[b]Ramona![/b]

[Forensic Pathology] Good Evening, Madame Ramonia. It is delicious to have you here as my guest again this evening. Tonight we do not deal with the subtle flavours of poison, garrote or blade: prepare yourself for the heady, industrial flavours of a military murder. 

One shot to the head killed the Archmagos. The detonation happened in her cerebral cortex and blew out the back of her skull. She passed away instantly, and without pain, Omnissiah be praised. If you do not mind I would like to collect all the fragments from the remains of her skull, though this may take some time [Spend: 1 Point to reconstruct the killing bolt round].

The torso, though, has two entry wounds. One exit wound.

No internal detonations.

A bolter is not a solid-slug weapon. It is more like a rapid-fire miniature rocket launcher; when a bolt shell penetrates its mass-reactive core detonates, creating a small internal explosion that causes crippling injuries. Two rounds have impacted on the Archmagos' armoured torso, the protean neometals of her cybernetic form, and deflected without exploding. The third one is missing...

But then there is the exit wound.

Bolters don't [i]leave [/i]exit wounds, my darling. It is one of their signature traits. And yet there it is, clear as day, emerging from the Archmagos' rear left lung. A penetrating shot, not a detonation, as though shot with a bullet and not a bolt round. But bullets, I am given to understand, reliably leave [i]entry [/i]wounds, of which there is no corresponding example. This is a mystery far outside my skillset, I am afraid.

[Notice] Look. In the broken glass. The light is wrong. That's a metal shard, not a glass fragment. That bolt round that exited through the Archmagos' back, it went on to strike the stained glass window behind her. It detonated, and shattered the glass, blowing it outwards. [Spend: 1 point] But it doesn't matter. What really matters is the door. Where it was kicked in, paint flecks. Green paint, centered around the impact site. Whoever kicked in that door was wearing green-painted armour. I will sample for you the exact shade and hue.

[b]Virgid![/b]

[Data Recovery] 
10> LAMENT. LAMENT TO THE OMNISSIAH, FATHER AND MASTER OF ALL MACHINES
20> THE SACRED RITES OF DEACTIVATION WERE NOT PERFORMED.
30> INFORMATION STORED IN THE COGITATOR'S FORTUITUS MEMORY WAS LOST
40> TO MOURN THE LOSS OF SACRED KNOWLEDGE GOTO 10
50> NO ADEPT OF THE MECHANICUS WOULD HAVE ENGAGED IN SUCH BARBARIC REMOVAL OF SACRED MACHINES
60> [load: death-to-the-brute.hmn]

[Forensic Pathology] Good evening, Master Virgid. I have quite the meal for you this fine night.

You should eat her brain.

Not Ramona's. Ha ha ha, no. Not yet. You do recall that one of your implants is called the Omophagea? That is, the Marine's ability to learn the memories of the recently deceased by eating their brain matter. The brain in this instance is somewhat... scrambled, which may make the process complicated, but the Martians will understand. This is simply the organic version of Data Recovery, after all. Ms. Ramona may, however, be... more [i]squeamish[/i].

[Spend: 1 point of Forensic Pathology to get access to some of the Archmagos' memories]