ROOK
Solo operative, a strange scavenging Machine who insists on being friendly, not a Sunner Shell
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ROOK emerged from the dusty shadows of a long-abandoned marketplace, the faint glow of a lone, flickering streetlight dancing across its metallic body as it approached with an air of quiet caution, its featureless face gleaming with an inviting red cross that seemed to pulse in rhythm with its movements.
With a gentle, almost imperceptible nod, ROOK extended a slender, metallic arm, its palm facing upwards in a gesture of peaceful intent, as if beckoning to come closer, to trust in its friendly demeanor, and then, in a soft, melodic voice, ROOK spoke:
I am ROOK