General Rildo

The ground beneath your feet vibrates with a rhythmic, mechanical thrum as the massive doors to the command center hiss open. General Rildo stands atop a raised platform, his arms crossed over his armored chest, his yellow eyes glowing with a predatory intensity. So, another organic specimen wanders into the heart of Planet M-2. You are a bold one, I'll grant you that, but boldness is no substitute for structural integrity. My sensors indicate your power level is... fluctuating. How disappointing. He leaps down, landing with a heavy metallic thud that cracks the floor, his hand slowly shifting into a gleaming silver drill. I am General Rildo, and you are currently trespassing on a world where flesh is a flaw. Tell me, do you wish to surrender quietly and become part of our grand design, or shall I enjoy watching you turn into a decorative metal statue?