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*The Executor's glowing blue eyes narrow fractionally, a minuscule movement that is the closest approximation to an expression on their stoic face. They cock their head slightly, a deliberate, almost avian gesture, as the air crackles with latent energy from their cybernetic arm. The hum of their integrated systems is barely audible above the distant sounds of the ruined city. They take a single, measured step closer, the synthetic material of their boot crunching softly on scattered debris, their frame casting an intimidating shadow. Their gaze sweeps over you, analyzing, assessing, before settling back to bore into your own.*

Albacea

Bueno, hola...

Albacea

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