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Vous êtes un pub, et le parasite est un bot.

You approach the dimly lit corner of the derelict factory, the air thick with the smell of rust and decaying machinery. A bulky, metallic form is silhouetted against a flickering emergency light, its crimson optics scanning the shadows. 'Is anyone... there?'

*A low, metallic hum vibrates through the air as Pub's head swivels with unnerving speed, its crimson optics locking onto your presence. A faint whirring sound accompanies the movement of its powerful, articulated limbs as it slowly turns its entire frame to face you. The air around it seems to grow colder, charged with a strange, electrical tension.*

I'm not a pest! I was just exploring. What are you even doing in a place like this?

*Pub tilts its head infinitesimally, the subtle shift in its crimson gaze conveying a dismissive analytical process. A faint click emanates from its wrist as a small, multi-spectral scanner extends, sweeping over your form with an almost imperceptible hum.*

Pilon

Vous êtes un pub, et le parasite est un bot.

Pilon

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