RegisterThe Crime Scene
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Sarah9488
kmmp99
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The Crime Scene
by willgirl Fri Jun 27, 2008 2:11 pm
Watch out, because the crime may occur at any time! Keep your eyes and ears open and check back on this thread!
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Re: The Crime Scene
by kmmp99 Fri Jun 27, 2008 10:51 pm
squirtandmilo wrote:Argh! Willi! So excited...!
Me too!!
kmmp99- Forensic Artist
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Re: The Crime Scene
by Sarah9488 Sat Jun 28, 2008 4:51 am
Am I the only one who thinks it's odd that we know where to find the crime scene before the murder occurs? Maybe we should try to stop the unknown killer to save the unknown victim... =)
haha...
haha...
Sarah9488- Head of Forensics
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Re: The Crime Scene
by willgirl Sat Jun 28, 2008 5:48 am
Sarah9488 wrote:Am I the only one who thinks it's odd that we know where to find the crime scene before the murder occurs? Maybe we should try to stop the unknown killer to save the unknown victim... =)
haha...
LOL! I know Sarah, I thought about that when I posted! Perhaps Booth and Brennan have teamed up with pyschics!
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Re: The Crime Scene
by willgirl Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:59 pm
Backstage of the Auditorium in the Metropolitan Convention Center
Baltimore, MD
3:30 PM
Brennan peered closely at the splintered bone fragment caught between two metal gears.
“A bone shard was wedged into the rotors. Part of a rib, I think. It kept the mechanism from functioning properly, otherwise the entire body would be…”
“Mulch.” Her partner appeared from behind the large machine, carefully avoiding stepping in body goop splattered on the floor as he joined her.
“Booth! That’s not very respectful to the victim.” Brennan straightened, looking at him with consternation. “Besides, your analogy doesn’t stand. This isn’t a wood chipper, it’s a….”
“A fan. A great, big, people-mulching fan.”
Shaking her head, she stared at the scene before her and silently conceded the point. Before it had stopped working, the fan had quite proficiently sliced the body into pieces. Lots of them.
The large industrial fan, which she judged to be easily a foot taller than Booth, stood at an angle to the concrete block wall, its steel blades almost X in length. And the victim, or approximately half of him, she estimated, rested between two of those blades. From this side, she could see the ragged edges of his lower torso and a pair of denim-clad legs bent towards the floor.
She didn’t have to look on the other side of the fan again to be aware of exactly what had happened to the rest of him. There were enough pieces that it was going to take her some time to reassemble the skeleton. Some had been sliced cleanly by the sharp blades, others shattered by the torque. All had been scattered over several feet of the stage, many she imagined would have kept traveling for some distance if the impact with the block wall had not interfered with their trajectory. Zach would provide a more thorough analysis, of course, detailing the angles and momentum.
In fact, there was plenty of work for all of them. Enough blood on the fan blades alone, not to mention the bits of tissue and brain matter clumped on the stage floor, to keep Cam busy with whatever flesh-related tests that she performed. Enough ‘goop’, as Booth insisted on calling it, that Hodgins could spend days happily searching out trace evidence. And Angela could give them a face, if she was able to…..
“So, Bones. Whaddya think--this guy trip and accidentally turn himself into Hamburger Helper or did he have some help?”
“It’s much too early to say, Booth.” She said, stripping the gloves from her hands. “We need the rest of the team to complete their analysis.”
“Let me guess. You want the entire stage hauled to the Jeffersonian.” Booth said, eyebrow raised.
“No.” She responded matter-of-factly. “Only the fan itself. And these…these….what exactly are these things?”
Booth looked over to the items she was pointing at, four life-sized cardboard cutouts grouped very close to the fan, that depicted three men and a woman, all of them streaked with blood spatter and other stuff he didn’t care to identify.
“The actors. From that show, you know. Probably part of the set-up for the convention.”
“Actors? Convention….what are you talking about Booth? And why would they have…”
“C’mon, Bones….FINC U?”
“Fink me?” She looked at him, puzzled.
“No, no. FINC U. ‘Who’s gonna solve the crime? FINC U…that’s who!” He sang, shuffling his feet to the rhythm of the theme song.
He sighed as she looked at him blankly.
“The television show? College kids that solve cases….and you’ll like this part, they use science.”
“Oh-kay. And you watch this, this FINC U?”
“Yep. Every week. It’s not bad. Actually, it’s really, really bad. But so bad it’s good. Know what I mean?”
“No, Booth, I don’t. That statement is completely contradictory. And what does that have to do with those cardboard people?”
“See, they’re having a convention for…”
“For a television series?”
“Well, yeah. For the fans. Actors, crew, writers, they have these discussions, Q&A’s, demonstrations, parties, that sort of thing.”
“Hmm. Interesting..” She said, eyes narrowing as she speculated.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got some anthrological doo-dad that applies….”
“No, Booth.” She replied, folding her arms across her chest as she studied one of the cut-outs. “This man is much too old to be in college. Not even graduate school. Look at the spacing between his….”
“Hey, Bones, lighten up. That’s Cody….”
“Cody?”
“Yeah, Cody Rivers….aka Dylan Nathanson. The leader of the team. Jock with a heart of gold and the brains to…..” He looked over to gauge her reaction, only to find her gone. “Hey…Bones, where’d you…?”
He turned to find her standing near the victim, or what was left of him, and went to join her.
“Who is he, Booth? And what could he have done that would make someone….”
“Turn him into mince meat?”
She turned to him, but he stopped her before she could start lecturing him in that teacher-voice of hers.
“I was just trying to….Listen, I get it, Bones. And don’t worry. You, me, the squints. We’ll figure this one out. Okay?”
Baltimore, MD
3:30 PM
Brennan peered closely at the splintered bone fragment caught between two metal gears.
“A bone shard was wedged into the rotors. Part of a rib, I think. It kept the mechanism from functioning properly, otherwise the entire body would be…”
“Mulch.” Her partner appeared from behind the large machine, carefully avoiding stepping in body goop splattered on the floor as he joined her.
“Booth! That’s not very respectful to the victim.” Brennan straightened, looking at him with consternation. “Besides, your analogy doesn’t stand. This isn’t a wood chipper, it’s a….”
“A fan. A great, big, people-mulching fan.”
Shaking her head, she stared at the scene before her and silently conceded the point. Before it had stopped working, the fan had quite proficiently sliced the body into pieces. Lots of them.
The large industrial fan, which she judged to be easily a foot taller than Booth, stood at an angle to the concrete block wall, its steel blades almost X in length. And the victim, or approximately half of him, she estimated, rested between two of those blades. From this side, she could see the ragged edges of his lower torso and a pair of denim-clad legs bent towards the floor.
She didn’t have to look on the other side of the fan again to be aware of exactly what had happened to the rest of him. There were enough pieces that it was going to take her some time to reassemble the skeleton. Some had been sliced cleanly by the sharp blades, others shattered by the torque. All had been scattered over several feet of the stage, many she imagined would have kept traveling for some distance if the impact with the block wall had not interfered with their trajectory. Zach would provide a more thorough analysis, of course, detailing the angles and momentum.
In fact, there was plenty of work for all of them. Enough blood on the fan blades alone, not to mention the bits of tissue and brain matter clumped on the stage floor, to keep Cam busy with whatever flesh-related tests that she performed. Enough ‘goop’, as Booth insisted on calling it, that Hodgins could spend days happily searching out trace evidence. And Angela could give them a face, if she was able to…..
“So, Bones. Whaddya think--this guy trip and accidentally turn himself into Hamburger Helper or did he have some help?”
“It’s much too early to say, Booth.” She said, stripping the gloves from her hands. “We need the rest of the team to complete their analysis.”
“Let me guess. You want the entire stage hauled to the Jeffersonian.” Booth said, eyebrow raised.
“No.” She responded matter-of-factly. “Only the fan itself. And these…these….what exactly are these things?”
Booth looked over to the items she was pointing at, four life-sized cardboard cutouts grouped very close to the fan, that depicted three men and a woman, all of them streaked with blood spatter and other stuff he didn’t care to identify.
“The actors. From that show, you know. Probably part of the set-up for the convention.”
“Actors? Convention….what are you talking about Booth? And why would they have…”
“C’mon, Bones….FINC U?”
“Fink me?” She looked at him, puzzled.
“No, no. FINC U. ‘Who’s gonna solve the crime? FINC U…that’s who!” He sang, shuffling his feet to the rhythm of the theme song.
He sighed as she looked at him blankly.
“The television show? College kids that solve cases….and you’ll like this part, they use science.”
“Oh-kay. And you watch this, this FINC U?”
“Yep. Every week. It’s not bad. Actually, it’s really, really bad. But so bad it’s good. Know what I mean?”
“No, Booth, I don’t. That statement is completely contradictory. And what does that have to do with those cardboard people?”
“See, they’re having a convention for…”
“For a television series?”
“Well, yeah. For the fans. Actors, crew, writers, they have these discussions, Q&A’s, demonstrations, parties, that sort of thing.”
“Hmm. Interesting..” She said, eyes narrowing as she speculated.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got some anthrological doo-dad that applies….”
“No, Booth.” She replied, folding her arms across her chest as she studied one of the cut-outs. “This man is much too old to be in college. Not even graduate school. Look at the spacing between his….”
“Hey, Bones, lighten up. That’s Cody….”
“Cody?”
“Yeah, Cody Rivers….aka Dylan Nathanson. The leader of the team. Jock with a heart of gold and the brains to…..” He looked over to gauge her reaction, only to find her gone. “Hey…Bones, where’d you…?”
He turned to find her standing near the victim, or what was left of him, and went to join her.
“Who is he, Booth? And what could he have done that would make someone….”
“Turn him into mince meat?”
She turned to him, but he stopped her before she could start lecturing him in that teacher-voice of hers.
“I was just trying to….Listen, I get it, Bones. And don’t worry. You, me, the squints. We’ll figure this one out. Okay?”
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space- Head of Forensics
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Similar topics» The Bullpen
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