Log:Robot Aftermath, Bee and Yameen

Guilt Complex 2013/08/04 	 Bee Yameen 7

Champions Mush - Sunday, August 04, 2013, 12:47 PM

Port

''The smell of salty air and marsh is the most apparent here at the port of Colonial Bay. To the left, the sturdy automatic cargo cranes stand tall and await the container freight vessels that transport goods into and out of the city. Most of the work is done by the large, efficient machines. ''

''Over to the right, there is the Marina, where various pleasure craft and fishing boats rock gently in their moorings, tied by secure lines. The private vessels range in size from 16-foot cruisers to 32-foot yachts. The marina also rents out various water sport equipment as well as modern speed boats and fishing vessels for the day. There is one old-fashioned riverboat with paddlewheel propulsion, which provides pleasure cruises and caters to weddings. ''

The scene at the port is perhaps more chaotic than in the moments preceding and containing the disaster. Fleeing individuals, violent mecha, and derailing train are now replaced by a horde of individuals scurrying about the wreckage. Some record sections of the current scene while others move in after to take samples or begin cleanup.

A large temporary shelter stands some distance away from highest concentration of debris and damage. Beneath it, medical personnel attend to minor injuries. The more critically injured were transported to hospitals some time ago. Several others beyond such aid lie at the far end of the shelter, concealed under tarps or within zippered black bags.

Bee flies in and buzzes over the site. Her wings allow her to fly lower than news helicopters, but she still tries to stay high enough that her humming wings do not disturb what is soon to be a crime scene. In addition to looking over the damage, she also looks at the coordinated efforts of those below, trying to locate the person she can best talk to, to insert herself into the efforts to assist with the least disruption.

While there are many uniformed individuals scattered about the area, there is a small concentration near the shelter. Several port workers, some recently treated for superficial wounds, are involved in conversations with police, port authority, and other agency representatives. Amidst all the uniforms, there are also a few in suits or other plan clothes.

Bee lands and walks up the individual that seems to be directing others where to go. "How can I help?" she says simply. "I have first aide training and a low power suit that lets me comfortably lift 800 lbs. It isn't much, but I think, at minimum, an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt."

Said individual is in a tan suit and recently completed an update from a uniform on one of the injured witness' statement. He looks over, gives Bee a once-over and shrugs. "The scene is secure, and processing is well underway. All the injured are in treatment, and CBPD is at the hospitals to take statements from the other survivors. We're waiting on heavy equipment for the wreckage and the ME's office for the ones that weren't so lucky." He gestures with his pen towards the far end. "I don't know that there's much for you to do, ma'am, though we appreciate the offer."

Bee looks toward the bodies. "Well, if nothing urgent needs doing, how about we get those poor folks out of the sun and to the morgue. Do you have a van I can borrow?"

The man frowns and actually glances towards the several unfortunates. "I don't like leaving them out here in the open, either, but..." An ill-timed gust of wind lifts the corner of one tarp, revealing a leg next to an arm in an arrangement that suggest extreme flexibility or dismemberment. He turns a little pale and reaches into a pocket. "Here. Take my SUV. The back's already empty." Keys are offered. His pallor returns with a mild stern look. "Just make sure the ME's office fills out all the paperwork and holds it for us." Heroes or not, there's still procedure.

Bee finds a tarp for the back of the van, and a bucket - just in case. The work isn't glamorous and Bee has to pause often, but it is work that needs to be done. She grits her teeth, tries to breath through her mouth, and does it.

Most of the bodies are of uniformed officers involved in a losing battle between flesh and anti-material calibre projectiles. The results are decidedly unpleasant for more than just the victim. One is perhaps a conspicuous oddity: a petite female in somewhat paramilitary attire, her face and head covered in a headscarf. There are no firearm wounds and minimal blood pool or stains. Internal injuries, perhaps.

One of these things is different than the others. Bee pauses at the anomalous body. She inspects the head for signs of blunt force trauma. Pulling off her bloody gloves and tucking them in her belt, she checks the bones of the ribs by feel to see if one has broken loose and stabbed the underlying organs.

Pressure reveals that internal injuries are indeed present. The woman's ribs offer little resistance and crackle like puffed rice in milk. The close inspection also reveals a narrow, yet tall, wound through her sternum that seems to continue completely through her torso. The lack of blood is likely due to a great lack of blood in the body by the time it was recovered.

Bee frowns in concentration, trying to figure out what kind of injury could cause such a wound but not break the skin. But just then a scent-laden breeze reminds her that she is not finished. Leaving that body where it lies, she moves on to the next one and resumes loading the SUV. Like all the others: lift the tarp to look this person over (in what is hopefully not just morbid curiosity), lay the body one piece at a time on something that will hold liquids, them move it to the SUV before coming back for the next.

The remainder are more heavy and less intact, but the tarps make the task much easier. A nearby officer is also willing to assist with the unpleasant, but necessary task so that it can be done with some dignity to the deceased. It should only require a few minutes to load the bodies for the trip to the medical examiner.

Bee finishes the disgusting the work and offers the officer her bucket if he needs it too. Then she turns to the last body. She needs tools to do a proper inspection and is heading to the morgue anyway. Might as well load it in the van with the rest. She pauses one last time to look the body over, memorizing everything she can in case some important clue goes missing between now and when she can inspect it properly later.

Yameen 

''This figure is feminine and petite, though few other details are readily apparent. A black and gray patterned headscarf covers most of her hair, leaving only a few raven strands exposed. The same scarf is also folded across her nose and mouth, leaving only her brown eyes exposed. ''

''The remainder of her clothing speaks of militant activity. A simple black shirt snugly covers her lean frame, tucked into a pair of camouflage patterned pants with a number of cargo pockets. The belt that holds them up also bears numerous small knives. Pairs of gloves and boots complete the ensemble, both in black leather. ''

The body is not completely without surface wounds: there is a flesh wound to the thigh from a blade or shrapnel, and a similar, but more significant wound to the abdomen. A possible hypothesis for the broken bones could be a fall or other sudden impact. The woman may have been struck or crushed by the train, or possibly on board when the derailment occurred.

Bee puts her gloves back on and checks over the knife scabbards. She pulls out a blade to verify they do not easily slide/fall out. If they are secure, a missing blade or two would mean she may have died with them in her hands. More than two likely means she throws them.

All of the blades appear secure and accounted for. They are small, light, and constructed of a single piece of metal without additional material for grip.

Bee sighs, and says to the corpse. "You are dressed for action, but I don't think you saw it coming. Did you?" She then puts the blade back and moves this body like all the rest.

Yameen is loaded with the others. The SUV is spacious, but the quantity does require two or more layers be stacked.

Bee closes the back door, removes her wing harness and places it on the passenger seat so she can sit down, and prepares to drive away. She goes two feet before the SUV comes to a screeching halt. The door flies open and she dry-heaves on the pavement. Then she simply wipes her mouth with the forearm of her glove, rolls down all the windows that she can and tries again.

There is an unexpected sight in the rear-view mirror. Specifically, the woman without any real blood volume and the impalement wound to the chest is now seated upright where she was laid.

Bee pulls around the corner out of sight of all the officers and parks. Running back to the rear door, she flings it open and hops as carefully as she can inside to help the injured woman.

Bee thinks .oO (Dammit girl, you are smarter than this. Check for a pulse next time!)

Yameen still has one hand braced on the side of the van from the sudden turn when the door is opened. "Do you weesh me to drive?" She speaks with a strong accent.

Bee pauses for half a heartbeat, then says, "You regenerate." An accusation more than a question.

"I am blessed," Yameen explains, "Death cannot hold me. Did the train explode? Were others harmed? Where are we?" Following the numerous questions, she pauses to inspect her fingers briefly.

Bee helps Yameen out of the van and closes the door. "The track blew but the train did not. Others were harmed. We are around the corner from the site. Care to tell me your version of what happened?"

Yameen is quite ambulatory and even healthy, for a dead woman. She exits the van and dips her head once. "Large robots attacked the port and injured or killed many. They were stopped, but had self-destruct devices. One damaged the tracks. We slowed the train, and a metal man attempted to bridge the damaged track."

Bee stands so that Yameen doesn't have to look inside the van and realize where she's been. She nods and says, "Then what happened?"

"The train derailed. I do not know what happened after this," Death may not keep her, but it's possible that it does take Yameen on occassion, "until I woke here."

Bee says, "Your chest was crushed, something hazardous was on the train and HAZMAT teams kept everyone out for several hours. Other than that, I don't know much more. Do you know where the robot came from or why it was there?""

Yameen nods once. "Good." She shakes her head after. "I do not know from where the five robots originated or their true goal if it was not the train."

Bee says, "Wait, 'five' robots?""

"Yes," Yameen explodes. "Several meters tall, they possessed autocannons, blades, a saw weapon, and guided missiles. They appeared autonomous or controlled remotely."

Bee says, "Were all defeated or did some of them succeed at anything?"

Yameen continues, "They were stopped, but they did cause destruction and chaos. One did not immediately detonate, and may be the only evidence that remained."

Bee helps Yameen go wherever she needs to go (even if that is just around the corner to the cops) and finishes her rather gruesome duty. She does have the kind officer's SUV cleaned and detailed before she returns it to him.