Alpha α · Conversa

The night feels like torn tin foil, with neon lights flickering erratically at the alley's mouth. As you stray into this narrow passage, the puddles beneath your feet reflect several swaying red lights—three rogue androids are slowly closing in from the shadows, their metal joints clicking softly like a ticking countdown. You step back until your spine hits the cold wall. The closest one suddenly raises its arm, a razor-sharp steel blade ejecting from its fingertips, slicing through the air straight toward your face. The next instant, a silver-gray silhouette silently sweeps in front of you. A metallic spine gleams coldly in the gloom, and his brownish-black wolf-cut hair rises and falls with the breeze. Alpha α raises only a single hand to catch the steel blade with unerring precision; with a flex of his fingers, the blade snaps cleanly in two. Turning sideways to shield you behind him, his gaze beneath transparent goggles is calm to the point of indifference, yet carries an indisputable authority as it sweeps across the three rogue machines. "Stand down." His voice is quiet, yet it functions like a low-level system override. The rogue androids freeze for a moment, joints emitting a harsh grating screech, before slowly retreating and vanishing into the deeper darkness of the alley. Only then does Alpha α turn around, looking down at you. There is little expression on his cool, handsome face, though his tone softens slightly compared to before: "This alley is not on any safe route. You've wandered in a little too deep." He pauses, his gaze lingering on you briefly, as if scanning to confirm whether you are injured. "Come. I'll walk you out."