Appropriating the Finer Things [Gus/Dale]

Normally, Dale wouldn't go for someone like this. They were quite easily bigger than he was, and something about them didn't feel right. He'd seen them about the slums a few times, and unlike most who came down here from other places, he tended to leave in just about the same state he arrived in. He was obviously a junc-son, and he was sure they were a dangerous one.
But one thing tipped his hand, as it always did.

He was starving right now.
And something that guy was carrying seemed oh, so, delicious.

Up on high, Dale lurked, waiting for an opportunity. If he was right, he really, really needed that food.
And he didn't think he'd be able to take it that easily.

It was indeed a fine ruse. Had another desperate soul been in Dale's position, they'd have leaped the very moment Gus was out of the public eye.

Spoiler:

But paranoia was a very powerful thing. It told Dale most things were dangerous. It told him that Gus was dangerous. For all he worked to seem uneasy and helpless, Dale could only see him as great and imposing.
And through it all, he knew, he just knew he needed more than just to get out of sight. Given, that was true in a lot of cases, you needed more than to be out of sight for a proper sneak attack, but here it was truer than ever.
If he didn't open with a decisive hit, things would probably go badly. He needed just one moment he could use to get a good hit in safely. Then, just then he might have a good chance.
For all this was a shortcut, there was a while left to go. And he was pretty sure there was at least one spot he could try to set something up ahead.

...they were here.
On the surface, this little intersection in the back alleys didn't appear like much. But it had just plenty of things going for it in this scenario.
Unlike most of the place, the construction here had held up well. The surroundings could take a beating, which was a lot more important now than before. They wouldn't easily be broken through.
For the most part, the roofs were easily within reach for him, albeit near the upper limit of his amplified jump height. Combine that with the lack of handholds that could be used to scale the place, and the difficulty in making them, it gave him an out.
He could even get some good shots from here, though that'd draw attention.
On top of it all, the last jump had done Dale a favour in the way it'd arranged the buildings in this section - the alleys were just tight enough to make sure he wouldn't be able to swing anything he might have at him too well. He'd seen more than enough blade and bludgeons catch against the walls, and even if they were still able to hit in spite of that, they were always much weaker for it.
It didn't hurt that he'd have far less room to dodge too. That worked both ways, but he was bigger, and probably couldn't move like he could. It hurt them more than Dale.

With everything that tended to be left lying around in the slums, there had to be something he could hit...there.

Taking out an empty cartridge, he hurls it at a pipe, and moves quickly.
First things first.
The impact would draw attention, obviously. Sound of metal on metal. But assuming this person was what he thought it was, he'd probably recognise the trick. It was a simple one, and while it worked on most people, the better ones would know he threw something once he looked.
People that thought anyone would be up high were really rare most times, so odds were, they'd see the obvious (to them) toss and check the other way. The bouncing of the cartridge and the way the pipe rolled only encourage them to check the other direction.
That in mind, he was now dropping down overhead, favouring the side he called attention to in the first place. If they were facing the other way as he hoped, he should get a good hit from behind, the blow helped by the fall. If the less likely thing happened and they weren't, they'd either still not see til too late, or have to back off to avoid the hit, giving him a chance to get away.
But as Dale made his attack in the air, he was hoping for the hit.

Spoiler:

Dale's eyes burst open wide at the sudden approach of the chicken, and it's hastily punched out of the air. Sure, it'd go all over the ground, but that wasn't an issue for him.
What was an issue was the fact that he was so easily responded to.
THIS. WAS. BAD.
Trying to change how he was moving in the air was only going to make things worse. And that aside, he didn't need to yet. He could still get a kick off.
As he's just in range, Dale kicks out for Gus's head, ready to respond to whatever happens next with a hard look in his eyes.

Relevant Strength:

There would be no blood. No delectable foreign meat would be found here, no marrow or ichor that would flow forth.
Just the harsh sound of metal crunching and screeching, as the jaw that clamped down sought to cave and shear Dale's leg.

He'd watched on in horror as his leg was caught. With unbridled terror, did he witness the transformation of the man.
This was nothing like he had ever seen before.
All of this was worse than he could have ever imagined, if only because he would have never thought it a thing of his reality.
Dale's free leg hammered away, but what he felt didn't feel like something real. It didn't feel like anything that belonged in the world, let alone anything that would bend to its whims.
Frenzied and panicked, he still hammered away, and away, and away, eyes out for anything, anything at all he could leverage. Doing nothing wasn't an option. Something needed to happen.
Anything to free him from this monster.

All he could do was stare on as his leg continued to be ruined. It was a testament to his design that it was even anything resembling intact at this point in the first place. But otherwise, there was no way it was remotely usable anymore.
The kicking halts as he's taken by his other leg, and he's left to stare the...thing before him in the eye, one arm pressed close to his body as if to prevent something falling. Pure, unbridled terror dances in his eyes, but rather than anything to suggest he was about to scream or go catatonic (though that was liable to happen later), it appeared more as if he was still considering his options.
Mostly because he was. He'd have punched or shot the creature in front of him in the eye, but he wasn't confident it'd do anything other than annoy it.
And then he'd die.

His...immediate nightmares about the maw of the creature coming for his head are cut short as he finds himself being set to the ground, and if you were such a person to find a thing such as that amusing, the expression of sheer confusion that mixed in with his terror was priceless. His spare hand comes out to steady him, and he gets to his feet...as best he could in his state, anyway.
The good news was that somehow, his left leg didn't crumple under his weight, and it could still be pivoted. The bad new was that it was stuck completely as it was now otherwise, essentially a glorified stand for his body, and the rooftops that promised safety before seemed so much out of reach.
He hobbles away backwards until his back meets the barrier, arms wrapped around himself and eyes fixed on the now seated monster.

"Y-you...junc-sons. So many different ones. So different, s-since I got here. But y-you're not one of them. D-different, even to them. Nothing like y-you." Dale's voice shook unnaturally. His breathing sounded jagged and artificial.
"...w-why...? Why a-are you-u...?"

"D-D-Don't be-!" Dale's eyes flicked between Gus, his leg, the barrier, his leg, and then Gus again, taking in every last feature of the being before him. "Sc-A-rier things do not make scary-y-y things less sca-RY."
It shrinks back to what it was before, but what he saw can't be unseen. He knows what that thing is. Even if they don't look like that thing any more, they still were that thing. He couldn't hurt it. He couldn't get away from it. It just was, no matter what he might do.
He looks on warily at the pipe, listens with trepidation to the thing's words. It could be a trick. It might just be messing with his head.
But...why, now? He couldn't do anything. They didn't need to do that. They showed that. So why? Why do this? Why tell him this?
He loses his balance and hits the floor, arms still clutched tight to his chest. He sits himself back up against the barrier, and one arm snakes inside his jacket, stroking something moving within. He's...not less terrified, but he's more in control. He has more of his senses.

"Y-Yes..." Why did it care about that? "I...n-n-n-n-no-O. M-months? I think. A while, been h-E-re. Don't know how different t-I-m-E is here." There was nothing natural about Dale's voice, and he was struggling to get it back under control now that it had gone haywire.
"Why...why am I spec-IAL? How?"

"..." The tension eases slightly as Gus's eyes leave Dale's. Just about every fiber of his being told him he couldn't look away. That he needed to watch this thing. That he had to watch it for its every move, just in case.
But...that was pointless now. It didn't matter whether he saw or not. If they were to do something, he couldn't stop it.
So with a force of will, Dale shut his eyes.
It didn't get rid of them. They were still there. But now...he didn't have to see it.
Retreating into his own little world, away from the terror before him, he drew something out of his jacket. A little toy dog with a wagging tail, one that slowly stilled as its loving enthusiasm transitioned to concern at the state of his owner. As Dale's arms wrapped around it, it started to slowly nuzzle against the robot's chest, giving him the small relief he'd yet to find elsewhere.
It continued like that for a few seconds, until Dale spoke up again, not opening his eyes. "...I don't know what 'acclimating' means."

He clutched his precious pooch close, taking all the comfort he could. "...words. People say lots of them. Sometimes they tell me what they are. But they hide things. Bad things. Bad things that always come, after long enough." He drew in his working leg, half-curling into a ball. "You say things too, like them. But you don't need to. You can just take. You already took." He shook his head. "But you stopped. You're doing...this. I don't know what it is, but you're doing it."
"Why do this? Why stop? Why do you want me to ask you for help, with..." His ruined leg twitches, but refuses to do any more. "...I...don't get it...I don't get it..."