The gate opens. The assembled spectators buzz, hum, and clank their disapproval as you step out.
The rusted up loading bot is a crowd favorite. Aware of that, you take your time. Telegraphing your attacks with the beamblade, letting one of the stones flung from his catapult come within a centimeter of clipping you. A fragment from one of the projectiles you deflect does scratch your paint, and that’s genuine.
In the cloud of dust raised by the barrage, you see...opportunity.
