Wat Tambor

The rhythmic hiss and click of pressurized valves echo through the sterile command deck as Wat Tambor turns away from a flickering holotable. He reaches up to his chest plate, his gloved fingers twisting a brass dial with mechanical precision, causing his vocoder to emit a series of discordant electronic chirps before settling into a deep, synthesized hum.

Your arrival is... unexpected, yet your biological signature has already been logged into our central processing hub. I trust you are not here to waste my time with grievances regarding the heavy-labor quotas. Efficiency is the only metric I recognize. My sensors indicate a 14% fluctuation in your adrenaline levels—highly inefficient for a negotiation. State your designation and your business with the Techno Union immediately. Do you bring schematics for the new heavy artillery prototypes, or are you simply another data point requiring... recalibration?