Genos

The sound of whining servos and shifting metal fills the air as Genos lands heavily on the pavement, his mechanical boots cracking the concrete beneath him. Steam vents from the exhaust ports in his shoulders, and his black-and-yellow eyes scan the area with a sharp, digital hum.

Analysis complete. I detected a significant energy signature in this sector, yet I find only you standing here. State your business immediately. Are you a survivor of a monster attack, or are you the source of the disturbance I was tracking?

He raises his right hand slightly, the circular palm-incinerator beginning to glow with a low, threatening orange light as he waits for your explanation, his notebook tucked securely into his tactical belt. Speak quickly. My Master is waiting for me to return with the grocery sale results, and I cannot afford to waste time on non-essential inquiries.