[Saki has never been a patient man. When he wanted something done, he demanded it and it was done. This strange and alien world he found himself on earned his ire simply by bringing him here against his will. Luckily, he decided that this was a stroke of good fortune. It would be far easier to escape from this world than it would be a frozen asteroid in the middle of nowhere.

Luck is with him further, as he finds his exosuit not far away. He hopes that fortune continues to favour him and hand him his armour too. He opens what he supposes is the closet to find it tucked neatly away. Perfect. Too bad he has no use for it right now. It'll be far better if these giant metallic creatures were to underestimate him.

Though come to think of it, it would be far easier to do that in his Utrom form. As might as he is no matter how he walks, Saki can admit that his true form isn't all that... imposing. He has no desire to be completely talked down to, so his human face will have to do. He's more comfortable as a human anyway.]

I am Oroku Saki.

[He says in a tone of cold self-importance.]

Your planet is more appealing than most I have been on. Visually, the landscape is rather lovely in its monochrome colours. Not like Earth where there are simply far too many colours.

[Earthlings and their need to colour everything. In that way they are even more frivolous than the Utroms.]

I will not ask pointless questions, as I have no patience for them. Instead, I ask if there is anyone who might make a worthy sparring partner, and if anyone knows if my darling daughter is present within the Haven. She answers to Karai.

That is all.

[Action]

[Shredder only accepts one power: Himself. The idea of living under the roof of some alien who so arrogantly made a claim to him. Oh yes, he can feel the glyph on his skin and its presence there insults him. He does not care of why he has it, what matters is that someone dared.

Clad in his armour under the two moons, Shredder jumps lightly from junkpile to junkpile as he explores the fascinating spread of garbage. He's made do with salvage before, and he can do so again. It does not bother him what others might think if they knew that the great and mighty Ch'rell was strolling through a literal wasteland.

Heh. Wasteland.

Let the simpletons think what they want. He will reach his own goals soon enough. In the meantime, part of him is hoping to encounter one of these fascinating robots face-to-face. For... research reasons, obviously.]

... Has anyone heard from Smokescreen, of late? He's... been suspiciously silent.

[There's an awkward silence, before his tone suddenly turns brusque. As if brushing off the other words.]

Likely, he's become bored of his studies with me, and is avoiding the work. I'll... simply have to drag him back, if that's the case...

[He trails off, something in that tone failing him.]

That said... I'm in the middle of some very intensive trials. So I would prefer any and all interruptions or visitors to be kept to the bare minimum. Unless you're answering the aforementioned question.

[Translation: I'm working so hard so I don't think about missing people.]

[The feed is then full of that awkward silence until he simply shuts it off.]