The mob has gotten rather bright,
enlisting androids to fight their fight.
Made in secret warehouses, all homegrown,
the most dapper, dashing, deviant drone.
Robot Scott comes fully equipped,
nothing skimped and nothing skipped.
A suit and hat make a clever disguise,
hiding in plain sight, like one of the guys.
Should someone notice his metal face,
he’s the fastest runner, just in case.
Sonar, radar, gadgets galore,
the perfect machine to fight the war.
Robot Scott leaves no hints,
no hair, no blood, no fingerprints.
Running, hiding, fighting police,
brings a new meaning to elbow grease.
It seems that the losers are The Brass,
that is until he runs out of gas.
It’s times like that he’s a piece of junk,
they should have chosen steam, punk.
Check out Illustration Friday’s: The Future