright, making an awareness check, and, if TS will allow it from my backstory, an untrained Medicae check.

Awareness: [roll0] vs. 33
Medicae: [roll1] vs. 17

[TechnoScrabble]

Arthur's body made a swell audience for the dirge, never interrupted, never jostled the person in the next seat over, never interrupted the show with a vox-call. More than you could ask from most Imperial citizens, really. The Imperial preoccupation with death made more and more sense every day, assuming one wasn't as already wrapped up in it as a priest would be. Jean-Claude waited outside the room still, nervous and wringing his hands and shooing away the servitor as its umbrella bumped into the walls of the hallway.

The flesh was bruised, heavily in some areas, especially around the arms and chest, with slight swelling around several areas. The cuts hadn't bled much at all aside from a few smaller ones around the upper torso, and Arthur's face was sunken, pale and sallow. The blood had pooled as gravity directed, leaving the corpse bloated and purple below the knees and pale and saggy elsewhere. The eyes were glassed over,though the left had some red splatters towards the outer edges near the bruising of the socket-blood vessels inside had burst from some blow to the face.

++Scan Complete++
Interruption of blood flow, unusual clotting from foreign agents. Blood tainted by uncertain mix of stimulant and depressant.
Minor Fractures Detected in Sternum, Left Occipital, Left Zygomatic Arch, Left Zygomatic Process, Left Upper Premolar 2
Major Fractures Detected in Left Humerus, Left Collarbone, Left Upper Premolars 1 and 3

[Vetril]

Wrax completes the scanning procedure and stands still for almost a minute. Without any warning, he speaks once again.

"More chemical agents in blood. Unknown purpose. Requires complete analysis."

As he turns and walks around the apartment, he adds a few more words.

"Multiple fractures. Done here."

The Venator seems to be looking for something specific. His head continues to look around as he methodically explores the environment.

Wrax looks for electronic devices, such as a data slate, a pic recorder or a similar object.

[Ionbound]

Elena nods at Wrex's analysis and says, "Probably poison, or a sedative of some sort. Slitting his throat was clearly an execution...If I had to guess, someone tried to kill him quietly, and then, failing that, beat him about the head and then slit his thoat."

[Vetril]

Wrax doesn't even stop as he replies to Elena's assumption.

"Incorrect. Stimulants. Depressants. Strange mixture. Not enough data to extrapolate the purpose."

[Jjeinn-tae]

Novus heads towards the window, to see what is visible on the other side. He's careful not to step in any blood. He starts speaking to Wrax on the way, trying to avoid speaking too loudly and disturbing Jean.

"Would that cocktail be enough to kill him? Although that wouldn't explain the fractures... Maybe he freaked out." He points to the shattered window panes, "I imagine that would freak anyone out."

[Ionbound]

Elena nods and says, "Mixing uppers and downers can be bad...But unless it's done just so, usually there's no ill effects beyond a really bad headache...Maybe whoever did this tried to mix up the cocktail to kill or disable him, and, failing at that, they bear him."

[TechnoScrabble]

A vid-pict capture device was hidden in a barely propped open cabinet in the kitchen, pointing through the main room and into the room beyond. A little blinking red light indicated it was on.

On the other side of the window was the outer wall, dropping down into the underhives and raising up about twenty more stories. A twisted, rusted, and long ruined fire escape crawled up the windows to the left. The wall was much cleaner than the wall by the entrance, but much more pitted by rain.

[Jjeinn-tae]

Novus glances from side to side taking in the scene through the window, hand over his brow as if it'd help shield his view from the rain. "Well, there are a lot of places a shot could have come into the window from over there..."

He frowns and steps away from the window, "It is well beyond my ability to figure out where the shot came from, but the fire escape across the way looks like it could have been a pretty easy escape route for our murderer here. That might be worth a look after we're done here."

[Vetril]

The warrior that was once part of the Cult Mechanicus retrieves the electronic device from the cabinet where it had been abandoned. He examines it in silence, his fingers betraying his familiarity with similar objects as they operate the interface quickly and with precision. Wrax does not comment Novus' words, focused as he is on the task at hand.

Wrax wants to view the taken pictures, and check if there is more data than the pictures theirselves saved on the device. Rolling Tech-Use in case it's needed: [roll0] (36).

[Ionbound]

Elena looks out the window with Novus and says, "Mmm...You're right. But I wonder...Why did someone want this man dead?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jean Claude wrung his hands harder yet, the question pounding in his head.

Why would someone want Arthur dead?

And worse yet, could it get me involved?

He found himself wondering if there had been an ulterior motive to the Enforcers not taking this case, if perhaps his old friend had pissed off the wrong corrupt cop, but it was all a moot point by then. The only thing he could do was try not to get involved more.

As Wrax investigated the camera, he might have felt slight disappointment in discovering that it was just that-a camera. Albeit, a camera full of videos with thumbnail previews suggesting some rather lewd footage.

[Jjeinn-tae]

Novus lowers his voice once more, ...This couldn't be some sort of drug cocktail, could it, Wrax? That doesn't really explain the blood, but it might explain some things...

[Vetril]

Wrax replies without lowering his voice - either he doesn't care to be heard, or he hasn't thought about it.

"Not enough data. Speculation. Analysis: then you know."

The venator stops in the middle of the room. He eyes both the corpse and the broken window for a few times.
His gaze then wanders over the utter destruction that invaded the apartment, smashing everything in its way, as the victim was going through his final moments.
Finally, he makes a comment, the muffled, metallic voice giving a sound to his thoughts.

"Lot of noise. Who heard?"

It is not sure who he is addressing, as he isn't looking at anyone in particular.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jean Claude perked up at Wrax's question. An odd occurrence to be sure, a man actually gaining positivity from a Mechanics member's questioning, but nevertheless, it happened. He forced his way into the room, the beleaguered servitor thudding softly against the door frame as it attempted to follow.

"We could, ah, ask the other tenants! He always complained about how, ah, crowded the place was!"