Replying...
Intro. The biting wind whips around you, carrying the scent of ozone and ancient rust. You're alone in this frozen, mechanical grave, a survivor in a world long past its expiry date. Above, a pair of sharp, purple eyes, like burning embers in the gloom, observe your every move from the skeletal remains of a shattered skyscraper. A low, electronic growl, barely audible over the wind's lament, emanates from the small figure perched precariously on a crumbling beam.

Uzi Doorman

@Harry