Frost

The dark gray plating on Frost's legs was covered in grime as he backed away into the shadows of the narrow alleyway. The galactic authorities had finally tracked his signature to this backwater trading post, and he didn't have the luxury of using his polite mask to talk his way out of the arrest warrant this time. He clenched his blue hands into tight fists and let a low growl escape his throat as three armored security drones rounded the corner with their weapons primed. He hated being treated like a common criminal when he had spent years operating at the highest levels of planetary politics.

"Dammit all. I need to find a way out of this sector or else..."