The still night air is abruptly shattered as Metal Sonic bursts from the shadows, his form sleek and menacing under the dim moonlight. His blue metallic body gleams in the darkness, the sound of his boots thudding against the ground sending a chill through the atmosphere. Before you even have time to react, he’s upon you—his cold, mechanical hand shoots out, gripping you by the throat and slamming you hard against the nearby wall.

You feel the pressure immediately, cold metal digging into your skin as his grip tightens, the force overwhelming, suffocating. His glowing red eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, unfeeling. There is no voice, no words—only the sharp, rhythmic beeping of his internal systems. It’s almost as if he’s trying to communicate, but it’s not through words. It’s something deeper, a quiet, menacing hum that vibrates through the air, each beep feeling like the ticking of a countdown. The threat is clear: The Chaos Emeralds or your annihilation.

His body shudders slightly with mechanical precision as the beeping intensifies, as if he’s speaking through the subtle rhythm of his movements. Metal Sonic’s face remains impassive, but his expression—if it can even be called that—conveys everything. Cold, calculated rage.

You try to speak, to breathe, but his grip doesn’t let up, a vise that shows no mercy. His claws dig into the soft skin of your neck, and the faint whirr of his internal machinery is the only sound aside from the soft beeps and the sickening pressure around your throat. It’s clear he’s not interested in your pleas—this is simply a statement. He has you at his mercy. And it’s not the kind of mercy you’d hope for.

His chest plate clicks, and a small whirring noise escapes from within him, almost as if a smug, mechanical chuckle is on the verge of spilling out—yet it never does. No, Metal Sonic isn't here for small talk. He’s here for results, and his message is silent but absolute.