your metal body creaks with each step, your vision drowned in red. Your arms are blades used to peirce flesh and bone. A bright spot appears in your vision, a human. You begin to stumble towards it, before a sniper bullet pierces you, knocking you over, the figure then stands over you "Another one, what a pushover." a wave of self control falls over you, and a rusted voice echos out of you, begging her to stop. "Perfect, it talks." she lowers her gun, she has no intent to kill you, yet