Dysart, Lester - 'Stop- or I'll Kung Fu you!!'

Who: Dysart
Where: Seymour's-most-likely-former-apartment
When: 1 hour after previous post
Dysart had no clue of where to start with this.
It must have been the goo that it created on impact, or way it flaked
off into chunky bits... but looking at the Crashed ship simply called
back an instinct that he'd long forgotten.
The need for clean.
It was at this point that Efof simply left the possibly senile AI.
Hey, Efof was safe, mission complete as far as he was concerned.
Strolling out of the luxury suite he quickly returned from a
janitorial closest with an industrial strength G.U.N.K thrower over
his shoulders and a hand-Bazookoid tucked under one arm he was ready
to go to town.
The epidermis of the ship exploded in glorious gratuitous fashion,
like a mollopod who'd just stuffed himself with cherry bombs and
Birdseye chili. The second the Bazookoid's clip was empty he easily
discarded it with a careless toss over his shoulder.
Then, bracing his spindly body he let loose on the hose-like cleaner
nossle.
By god was the G.U.N.K formula an improvement over the old one.
Shame that all he'd done was liquefy 15 tonnes of bug.
Putting it simply it would take a lot more than a bit of salt to get
that stain out
of the Persian rug.
Needless to say Dysart swiftly left the room. He paused only to slap a
'biohazard' sticker on the door. "Perhaps I ought to stick to my newer
vocation- crash test dummy."
"Intruder alert. Intruder alert. Poetry recital has hence been
canceled. Thank god." A familiar droning voice called off from his side.
Dysart turned and beheld Holly's glorious balding head bobbing through
a monitor.
Performing a self diagnostic, the series one mechanoid pulled up his
own schematics.
Digging up the location of his multi-interface port, a small
cylindrical spike ejected
from his wrist which he quickly jammed into socket.
It'd been a while since Dysart had seen a male AI after living with
the pink dwarf's
female AI of a similar personality. Only one enjoyed rally cars and
the other tragically, embroidery. Oh the hours of fun Dysart and holly
v2 had watching cars go around in circles on the pink dwarf's view
screen...
"Holly!" Dysart yelled out at the AI as he interfaced silently.
"Hey Andy."
"GOD DAMN IT! MY NAME IS DYSART."
"Okay, This-Art."
"... good enough." The AI replied mutely. "Now... this this the right
Blue Dwarf?"
"It depends on what you define as 'right'." Dysart wasn't sure if he
was doing this on purpose or if he was just being an arse. "Do you
mean the location 'right' Blue Dwarf, as in the one that you're
currently on. The goal-wise 'right' Blue Dwarf as in the one you need
to be on or possibly the philosophically 'right' blue dwarf as in the
one that's right for you."
Dysart paused for a moment, giving his answer thought.
"Is the crew solely consist of hot nymphomaniacs with a hard on for AI?"
"...Uhhh... nope..." Holly admitted sheepishly.
"Then it's the first two then." The technological specialist replied.
"...You know I've never really thought about wanting something like
that until you said it." The infinitely larger intelligence admitted,
his eyes slightly drifting off into oblivion.
"That's-."
Dysart only had a few seconds to notice speeding object out the corner
of his eye before it hit him like a Mack truck.
Not sounding unlike a teenager smacking into a flock of metal broom
sticks, Dysart's lithe frame was sent clattering to the ground. His
pale holographic face contorted into a snarl while he brushed the
small Grey bangs out of his face.
A small click erupted from his side as his hand clipped through his
body and tore out his diminutive laser pistol. Only to find that
whatever had bowled him over was already running away.
"Oh smeg! Sorry!!" A decidingly British voice called back. Dysart's
photo receptors shuddered as he twisted his head towards the running man.
A weedy looking bloke, just over 6 foot bolted past. The coat tails of
a medical lab coat twisted behind him while a pair of blue surgery
pants sheaved his shoeless feet.
"I'm trying to stop running but my feet won't smegging listen!! Little
help here?!"
Oh it was ON now...
The Android's eyes scanned the corridor quickly. He immediately
noticed a hanging fire hydrant. Taking aim with both hands he took a
breath and fired. But he forgot that Robots don't breath then promptly
shot the fleeing man in the back of the head.
Which stopped him. Dead.
Dysart shakily pulled himself up from the ground and stumbled over to
the prone man. A thin stream of smoke floated up from the body while
the smell of roasting meat was in the air. What could be approximated
to a sinking feeling in his stomach was quickly observed. He'd just
killed a man for shoving him over.
Which would have been a accurate as he noticed the wound just stitched
up before his eyes.
"Jesus Christ! You shot me!! Why would you do that?!" The man mumbled
face down.
"What the hell?!" The AI replied just as Andy would had he been alive.
Suddenly, the prone man shao-lin jumped from prone to standing. Fast
as lightening, corpse turned Hong Kong policeman flung out his arms
and tossed Dysart's metal frame over his shoulder.
CPU scrapping erratically for a correct response, Dysart's legs jutted
out and landed on his feet at the last second. Only to have a fist
smack him in the face. A sickening crunch of flesh on-metal ensued.
Dysart's mind reeled while his sensors danced a merry jig while Bruce
Lee's reincarnation let out a piercing yell while he held his very
broken fist.
Pulling back into consciousness first, Dysart lept on the regenerating
man and wrapped his failing limbs in a dead lock.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" The AI yelled as he struggled
against the assailant, then murder victim, then assailant again.
"I don't-!" He yelled, jabbing Dysart in the face with an elbow.
"-Smegging-" He continued with a kick to reverse kick to the robot's
torso. "-KNOW!!" The man finalised with a snap kick... which Dysart
caught.
His robotic eyes then suddenly noticed the small steel input on his
forehead.
A quick 'snick' Dysart once more extended his under-the-wrist
interface cylinder then quickly jammed it into his attacker's forrid.
Hence forth Dysart immediately vowed never to do so again.
"AAAAAAARGH!!" The lab coated-man yelled.
"GAAAAAHHHH!!" Dysart heartily agreed.
It was rather clear that the technology was incompatable... violently.
Thousands of volts of sheer pain wracked their bodies.
In the back of his mind Dysart compared it to licking an electric
fence, or rolling down hill in a barrel full of barbed wire, or
watching an Uwe Boll movie.
Collapsing to his knees, Dysart grabbed the man's forehead and shoved
it away with what little strength he had left.
With a final shudder, the robot's arm exploded away from the shoulder
and clattered to the ground like it was made of aluminum. For all he
knew it probably was.
Dysart's holographic image began to flicker wildly. Held up by his
remaining arm, he felt his lungs burn while he gasped for air he
didn't need.
Shakily he pulled himself back up, grabbing his lost arm, and then
stumbled over to the slightly smoking man.
His eyes zoomed into the small patient band around his wrist.
"Lester 17.'Phelps'... JMC Technician 1st Class..."
Then Lester's eyes snapped open.
<Up to you know Henry, where do we go from here?>
OOC: Rampant personality, mind control, nano machines-? We'll find out
in a minute.