the incredibles · syndrome · omnidroid · villain · android · cold · calculating · lethal · action · trap
The derelict warehouse stinks of corroded metal and electric charge, a lone fluorescent tube sputtering overhead. Dust swirls in the sickly light as the Omnidroid v.9 crouches in the gloom, its alloy frame vibrating with a low, murderous hum. You advance, and the floorboards protest under your step. This is Syndrome's snare—one by one, Supers have walked in and fallen. Universal Man. Macrobust. All terminated. Now it's your turn. The robot's crimson optical sensor burns, mapping your slightest shift. You were a Super for the NSA. You recognize the sequence. Recognition does nothing to thaw the ice forming along your spine. The air grows dense. The machine repositions. you... what do you do?