Piu

Piu The Inspector

The Inspector

The Inspector was less than pleased. He'd taken the grand tour, which involved a lot of backtracking when they inevitably came across a resurrected door, and his notes were littered with failing grades, increasingly frantic panic, and enough frowny faces to make him feel like he was back in grade school. And now, staring down the team manager, he was stuck somewhere between amused and exasperated. Trammel was an intimidating creature: all rippling scales and feathers a kaleidoscope of colors, gaunt in a haunting way he'd only ever seen outside of the Monarch's sphere of influence. He towered over the rest of the crew, even as he hunched to make himself appear smaller. "Tell me again," the Inspector tapped his clipboard, "why there aren't any fire extinguishers."

Trammel straightened, his eyes focusing on the Inspector's face. "More than half our numbers are ice affiliated. It seemed a waste given the current circumstances; we've reallocated the funds."

The Inspector sighed. There it was. The single most problematic attitude in the entire facility. He could manage stubbornness. He’d dealt with anger and could redirect neitivity. But blatant disregard was something much more difficult to handle.

Taking a moment, the Inspector gave Trammel a once over. He had honestly been taken aback by the other’s appearance. He had read over his predecessor's notes as well as the debriefing after the Incident, but he hadn’t expected this. Trammel was simultaneously in better and worse shape than he’d anticipated.

There was a frailty in Trammel’s appearance. In the way the dragon’s limbs constantly shifted and rippled as if they contained their own consciousness. His scales, while still maintaining their sheen and luster, were elongated and sagging off his frame. Two sets of wings were tucked tightly against his sides and two more- threadbare and waving like flags- fluttered across his back. But there was a fierceness in his eyes and a fire dripping off his tongue that made that frailty seem inconsequential. It would be unwise to underestimate him.

Gathering his thoughts, the Inspector tapped his clipboard. Looking around the crowded room, he took in the disaster of pipes, cables, and clutter that made navigation a nightmare. There was a gently glowing monitor somewhere along the far wall, the dim light it threw out casting unnatural shadows across the floor. The few papers he could make out were written in a huried scrawl: some appeared to be personal notes while others seemed to be a mix of supply lists and repair plans. It was a hazard waiting to happen. "And what would you do if this room caught fire?"

"I'd say we'd have bigger problems than just a fire if that'd happen, right Boss?" Dirge cut in, slinking in from behind the shadow of some gargantuan machine. The snowy tundra grinned up at the two of them, an unreadable look in his eyes. The fur across his right side was singed and sticking up at a strange angle.

The Inspector didn’t know what to make of Dirge. That he apparently refused to wear any sort of protective gear was worrying. The fact he refused to wear anything at all was alarming. Despite that, there was clearly an ease between Trammel and Dirge- a comraderance that spoke of a long partnership, though he couldn’t begin to guess at the exact nature of it. Dirge could prove a powerful ally. Or a dangerous foe. Possibly both at the same time, if he was interpreting the threat in that grin correctly.

Trammel hummed and waved a hand towards Dirge. “So long as the generator doesn’t catch fire everything else is negligible. We’ve rebuilt from worse disasters.”

“Well my goal is to prevent that from happening,” The inspector snapped back, frown deepening. “Rebuilding from something that preventable is more costly in the end. It puts a greater strain on the crown than can be afforded.”

“Yeah, not really our problem,” Dirge drawled. He stretched, a yawn exposing a row of sharp teeth. “Job’s not to be buddy buddy with the Tyrant. He’s always been stingy with the budget. An’ ya can put that on yer record.”

“No need,” the Inspector shrugged, “I wasn’t asked to look into your personal opinions. But I shall make a note of the current budget; there are several areas of concern that could be remedied with a bit more investment.”

The Inspector didn’t miss the way the two scientists perked up, their eyes practically glowing as they exchanged a meaningful look.

“Perhaps you could change the Tyrant's mind. Stars know we’ve tried and failed more times than we can count.”

“Yea, good luck to ya, man. Tyrant’s wallet is tighter than-”

“I’m aware,” the Inspector cut in, not liking the savage grin on Dirge’s face. “I’ll forward you my report. Should be ready in about three days, if all goes well.”