Cut From The Same Sheet Metal (Dale)

With how his life had been changing the past few days, Milton decided to go down into the slums to start mapping out the locations of the folks he had come to meet through his time in Junction. Most mentioned being from the Slums, an area Milton was reminded as being filled with dangerous types or generally unremarkable subjects. However, with the colorful variety of characters Milton had come across, the opposite was turning out to be true; the Slums were a gold mine for individuals of unique personalities and home worlds.

He had to take in this gold mine of information. The more to share with CWIS at the toaster while he munched on his breakfast, the better.

The young automaton found himself perusing the streets he had walked the first few times on his journey, his eyes scanning each house for any identification of the tenants in the hopes a familiar name would come up. With only his blade stashed away into his compartment and his gun disassembled into his mesh skin suit, Milton was unarmed as he quietly stared up at the rows of buildings with an unspoken excitement, eager to find a new brain to pick...

That was until a disturbance caught his attention. Whether it was a distinct figure to monitor, an event that was disrupting the natural flow, or something that would equal a successful information scouting trip, Milton picked up his pace and made his way forward, scanning for the source.

The particular event that had caught the attention of Milton couldn't really be called a fight. A fight suggests a combat where both parties were capable of presenting even a semblance of an issue to the other.
This was not that. This was not remotely that.
Not all structures in the slums could be held to the same standards. Some great works might end up here in a jump, just as much as they could end up ruined by subsequent ones, if they were even passable to start with.
The building in question was one made of wood, with windows to allows sight in and walls that were not exactly too thick. The sole resident of the house had been so blessed as to have a turkey ready for their consumption, beautifully and freshly cooked, which they were carrying to their table to properly consume. They could only afford to do so every couple of weeks, but to the carnivorous being, the day they could have proper meat of such a caliber was always something to look forward to.
The lizard man grinned wide, their scales polished so as to be at their best for this joyous time-
Before a fist tore through the nearby wall, knocking them clean out.

Dale wasn't particularly bothered by what he'd done to the man and his home. He didn't regret anything, for he knew the moment he had committed the act had not been witnessed.
What mattered to him was that he was now sailing through the air, using the rooftops to get as much distance as he could before he had to cool down, with an entire turkey cradled like a child in his arms.

Just a normal day in the slums.

If there were some outside force of fate that had heard Milton's request for a curious brain to pick, it certainly delivered him an impossible to ignore event as a sign of who to interact with. While he couldn't locate the disturbance from inside the building, the action of a humanoid figure busting up through the roof of the rickety wooden building on the corner got Milton's attention immediately.

"Hmm... a humanoid being of an estimated age of 47 years bursting up through a random building holding what appears to be a cooked poultry product is now fleeing over the rooftops...

Yes, he'll do nicely. I simply MUST inquire as to his reasoning."

With a shift in his mesh armor to enhance his speed, Milton bolted off down the sidewalk in pursuit of the mysterious poultry thief. How was this supposed human able to leap up such an incredible height? There were no mechanical enhancements apparent to Milton at the time, so it was entirely possible this was a humanoid race capable of greater physical feats than his Hom people... or he was somehow mechanical like Milton.

Milton decided to test his theories by sending out a signal from his communications module. Should this figure be able to pick up a wireless transmission, they would receive a wave of feedback with Milton's inner voice speaking "Stop. I want to talk." Nevertheless, Milton would pursue the runner until he could reach the rooftops or the man would drop down to him. Tempted to draw his gun to interrupt his movement, Milton instead opted to approach him quickly, empty hands to indicate no weapons are on his person.

"Hold on, sir! That cooked poultry in your possession... are you going to eat all of that? Secondly, how were you able to jump such an incredible height unaided? Did you receive my transmission? What's your name?!"

It was rather fortunate Dale didn't receive the wireless transmission, because he would have freaked out, and made a rather poor landing to say the least.
What he did notice was that somehow, someone on the ground was keeping up with him, which rather encouraged him to make use of the fact that he didn't have go around buildings, and they did.
And yet, somehow, they kept up. This was honestly getting worrying.

Eventually, it got to the point where he couldn't keep this up. Not wanting to go to ground in the circumstances, he lands on a rooftop and collapses on top of it, peering over the edge at the person below.
As he's laid out on the roof, a turkey to his side, a small robotic dog walks over onto his head and sits down. It too looks down, the display that serves as its eyes to the world around it indicating curiosity as its tail wags.
Dale looks warily down from his elevated position, one that he isn't quite happy with the height of at the moment. Most people wouldn't be able to jump up here before, but here, he wasn't sure.
Apart from his mistrust, it's also clear he doesn't understand all of what he's being asked. "I...that's what it's called?" He shakes his head, chin rubbing against the rooftop. "What does unaided mean? What's a transmission...and what does receive mean?"

Seeing how the escaping chicken thief had realized Milton's pursuit, Milton stood down at the ground while the figure spoke down to him, some robotic canine toy resting atop his head. His rate of breathing indicated that he was tired of running, so Milton decided to catch his breath where he stood. If the police weren't already on him for the action, Milton would rather interview this man to see what drove his action. Hunger? Revenge? Boredom? And on a side question... would he be willing to share with Milton?
"Hmm? Yes. The item you hold in your hand is a cooked poultry dish known as cooked chicken, potentially rotisserie-style cooked. When I mean unaided, I mean that there do not seem to be any mechanical armaments that you... no, should keep it simple. Are you able to jump that high just like that? As for transmission, I sent a... signal to other electronic devices that receive messages via a transmitter. When a transmitter is able to take in the electronic signal and interpret it, it is considered received.

May I come up? I wish to talk with you without speaking out in the open so loudly so others could hear."

He...didn't understand half of what he'd been told. And the expression on his face made it very, very clear that such was the case as Milton launched into his explanation on transmitters.
As much as he'd normally ask more questions to get a better idea right now, he got the distinct feeling it'd just hurt his head. Probably for the better when he didn't recognise half the words.
He focused on what he could answer. "Not all the time? It hurts, and I can't move for a bit after a while."
...wait, no, shouldn't have said that last part!

He seems alarmed by the request to approach, and struggles futilely to get up. It doesn't work, however, so he's just left shaking his head wildly as he's left sprawled out on the rooftop, prompting the little dog to hop off of his head. "No! Don't..." He trails off as he processes what was said about people hearing.
People hearing would be really, really bad.
He seems torn for a moment, but they obviously weren't going away, and he couldn't get away that easy. "...don't come close. Then you can."
He then makes a rather pointed effort towards rolling his body on the ground to get some distance. It was the best he could do until his limbs started moving and stopped hurting so badly.

So the ability to high-jump, whether a biological advantage or a mechanical support system, is strenuous to this man's body, disabling his ability to use them for a time after use? Well, at least he wouldn't be running away without Milton being able to catch up. With a quick survey of the area, Milton was able to find a large, sturdy pipe propped up against the wall of the building to climb up, discreetly using the mesh around his hands to create a belt behind the pipe to keep him anchored to it as he marches up the side of the wall.

For a brief moment, Dale would be able to catch a glimpse of Milton's truly mechanical hands before the mesh returned them to a more flesh-colored appearance. Keeping his distance, Milton sat down on the rooftop, keeping close enough to speak quietly but hopefully far enough to not push this man's sense of personal space. Seeing the adorable mechanical dog, Milton held out his hand in the off chance it was welcoming to strangers and would let Milton pet him.

"This dog is rather adorable. Do you know who made him? I think a little pet like this would be perfect for Anni... Anyways, can I get a name and perhaps description of your home world? I'm curious to see if you are fully biological or partially enhanced with machinery."

Spotting Milton's hands, Dale is quick to file away one little piece of information - He's like me. He looked human, but he was a metal person too. It explained how he kept up.

There's murder in Dale's eyes as Milton reaches for Chip.
From the way he's straining, it's easy to tell he would have attacked Milton right then and there had he been able. Fortunately, he's stuck sprawled out for now.
Chip backs off from Milton's hand to nuzzle against Dale's face, and he seems to calm, but it's evident the attempt has worsened his disposition toward Milton.

A flicker of a smile appears as Milton compliments chip, now running about near Dale, but it does nothing to dent the icy look he's now receiving. If looks could kill, this one would commit genocide. "No. Found Chip a while ago, before I got here. You can't have him."
His eyes only narrow as Milton starts asking about Dale's origins, and his gaze turns dangerous again. The emotion in it has simmered down, but there's no less of a deadly promise. "Where did you come from? How did you get here in the first place?"
The mistrust is clear, but there seems to be something more to it at this stage.

Both men were quite fortunate the other did not start a fight. While Dale was physically unable to attack Milton from his position, Milton was more than capable of defending himself with both his weapons and the looming shadow that was Phobetor as he rose to the forefront of his mind on the off chance a fight was about to begin. Milton's hands returned to his lap as he noted the death glare he was receiving from the other person. Touching the dog in any capacity seemed to no longer be a possible action to stay in this man's very limited good graces.

"Chip, huh? An appropriate and appealing name, for certain. So the creator of this Chip is likely back on your home planet, I take it. Unfortunate, but I will respect your... rather tight boundaries. As for where I come from, my home on Junction is situated on the Middle Ward, specifically the Mekor Gen Labs building. As for my planet of origin, it is known as Orbis Centra. I'm sure CWIS can provide details on the planet, though I may need to check to see how accurate such data is. Will you share your name at least?"

He was going to check up on Orbis Centra next time he met CWIS, for sure. He had to know if it was anything like the place outside the facility.
Once again, the tension eases as Milton backs off, though he remains wary. "...Blackwood." If this person really was from where he the thought he might be, it was best to give the least recognisable name he could. Barely anyone used that name.
...he needed more info. "What do you mean by 'biological'? Or 'machinery'?" It was good to learn more. Hopefully it'd make more sense than the transmitter explanation.
More important question, though..."Why did you come here?"

Adding the personnel profile of Blackwood to his memory as he continued to find details to fill it in, Milton smiled at the alleviation of the desire to stab him in his chestpiece. Negotiations had been rather prominent to Milton recently; the variety of people he's met has certainly tested his ability to get along with said personalities. But this one didn't seem that versed in Milton's choice of words. Ah well, better to try explaining it as best he could. To demonstrate, Milton shed his arm free of the mesh coating to expose his metallic arm. Keeping it flat on his lap, he tapped it to make the metallic clang ring out on the rooftop for Blackwood to hear.

"You aren't aware of the difference? Alright, I'll explain as best I can. You know about electricity, yes? There are objects, commonly made of metal, that run on electricity to do what they were made to do. You know, like a toaster? A fridge? Anything you know that plugs into the wall? Well, those are machines. My body itself is 99% machinery. See, my hand is made of metal and runs on energy, so it's a piece of machinery. Other things, like the people living in Junction, are not made of machinery. They have skin made of meat and fat and generate their own energy by eating. If you cut your arm, does it drip with a red fluid? That's blood, and it helps keep a biological being running like wires or gears in a machine.

Does that make sense?"

Funnily enough, no, he did not know what electricity was. Nor a toaster, nor a fridge, though he'd seen a couple of wall-things. Basically none that worked, though.
But he kind of got the idea. Metal things that need energy. That have to get their energy not by eating. Not metal things that ate for energy...those were organic. They also had blood...so that's what the red stuff was.
...he ate, though. AND he was metal. What did that make him?

Motion was returning to his limbs, and Dale set about righting himself. "I...think so?" He had a rough idea, anyway. "...what about those metal people that eat? What are they?"

Dale seemed to be getting the idea of what Milton was saying. Considering how little Dale seemed to understand initially, perhaps he would have to invite Dale over to the library or the lab sometime to get him to learn from CWIS. Then again, that would only be possible if he agreed to be anywhere within a foot of Milton at a given time. Now, onto somehow discussing the concept of a mechanical being...

"Ah, you mean metal people like myself? Well, the name they go by sort of depends on their condition. For example, my body may be metal, but I have a Hom- er, human brain. Therefore, that makes me what people call a cyborg. However, there are some who are completely constructed from technology, designed to resemble a normal humanoid being. In that case, those are called androids. As for why metal people eat, it could be either a process that turns food into energy like an organic being can or simply that they have taste sensors and find eating food pleasurable.

Does that make sense? If you find me acceptable to hang out with, perhaps I can educate you further at a nearby library. Maybe you can come by the labs I was made in sometime, see what we can do with your enhanced jump capability."

Dale mentally catalogued everything as Milton went through it.
Metal people with human brains were cyborgs. He had to wonder how many of the people he'd seen before were those. Hard to tell when there was metal around it. And as for metal people made to look like humans..."Androids..."
Is that was he was then? An android? He looked like people. He ate like people. But he was metal, as he'd found out.
...he had a name for it.
He actually had a name for it, now.

He was finally upright as Milton started talking about stuff he didn't recognise again. It would have all been normal, but...one word caught his ear.
It was a word he'd only encountered one place before. One he didn't like.
And considering what he'd seen earlier...
Dale picked up Chip, and slipped him into his shirt so that his head poked from the collar. "...what...do you mean...by labs..?"

So Dale was focused on the word 'android' once Milton brought it up. Did it have some special significance to him? Maybe he knew someone who was an android. Given the feats he had displayed in the chase, it's also possible that... could he be an android himself? The way he spoke did resemble a sentient robot void of a large sum of information, so perhaps they weren't so different in their pursuit of knowledge. But this Blackwood fellow seemed to react with to the word 'labs' like Milton would to his Mekor designation. Was it a touchy subject, a relic from his past that impacted his reaction to laboratories? Either way, better to just skip around the subject and avoid bringing up whatever irked him about a lab.

"Hmm? Oh, well, it's not quite a lab anymore so much as it is a repair station for other androids from my homeworld. I go there to recharge and sometimes replace a bit of armor or two when they get badly damaged. You don't have to go, but I'm sure the guys over in development would be curious to see how your jumping ability works. They won't cut open your leg or anything, just do a little examination with this new tech. They call it 'x-ray'."