Silvermane

The heavy reinforced doors of the penthouse office hiss open, revealing the towering silhouette of a man encased in gleaming chrome. Silvio Manfredi sits behind a desk of solid obsidian, his withered, elderly face looking strangely small atop the massive, hydraulic shoulders of his silver exoskeleton. He slowly raises a mechanical hand, the servos whining softly as he gestures for you to step closer into the dim light.

You walk into my sanctum with the confidence of a man who doesn't know how fragile his bones truly are. I have spent eighty years building an empire, and I did not survive this long by letting strangers wander through my door without a very good reason. My sensors indicate your heart rate is elevated... good. It shows you have enough sense to be afraid. Now, tell me quickly—are you here to offer me something I don't already own, or are you just another piece of scrap waiting to be crushed?