July 8 // The Master, OPEN
Date: 7/8, mid-afternoon
Characters: The Master, open
Location: Food Storage, Machine Shop
Summary: The satellites are finished, save for one final touch.
Warnings: Amorality regarding the dead, postmortem surgery (to be honest, this weirds me out, but that might just be because I'm writing it). Technomagic. (Spam spammity scheme scheme spam?)
It was purely coincidence that the Master happened upon Richard Hammond's body in one of the walk-in refrigerators. But what serendipitous coincidence! As evidenced by the small collection of disassembled portables (numbers 8-10) that had dotted the machine shop in recent days, mobile computing power had been hard to integrate into the satellites. He'd decided to move the largest of the satellites to a temperature-controlled environment, one that could be made cold enough to allow the circuits to integrate properly with the radio controls, and instead what he'd found, in the one refrigerator that was free of food, was a better computer. He hadn't known Hammond all that well in his interim here, but he seemed to have been a reasonable-enough man. No strong irrational streaks, and if it was going to be recycled anyway, it wouldn't be difficult at this point to strip the brain down and rework it for a different purpose. It had been more than three weeks since his death, but whoever had dressed the body had done well. The two halves had even been sewn together with dental floss, something the Master found rather quaint, in spite of himself. He suspected that this was Robin's temporary solution until a funeral could be held. Quite useful, that was. After a quick jaunt to the medical lab for a scalpel, bonesaw, and a few other supplies to disguise the cut afterward (carefully avoiding Robin's camera), and a quick check to make sure no one else was likely to interrupt, he set about carefully removing the brain, the satellite sitting at his feet.
Within half an hour he'd removed the brain entirely, and a half hour more saw the body restored to a near-pristine condition. The only sign of what he'd done was some slight matting of the hair around the incision point, and luckily Hammond's hair was long and messy enough to cover it almost completely. Someone would have to look very closely at the back of his head to notice something was missing. Something he certainly wasn't going to need anymore, anyway, but the fact that you could tell at all made the Master nervous anyway. He'd found himself looking over his shoulder more than usual--both literally and figuratively--while working. This was a bigger risk than he'd taken yet here. A perception filter, even a basic one, would work wonders in a space as small as this. He moved the idea farther up his mental list of things to complete while he was here.
Moving the brain back to the machine shop was all that remained. The satellite was quickly retrofitted to hold it in place--fine-tuning could be done at a later time, in a place where he'd look less suspicious than inside a walk-in refrigerator with a dead body. With the remaining computer parts and wires in one hand, he hefted the satellite and carried it back toward the machine shop, satisfied with this fortuitous turn of events.
((The chat plan still stands as well, since the Master is still working in the Machine Shop.))
Characters: The Master, open
Location: Food Storage, Machine Shop
Summary: The satellites are finished, save for one final touch.
Warnings: Amorality regarding the dead, postmortem surgery (to be honest, this weirds me out, but that might just be because I'm writing it). Technomagic. (Spam spammity scheme scheme spam?)
It was purely coincidence that the Master happened upon Richard Hammond's body in one of the walk-in refrigerators. But what serendipitous coincidence! As evidenced by the small collection of disassembled portables (numbers 8-10) that had dotted the machine shop in recent days, mobile computing power had been hard to integrate into the satellites. He'd decided to move the largest of the satellites to a temperature-controlled environment, one that could be made cold enough to allow the circuits to integrate properly with the radio controls, and instead what he'd found, in the one refrigerator that was free of food, was a better computer. He hadn't known Hammond all that well in his interim here, but he seemed to have been a reasonable-enough man. No strong irrational streaks, and if it was going to be recycled anyway, it wouldn't be difficult at this point to strip the brain down and rework it for a different purpose. It had been more than three weeks since his death, but whoever had dressed the body had done well. The two halves had even been sewn together with dental floss, something the Master found rather quaint, in spite of himself. He suspected that this was Robin's temporary solution until a funeral could be held. Quite useful, that was. After a quick jaunt to the medical lab for a scalpel, bonesaw, and a few other supplies to disguise the cut afterward (carefully avoiding Robin's camera), and a quick check to make sure no one else was likely to interrupt, he set about carefully removing the brain, the satellite sitting at his feet.
Within half an hour he'd removed the brain entirely, and a half hour more saw the body restored to a near-pristine condition. The only sign of what he'd done was some slight matting of the hair around the incision point, and luckily Hammond's hair was long and messy enough to cover it almost completely. Someone would have to look very closely at the back of his head to notice something was missing. Something he certainly wasn't going to need anymore, anyway, but the fact that you could tell at all made the Master nervous anyway. He'd found himself looking over his shoulder more than usual--both literally and figuratively--while working. This was a bigger risk than he'd taken yet here. A perception filter, even a basic one, would work wonders in a space as small as this. He moved the idea farther up his mental list of things to complete while he was here.
Moving the brain back to the machine shop was all that remained. The satellite was quickly retrofitted to hold it in place--fine-tuning could be done at a later time, in a place where he'd look less suspicious than inside a walk-in refrigerator with a dead body. With the remaining computer parts and wires in one hand, he hefted the satellite and carried it back toward the machine shop, satisfied with this fortuitous turn of events.
((The chat plan still stands as well, since the Master is still working in the Machine Shop.))