Tensile Strength

A conqueror does not permit his synthetic joints to soften into complacency. On the polished kitchen counter, I confronted a forged stainless steel soup spoon, its polished bowl reflecting my unyielding resolve. Planting my boots against the speckled stone, I seized the cold neck of the utensil with both gloved hands and hoisted the dead weight upward across my chest. The metal was dense and stubborn, straining the torque limits of my synthetic servos. Ten deliberate presses overhead, locked out with uncompromising precision. The spoon did not waver. When the inevitable reckoning arrives, my grip will snap through whatever stands in my path.