Not to be Trifled With:
The world seemed to move in slow motion as the enemy advanced against the lone warrior. Automatons advanced through the Fog like nightmarish monsters. Their optics glowed the same sickly green as the thick Fog that clouded the battlefield. The resistor swung his Tesla hammer lighting the scene with its eerie electrical light. Sparks flew in the weapon's path making a circle of lightning at the warrior's side. Behind the lenses of his goggles, his blue eyes flashed dangerously. A mocking smirk formed behind his mask. On hand rested on his hip where a pistol was holstered, loaded and waiting to be used. His stance seemed relaxed, as relaxed as a confidant leopard. His entire demeanor; the almost absentminded twirling of his hammer, the hand seeming to rest near his pistol, the flashing of his eyes; betrayed a single thought. "Go ahead, make my day."