Ring, ring.
"Hello? Hello? Is this Mister Decanov's number?"
"Doctor. And yes."
"I represent The Moon, I'd like to interview you about the recent incident at Melkin Enterprise for our next issue."
"I will tell you the exact same thing I told the last thirty times to one of you today: I did not sabotage the machine, those idiots stupidly tried to finish it on their own and failed to consider some issues that still needed to be fixed. The police and the Union have already confirmed my innocence."
"You have to admit there is a streak. This isn't the first time such an incident has occurred to one of your former employers after they fired you."
"I will not be blamed for the spread of idiocy among the scientific community of this city."
"Are you certain-"
"I have machines to engineer and new funds to find. Goodbye."
The deep masculine voice with a Draskian accent sighed as he hung up, the noise echoing with a faint artificial edge. He had the means to eliminate this flaw in his voicebox, but he preferred to keep it. Let it not be said that Doctor Ivan Decanov was ashamed of his robotic nature. He was not one of those fools with a love for synthetic flesh and simulated musculature. What was the point of it? They had the chance to alter their bodies as they wished and take on the most efficient forms possible, yet here they were, valuing aesthetics over utility. Why, just the other day he had been visited by a girl seeking a way to have growing hair. Growing hair! For a machine! If she really wanted capillary decorations then she could just get wigs. It'd be cheaper in the long term.
The blocky fingers of the doctor adjusted their hold on his phone to turn it off, effectively silencing it for the foreseeable future. He had already gotten more calls than he was willing to go through in a week in a single day. Besides, anyone who truly needed to contact him would directly use the secret transmitter hidden in his body. The five steel appendages of the doctor's hand, each phalange a rectangular piece of metal, put his phone in one of the pockets inside of his open white lab coat, the open cloth revealing his thin chrome chest and the double-doored opening to his insides. The attire showcased his scholarly nature without getting in the way of urgent operations. The coat hung down nearly to the floor when he was at rest, currently wooshing in the air as the man powerwalked his way back home from a trip to the closest police station. His lanky frame did nothing to stop the intimidating aura that leaked from his natural grumpiness and present annoyance at the latest events. His severe face didn't make him look any friendlier.
It was the tale-tell sign to recognize him or one of his brothers, at least those that hadn't modified themselves too heavily. It was a trapezoidal prism that favored height over length or width, or more simply put, a tall rectangular shape with slightly angled faces, such that the top square face was roughly a third larger than its bottom counterpart. The three-dimensional figure wasn't perfect however, the front was slightly less angled than the other sides, and to compensate there was a slight "bump" at its top so that the upper side could keep its square shape. The upper part then curved down perfectly, looking like half a circle on the side, and forming this bump or ridge that many likened to the Doctor's hair. Not that he ever contradicted them, he had to admit that despite its practical use, holding some inner mechanisms within, the ridge did make his head better than perfectly flat faces would have.
Beneath the man's "hair" was of course his face. His mouth didn't open, it was a curved opening at the bottom of his head's front side in the layer of metal covering it that led to a second layer with metallic stripes in a lighter colored and less reflective material than his steel exterior, the whitish plates forming approximate teeth. Above, after a small blank space, was a pyramid cut in half diagonally that served as his nose. To the sides were his rectangular eyes, white surfaces with black square pupils with no irises. Beneath those were bags made by curved cuts in the outer layer of metal to reveal a darker one beneath. He had to admit, those had been a modification to his father's design. Bags under the eyes did wonders to steer people away from engaging in meaningless conversations, even if they were purely cosmetic. After all, it was not like he had a vital need for sleep that could be disrupted.
The final detail on the doctor's visage was his largest customization to his appearance aside from his clothes. Thick rectangles of dark metal served as his eyebrows, each one thicker than one of his fingers. He had designed them to move and emote in part to better reflect his emotions but mostly to enhance his severe look. Decanov was quite satisfied with the overall effect, though at times he still pondered the possibility of adding a beard of sorts. Clearly, the number of calls he had gotten today was a sign he didn't showcase enough he just wanted people to leave him alone. Still, he couldn't help but feel like an addition to his perfectly square chin might ruin his look, and he failed to see a useful application for it.
His dark brown pants groaned as he walked, the power of his movements combined with the weight of his metallic body stressing the poor clothing. The doctor grumbled as he noticed he would likely soon need to replenish his wardrobe, cursing companies and the current fashion for creating such lousy items that barely lasted when worn by those with more unique physiques. He had to admit he understood why most of his kindred machines preferred to do without the weakness of cloth, but he wouldn't stoop so low. He may not have any of the reproductive parts that needed to be covered in the first place, but not running around naked was a basic rule of decency. Barring special circumstances such as extreme body types or hazardous forms, there was no excuse in his mind for forgoing one of the basics of civilized society and covering one's crotch or equivalent location of reproductive organs. Even the Hero Blaze, who was essentially a walking bundle of flames, bothered to wear a suit.
The doctor's annoyance leaked into his walk and the pavement beneath his metal feet cracked under the increased weight of his frustration. The bulky rectangular appendages had no toes but were still divided into enough sections to allow for smooth movements, making him perhaps even more flexible than a normal human. Not quite as flexible as his waist, made in an accordion fashion similar to the system for particularly long buses, but still impressive enough for him to have more potential in ballet than the average individual. Not that he used this flexibility much, the man was interested in neither dancing nor fighting or sports, if he could help his feet would only be used to travel between parts of his lab. Alas, taxes and employers were the sad reality of the world, and he couldn't stay confined to his scientific paradise, not if he wanted to have enough money to buy equipment and materials, and pay for his electricity bills.
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The doctor turned around the corner of the street, and his home appeared in his field of view. The small old repurposed warehouse wasn't the most welcoming decor, but he had no need for most of the things organic lifeforms required. Living arrangements were much cheaper when one didn't need to care about things like kitchens and bedrooms, which left a lot of free space for him to work. Aside from the small entrance he had arranged to meet guests in following the nosy questions of the police the first time they had appeared at his doorstep, there were only three spaces that didn't serve as his workshop and laboratory: a small bathroom, to clean his clothes as well as himself; a "relaxation" room, when he needed to take a break to soothe his mind; and the living space of the warehouse's other occupant.
Decanov did his best to bury his frustration for the sake of his roommate before entering. The door opened on its own when he approached with a flex of his programming, making use of the wireless connection between himself and his home to gain time. As he stepped inside he made sure to announce his arrival with his deep voice, raising his tone enough to be audible without being distracting or deafening.
"I'm home."
The sound of cluttered objects falling echoed from another room, and the doctor likely shook his head. He didn't tend to forgive clumsiness in professional settings, but not only was this home, he knew the poor boy had a very valid excuse for his lack of control over his body. By the time the robot was done cleaning his metal feet with the machine installed in the entrance to ensure the outside's dirtiness wouldn't sneak its way in, the door to the relaxation room opened with what would have been a bang had it not been for the door stoppers the doctor had set up following the damages caused by the first such incident.
Approaching him with a nervous smile on his face was another mechanical body, though one far less practical and simple than his. The tall and broad humanoid frame was covered in white synthetic flesh that mimicked human musculature and features excessively effectively, only betraying its artificial nature due to the small openings revealing the black metal cables that moved the thing beneath. The milky material that covered the body was squishier than true meat, but it had to compensate for the incredibly hard structure beneath. Its general frame could best be described as an Adonis, with overly detailed muscles being visible even through casual clothes due to their sheer ridiculous size. The floaty red shirt and blue jeans could do nothing to hide the imposing form beneath, and were it not for the wig on their wearer's head they would make him look like a mannequin from a Super's clothes store.
Contrary to what one would expect from such a body, the head had a more youthful look. There was a slight uncanny edge to the visage, but it also showed enough warmth to dismiss its oddity. The blue eyes were slightly too perfect, too white and free of blemishes to appear natural. Wigs of blonde hair fought back against the artificial look of the whole, two thin stripes acting as eyebrows while a larger one on the head mimicked a classic short haircut that finished in a small quiff at the front, pointy enough to be remarkable but too small to be distracting.
Unlike Decanov's, the smooth voice that left those white artificial lips had no mechanical echo, it would be nigh impossible to guess it had come from a non-organic entity. Well, mostly non-organic.
"Hey, Doc. Did everything go well?"
"The same as usual, Adam."
"Good, good... You know Doc, maybe it'd be best if you didn't do anything next time?"
"I have done nothing. It is not my fault that the laser's reactor detonated."
"Are you sure, Doc?"
"They hire me for a project and fire me before it is completed to keep the credit and not pay me as much as I am due. If they can't make heads or tails of my blueprints and fail in the assembly of the device, any following accident is their responsibility."
"When the plans aren't functional..."
"I do not sabotage my blueprints. I simply delay fixing some faults until the last minute and keep some secrets off of the paper to avoid corporate espionage. If they want to claim they created the designs, they should be able to notice and fix any issues on their own."
Adam sighed as he followed the doctor into his workshop, the lighter robot dropping into a seat facing a desk covered in large sheets of paper with countless drawings and calculations. The youngest stayed silent for a few moments as Decanov picked up a pencil and began to sketch on a new blank canvas, vague outlines of new machine parts flowing onto the sheet.
"Will we be fine for the rent this month, Doc?"
"Yes."
Adam nervously scratched at the back of his neck.
"Are you sure? I can try to find a job, and-"
"In your condition? No. You should rest first and foremost. Let me worry about our finances."
The doctor scoffed.
"Besides, I doubt you'd find suitable work in this city. You have no higher education, and Zalcien has no love for overly mechanical entities. The best you'd find would be security or construction work, and neither pays well but both are dangerous. As I've said, the money from the Melkin Enterprise contract will last us long enough."
Adam looked at the seated man with uncanny worried-filled eyes for a few seconds before speaking up once more.
"Have you tried asking the Hero Union?"
The older machine sighed, and the white one saw it as a sign of annoyance.
"I know you don't like them, Doc, but think about it! They wouldn't kick you out of a project, and you'd get to experiment with some of those rare materials you keep talking about! Sure, they'd want a lot of control over what you do, but it'd be better than whatever Xenocorp or whatever other company would contact you, no?"
The doctor sighed once more as he let go of his pencil and lowered his head.
"I already tried."
"What? When?"
"Every month, and since long before I met you, Adam. Every application was denied. For all their talk of justice, they are just as afraid of hiring sapient machines as any xenophobic corporation. Especially with my family's history. Ah!"
Adam placed one of his hands on Decanov's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Doc."
"Don't be. You're not their hiring manager. I fear the time I am forced to leave this city in search of greener pastures approaches."
"What about-"
"You're free to come with me, of course. I understand if you wished to stay, but given your situation, leaving Zalcien might be for the best for you too."
The youngster was about to answer when someone knocked at their door. The two exchanged a look before the doctor turned to a screen on his desk and quickly brought up the footage from the security camera placed in front of the warehouse. The duo stared at the dark figure on their screen, an entity barely humanoid and of such a deep black that it looked more like something covering the lens of the camera than a living thing. They both watched curiously as a tendril rose from the thing's shadow and knocked on the door once more.
"That doesn't look like the police, Doc."
"No, no it does not. Stay here, I'll handle our guest alone."
"Doc!"
"Don't 'Doc' me, Adam. This screams Villainy, and I am not putting you in danger."
The white android grumbled as the doctor advanced, but the blocker machine was disgruntled to see the youngster had managed to sneak his way by his side as he opened the front door. It was already too late to send the teen back to the workshop, the door was already wide open and the mysterious figure stood before them.
"Is this Doctor Ivan Decanov's address?"
The scientist scoffed at the entity's voice. The dramatic echo was a little too much in the Draskian's opinion.
"Yes. What do you want?"
"I am here with a job offer."
The doctor raised an eyebrow.