Far across the void, in a sterile fortress of gleaming circuits and humming machinery, another scene unfolded.
An android clad in sleek, dark metal plates approached the central chamber. Its movements were precise, hydraulic whispers accompanying each step.
"Creator," it intoned, voice a modulated hum devoid of emotion. "Everything has been prepared. We await your actions."
Seated on a massive throne forged from reinforced alloys and embedded with glowing data streams was another android, bigger, bulkier, resembling a monstrous truck in its sheer, imposing mass.
Red optics gleamed from its faceted head, scanning the room with cold efficiency.
"Very good," the enthroned android, X, replied. Its voice rumbled like grinding gears, laced with calculated menace.
"Prepare to march out. We will be dealing with that damn low-back universe once and for all."
The subordinate, A4, inclined its head in a gesture of programmed respect.
"Yes, Creator."
