This Iron Heart (Actual RP)

Krieg is hunting past the limit "COME OUT WHERE EVER YOU ARE! I JUST WANNA EAT!"


He plants TNT near the border of the limit to attract attention "THIS WILL ATTRACT SOME THING... I hope..." He Lights the TNT to blow 
Krieg blows the TNT and yells "SALT THE WOUND" He hides waiting for something or someone to check out the explosion, "Now i wait for the pray..."
 
Several scouter AIs of various sizes approach. They communicate with each other through a series of short beeps, their glowing optics scanning the area.


"Warmth detected. Human or large animal in immediate area." said a low, genderless voice.


"We can hear your heartbeat, organic." said another, their voice similar but more masculine.
 
Krieg grabs his buzzsaw and jumps on a AI beating it with his bare fist's "STRIP THE FLESH SALT THE WOUND!!!" he shoved TNT into the AI and ran, "TICK TOCK!"
 
The AI lets out a low beep, the others moving away from it and pursuing the human.


"Cease and desist."


"Stop or we will use force."


"You are an endangered species, we do not wish to kill you."
 
"...that was unexpected."


"Quite."


"Do you pick him up or do I?"


"I don't want to touch him."


"Neither do I." the two machines turn to the third, before zipping away.


"That's not fair..." the third sighs, approaching the fallen human.
 
"He's bleeding, what do I do?"


"How're we supposed to know? Keep moving, the medics will take care of him."


The robot which was carrying him let out a noise construing a sigh as it picked up the pace.
 
Krieg Wakes Up But To Weak To Try And Attack "WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME! I WILL DESTROY YOU!" He Struggles And Trys To Attack But Is Still To Weak
 
Milo followed Cheryl, stepping into place beside her and sticking close so as not to get lost. C-006 was unlike anywhere he'd been, or at least unlike anything he remembered. He stood awkwardly, silently, and let the machine guide him. There would be food for his empty stomach soon enough. For now it was just a matter of staying in the right place and doing what the seemingly kind machine said.


Finally Milo spoke. “Do you know if there will be anyone else at the, um... food corner? Any other humans, I mean?” He wasn't sure what the best answer would be. If there were others he might be expected to talk to them, to introduce himself. It would be stressful at best. On the other hand, he had no one here he could rely on. No one he could trust. It wasn't an ideal situation one way or the other, but at least his own quarters were still, as far as he could tell, private.
 
The large (though still smaller than the other two) machine let out another sigh. "I am taking you to C-006, where you will be contained and examined. Since you have destroyed an AI, you will not be treated as the other humans are."


~~~


"I'm not sure! I can send a message to the other nurturing system and she can tell me, but we're almost there, anyways." Cheryl said, glancing back at him. "Why? Are you hoping to meet a fellow human? Because mating isn't actually required, we can just take some genetic material and impregnate a willing female. We already have an infant on the way in C-010! You can easily help replicate the situation in the city..." the AI began to trail off, beginning to speak of how Milo would be able to assist the dwindling human population.
 
Milo blinked, staring straight forward. He definitely hadn't been thinking about mating, but the mention of it caught him off-guard. The robot made the whole process sound quite... well, robotic. He felt heat rise to his ears and he shook his head.


“Just curious,” he muttered. “I haven't given mating... any thought, really. You really cut out the middleman with that, eh?” Milo couldn't imagine being a father by the natural manner, much less donating his – what had Cheryl said? His genetic material to let some machine take care of the process for him. “Nearly there?”
 
"The food corner is, well, around the corner." Cheryl rounded a corner and he followed. The 'food corner' looked a bit like a small food court, with two different areas to collect food. From the labels above them, one section was for meat while the other was for fruits and vegetables. There were a few tables with a couple female humans sitting at one together, eating similar meals and talking.


"While the menu is limited due to the fact that the food labs only have certain types of animals and produce, we have been able to change up the flavour through completely harmless chemicals." the AI gave a smile. "Three types of meat, though I assure you they have different textures. Not sure about taste."
 
Milo's mouth started watering as the smells of cooked meat and fresh vegetables met his nostrils. He nearly staggered under the weight of the sudden need, and his empty stomach growled again. He scanned the room, glancing over the women at one table, and made mental note of an empty table with a chair that had its back to a thick-looking wall. Sitting there would afford him a view of the rest of the area, as well as keep him from being flanked. It was exactly the sort of spot he would have picked in the tiny, ramshackle, dangerous settlements that dotted the wasteland. There was another small table, not far from the girls, that had two completely exposed chairs. He started toward that one, ignoring the screaming in his guts to take the protected spot. If he didn't start behaving as though he could trust the people – and machines – around him, he'd never be able to.


He stopped after a stride, turning to face Cheryl. He managed a smile and said softly, absently scratching at the plastic prosthetic, “Thanks for bringing me down here. And, I guess... for taking care of us.” It was a strange sensation, thanking the machine, but he imagined that without her and her ilk, he'd be starving out in the wastes right about now. Instead, he was going to eat something that smelled like it was at least a relative of beef.
 
She gave a nod and a smile, her hands folded over her lap. "I do encourage you to try and befriend other humans. In fact, you were in the war, correct? We have a couple other veterans in the city, perhaps you can identify with one of them. The female is currently having surgery, however, while the male is... um..." pausing, the AI's smile faded. "He's not a very... well, I'm not allowed to speak poorly of humans. But do try to communicate with other organics, as we assume it's bad for your mental health not to. Enjoy your meal." nodding again, Cheryl turned and walked off, fading into the small crowd of robots.


The two young women glanced over at Milo for a moment, before returning to their chatting. They both chuckled at what was presumably a joke, continuing to eat their meals.


Another AI, one who seemed to work in the food corner (though wasn't a typical nursing model, as it was bulkier, darker and didn't have an obvious gender), approached the man.


"Milo." it said in a deep male voice. "I can tell from the prosthetic limb. I don't recall seeing you in this food corner before. Checking the cameras, you haven't been in this food corner before." the robot paused, its optics focusing on him. "Would you like to come collect your food of choice? I may assist you, telling you the nutritional value and type of food. The meats are more limited when it comes to species, but we have sheep, frog, common house cat, cow and rabbit. I do not know if you have been informed previously, but humans are only allowed one pound of cow meat per month. Distribute the food wisely. Rabbit, frog and cat, however, is pretty much unlimited. Especially rabbits. Rabbits are encouraged. They breed more than we thought they would."
 
Memories of the war flooded back into Milo's conscious mind. To call what he'd participated in a “war,” though, was generous. Petty tribes squabbling over resources, once the biggest weapons had been used up. He'd seen more than his share of blood and death and wasn't incredibly eager to meet with another fighter. Especially if they'd happened to be on opposite sides at some point of that massive, sprawling, amorphous combat. Still, he nodded appreciatively to Cheryl, thanking her once more before they parted ways and he went for the table he'd picked out. The women at the table had made some joke – he tried not to assume it was at his expense – and he tried to give a smile in their direction. Milo was fairly certain it was more of a grimace, but there was little to be done about that.


The next machine that approached him answered at least one of his questions: the individual machines could in fact access what the cameras had seen. It wasn't much of a surprise so he tried not to let the new knowledge register on his face. It remained to be seen how much the robots could glean from human facial expressions. Beef sounded amazing, but he could probably eat a quarter-pound per meal, at least, so it would be best to save that for later. Still, sheep could be good for a little treat. He gave a cautious smile to the machine that knew him, apparently, by reputation of his arm.


“Sheep, or, um...” he searched his mind for a word he knew had been there, once. He found it and nearly grinned with the pleasure of the sounds in his mouth. “Mutton, please.” Rabbit would have to do later on, and cat would be interesting, maybe, but for this morning it was to be sheep. “You've got me at a disadvantage,” he said slowly. “Could I get your name?”
 
"I am a unique, early model of the nurturing systems." the machine's monotone voice could have almost sounded proud, if it wasn't so flat. "While the common model specializes in medicine and caring for humans, I am far more competent when it comes to preparing meals. I have been given the name 'Parsley'." it turned to the meat section.


"I will fetch you your food. If you would like, I can bring a few varieties of sheep meat. Most humans select this option to get a feel for what seasonings they enjoy. I almost envy your ability to taste the wide spectrum of flavours which I create. Almost." it paused. "It will take me but a minute to collect your food. I will include vegetables, as every human has nutritional requirements."


The bulky robot wheeled off, disappearing behind the counter of the meat area. About a minute later, as it said, it returned, carrying a plate of food with one of its many arms. It placed it in front of Milo, before spinning to the entrance of the food corner.


"Cheryl had mentioned another veteran, correct? Because he's actually approaching." letting out a low noise resembling a sigh, Parsley headed to the front of the room.


A man, tall, thin and aging, with curled, greying hair, walked into the area. He immediately headed to the sheltered table against the wall which Milo decided not to sit at, and the AI stared at him for a moment before approaching.


Its voice was loud enough to hear from his table, so Milo could easily hear what the machine said to the apparently troublesome veteran.


"You are under order to interact with other organics, correct? Actually, that is not a question. That is correct. I just checked your file now."


The man muttered a response.


"For your decreasing mental health."


Another inaudible response.


"I refuse to go against orders. You are to speak to one of the three humans in the food corner. And you may not sit there, because this table in now being washed." a small appendage stretched out of its side, covering the borders of the table in red tape, before pulling the man's chair away. "Go. Go now. Go. I will fetch your usual dish."


He refused to move however, and Parsley gave the chair a shake.


"Your caretaker does not know you are here, and it is 12:11 PM. She is currently looking for you. If you do not move to another table, I will inform Nina of your current location."


That got him out of his seat fast enough, and he glanced around at the other tables. He looked at the women for a moment (who were currently staring at him due to the noise the AI had made), frowned, then glanced over at Milo.
 
Milo had chosen to go with the sample platter. Why not try the whole gamut of what they had available when he had the chance? While he waited for the machine – Parsley, a name that he assumed had some meaning he couldn't remember – to return, he ventured a glance back at the women eating together. Both were attractive enough to stir a little something in his blood, and that was an unfamiliar feeling. He stared back down at the table, trying to shake the sensation. It was about that time Parsley came back with his food and something like a warning. The other warrior was coming, whether Milo wanted to deal with the man or not. He listened to the exchange that followed the thin, older man's entrance.


Milo had stared down at his plate during the small confrontation between Parsley and the newcomer, but as the silence lingered and the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, Milo ventured a glance up and back toward the man. 'Decreasing mental health' wasn't an encouraging phrase, but given his own state, mental and physical, it was understandable. His eyes met those of the older man and he sighed. Milo used his foot to push the other chair at the table back, then nodded toward it. He'd done dumber things, he hoped. And besides, maybe this guy could use a friend. He certainly didn't seem to care for the machine caretakers.
 
He blinked a few times, quietly approaching and sitting down at the table. The man glanced back at the meat area, where Parsley was glaring at him. "They won't leave me alone 'til I say something, might as well start with names. Wilson Kraus." he shifted a bit, fidgeting. He glanced back at the machine, who had disappeared for a moment, before returning with a plate of various vegetables and a piece of meat. It placed the dish in front of him, along with the solid plastic utensils that came with the meal, before heading back to the front of the food corner, staring at Wilson as if he was about to run off. He looked back at the other fellow.


"My back's facing the entrance, so, do me a favour. If you see one of 'em standard nurse bots, with white plating, pink eyes and, uh, she likes to wear dresses, tell me. At that point I won't have much time to run, but I can pretend I don't notice her 'til the last second."


He then began prodding at his food with the fork, as if he was unsure if it was safe to eat.
 
Milo raised an eyebrow as Kraus sat across from him. The other man was older than him, thinner, and he introduced himself seemingly as a last resort. Milo took a bite, listening to Wilson speak. He nodded slowly, chewing and swallowing.


“I noticed you going for the more secured position,” Milo said slowly, treating each word like a minefield. He couldn't tell by sight if the newcomer was a friend or an enemy, so caution was his first, deep-seated response. “I had to fight the impulse, myself. I think... it's better if we try to embrace this. I'm Milo Christopherson. I'll watch for your caretaker.” It was the least he could do for a fellow human. Milo's prosthetic arm held his fork while the organic right arm twirled the plastic knife in his fingers idly. Even if it was light plastic, having a blade on his person felt good.


“How long have you been here? I... think it's just been a couple days for me.”
 
"At least a year. I've been tossed around a lot, given to a bunch of caretakers, but none of them wanted to deal with me. Up until one younger, more eager robot offered to take care of me. That was, what, six, seven months ago? Something like that." he gave a shrug, not looking up from his lunch. He took a bite, chewing slowly. "At least they don't sneak medication into the food here." Wilson muttered. "Not to my knowledge."


He glanced over his shoulder every so often.


"She probably started looking for me around 12:05, and she's working her way up. Always does. I have another five or six minutes until she finds me."
 
Milo nodded, listening. In a way, he felt sorry for the guy. In another, he didn't. He'd been in the machines' care for a year by his own reckoning and still didn't trust them. That just seemed counterproductive. Granted, maybe trust was being too generous and it was enough that Wilson hadn't tried to escape. Or at least, Milo assumed he hadn't. He chewed on his cheek for a moment, then sighed.


“I'll keep an eye out for her. Just relax while you can, yeah?” It didn't seem the right time to ask Wilson what his role had been in the war, and Milo wasn't sure he was up to talking about it either. If Wilson brought it up, then, maybe, he'd give one of his easier-to-remember stories. For now, though, it seemed a far better idea to talk about something else.


“So, Kraus,” he started, searching for an acceptable topic. His eyes landed on the girls at the other table. “You know anything about the others in C-006?” Milo spoke the whole designation, chewing the name in his mouth awkwardly. He'd have to come up with an easier name for the place. Maybe Sea Sick. It sounded pretty close. He chuckled softly, muttering “Sea sick” under his breath.
 
"No. I don't bother talking to them. Unless I'm forced to, that is, but I'm sure none of them have any interest talking to me, either." he took another bite of his food. He was silent for a moment after he swallowed, glancing up at Milo.


"I didn't know they made prosthetic limbs," he muttered. "I mean, it's not surprising. They're capable of doing plenty of things, so I doubt prosthetic limbs are out of their grasp..."
 
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