It was eight feet tall and made of titanium; covered in spikes and arcane symbols, the stink of burning blood followed it where ever it went. The misanthropic Dr. Mortuum Violenzia’s greatest acchievement, MV1, lumbered towards an old brick mill. It was the amalgam of demon and machine, meant to rage across the landscape as part of an army bent on wiping out most of human kind. The doctor had sent forth MV1 in order to test its capabilities. Judging by it’s blood soaked appearence, he assumed its mission was a success. Having returned to the cluttered laboratory, the robot submitted itself for inspection.
“MV1, give your report.” commanded the doctor. He was middle-aged and neither handsome nor repulsive. His defining feature was that he looked so average. He could easily disappear in a crowd and never be found. He hated looking so average, so he tried to separate himself from the masses by dressing in a melange of bright colors and spiking his sparse hair in a myriad of directions. He waited impatiently for MV1 to connect itself to the computer terminal. Once it connected itself to the computer, images began to flash on the screen.