Who: The Rani, Cobra Commander, Minion!Wichita, Harper
What: Guess who got his respiratored ass hauled in for horrible experiments and needs rescuing?
Where: The Rani's lab.
When: At some point this week that jives with the other plots going on.
Warnings: Mad science. An increasingly invasive series of medical test, probably. Possible violence
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Comments 16
At least they let him keep his gas mask. He needed it to live (no, he didn't)!
The Commander hissed at the assistants as they set him up on the table, then directed his attention at the woman who was obviously in charge. "What is the meaning of thissss... this... CHICANERY!" He'd recently found a "word a day" calendar in one of his rummaging fits, and he'd been working hard to incorporate it into his daily vocabulary.
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The wheezing she heard was consistent with the kinds of chronic chest troubles that so many people seemed to have in the nastier parts of the Master's urban wastelands. Hard to say if it had the promise of the mutant she had investigated earlier ... "Remove the gas mask," she snapped, gesturing to one of the assistants.
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Nothing interesting. She traded out the autorefractor for an otoscope and a tongue depressor. First she took a look in his ears and nose, none too gently in either case. Both were fairly disgusting, but that was normal for the freaks and the scum; and anyway there was nothing interesting to be seen. "Open your mouth. Or it will be opened for you."
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