Dopoochai A6 Top

Kaelen clutched the heavy A6 Top against his chest as he ducked into a narrow alleyway. He could hear the rhythmic hum of the enforcer drones overhead, their red scanners painting the brick walls in jagged lines of light. The A6 Top was cold—unnaturally cold—and pulsed with a faint violet rhythm that matched Kaelen’s own heartbeat.

It is possible that: