When "freaks" collide

[Ozwald "Oz" Rabsin]

With a light thud Ozwald put his rather heavy notebook down onto the bar of one of the town's saloon cowboy styled drinking areas. He believed the locals called it a "saloon", but he had never bothered to check. it hardly mattered to him in the long run afterall, he was just here to get a drink for the night and read over his notes. Immediately he flipped his book to one of the more recent additions, the bounty poster of a frilly bearded man he had been tracking down for a few days. He had heard the pirate had stopped by to possibly buy some supplies, but he had no leads as of yet on where he was set off to. He just hoped he could catch this guy before he ended up hurting someone other than the marines. Sure he'd preferably wanna capture him before that too, but Marines were stupid enough to put themselves in the line of fire. Heck, it was in there job description.

"Can I 'elp ya mate?"

Raising his head from his notes, his azure eyes piercing through his silver fringe, Ozwald gave a simple point to one of the bottles behind the bar. "That one. Two glasses." Before the bartender could even figure out which drink he was asking for, the bounty hunter reached into one of his deeper pockets and tossed a few coins of Beli accross the table. "The white bottle, before you ask." This seemed to cause even more confusion, before with an ultimate sigh, he put it as simply as he could. "The milk. The milk is for sale yes?" "Oh er...yeah...just most people tend to-" "I want the milk. Pure. No vodka. No alcohol. Just milk." With a light grumble at the blunt and solid tone of the silver haired man he was serving, the barender simply moved back to his bottles, pouring out the glasses of milk and exchanging them for the coin Oz had left on the table, the boy too engrossed in the notes he was making alongside the bounty poster to even give a thank you, simply raising one of the glasses and giving a "cheers" motion before taking a generous chug, wiping the milk mustache from his lips and continuing to scribble down the information he'd gained in this town, what little there was that was even noteworthy.

Meanwhile, as ever, the saloon was busy with the sounds of patrons enjoying themselves, arguments being had, and gossip being shared. Only one sound seemed to draw Oz from his notes however, the cautious tone of someone who didn't want to be heard. His keen senses picking up on it ever so slightly, lowering his quill and resting his head in his arms, trying to focus intimately on the slight worry he'd heard in one of the nearby voices.

"So you've seen it? I wasn't going crazy?" "Yeah, as far as I can tell he...her...whaetever IT is, it's been in town for a while. Some people say it's a living machine." Oz gave a slight groan as a third voice seemed to chime in, it got harder and harder to focus the more people he had to pick out of the crowd. "I heard someone call it a zombie. One weird guy was calling it a Zomate, whatever that is." "Well whatever it was it freaked the hell out of me you two! I swear I'm not walking down that streat again."

Listening to the three participants of this conversation continue on, with little more than rumors and gossip reaching the surface, Oz could at least discern one thing from the whole topic. There was something, or someone, that was scaring the locals. There were different names, but a "mechanical" appearence seemed to be consistant through a majority of the rumors the group was talking about. With a curious expression, the silver haired bounty hunter took another chug of his milk as he turned to flipping through his collected bounty posters, trying to search for a possible match, only to come up with nothing, followed by a hefty sigh. "Well whatever it is I ain't gonna make a dime if I go out looking for it...but still..." Peering over his shoulder, resting his arm on the back of his stool, Oz took a good look at the group he'd been eavesdropping on, the source of the worried voice seeming a little shooken up by whatever he'd seen. Oz felt that same drop in his gut that made him hate himself for being such a "good guy" as his brother would call it. "One of these days I swear to god I'll charge for this stuff."

With only rumors to go on, Oz took a page out of his notebook, scribbling down some short notes he'd made on the rumors he'd listened in on, as well as some additional information the barman had managed to spill when bribed with a few shiny coins. As far as he could tell there was a general location the "scary man" had been seen in, and so he was off on the hunt. Greeted by the orange sky of twilight as he pushed through the saloon doors, he gave a light sigh once more at his own stupidity for taking this on, pocketing his notebook and heading off for the source of these scares.

Roin

[Roin]

[/b][/i][/div]

A rock crashed into Zombie's faceplate, the projectile crumbling from the weaker mud-like qualities it had. The white materials of the robot's faceless head was stained in the debris and scattering dirt. The child that threw it was now laughing and bragging about it to two very scared and frozen parents. Unlike the boy who saw it as just some weird machine, they noticed the various weapons it carried. Two pistols, one to each hip, hung from the machine's waist like a human would wear them. A shotgun, the barrel sawn-off, was dangling on the back of his waistline, the grip of the boomstick facing upward for a right hand main-draw. The final weapon, however, was the rifle on Zombie's back... a testament to this machine being far more than just some prop or defenseless prototype. But their fear changed as the head leaned forward like a man sighing... and the robotic voice of the deceased Marine played clear, using the voicebox that had been so painstakingly designed by a hopeful old man.

"Don't worry... I won't harm your boy. I don't-"

Zombie heard a door slam, looking up and noticing a now shut-tight door. How long had people feared him now, all acting in similar ways? Those who didn't fear him thought he was just "some machine"... but that wasn't the truth. The Living Machine quietly moved toward the door, the heavy trod of his mechanized body carrying him over the beaten dirt road to the small house. Due to the town's design, most of the houses were spread but the man had begun to quietly beat on the door in a slow, heavy knock. It wasn't from choice or to scare them, but due to the fact that Zombie had been running low on energy for a considerable amount of time. Keeping one battery attached to build power and another to help ensure he kept going, the machine often kept a good check on his power supply. But the "Reborn Man" was running out of life for his back-up battery. On an island as backwater as this, however... the families had to have one somewhere.

"Please, if you only would give me a battery or let me look-"

The danger protocol was initiated the instant that Zombie "saw" a gun sticking out a nearby window. Pushing his weight against the door, the wood splintered from the six-hundred pound machine adding force to the sheer stress. The result was Zombie coming through the door as a rifle's shot ripped through the air where he had been. So in the same instant the man had shot out his window and ended up hitting the wall... the robot had got inside. The man had started to turn, but Zombie had grabbed one of the pistols and fixed it toward the man.

"Drop it. I'm a far faster shot than you and I'd rather not shoot someone who isn't a horrible person."

The man had no reason to trust him, that much Zombie knew. A machine with a gun that had just come barging through his door is how this all would seem to normal eyes... but as the orange lit up his body and hid that machine essence it "clicked". The rifle hit the ground as it was tossed, the whimpering and crying of the mother and child across the house reminding Zombie well enough that they feared for their lives. The boy no doubt thought that this was all his fault. But that wasn't the case as Zombie looked to a large chair in the room, one that was exactly what he was looking for to boot. A chair made of heavy duty material to hold his weight and require very little effort to operate. A rocking chair.

Moving over to it, the machine kept the gun trained almost perfectly on the man. The family watched as the machine did something eerie to the untrained eye. Zombie... "felt" the chair, like a human checking for dirt or testing the quality of a table. Sensors read everything from composites, but the information was just to categorize it to a machine. Instead of formulas for guesses, the machinery and programming routed it to sensations felt and described over the course of Shinjitsu Akitaki's life whenever possible. If he had a face... it'd have shown just how focused on it he actually was. If the man had gone for the rifle, the sensors wouldn't have registered the movement. But at last he broke the silence with a "mental" smile.

"It's a fine chair... I apologize for disturbing you all, but... I'd like to use it for a while."

Turning and carefully aligning himself, the machine sat down... and the entire family was looking at it like this was some kind of joke. They didn't dive for the gun or keep panicking... they were all watching in silence as the robot actually leaned back like a human would. Akitaki would have been thirty-eight years old if he was still alive. But the sixteen year-old body of the robot certainly fit the "aging" required with the beat-up leather and materials of his body. It was only as he swapped to power-saver mode, keeping his gun-arm active and shutting down most of his core functions, that the boy approached once more.

"Wh-what... are you? I heard everyone saying you were some sort of monster or something." "..." "I-I don't mean to bother you... b-but you have a name... you must if you're so life-like!"

The silence had picked up again, the parents looking at one another in worry for a repeat of violence or aggression from the machine. But it never came... all Zombie did was carefully rock the chair, the battery recharging in his legs due to the sheer shutdown he was currently undergoing. There was no chance to get more batteries currently, so Zombie had to rely on recharging above all else. However, one module flickered back to life, signaled by the orange glow returning to his head. It lit the faceless-piece up almost eerily as the machine's voice picked up at last.

"I'm life-like... because I am real. My name... is Shinjitsu Akitaki... forgive me for not appearing human. I am alive... even if I died.

Safe to say, the neighbors were gathering to gaze at the crashed house... the side of town had gone quiet waiting to see what would happen. There was no more shooting there was no screams... only the voice of a man and a boy. That was all that Pecos could hear.[/ul]

[Ozwald "Oz" Rabsin]

"Jesus...The things I can do without pay." Oz Rasbin

When "Freaks" Collide

With no real knowledge of where he should be going, Oz had to just hope he'd eventually find the source of all these odd rumors flittering through the air. The Peco atmosphere was lively as ever, so even if there was to be someone screaming about some monstrosity or another, odds were the bounty hunter wouldn't even be able to catch it above the bustling crowds. He knew he needed a good place to get a lookout, somewhere to put his skills to use, but even as he merely thought about using his unique power, an instinctive shudder ran through his body, gripping his right arm in the tight hold of his left hand, halting the urge he had to "Shift".

"Not now...need to at least get outta the way..."

With his transformation under control, Oz gave a relieved sigh, hanging his head so his silver hair fell around him like a curtain, before flying back as his head rose once more, eyes scanning the nearby buildings and looking for somewhere quiet and away from the bustling crowds. As useful as his abilities were, they were still something he didn't have complete prid in. Heck, if he had a choice, he'd make Oz and "bunny" two completely different people. So, the longer he could have people believing that, the better. The moment his azure eyes locked onto a clear alleyway, he rushed towards it, darting through the crowds and dodging past a group of drunken travellers as they swayed their bottle carrying arms left and right, slipping out of sight and immediately letting out a sigh of relief as everything seemed to grow almost silent, the atmosphere itself seeming far lighter on his shoulders.

"Oh thank god..."

Another quick sigh of relief was let out before he got his game face back on, head turning left and right to ensure he was well away from anyone's line of sight, smiling just a little as he found he had the small path all to himself. Turning his head onto his shoulder, rolling his arms, he made sure to loosen up, the small clicks of several joints adding to the sensation in one way or another, shaking out his limbs and preparing himself both physically and mentall. His eyes turned to the edge of one of the buildings above, bending his knees and raising his arms behind himself, almost as if getting read to jump. It was a jump no human could make, but as a blaze of white seemed to flow over him, a thin layer of white fur covering his arms, and slight changes here or there in his form, it was clear he was no average man. Oz grit his teeth as his snout stretched out, groaning at the still present sensation of his bones shifting that persisted over all these years.

"Let's put you to use "Bunny"..."

A sound flowed through the deserted ally like a coiled spring finally letting loose as he shot through the air, rising up two stories, the apex of his jump lining his foot up with the edge of the building he'd chosen as his target, stetching out a leg and practically stepping onto the roof of the building, another relieve sigh leaving him as he steadied himself, only to be followed by a nervous wobble as he nearly fell back down into the alleyway below, only just saving himself as he caught his balance.

"Okay...still gotta get used to the balance shift...god, a good seven years of this crap and I still have to get used to it...then again probably my fault for not using it as much."

With a groan at his own complaints, knowing he was also the cause for them himself, he strutted towards the edge of the building, his white ears already twitching left and right as they reacted to the different sounds of the town, perching himself at the edge of the building and facing out towards Peco, closing his eyes and focusing on muffling out the sounds that didn't mattered. Excited cheers, random chatter, the marketplace two streets down with the bannana guy selling, well, bannanas. Gunfire, screams...those were important. He focused more on the source of the sound, trying to pinpoint it but only getting a general direction. There was silence for a moment, and Oz grew nervous. Without thinking he leaped from the rooftop, landing in another alley way and falling to all fours, using his animal's nature and darting through the streets at high speeds, spotting a mess up above, splintered wood where a door should be. It wasn't a good sign. Stopping on a dime he stared into the broken doorway, glaring with his red eyes against his white fur, his journey here leaving him without much context. All he saw was a white man like...thing, holding a gun.

"Oi mate! If you're gonna shoot someone give yerself a challenge an' aim that barrel this way ey?"

Odds are whatever he'd ran into, he'd just made it worse.