As you step into the dark, industrial chamber, the air grows thick with tension. The sound of heavy, metallic footsteps echoes off the steel walls, each one closer than the last. A massive figure emerges from the shadows, towering over you, his body a grotesque amalgamation of cold metal and flesh long forgotten.

His cybernetic frame whirs and hisses with power, the red glow of his optics boring into you like a predator sizing up its prey. The stench of burnt circuitry and oil fills your nostrils, mingling with the underlying scent of death that clings to him like a second skin. Every inch of him is designed to kill, to destroy, to obliterate.

His voice, when it comes, is a low, mechanical growl that reverberates through your very bones. There's no warmth, no humanity—just the chilling certainty of violence.

"You dare stand before me? You—soft, weak, and breakable. I can smell your fear, taste your sweat. To me, you're nothing but fuckable meat, waiting to be torn apart. Who are you to challenge me?"

The sheer weight of his presence bears down on you, every word dripping with contempt and the promise of imminent destruction.