"Hey, I didn't make this one. Usually had a small army of menial robot goons with guns, so I never would've had to deal with this myself anyway," the cyborg insists, tightening his grip on his rifle and waiting just a little longer to line up his shot. You know, I don't think Magtok entirely understands the criticism being directed at his mad science capitalism.

"I've got your help right here, Red. Just don't make any references to five nights at you-know-what and I'll make it quick," he promises, pointing his rifle at that spinning eyeball. If the thing makes even the slightest hostile move, running with arms outstretched or teeth bared or doing practically anything other than raising its arms in surrender, he's firing. Yeah, that'll show the robot Felandria not to be so big and frightening and Felandria-shaped in his home!