Body

(Aug. 20, 2217)

================================== Maverick ==================================

Message: 12/45 Posted Author

Children Fri Aug 20 Sigma

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*Sigma appears*

"None of you are to menace the children being kept in the brig. In fact, that area is off limits... there is to be no interaction with the hostages. They are to be kept perfectly safe and secure, they are under my care. If Doppler is returned alive, they will go home unscathed and with as little trauma of the ordeal as possible. If Doppler is not returned within the next week, well... Overclock and Wire Sponge can deal with them as they please. Their deaths might as well contribute to science and furthering our knowledge, its what Doppler would have wanted."

*Fwip

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================================== IC News ===================================

Message: 18/108 Posted Author

Random Tidbit v 2.0 Fri Aug 20 Global News Network

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Sales of Coke competitor 'WilyCola' have risen sharply as Coke continues to be flooded with product complaints.

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================================== IC News ===================================

Message: 18/107 Posted Author

Rio Heist! Fri Aug 20 Global News Network

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And now its time for GNN news..

"This is Stone Johnson bringing you today's top stories. First in the news, Rio suffers an attack on the first National bank, and millions of dollars are stolen. We go to our reporter on the street, Mike the T.V. For more on this breaking development, Mike?"

Suddenly what appears to be a large television appears, with arms and legs, and a mike in its little hands...awww, but until he starts speaking. "This is MIKE THE TV! Here in Rio. There was a small battle here just a few moments ago, but it appears that there were no major injuries." the scene cuts to what happened earlier. A large golden dragon like robot attacking the Maverick Hunter Glaive, and the Director of Heriti corp taking on Dallet.

"Now, from the sources on the street, it seems about an hour ago, the Dragon bot here," Picture of Geetz, "..Tried to attack the bank from the front. While the little guy," Picture of Dallet, "..actually got inside and stole the money. The Maverick hunter attacked the Dragon-bot, and drove it up. However, the smaller robot managed to escape after surverly damaging the Hunter and Sewa. This is all we know at the moment, as no one was available for comment."

"And now in New York..."

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================================== IC News ===================================

Message: 18/106 Posted Author

Random Tidbit Fri Aug 20 Global News Network

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Coca Cola reports a ninety seven percent increase in product complaints within the last week.

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================================== IC News ===================================

Message: 18/105 Posted Author

Missing ...Children? Fri Aug 20 Global News Network

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*A reporter appears in front of the Texas Reploid Companny*

"Perhaps in response to Sigma's threats, and Sigma's actions, twenty seven reploids recently created reploids have gone missing, all of various planned occupations and builds.", he pauses, "It appears that all were three days old, and haven't finished their instruction and training."

Another pause from the reporter, "This just in...It appears we have received a message at GNN Headquarters. Playing it now. Warning, viewer discretion is advised."

The scene fades out and then soon after, Daryn appears. He appears to be in a warehouse of some sort.

"You choose to fight with children as your pawns, Sigma, I am willing to fight with your children too." Daryn says, crossing his arms. "In three days, most mass-produced reploids are intellectually that of children. You were nice and haven't shown the bodies of your victims yet, so I won't kill these just yet, but I assure you Sigma, every day that passes that those children aren't released, and for every child you kill, I will kill a reploid. If I run out and this conflict is not over...I will find more. I know how the corps work, it won't be hard at all to pick up defenseless children.", Daryn grins faintly, "But you already know that, don't you, Sigma?", he closes his eyes and then holds up a little remote and wiggles it around, "Now, Repliforce, I suggest you let the Coalition handle this one. You have your own work to do. As for me, there is a reason I sent this to GNN as a tape. You won't be able to track this to me. Hunters, well, you don't want to go into my territory without a real plan. But the Mavericks...I'll give you a real show if you drop by.", he smiles again, "I promise."

"Now, it's just about midnight here, so that's one death."

There is a pause as the image flickers out. When it reappears, a blindfolded, unarmored reploid is shown next to Daryn. It seems its arms have already been removed. The reploid takes a step forward before falling forward to a crash, "I deactivated his movement. Uh. It took a few times, been a while since I saw reploids beaten by megacorp officials.", Daryn smiles, it's sheepish this time, crouching by the reploid's legs, "As you can see by the lacerations here, and here, I have struck basically the human equivalent of muscles in the reploids, but first I hit the equivalent of nerves. Pain receptors. Pain receptors are useful for a reploid's development because it's the easiest way to tell a reploid what to avoid letting happen to them. Don't get hit here, don't overstress this little area there. Quickest way to learn how to fight, quickest way to learn survival. Mom and Dad's corp, well, they would teach reploids how to avoid pain by having these things in there, and then they'd strike these sorts of places without killing them, all in one swoop so a reploid would know all the right places."

Daryn stabs the pain receptors in the other legs, and the reploid screams, "See? If I stab right here," Daryn continues, "Then it's very painful. However...", he stabs deeply into the joint structure and the reploid lets out a softer gasp, "Here, I can avoid most of the pain receptors. There are less pain receptors here so the reploid can fight despite losing this leg.", Daryn rips the leg off and tosses it away.

"Now this reploid has no arms, no legs. I can really kill it at my leisure. However, there is a self destruct device..."

The reploid makes a muffled sound through his gag, eyes widening in terror and pain.

"Yes, they didn't tell you yet, they don't tell you about such things until after you're a soldier. Or at least, that's how it was done before Repliforce was totally fired. Well, the US still needs an army of its own.", he kisses the reploid's head.

And then he stabs it through the chest, "I just ruptured the link to the self destruct device. It has no defense left. These things are usually pretty amateur so they are easily removable. And now..."

Daryn decapitates the reploid.

"This is the second innocent reploid you made me kill, Sigma. I can handle the sin of killing children.", and with that Daryn presses something on his armor, a hidden button perhaps of some sort, and the armor falls apart revealing his chest. Carved across his body over and over with a knife is the word 'Penance'.

"Hope you find what you're looking for by tommorow, Sigma, or...you give up on it."

Daryn flickers out and the Reporter returns, "Er, well, this is fairly disturbing! It seems like not only are there human children at stake, but reploid children as well! Perhaps from this we simply learn that we all have common ground, either way, that's one reploid down, and we can only worry further about the 3rd graders now, and the reploids captured, we can only hope this crisis comes to an end before the casualties pile high."

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================================== IC News ===================================

Message: 18/104 Posted Author

Missing Children! Fri Aug 20 Global News Network

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*A reporter appears before a small parking lot infront of what appears to be an elementary school. Children scurry nervously in the background as several of the local authorities question some of the adults while others have dogs sniffing the immediate vicinity*

"Good evening, this is Mike Nagasaki reporting from Austin, Texas... where a small school of 300 has lost all of its 3rd grade students. The children were reported to have left the school grounds with their teacher on a bus heading for a botanical garden just 10 miles south of the area, however the bus never made it... and the bus never came back. The school bus, the children, the teacher, and the driver, are nowhere to be found. Police are doing a desperate search within a 30 mile radius, looking to solve this mystery. No accidents have been reported anywhere, and authorities fear that foul play is involved here. Distressed parents are in a panic, volunteers are coming in by the dozens to help with the search and-"

*The reporter pauses and taps into his earpiece*

"Ladies and gentleman, this just in. Authorities in /Boston/ have apperantly released information about having found a bus earlier today matching the description of the missing bus in Austin. Witnesses claim they saw a large object falling from the sky and into the Wildlife preserve, where they followed to find the mangled remains of the school transport. Witnesses claim that the bus looked in tact before crashing to the ground. A search has revealed that no bodies were found within. Burned into the roof of the bus seems to be the Maverick insignia. Authorities had this to comment..."

Police Officer: We didn't want to cause distress with the general public, we weren't sure if this was nothing more than a bluff by the Mavericks to cause chaos with thousands of parents and schools. Unfortunately, with recent developments in Texas, it seems that we were wrong. There is no bluff. Excuse me.

"It seems that Sigma has indeed been true to his promise to an extent. Already the school's PTA and district committee are pleading for Repliforce to return whatever it is that the Coalition wants in exchange for the safe return of the students. All eyes fall on General and the days ahead as everyone awaits... holding their breath. This is Mike Nakagawa, GNN."

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Iris arrives from the Lower Deck.

Iris has arrived.

Dr. Doppler's condition has not appreciably declined since yesterday, but it has certainly not improved. He has slept little, alternating with lying on the bad with restless pacing, and the occasional violent outburst. His hair and beard have been touseled with finger-combing, and his labcoat has gained more wrinkles. For the moment, he sits on the bed, hunched forward, rubbing his temples furiously.

Iris returns to the brig. "<< Father? It's me, I'm back! >>" she calls in cheerful German.

Dr. Doppler lowers his hands as he hears the title in which he takes the most pride, resting them on the edge of the bed. He is too weary to offer her a proper smile, but at least the scowl lessens. "<< Hello, my dear. >>"

Iris tilts her head, viewing Doppler worriedly. "<< Is there anything you might need? Something I could bring you? Someone by the name of Overclock called me yesterday -- absolutely frantic. He demanded I let you go. That isn't even in my power. But I did promise him I'd tell you he's very worried for you. >>"

Dr. Doppler's scowl deepens once more at the mention of the other Maverick scientist. "< Is he? He was upset that I am fighting so hard...he wanted me to give in, just like the others. >"

Iris says, "<< Well, he's under the very mistaken impression that we're hurting you. I told him that wasn't the case...has ANYONE been mistreating you at all? >>"

Dr. Doppler gives a mirthless chuckle. "< No.../he/ has been torturing me quite enough. >" He leans back, using the forcefield wall as a backrest, head canting toward the ceiling. ""

"<< You're right, there's others...but...you weren't captured to be killed. We want to help you, Father. I won't let any of them hurt you... >>" Iris leans against the forcefield, too, touching the palm of her hand against it.

Dr. Doppler is isolated for good reason, as they both know. Thus far he has infected all the equipment they have used on him. Willingly exposing the others to it is unacceptable. "< No, if you had wanted to kill me...I would be dead by now. At least...even if I cannot be cured, Prismatic can learn more from me...no, he is not a fool...no....did you give him the data I sent you? >"

"<>" Iris promises. "<< He's even more busy than I am these days. And for security reasons, I want to give the information to him in person. You can just guess who tried to hack our network recently. >>" Iris wrinkles her nose. She makes absolutely no excuses over how much she dislikes Cyber Peacock. "<< He won't admit it, but I beat the stuffing out of him. What gall he has! >>"

"< They want me back, >" Doppler says. "< They do not want to sacrifice a bishop in this game...or am I a rook? Too much trouble to have, to much of worth to lose...>" His eyes slip shut, his bushy brows knitting. "< No...I grow tired of this...leave me be...I do not want this. You are destroying my children...>"

Iris falls silent, looking on in wide-eyed concern. "<< We'll be okay, Father, >>" she insists.

Dr. Doppler raises his left hand to rub at his face. "< No no no....I have fought too hard...to give them what they deserved...>" His other hand clenches into a fist. "< You cannot have them. You cannot have /me/! >"

Iris falls silent, looking on in wide-eyed concern. "<< We'll be okay, Father, >>" she insists. "<< You've just got to keep believing that it's going to be alright! >>"

Dr. Doppler is barely listening to her - another battle of wills has begun. He growls, slamming his balled fist into the mattress. ""

Iris closes her eyes, and just...prays. When things get this desperate, it tears at her heart. Since she believes in a God, she believes that God has the answers and can intervene where she's helpless.

Dr. Doppler, unlike Iris, is a devout athiest. He does not believe in the glory of God. He believes in the glory of the Machine. One need only look at him to see just how much of himself he has sacrificed upon its altar. He has believed in the superiority of the machine since a small child, for it was the machine that kept him alive after his frail organic body turned upon itself, his muscles deteriorating to where they could no longer support him. The machine has supported him, given him succor, blessed him with a nation's worth of children.

Only now, for the first time, is his faith shaken.

He slams his fist again and again, a physical outlet for the war inside his mind. The whisper berates and begs in turn, hissing dire threats and murmuring soothing promises. Only give in, and the torment will stop....

Iris hates feeling helpless. She can't stand it. She just wants to run somewhere and cry. But she can't leave him, she /can't/ leave her own father when he's suffering so badly. Only this knowledge keeps her from fleeing.

Dr. Doppler's will and sheer stubborness sustains him. He slams his fist once more, but does not raise it again. He breathes deeply, almost but not quite to the point of hyperventilation. "" His body tenses...then finally, achingly relaxes. The last deep breath is decidedly ragged. "< And you do not control me, >" he adds as a whisper.

"<< That's right, Father, /you/ tell /it/ who's boss, >>" Iris says insistantly.

Dr. Doppler gives a weary sigh as he opens his eyes. They are green, but his normal shade of hazel and not the sickly green of the Virus. ""

Iris has her palms up against the forcefield, both of them. She just wants so desperately to hug Doppler, to comfort him. She looks almost like a sad pet left out in the cold rain.

Dr. Doppler has been left exhausted by this latest battle, and so remains lying against the forcefield. He does, however, turn his head and muster a wan smile for her. ""

"<>" Iris murmurs softly. "<< Please try to rest. I'll leave you be. >>" With that, she reluctantly pulls away from the forcefield.

"" Doppler says quietly. "< ....I will try to rest. Would you tell Prismatic that I wish to see him? >"

"<>" Iris promises. With that, she begins walking away, back toward the brig door.

Iris enters the Lower Deck.

Iris has left.

[Later...]

Mimos has arrived.

Dr. Doppler remains in his seven pace by five pace cell, the cage that protects the others from his active Virus infection. His condition has been deteriorating, but he has not yet given up the fight. At present, he sits on the bed, using the forcefield wall as a backrest. His folded labcoat rests at the head of the bed, an improvised pillow that is marginally more comfortable than the molded foam mattress.

Mimos has been in and out of here probably more often than she's supposed to be. No, she hasn't /spoken/ to Doppler all that much, but she's been at least by briefly every day, although often when he's asleep or, at least, not paying attention simply because of her work schedule. Today it looks like she's going to make one of those quick visits; she walks down the hall, quietly, to peek into Doppler's cell and judge his status.

Dr. Doppler is either asleep or in one of his more lucid moments. No rants assail her ears as she makes her way into the cellblock.

Mimos pauses just outside Doppler's cell, looking in and, as she always does, waiting about twenty seconds before she inquires softly, "Doctor? Are you awake?" If he's not, it shouldn't wake him (she hopes), but if he is, maybe he'll hear and turn towards her.

Dr. Doppler must be awake. He opens his eyes, turning his head toward the sound of the voice. "Mimos..." he says, mustering a thin smile. "Good day...evening?"

Mimos actually smiles back. "Hi. It's night where the Fortress is, actually, but that could change. They like to move it around." She can't open the forcefield - well, she can, but she's not supposed to - so instead she stays just outside, close to it and directly across from Doppler. Or as close as she can get, anyway. "How are you?"

"Tired," Doppler admits. His posture reflects this, as he does not even attempt to sit up straight as he normally would. "But I still have not lost....how are you?"

"Pretty good!" Mimos is, once again, pleasant and at least moderately upbeat. "And don't worry. You'll be fine, and we can get you out of here. I don't like seeing you locked in at /all/, but Prismatic Spider says I'm not to let you out. Otherwise I would."

Dr. Doppler notes, "It is for your own good, and for the others...you should not have to go through this, and I do not want you to catch it from me." He makes a weak gesture toward the forcefields that separates them. "This is a bother, but I accept it."

Mimos sounds sour. "That doesn't mean it's /right/." She actually leans on the forcefield, palms flat against it, after making sure that her own shielding is off. "But I didn't come here to make you feel bad. Do you need anything? I can get things to read, or something..."

"A little company," is Doppler's only request. He makes a little effort at sitting up, his back resting more flatly against the wall. "You look well."

Mimos looks somewhat baffled as to how to respond for a moment, and then she smiles again. "I am well. I did some painting, see?" She turns, letting Doppler see the work she's done on herself - apparently she's pretty flexible, because she's painted her own back.

Mimos

Mimos is not exactly what one thinks of when Reploids come to mind. To start, she's small. Very small. She's about three feet tall, give or take an inch or two, and has the somewhat different proportions of a child, with shorter, stubbier arms and a largish head.

Mimos' body also looks peculiarly unfinished, as if someone put the essentials on and then didn't bother making it look like anything in particular. Her torso, arms and legs are burnished steel or something the same hue; while the torso is shaped, the limbs are mostly slightly flattened cylinders with no detailing. Her fingers are also very plain, as if she was wearing steel gloves. Her legs don't have the standard Reploid 'boots'; while definitely boot-like, they don't have quite the same mass as many.

About the only thing with any details at all is her face; still silvery, it at least is shaped like a human face, though she has no ears but instead Reploid audio recievers, and her eyes look downright normal. In the middle of Mimos' forehead is a teal crystal that glitters at times. Right at the base of her head, imprinted in the metal, is a serial number (RMTS-473B-I0003), and a tiny Repliforce symbol.

She's also made some attempt at decoration. Around her arms and legs are very detailed linework reminiscent of Celtic knots, in various blues and greens; it goes up her limbs and around apparently randomly to her elbow and knee. On her front torso, bright and clear, a sea blue-green symbol is painted - the symbol of Repliforce.

Dr. Doppler looks her over appraisingly as she models for him, and gives a nod of approval. "Very nice...more colorful. It suits you."

Mimos actually grins. "Do you think so? - Actually, that's something I can give you. I'm going to bring you one of my paintings, next time I visit. Maybe it'll look more like a room then."

"An artist, then," Doppler says, his voice tired but tone approving. "It is good to see you expanding your interests."

Mimos nods. "I'm trying. It was hard at first, because everything looked too much like what I was drawing and people said it was boring. But I got better. Do you do any art? I never asked."

Dr. Doppler's expression grows less morose, the conversation and its topic a welcome distraction. "Even reploids must learn with practice. I'm sure your drawings will grow better with time....hm? I learned the violin when I was younger, after my first surgeries." With a little effort, he extends his left hand, cupping his fingers. "It was good practice, to learn how to control my new body."

Mimos nods. "I thought about learning how to play a musical instrument, but I don't have time to practice, and it's hard to watch someone play a musical instrument and copy it." Which is, of course, what she /normally/ does to learn things when she's being lazy. "And they are."

================================= Repliforce =================================

Message: 14/65 Posted Author

Re: Doppler Sat Aug 21 Jared Kintane

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"Hey. Jared here. Granted, I've never been much on investigating the nature of the Sigma Virus, but if you guys give me a bit of a crash course, I do know a little bit. Not to mention as an old-school hacker, I might be liable to try a few twists on applying the cure to Doppler. Get a hold of me if you might think this is a good idea Prism. It's either that, or I'm going to locate Mr. Daryn Luna for his stunt with the Reploid kids. Jared out."

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Dr. Doppler lowers his hand once more. "Some things are worth a little effort." He pauses a moment. "I have missed you. But I am glad to see you happy."

Somewhere on the MUSH, Gray has disconnected.

Mimos smiles. "It's good. I didn't really want to leave you there. I /like/ you," she states, quite frankly. "I just don't like a lot of other people there or what they're doing. I'm glad to see you here, even if it isn't forever."

Prismatic Spider has arrived.

"War demands a high price, sometimes..." Doppler says. "...but one day, when the war is over, we will be able to give up our weapons and build a better world." Of course, his theoretical better world has reploids at its center, with humans on the periphery at best.

Mimos's world doesn't really specify. Even if humans /do/ still make her somewhat skittish, she just doesn't think that way anymore. "I hope so. I only do it now because it's what I know, and it does things that need to be done."

Long distance to Prismatic Spider: Dr. Doppler has also had a couple of violent outbursts - no more plastic cups for him.

"So long as it is by your own choice," Doppler says with a sigh. "At least those swine in Seoul do not pull your strings anymore. While I cannot see why you still defend humans, I accept that you've chosen that for yourselves."

Mimos shrugs. "Most of them are just /there/. They don't do anything. Just like most Reploids. I'm all right with that as long as they don't do anything that's going to hurt me, and since most of them don't, I don't see why they count any differently."

"That is part of the trouble with them. Their apathy. They simply do not care unless forced into caring," Doppler says.

Mimos points out, "Neither do a lot of Reploids. Trust me, I talk to a lot. They're just...people. They don't get involved because that's what other people do. I don't like it, but everyone does it."

Dr. Doppler's expression is skeptical, but he does not press the point. To do so would invite an opening to the whisper.

Mimos stays just as quiet for about a quarter minute before, just like usually, she feels compelled to say something. "So, um..." It was, however, not a particularly good something.

Dr. Doppler finds that he's missed her banter. He had been quite fond of her when she was in the Coalition, and not even her defection into Octavius' camp has completely extinguished that. "Have you learned to control your forcefields?"

Soul Nightshade arrives from the Lower Deck.

Soul Nightshade has arrived.

Mimos nods, cheerfully. "Yup! I can do a lot of things, especially now that I figured out how to run the ones in my legs - here, watch." She literally steps up into the air as if she was climbing a ladder - and hangs there, standing inches above the floor for a few moments before dropping back down. "Although it's hard to balance."

Dr. Doppler nods, a pleased expression showing though the exhaustion. "Well done. Well done. If you adjust your gyro-stabilizers, it may help. Byte's stabilizers must be specially calibrated so he may hover without losing his balance."

Soul Nightshade

Short hair a bright bleached white is a shocking sight on this bioroid, slicked back, and spiked off the back of his head. The bangs of the hair frame the man's face, and appear to be much longer than the rest of his hair, falling to his chin. The synthetic sclera of his eyes are a faint yellow, with irises of crimson rimming where his pupils would be, save they don't exist. His skin is a sicky pale green, with pink 'spiderwebs' of veins pulsating on his cheeks leading to his eyes. His nose is long and thin, with a hawkish point that suits his high, hallow cheekbones and pointed chin well. His neck is long and slender, with the same pink spiderwebs where a human's veins would be.

Currently he's dressed for work in the Laboratories of Repliforce's MSE. He's wearing a high collar white button up shirt, with the collar starched up, and slightly wrinkled. His slacks are simple cargo khakis, fitting tightly around a pair of enormous black stabilizer boots common to the mechanical race. Overtop all of this is a long flowing labcoat, with the Repliforce MSE insignia embroidered upon the right breast pocket, and a most peculiar sight on the left. A large Deadly Nightshade blossom protrudes from his chest, like a boudinere pinned, except it goes into the bioroid. Also, should he ever roll up the sleeves of his coat, one will see his large black forarms, with crystal eliptical globes going through each forearm. Inside these globes are a dark green viscous liquid, occasionally bubbling ominously. Inside the liquid are plants, small and varied, with the occasional blossom so bright it shines through the slime.

"I might try that." Mimos seems pleased with the suggestion. "I thought I was going to just have to get used to it. It's easier on water," she adds. "Mostly I only use it to stay quiet or go over things. It's too much of a pain otherwise."

Soul Nightshade walks into the Brig, the quiet bioroid not coming anywhere near Dr. Doppler at the moment, several viral barrier protocols in place around his body. He looks over at Dr. Doppler, his face calm, as he looks over the chart in his hands. "Hello, Mimos." he says to the ninja. "Doctor."

Dr. Doppler is still in his cell, and thus far has made no attempt to escape. Mimos is a welcome distraction during this more lucid moment. The new visitor is unnoticed at first, until he calls attention to himself. "Good evening." At least he presumes it is still evening.

Mimos is just outside the cell; she could reach out and touch the forcefield if she was so inclined. "Hello. Um, did you need to speak to him? I know I spend a lot of time down here, I can come back later."

Soul Nightshade pulls a pen from his labcoat, and makes a mark on the chart. "Considering the Doctor is known to fits of dementia, and he is currently lucid in your presence, I'd actually prefer you to remain." is Soul's reply, as he starts to write. "Doctor, my name is Soul. How are we feeling today?"

Dr. Doppler is sitting on the bed, using the forcefield-wall as a bakrest, since his location was not actually mentioned.

"Oh. Okay." Mimos still looks a lot less settled with someone else around and in the conversation; she stays fairly quiet, letting Soul doing the talking.

Dr. Doppler scowls a bit. "It is not dementia," he says sourly. "It is the Virus." At least in his mind, he really is speaking to a voice that is not his own. He hunches forward, resting hands on his knees. "Tired. Very tired. The battle is tiring me more each time."

Soul Nightshade nods calmly, checking off another list. "Have you been properly scanned by an organic physician, Doctor?" asks Soul. "And forgive the dementia comment, I was not trying to imply it was self-originated. How long has it been since the fits began, Dr.?"

Mimos just stands there for a question or two. And then she inquires, somewhat sharply, "Do you have to ask all those questions like that? They're so...rude. It's like he's not a people to you."

Dr. Doppler thinks for a moment, answering the second question first. "About a month, I think. Perhaps longer, because I did not realize that the voice was not mine at first. It has been worst these past two weeks." He reaches up with his left hand, rubbing his forehead. "Define 'properly' scanned. My normal physician is a member of the Coalition."

Soul Nightshade doesn't look up. "I'm not being rude, Mimos, I'm asking direct questions to what I thought was a prisoner." he replies, before finally looking at her. "..Why? Does it anger you that I would speak to the Doctor like an equal?" he asks. "...How long have you been exposed to the Doctor, Mimos?"

"I got checked this morning, if that's what you're asking." Mimos sounds somewhat grumpy. "Not that long. And he's a prisoner, but he's still a person, and a good person. Be nice."

Dr. Doppler is technically not a prisoner, but neither is he exactly a guest. One would need to ask his son about his exact classification. "It is all right, Mimos," he says quietly.

Soul Nightshade clears his throat, and looks back to the Doc. "Doctor. How long have you been exposed to the Virus, and to what concentration? Meaning, the same that any average Maverick would? I ask, because if you have, then the Virus is having a direct effect on your cerebrum, specificly the levels of dopamine currently being released into your bloodstream. If it's beyond that, it could just be from your extensive cybernetics."

Mimos doesn't look satisfied, but she /does/ shut up again, without another word even.

Dr. Doppler's tone of voice grows irritable at the question, though he does not snap. "I am Viceroy of the Coalition. While I have not been active in role of medic, I lived in Berlin and visited often by the others, including my sons."

Soul Nightshade nods. "So there's no way of knowing if the Virus is actually affecting tissue without a biopsy. Would you be willing to consent to one?"

"Yes," Doppler says with a certain resignation. Given the extent of his cybernetic enhancements, one can imagine that he has grown accustomed to being under the surgeon's knife.

Prismatic Spider enters the Lower Deck.

Prismatic Spider has left.

Soul Nightshade makes another check, and nods. "Mimos, if you'd like to stay, I'm going to need you in a hazmat suit." he says, as he reaches over for the briefcase he brought with him, containing his own private biohazard suit. "Dr. Doppler, I'm going to lower the forcefield to be able to perform the biopsy. Do you require sedation, or can we trust you to be aquiescent?"

Mimos doesn't go and get a hazmat suit. Instead, a rapidly spreading shimmer of rainbow covers her as she raises her own forcefield. It's good enough for /her/. "There. I'll stay here."

Mimos projects a forcefield around herself.

"I would not trust me," Doppler says clinically. "I can't say when he may try again for control." He moves from sitting to lying on the bed, his folded labcoat a makeshift pillow.

Soul Nightshade puts on his suit, and deactivates the forcefield. A hand lifts, and fires a single pressurized syringe for Doppler, hopefully knocking him out.

Mimos just /stands/ there, not too far away. She looks uncomfortable, judging by her posture; she looks right at Soul, frowning somewhere under the shimmer of her forcefield.

*tang!* The dart strikes true, hitting him directly in the chest. Unfortunately, his remaining organic tissue is quite well shielded. The tip of the syringe lodges in an armored plate. With a sigh, Doppler reaches up with his right hand and plucks it from its resting place. He fumbles for a moment with his left forearm, opening an access panel just below his elbow. Once done, he jabs the syringe into the resivoir normally meant to regulate his other medications, emptying the sedative into it. Then he settles once again, leaving the panel open just in case Soul needs to administer more.

Soul Nightshade steps forward, 30-guage syringe in hand. But since Doppler was kind enough to reveal his arterial system for him, this shouldn't be too difficult. He places the syringe into a vein, releasing another dose of potent sedatives, as well as a mild painkiller. Then, taking another syringe, Soul places it in Doppler's scalp, and presses, slowly removing the blood and cerebral fluid that surrounds all organics' brains. After getting a couple CCs, he removes the syringe tip, and throws it in a biohazard container. Then, he activates the onboard computer in his BioHazard suit, to start scanning the good Doctor. "Mimos...are you good at dictating?"

Mimos looks very slightly away from the 'operation'. "I don't forget anything. If you say anything, I can repeat it back to you later or write it down or whatever."

Dr. Doppler is adequately sedated. Aside from a weak grunt, he does not stir during the operation. Respiration and heart rates remain steady, in part due to their cybernetic nature.

Soul Nightshade places the fluid in a test-tube carrier, before turning back to Mimos, and nodding. He turns back to the patient. "Subject is extensively modified cyberneticly. At this point, survival is impossible without mechanics. Heart rate remains steady despite large quantities of morphine and demerol. Resperation also steady." Out comes a small rubber hammer, that Soul taps on the knee of the lying Doctor. "Reflexes remain sound, even when asleep. This suggests that motor control is not under biological influence."

Mimos acts exactly like she normally does - she stands fairly still, though not unnaturally so, and listens. "Okay. I have a question - that's not bad, is it? That just means he's a cyborg. We knew that."

Soul Nightshade doesn't answer. "Cerebral activity limited to artifical electricity in regards to motor control and the limbic system. Cybernetic implants regulate the hypothalamus, including body temperature, hunger, sleep, and sex drive....and language centers. Hmm." Soul leans in a bit, his fingers dancing in the air as he navigates his helmet's computers VR keyboard. Soul grunts in surprise. "The Doctor should not be in as good a condition as he is. He's suffered a stroke, the cybernetic implants are compensating. He should be dead."

Mimos blinks at the word 'dead'. Not what she was expecting at all. This time, though, she doesn't ask questions, seeing as she'd probably just be ignored again; she rocks forward and back on her feet.

Soul Nightshade keeps working but Soul is no longer speaking. Another needle is exposed, and plunged directly into the exposed spinal column of the doctor, removing a small bit of spinal fluid. "Subject has referred to himself in the third person before sleeping, suggesting a possible psychotic breach. One would blame this on an isolated traumatic event, or quite possibly the Virus. Time will tell."

Mimos says, under her breath, "And you're the one saying 'subject' over and over again." She's careful to keep it quiet enough that Soul won't easily be able to hear her.

Soul Nightshade gets one last syringe, and rolls the man to his stomach. "Cerebral, and spinal fluid has been extracted, to rule out infection of both Sigma and biological. Hemoglobin extracted for general tests to ensure /patient's/ health." Whether or not he heard you, Soul seemed to have gotten the idea. "Patient is now being administered a mild stimulant, as the barriers are being put back into place. Reminder to followup on the patient verbally, for a psychological evaluation."

Soul injects, rises, and reactivates the forcefield.

Mimos steps back out of the cell as well; she likes Doppler, but she'd rather not get locked in with him, if only because she's not real fond of being locked anywhere. When the forcefield is up, she lowers her own, the rainbow shimmer disappearing in a flash.

Mimos lowers her forcefield.

Dr. Doppler is slow to re-awaken, in part because his sleep-deprived body would like very much to continue resting. It takes him several minutes to stir, and another minute to roll over onto his back. "Mmph."

Soul Nightshade removes his helmet first, than the rest of the HazMat suit. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey." murmurs the doctor, with a polite smile. Soul seems much more pleasant now, his tone softer, and more concerned. "Now, Doctor. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright. And they may seem rather personal. Is this okay with you?"

"Give him a couple minutes!" Mimos seems, once again, shocked and irate. She actually mostly /looks/ worried, though; she's right up near the forcefield.

Dr. Doppler slowly reaches up to rub at his face with his left hand, a gesture that has become incrasingly common over the past few weeks. He answers in German, his mind too muddled to think in English. "< Tired... >" he complains vaguely.

Soul Nightshade looks at Mimos, befuddled. "You catch that?" he asks.

Mimos repeats back in what /sounds/ like flawless German, "< Tired... >" She even uses exactly the same inflection. Then, in English: "I don't speak German very well, but he said he was tired. Um, if he starts /really/ talking, though, you need another translator."

Dr. Doppler says nothing further for the moment, his hand eventually coming to rest atop his chest. He seems to be in no hurry to sit up.

Soul Nightshade nods. "Dr. Doppler, we'll talk later. For now, get some rest. Mimos, feel free to stay with him...but please remember. There are alot of people that are nervous about him being here. Having a former Maverick with him doesn't help."

"That's nice," Mimos says, remarkably pleasantly. "They can tell me that if they're that worried. In the meantime I'll stay here." She seats herself near the forcefield entrance, apparently ready to stay for a while.

Soul Nightshade gives one final look back. "I trust you, Mimos. Honest to God. But this still makes me nervous."

And with that, Soul heads out of the brig, carrier and case in hand.

Dr. Doppler gives a small sigh as answer. In a few moments, he is asleep again, hopefully one without dreams.

Soul Nightshade enters the Lower Deck.

Soul Nightshade has left.