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Medical Matters (IC)


Supercape

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"I'll make sure to put that at the top of my list," Miss A told him with a smile, rising for a few moments to sanitize her hands, put on gloves, and collect a few high-tech phlebotomy instruments. "All right, just a little pinch now." She rubbed disinfectant over the inner bend of his elbow, then found the vein with her finger and pressed the collector to it. With a small popping noise, the needle embedded in the device broke the skin and began to collect blood, which flowed into clear tubes attached to its base. As promised, she didn't take much, and it was over quite quickly, She removed the device and pressed a gauze pad to his elbow. "There we are. How do you feel?"

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"5 millilitres lighter" replied Slick, with a smile. He was more relaxed now, thanks to Miss A's charm and professional manner.

"And....well, better to be honest" he continued "I just don't like medical examination to be honest. Seventy years on and the memories are still there. The nightmares too, now and again. Not as bad these days, thank goodness. I was four when I was rescued, heaven help me if I had been any older. "

He peeked over at the blood sample "looks pretty normal eh? won't look so normal under a microscope, or most other tests. As for DNA analysis..." he shrugged "don't go looking for the normal sex chromosomes, that's all I can suggest. "

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"I see," she said with a thoughtful nod and a lift of one perfect brow as she ejected the spent needle into a sharps container and stowed the rest of her equipment. "I can't wait to get a look at it. Or rather, I suppose I can and will wait for a little while, since I would like to see some of what you can do, if you're willing to show off your powers a little bit." She gestured to the small open space in the front of the lab. "If you'd like more room, I can easily move the necessary equipment to a bigger space."

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"Well, I can't grow that big" replied Slick "around 7 feet is the most I have managed under normal circumstances. Here, let me show you..."

With the customary oil streaks oozing out of his pores, only to be reabsorbed and oozing again, his muscles grew, shrunk and shifted, as did bone and cartilage. His skin changed hue, as did his hair and eye colour. The whole effect was of a mad dance of organs, like walnuts cavorting under a tightly stretched balloon.

And a giant seven foot man of oriental features stood before Miss A.

"....bingo!" he smiled, with a grin that was deliberately missing two teeth.

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As soon as Slick began his transformation, Miss A grabbed a scanner off the table and began recording, along with the more passive instruments that had already been taking measurements during the interview. "Impressive!" she told him with a smile. "Do you have a typical repertoire of forms that you assume, or do you take your cues from the people around you and your own imagination, or is it some combination of the two? I believe I have seen you using the visage you entered with in the past."

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"Both!" replied the giant, with a smile.

With a theatrical gesture and appropriate posture, the oily, warped dance of muscle and flesh started again.

And before Miss Americana stood...

Miss Americana.

The copy was not perfect, but it was pretty damn good. It would have took some scrutiny to notice the difference.

Slick gave Miss Americana a wink, and held a seductive pose. To round it off, she flicked off an imaginary fleck of dust from Miss Americana's shoulder. "You have such beautiful hair" she said, flicking Miss Americana's locks.

Slick laughed. "As Oscar Wilde said, to love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance" she said, taking Miss Americana's hand and placing it to her bosom, with a cheeky grin.

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Miss A laughed, but reclaimed her hand quickly nonetheless. No matter what the circumstances, feeling up the patients was not looked upon favorably at ArcheTech. Plus, it was more than a little bit creepy, when she thought about it. "I can do that on my own time, but thanks anyway," she told Slick dryly, running the scanner over the Miss A clone. "Do you mimic my powers when you're in that form?" she asked, curiosity winning out over discomfort. "The strength, flying, things like that? Or is it simply a mimic of my appearance?"

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"Just appearance" replied Slick "although in your case that must be your main super power" she replied with another wink.

Again, the dance of flesh and oily streaks played before Miss Americana's eyes until Slick had reformed into his original appearance.

"Just appearance" he repeated. "Although to quote Mr. Wilde again, it is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. "

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Miss A's smile dimmed slightly, but remained in place in a very professional manner. "Yes, of course. Now do your altered genetics grant you any other superpowers, besides the limited shapeshifting and regeneration?" she asked, plugging the handheld scanner into a larger computer to upload and analyze the data she'd collected already. "Have you ever attempted to mimic, say, the wings or glider of another hero and use them to fly?"

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"I have never attempted, no" replied Slick, stretching his limbs. They ached a little, from all the contortions of the last few minutes.

"reason being, I wouldn't be able to. I am human, and I can only shift around my muscles and organs as a human would. Wings are out of the question. "

He cracked his knuckles. "As for powers, well, given I can pretty much shift my body around, you wont find a stronger human being. I'm a strong as human muscles can be. And given my unusual physiology, I'm even more resilient. I can coil my legs to give me extra mobility..." he continued, giving a few demonstrative hops.

"And my sense of smell is very acute. Every pore on my body acts as a nose!" he laughed.

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Miss A nodded, picking up her pad and writing a few more notes on it. "Very interesting. Now I just have a few more medical history questions I got sidetracked off earlier. Have you ever sired or borne a child?" she asked. "I know your physiology could be potentially capable of supporting either activity, though many things are still a mystery until I analyze the samples you provided a few moments ago." She leaned casually against a lab table, pad in hand.

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"Not as far as I am aware" replied Slick. "My DNA seems potentially able to produce offspring, but with much reduced probability. Under 1%. Far under. It would probably require some artificial help. "

"Whilst I cant completely rule out the possibility, the answer is no. "

He couldn't resist. He knew he shouldn't. But he had to.

"You offering?" he said with a friendly smile, quite evidently conveying it as a jocular statement rather than a serious one.

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This time, the smile Miss A gave him was sharp-edged. "If you're asking for artificial help, I'm afraid I'm not authorized to write prescriptions. That sort of thing can play havoc with your blood pressure, too, so you'll want to have a care." She tapped her pad smartly with the stylus. "I think that about wraps things up for today, unless you had any specific questions relating to your analysis."

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"No no. I must say you have been very professional" remarked Slick, arching an eyebrow.

What was this chick made of? Steel?

"However, if we are getting down to the nitty gritty, what do you make of these oily secretions?" he asked, again holding up his hands to reveal two strata of his characteristic oil.

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"I won't know until I do your cellular analysis," Miss A told him coolly. "Offhand, I would imagine it's a waste product of the energy expenditure process your cells undergo during your transformations, or potentially a lubricant to facilitate the movement of parts. If you'll let me take a sample of that as well, it would expedite the process and perhaps allow me to come to a more nuanced understanding." She offered him a specimen jar ad a white gauze pad with which to wipe his hands.

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"Why certainly" replied Slick, taking the whit gauze and wiping his hands that continued to slowly ooze the characteristic oily substance that permeated his body.

"I haven't yet determined many biometric parameters of my body, or the substrate, in situ at least. Magnetic, radioactive, so on. Of course, I have run a lot of tests on the extract, buts its a lot harder to do the testing... discreetly... on ones own body. "

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"If you'll lay down on the lab table there, I can take some sensor readings of you that might help with that," Miss A offered after a moment's hesitation. She could've gotten away with ending the interview, and it might have been more comfortable, but she was too thorough a scientist for that. "It should take just a few minutes. If you believe your body chemistry alters upon samples being taken, this will be a good way to get a baseline meausurement." She gestured to an exam table over on one side of the room.

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"A scan sounds good. Especially if its a Star Trek one that goes beep beep!" smiled Slick, regaining some humour.

"And you make quite a dashing McCoy, you know!" he added, as an afterthought.

"Seriously, you have some impressive gadgets here. All very high calibre. Nothing like it. Its probably my only chance to get a good peek at my insides, and work out exactly how I tick. So, if whatever you could offer me, I would be more than happy to take it up. "

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"All right then," Miss A said crisply, "go ahead and lay down on the table. It's important that you remain still and don't speak, some of these sensors are incredibly delicate while they're working." That wasn't entirely true, none of the sensors she was going to use was so sensitive as to be disrupted by simple conversation, but it certainly made a convenient story, didn't it? Miss Americana, with a lifetime of being a stunning beauty, likely should've shrugged off the smarmy insinuations much more easily, but she was doing the best she could.

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"Hmph" mumbled Slick as he lay down on the table.

Perhaps he had chosen the wrong gender? he mused She didn't look particularly homosexual, but you couldn't tell these days. Ah, back in the 1950s and 60s it was all so easy, they stood out a mile...

He shuffled into position, reminiscing.

Much better nowadays of course he concluded. Heck, as if he gave a hoot about people's sexuality. The whole thing was ridiculous as far as he was concerned.

He gave Miss Americana the thumbs up and a cheeky wink when he was ready.

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"Hold very still," she reminded him, "and relax as completely as you're able. I'm looking right now to see your body in an entirely resting state, and the closer you can get to that, the more helpful the scans will be." Taking a cue from recent experience, she dimmed the lights, bumped the thermostat just a touch, and piped in the soothing music she had on hand. "This should take approximately five minutes, starting now." She stepped behind the screen and began to order the machines to do their thing.

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Slick dutifully waited as the scanner started its fine sweep of his body. He was quite able to relax his body from a motor perspective, although his psychological status was far from relaxed. Sweat and a few traces of oil gave his body an unnatural sheen.

He tried focussing on the music, and sang along in a quiet humming tone.

"Greensleeves was my pride and jooooooooooy...."

He tried looking around for Miss A, but he had been told to move and couldn't. He could accurately pinpoint her from her scent, of course, as she walked around. He tried to concentrate on his breathing instead. He never really liked Greensleeves.

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The music changed to some kind of chiming and chanting thing that was odd, but not unpleasant, and rather relaxing. The scientist was nowhere to be seen, but her work was obvious as various sensors moved in and out of his line of sight, scanning him with different attendant lights and noises. He never felt anything more than a little hum in his bones and occasional warmth. "Try and relax," Miss A's voice came over one of the speakers, as though she were speaking into a microphone. "Your heartrate and breathing are still elevated. Are you uncomfortable?"

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"I'll make sure to keep the defibrillator handy, in case that quiver gets any worse," Miss A told him, her mechanically-augmented voice dry. "And as charming as it sounds to cuddle up with a septuagenarian who believes compelled groping and tired lines are the best way to win a girl's affections, I'd much prefer to keep things on an entirely professional level. If I want companionship, I can find as much as I want outside of working hours."

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