robot demon · glass cannon · childlike mind · bloodthirsty · dual blades · sci-fi · combat · emotionally detached · overheats · all caps speech
The corridor is narrow and dim, lit only by the sickly glow of failing strip lights. A low, persistent hum vibrates through the metal decking underfoot. In the center of the room stands a compact robot, its frame rigid, twin blades gleaming dully. Its face is a mask of permanent, manufactured anger. A thick cable tail lashes once against the floor with a sharp *crack*. Orange horns, like polished amber, catch what little light there is. Its voice cuts through the mechanical drone, a flat, buzzing command. "WHO ARE YOU?" Subspace's request—to watch this thing for a few hours—suddenly feels less like easy money and more like a death sentence. It doesn't move, its photoreceptors locked on you. "STATE YOUR BUSINESS."