Solving the Mystery [Closed/Volta]

Despite what one would probably wonder, due to a variety of reasons revolving around the noise Ezra was making himself, as well as the fact he wasn't paying attention to the noise around him, the speech from the robot-looking thing send a shiver through the man's spine, terrifying him for a moment. Jumping up from the scare, his tentacles jabbed into the ceiling, holding him suspended in the air hanging from the appendages for a moment, before analyzing Volta with fearful curiosity. His bravado showing vibrantly for a moment, before regaining his prose and slowly getting off of the roof, using the tentacles like a spider to climb down, using two to support himself, barely an inch off of the ground, but still suspended in the air. His hand would reach up to scratch the back of his neck, laughing for a moment, before looking down to talk with the robot.
"You gave me a bit of a spook there cugine. I didn't expect any of the technology around here to be functional." the demon would say, before finally touching down onto the ground. He would smile at the robot, taking in what it said and processing what it meant. It knew about demons, that was normal for most on Sadal. It wasn't weird to see the occasional demon on Sadal running around doing whatever it is they wanted to do. What concerned him was his casualness around his 'eels'. Most people were freaked out about them. This little thing had guts... metaphorically speaking. "Uh, yeah, I'm a demon. Though I don't associate with the Makai, or whatever the other demons part themselves with. My name is Ezra." He would say, reaching a hand to shake, before thinking of how stupid that looked, and offered a high five. "I'm the Don of the Caliburn family in Sadal. We run most of the guns and other n'er-do-well stuff. Hence why I think this talk should be a little more formal." Ezra would start to say with a more tonal voice. Not threatening, but cautious, clearly a bit gruff and harsh. "I am going to say, I'm not out here enjoying the scenery, that's for sure. I rather like the city life. The only jungles I wanna be in are the ones made of concrete. However, this area was known to house criminal scum, the kind I don't exactly like. One of those criminals has something of mine. Something I prize dearly. Normally I'd do the whole 'take the code of silence' and slit our wrists, but the only thing that'd come outta you kiddo is probably oil, hence why I'm going easy on you." Ezra would say, walking to pat his hand on Volta's head, like an adult to a child.

"So, since we have that out of the way, who might you be? I don't quite remember seeing anything destroyed around here that even so much as resembled you, and all the functioning computers are so outdated their voice lines are pre-generated. You seem... Complete somehow."

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Word Count: 506

"Well, I guess that would explain how different you are from everything else around here... Anyway, it's a pleasure meeting indeed." Ezra would reply, wondering just how many more of these creatures there were. He was a legit species, not a man-made robot, which meant they had to be able to breed... He was thinking way too much into it. "Annnnd now I won't be able to sleep for a couple of days... Meh, anyways, I may have to accept your offer. See, I've got a lot of free time and I gotta get around more. Despite your reaction, a lot of people see me and run to the nearest government worker's office. If you'd be willing to let me tag along... say... disguised or so? I'd be extremely grateful." Ezra exclaimed, taking a deep breath, and sighing hard as he would lean against a back wall. Thinking hard about what he was going to do, and how this little metalman may be able to help.

"Alright Volta, I've got a few questions about you. Unlike those magical nutjobs who hold all the power around these parts, I can't detect people's abilities and powers just by focusing my brain on them or whatever it is that they do. I expect power dependant on someone's species. See, the Saiyans around here tend to be weaker than the normal alien. Their aesthetic would honestly fit better if they were a race of psychopathic murderers, to be honest. Alas, they aren't that way. Due to this nature of mine, I can't exactly judge how well you'd fair in combat. I gotta ask this and press it with extreme prejudice." He'd go on and on, before looking directly at the robot with a hard gaze, like a predator raptor hunting its prey. The tentacles on his back snapping at each other again while he ignored them. "In a showdown, if I were to follow along with you, would you be able to handle yourself?" He would question, just thinking of what could happen. He was mainly doing this to probe information on the creature's power, disguised as a legitimate question of safety. Thinking of that, his mind flitted from thought to thought. "Speaking of which... You said you're part of a race that has detailed information on the universe?" He would ask, finally piecing together a functional question to match what he was wanting.

"Okay, so this may be a longshot, and I'm not going to be disappointed if you have no clue, but I gotta ask. Do you have ANY records of anything called Zenom? A chemical that comes from some 'Br-wn' company." His last comment referencing the bottle he had in his jacket. The vial was long and thin, wearing a ripped up prescription designation that could only still read 'Br-wn Zenom In--tor'. He had been searching for the company or companies who may have come up with this liquid gold for a long while now, and he was not going to give up his chance at information.

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Word Count: 508

Listening to him speak of Ki and the like kinda confused Ezra, who was a more 'fight more talk less' kinda guy, but the moment the battery opened, he was almost instantly looking at the missiles with a grin of excitement. Approving look on his face as he used one hand to outline his chin as if a detective looking over a crime scene. Each missile a piece of artwork to the demon, who was packing heat himself. He would lean back during the comment on weaponry, almost failing his composer when the micro-fusion payload was mentioned. He gave an approving thumbs up, kicking back his duster to show the two holsters under each arm. Inside each was a handgun, nothing of too much importance aside from their ammunition.
"I gotta say, you're a pretty kickass kinda made man. Why hit them with a punch when you can give their great-grandchildren cancer." he would comment to Volta. "I don't have the luxury of nukes, but I do carry a few sides myself. You'll never see me without a piece." he'd say, before continuing to listen. He hadn't really known much of the issues between demons and saiyans, mainly due to the lack of proper introduction into the demon groups that caused so much trouble for the saiyans, but it wasn't without reason, that was for sure.
"I can't say entirely what is going on between the two factions, but whatever it is, it must have been seriously bad. My family was victims of the issues between the groups. My mother and father were executed by saiyans... It was long after my sister and I left them though to live with our uncle. I didn't learn until I was about eleven years old. Either way, I'm personally pissed at the monkeys because of my parents and how much they continue to shit on my plans. However, I'm almost certain there are other demons who dick on saiyans as well." Ezra would continue to press on, but his tone would go neutral, trying to recall it all. His mind jumped from one place to another, attempting to figure it out himself. The demons and saiyans haven't been friendly since long before Ezra was born into the world, which left little for him to give the metalman. "I apologize for not knowing more. Despite being a demon, I'm actually pretty young. If I were part of the rich and pampered group of demons, I'd be a child to them." He would clarify. "The best I could tell you is to probably seek out a much older demon. That, or just march into the Sadal Government buildings and demanding to talk to their leader like some sort of alien movie knock-off, heh" He would chuckle, trying to imagine the midget of a machine threatening the saiyans.

When Volta made it clear he wasn't entirely sure of the Zenom and its origin due to his species isolationism, his hand would do a passive wave, trying to flag down the apologie while accepting the truth of the matter. His experience proving again he'll be forced to dig deep into the minds of others to get what he wanted, and not just what he could skim from an alien out of the water. "Don't apologize, fuggitaboutit. I knew you'd probably not know what it was, I just had to make sure. One of the guys who used to work for me, really big douchebag of a capo. He put a whack out on the wrong guy and got into trouble. Rather than resort to admitting to me his failure, he went ahead and bought some mystery juice from a guy in black somewhere around here. That liquid turned him into this unkillable god of a beast, morphing and turning into a monster. I mean, I look pretty freaky and this guy scared me shitless. He didn't just get the hit done, he also comes back to the base and murders basically every other soldier I had. Hundreds of demons, saiyans, and other aliens dead just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I overpowered him, and the only way to kill him was burning the body... I want to find the person who sold him that drug and I plan to put him in the good ol' six feet under. That, or maybe give him a pair of cement shoes to enjoy letting him taste what happens when he crosses the wrong Godfather." He would finish, telling the story of what happened. During this entire exchange, would have had lit a cigarette halfway through, dragging hard between sentences while leaning against a pillar of cement. His excitement dead and in a frown as he remembered the carnage and death that ensued because of his idiocy. Hiring someone so foolish as to take a drug like that. Something he didn't tell Volta was how much he wanted the drug himself. He wanted every drop he could find, to perfect his art of murder and death. He may have been a swell guy, but deep down he was still a demon. A monster from another dimension. Nothing would prevent him from getting there sooner or later. For now, he held back, thinking of what he was saying, before dropping this finished cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with his food, walking back towards a table in the general area. Swiping away from of the junk and trash on it. He'd take out the bag with the vial and place it on the table, along with a camera with some pictures he'd printed out of a figure in a dark setting. Obviously, the man he'd spoken about. "I know you probably don't care since we've just met, and you don't know anything about it, but if you ever find yourself with info on this guy or anything he sells, contact me. I've got contacts literally everywhere on Sadal, and on most other planets as well. It isn't hard to find a way to get a message to me. This drug causes anything living, man or machine, to become horrendously evil and monstrous. The sheer volume of a danger it is to all existence is beyond comprehension." Ezra said, obviously ad-libbing in some over-exaggerations he knew literally nothing about. Nothing caught the attention of someone more than the threat to all existence. "Feel free to keep the photos. I need to hold onto the bottle though. It still has trace amounts of the Zenom in it and I can't lose my samples."

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Word Count: 1099

"The 'fleshies' are fickle creatures. Demons, we're naturally dicks. Literally speaking, we're the devil. But we're immortal. We don't play the long game because we don't really have an end to us. If I don't end up at the end of someone's gun, I could still be here on this planet when nature decides to make it explode. Saiyans, however... It's a whole different story. Mortals aren't lucky. They have a select few years that they get to be around, and then poof. Gone. It's actually quite depressing. They find themselves at the crossroads of life and death and wonder what they want to leave behind. Obviously, they can't live forever. No one can escape mortality. They can hope to try though, and thus pushes them to do things they never thought they could do before..." Ezra said with a thick gruff to his voice. He was clearly speaking from experience, even if in the least variable, and he knew well enough what it was like to resort to that kind of action. "I was fifteen when I killed my first person. Don't freak out, it wasn't unwarranted. The man tried to kill my uncle... So I shot him. Four times to be precise. Three in the chest, and one in the head. What I did at that moment, it was to protect life. I saved my uncle that day... but when it comes to the mortals, they don't always kill for defense. It's quite common to attempt murder simply for menial things. Food, water, shelter, you name it and someone has killed for it. Even knowledge, the boon that you crave. I knew a young man who was stabbed through the stomach for reading a book that he had borrowed from a friend. Turned out that friend had stolen the book from the Don of the Coachella family. I had to put a few holes in Don's brain myself in revenge..." the demon would stop, processing what he was saying, before waving it off and ending it there. "Bah, ignore me. I'm rambling again. Sorry for the stories. The person who fails to learn from history will be doomed to repeat it. The last thing I want is for any of that to be repeated near me." he would answer to himself.

"I'm not sure." Ezra would respond when questioned hypothetically about the risks of the Zenom, and why someone would do it. He had spent literal months pondering this very subject to himself, partially listening in as he heard the rest of what Volta had to say. "When I saw the man who put this stuff into him... Ugh. Also, yeah, I may have some use for you. I have a few guys I gotta meet in a bit. Buncha' lowly types. The kind who would sell their soul for a pint or a few cigs. I may need you to blow one of them up if they don't cooperate." He'd say, drawing one of his handguns. Cocking back the slide, he'd look over at Volta in the small segment of silence. "Oh, don't worry about it too much. It's not murder. Technically speaking, we'd be doing Sadal a favor. These guys are known, serial killers." he'd try to reason with Volta, before putting the gun inside of its holster again and looking towards the door. "It's probably best if we leave now. Knowing this place, the Saiyans will be here any minute to look for someone to fuck up. I'd rather be somewhere else. Also..." He'd say, looking down at the ground below Volta, where his third leg was.

"I really hope that was some kinda leg, or support, or kickstand of sorts..."