Cross-posted from tumblr and ao3
I don't own DMMd
Noiz isn't entirely too sure what drags him out to Keisen, but he wanders through the rubbish and the grit, occasionally kicking over scraps of metal, in hopes of finding something halfway decent. It's a fool's errand, he knows, but he might as well do something since he's stuck in this backwards town.
For the most part, he ignores the big warehouses. The small amount of gossip he gathered prior to venturing this way told him that several questionable groups gathered here and did quite questionable things. Not that he knew what said questionable things were of course (but he did because it's not his fault that that one drunk at the bar has looser lips than his mother did).
If there is anyone staring at him they ignore him. Or just take his meandering through the waste as him being some poor lost soul looking for a place to die. Picking up a lead pipe with a crudely welded spike attached to it, Noiz turns it over in his hands. Well, he best be slightly armed, should any of those try to test his being there.
Noiz spends the next few hours, gathering things he likes the feel of into a small pile near the entrance. It's a long process, and the day passes by, slipping into a comfortable orange glow that kind of restricts his little adventure by a lot.
He doesn't really debate one last run around the closest warehouse. He just does it. It's not the biggest warehouse around but it's the most open, so he's able to have quite a good look in without actually entering.
It's by the last window when he hears a commotion by the entrance. Noiz curses his luck (okay so heknew he shouldn't have stayed another ten minutes but come on, he can't help it), and ducks in through the open window, mindful of the shattered glass on the other side. Voices grow louder and closer and Noiz slips behind the nearest mass of boxes.
Well, he tried to, but he trips over something and lands with a bang, air whooshing out of him. The voices outside go quiet, and he resists the urge to whimper because goddamn, even he'll admit that hurt. Felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He waits until footsteps indicate movement, before looking at just what had almost gotten him killed.
Noiz really didn't expect to almost be literally punched in the gut but he was almost relieved he could still be surprised by things in this world. Pushing himself up, and successfully tangling a finger or two in exposed wires and probably cracking the casing of whatever this thing was under his knee, he had to position himself to let the best light catch the face of this thing.
The entire right temple was shattered, exposing a large eyeball and too many wires to consider the thing salvageable. Several fingers were missing as well, and the left leg looked like it had been torn off in the heat of the moment. But, it was an alpha model, no doubt about it. A few models he had seen at the border of Platinum Jail were shiny things, far too sparkly to consider trustworthy. But this one was older, and he could confirm it.
Standing up and dusting himself off, Noiz reached under the metal man and with an 'oof', managed to roll it over. Brushing the dirt off the base of the head, Noiz squinted to read the serial number. His eyes widened a fraction, and he turned the upper body back over carefully.
"No shit."
It really was an older model. He had seen people claim to own them and had heard of people bidding almost offensive amounts of money to get them. But here, at his mercy, was an original alpha model.
Clicking his tongue, Noiz wondered just how he could get the thing home without drawing too much attention to himself. Even if he couldn't get it up and running again, stripping the model for parts would rake in a nice little fortune. Or, he could use whatever he could get out of it to make his own little robot. Heck, he could strip the memory board and sell the information on.
Noiz quickly peered out the window, checking once more for any signs of activity, then looked back at the model. It was worth more than the pile of scraps he had at the entrance of Keisen. Worth at least triple the amount. Maybe more.
It was getting dark enough he could carry it back. He could use the backdoor to the old shop and stash the thing behind the crates. The old man who owned the shop rarely visited, and the only traffic he had these days were people looking for information.
Deciding that he was taking it back, Noiz crouched down. Poking the serial number once more, he smiled to himself. This was such a good idea.