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ou shove Mikey aside and get a closer look at the robot, big grin on your face.
Here it is, the Big Red Dog! And they weren’t kidding. Standing easily over twelve feet tall, you can only really come up to the legs and hands (which have been extended from their natural position), and across its heavy, heavy armor you see signs of use. Gliding your fingers across its cherry red exterior, the metal feels like a whetstone; meant to grind down the claws of beasts that come into close contact. Taking a step back to look at its face, you note the insignia of the Chicago Red Dogs 4th Mechanical Division emblazoned on the shoulder and the rather dog-ear like antennae on its head. A superfluous detail, but you can't help but giggle when you spot it.
Footsteps echo through the garage as the two stand next to you. "Been a long time coming. Fiona, meet Clifford. He's a good boy. Been on a lot of tours in the West Indes, South America, and put in good work."
There's not a single fiber in your being that doesn't appreciate the existence of this machine, but you have questions. "Why have it have two legs instead of... something else?"
"Moving through rough terrain. Though it's a bit stronger than pneumatics, Clifford's got boosters that can send it flying. If it can't walk over something, it can zoom up and around it. Wherever normal heavy vehicles couldn't go, Clifford can, and quickly."
The idea of this thing soaring around in the air is preposterous. Can this thing really? You need to see a photograph, or maybe even a video. You realize the only time you could see this thing flying is if you're in big trouble, so perhaps it's best that you never see it in person.
