[quote=Theron]"Fortunate for us he ain't about to go anywhere fast with no limbs and only his essentials still kicking. So once he's on, shouldn't be too trying for you. You seem to know way too much for your own good on how to make a bot talk."[/quote]
"Not bots, really. Just...[i]in general[/i]. Probably not much better, but those are the breaks." Tracy muttered as he drew independent measures of all three substances via the electronic syringe, which with a quick press of its tactile interface sorted and stored all three separately within. He gestured for Theron to present his arm for better viewing of the small screen on the arm of his jacket. With his arms wrapped around Theron's as the two men sat on the edge of the bed, the Hunter's GENX Olfactory boosters let him get a [i]real[/i] good - if not necessarily welcome - read on Tracy's biochemistry. 

Whoever this guy was - corporate had run his face, optical data, and voiceprint through their database and come up with absolutely nothing when Theron had consulted them via the kiosk from earlier - he was clearly a lot more than just the homeless bum slash rock-bottom dreckhead ganger aestheric he was rocking. He had been wearing the same set of clothes for the last several days by the smell of them, and Theron's boosted metabolic genetic molecular identifiers let him individually sort and process each individual scent. Unlike a hardware booster, he couldn't identify any of what he smelled unless he had sniffed something similar previously, but binding enzymes in his nasal cavity and tongue could even retain samples of what he detected so corporate could identify anything he couldn't later. Which was great, because Tracy was giving off a lot of scents that Theron had never encountered before that were throwing up all sorts of warning bells. The few he did were already telling.

First and foremost, once Theron got past the thick musk of sebum cortisone Tracy exuded like an excess of cheap cologne, he smelled ionized air, the kind of dirty, polluted heavy murk thick with tension while a thunder-storm rolled by. He also smelled like a tremendously illegal military-grade category three broad-spectrum performance enhancing drug called Xcell, motor oil, a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and isopropyl alcohol, the process-oil whiff of plastic explosives, faint traces of some kind of perfume, and...

Bunched up with all the others was something particularly iffy. He had no idea what it was, but it actually [i]stung[/i] his nose a little at some indiscernible level, whatever it was, even though he was only smelling remnants of it in the parts per million range. If nothing else, it might have even been distinctive enough to identify a specific locale, so it would definitely be worth running by corporate when he got back to them.

Beyond that, he could smell the cheap printed plastic replica uzi Tracy had obviously concealed in his overcoat, and he could smell the oils and smears left all over its grip and trigger that belonged to a completely different person. And then there was the duffel bag. Tracy was still awkwardly hoisting the bag around with both his hands on Theron's arm as though putting the thing down still simply had not occurred to him, despite the fact that it had to weigh a decent amount from the smell of all the spare clothes in it. Possibly even heavier, in fact - the clothes in the bag were [i]so[/i] odoriferous that Theron could not actually tell if there was anything else concealed inside.

"Ok, I'm not exactly a wizard here," Tracy grunted. "...but all biomonitor hardware is required by Federal and Corporate law to use the same handshake protocols and conversion packets. So that competing corporate profit margins don't get in the way of triage and medical interventions, yeah? And his biomonitor should have his stats..."

He wrapped his fingers and thumbs around Theron's forearm awkwardly as he used the arm-mounted panel's switches to move through the plethora of corporate-aesthetic safe-mode desktop menus, muttering breathily as he went for several minutes while navigating the unwieldy designed-for-consumer plasticrap software. Eventually, he found what he was looking for - Golemeth's CABMI (Cybernetics Adjusted Body Mass Index).

"Good enough." Tracy said hoarsely as he picked up the electronic syringe again, and manipulated the injection measurements for all three separate fluids. He then flipped open the safety-slide for the mechanism and pushed down on the plunger, the device dispensing its contents with a mechanical hiss. Putting the syringe down again, Tracy then yanked on Theron's arm again - somewhat more insistently than was strictly necessary - and spent another minute or so just eyeballing Golemeth's rapidly fluttering vitals.

"Again, good enough. At least for now. Brain-blood toxicity may become a small issue in a day or so once all that gunk finally peels away from his axons, but your bosses can worry about that when [i]they[/i] have him on the slab in a considerably more sterile environment. Let's see what he has to say." He spent another few moments navigating panels on Theron's arm-mounted control panel, and redirected power from the biomonitor in Theron's arm to the one in what remained of Golemeth's chest, and then set both to restore functionality to the wiring responsible for running Golemeth's higher autonomic functions. Golemeth's awakening was uneventful and anticlimatic. His eyes flickered open and his slackened jaw opened and closed a few times, his tongue rolling about in his mouth as his eyes blearily traced eddies in the ceiling.

[sub]"Hey there, we're here to help. You took it pretty bad, but you'll be fine."[/sub] Tracy subvocalized, leaning in close to Golemeth's head. [sub]"We need to ask a few questions to make sure you're alright. You ok with that?"[/sub]

"...Shure..." Golemeth slurred drearily.

[sub]"Ok. First, can you tell me what six times two is?"[/sub]

Golemeth's eyebrows knitted together slowly. For perhaps a full ten seconds he said nothing, but finally he seemed to work through the request.

"...Twelve."

[sub]"That's right, good answer. Now, can you tell us how long ago your last meal was?"[/sub]

"'Round fihve." Golemeth said instantly and easily, no sign of hesitation on his face.

[sub]"Cool. What'd you have?"[/sub]

"Meatballs withn' on-ons 'n garc." Golemeth sputtered a little, his lips flapping as though he were blowing a raspberry, but there was no sign of hesitation or confusion on his face. "...so had 'it wit a bunna yellow hots." 

[sub]"Yellow hots?"[/sub]

"...yhello [i]shots[/i]."

[sub]"Cool. Was it a party?"[/sub]

"Naw, waz a danse wifth a grill."

[sub]"Cool. Was Lieutenant Davidson there?"[/sub]

"No, saw him las'...lasterday. Fur days ago." Golemeth tripped over the words, but it was remarkable how coherent his answers were considered how his eyes appeared to be drifting in different directions. Tracy leaned back away from the side of Golemeth's head, pausing to wipe a single bead of sweat that was running down the side of his face before leaning back in.

[sub]"Ok. Was the address 5757 Babbage Cell?"[/sub]

"'Ink so. Yeah. Am I gunna be good?"

[sub]"Just checking out your autonomics now, hang with us here a bit please. How do you feel?"[/sub]

Golemeth's face was briefly wracked with indecision.

"Fffffffkin picksed." He settled on. "But I also don' eel car."

[sub]"That's the anesthetics taking off the edge. I'd be angry too, but we're patching you up right now so try and relax. Can you do that?[/sub]

"K."

[sub]"Was anybody else there with Davidson?"[/sub]

"Yesh. Nobtook."

[sub]"Sorry, did you say Nailtooth?"[/sub]

"Yeah."

Tracy leaned back upwards again briefly, letting out a long, deep breath of relief, as though he had been holding his breath the whole conversation. Theron could already see his eyes dilating faintly as he Tracy crossed over the threshold of some unknown mental checklist. He then slowly leaned back down and went back to his questions.

[sub]"Did you arrive with Nailtooth?"[/sub]

"Nah."

[sub]"So why were you there?"[/sub] Tracy flinched visibly as the last word left his lips, as though he had only just realized his mistake at the last second. Golemeth looked visibly confused now, his lips shuddering and his nostrils flaring as he tried to both simultaneously recall a memory while also trying to puzzle out his own, unspoken, abstract motivations from the day before. He eventually pulled together an answer, but his eyes were just a shade less cloudy now as well.

"Waz buyin'...and meetin' Nailtook. 'E was thinkin' about hirin' me." He rumbled.

Tracy brought a single finger up to his own brow in frustration, possibly with himself, before continuing.

[sub]"...Cool. Did Nailtooth have anything with him?"[/sub]

"Yeah. Suitcase."

[sub]"Was it chrome, with colors near the handle?"[/sub]

"Yeah. Hainbow 'heel thing. Eel 'iddly."

[sub]"Why did Nailto-"[/sub] Tracy stopped himself short as he almost led Golemeth into another question that was just a hair too complicated than was strictly advisable. He took a short breath and tried again.

[sub]"Did Nailtooth tell Davidson anything about the case?"[/sub] 

"Yesh. 'Aid to hand it goff tub some guy, Hazy."

[sub]"Some guy named Hazy?"[/sub]

"'[i]Racy[/i]." Golemeth snorted. He eyes both flittered in the same direction for the first time, in Tracy's direction. Ignoring the look, Tracy continued.

[sub]"Did he say where to hand it off at?"[/sub]

"...'Eeptower." Golemeth said. There had been a slight pause before he had answered, and he was now staring firmly in Tracy's direction, his eyes slowly roaming across the skittish man's face as Tracy steepled his hands together just over his nose, leaving his mouth uncovered to continue speaking to Golemeth.

[sub]"Did Davidson say anything about it?"[/sub]

"...Ouo a cup, pug?" Golemeth practically spat his own question in response. Tracy glanced away furiously, wiping at his mouth with his steepled palms before turning back to answer.

[sub]"Nah, ripperdoc. Gotta stay cool friend, your wetware's gettin' hot."[/sub] Golemeth did not say anything in response, but continued to stare at Tracy.

[sub]"Did Davisdon say anything about the case?"[/sub] Tracy repeated.

"...ouldn't do it himshelf." Golemeth slurred. "'Aid 'ed givit to a mug to do it."

[sub]"Cool. Did Davidson give it to anyone?"[/sub]

"'Unno." Golemeth paused, and after a moment actually craned his neck to get a better look at Tracy before speaking again.

"You ain't a hipperock, pug." He said in a flat, unimpressed tone. Tracy glanced at Theron before standing up.

"Well, I'm done here." He announced. "This is where I get off the Davidson ride. The big boy is all yours." He looked at Theron, his expression a carefully sculpted deadpan. "Are [i]we[/i] done? You satisfied with that?" He demanded. The hand he had on the duffel-bag's strap began a staccato tap on the faded blue fabric.

"'Ou better lemme up." Rumbled Golemeth from the bed.

[hr]
[@The Harbinger of Ferocity]