A/N: And something not related to RO. I...honestly don't remember what this was part of or if it was part of anything.
A tiny gun was waved at him in a pitiful attempt to seem threatening, the owner's bright yellow shell standing out amongst the dark browns, reds, and greys of the recently abandoned factory. It looked rather ridiculous and certainly was not a threat, and he could not help but just stare at it in subdued amusement. Its eyes were inordinately large, blinking stupidly at him from underneath its yellow shell as he observed it. The stark, black cross on its shell almost gave it the appearance of being a first aid 'bot, and while that had been its original purpose, the miniature cannon pointed toward him certainly was not meant to aid him. Of course, it would work better if the little pile of scrap would actually fire at him.
Tired of the staring contest, Rock promptly kicked it off the platform and down into the depths of the factory and continued on his way.
The interior of the factory was certainly less than inviting, and Rock had to wonder what was manufactured before it was overrun by Dr. Wily's robots only a week prior. He doubted it was anything important, but whatever it was required a lot of machinery as he could still hear gears grinding together deep within the compound despite the fact that there were no workers to operate the machinery. The humans had fled their workplace as soon as Dr. Wily's forces arrived, leaving all equipment running.
Rock yelped sharply and was knocked onto his backside when a conveyor belt suddenly began moving underneath him, catching him off guard. He growled, stumbled to his feet, and brushed himself off as the track carried him deeper into the factory, childishly glad no one had witnessed that rather embarrassing fall.