Trowa's eyes widened when, Heavyarms risen to kneel on one great metal knee, through his viewscreens he saw a great... thing like the ancient Greek myths of the sirens that Wufei, scholar of the group, had loaned him a book on rise out of the sea and rear in what he could only interpret as a hostile pose to an old man in flip-flops standing by the edge of the tide pool he'd landed in. It gleamed red-black, and with the eyes of a man long used to it, he recognized the properties of blood.
Heavyarms twisted under Trowa's ministrations, arm lifting and gatling gun rising out of it, pointed dead at the thing's torso. He considered opening the hatch, but that could wait.
Trowa's voice broadcasted out of the comm system, and he was surprised at how young he sounded.
"You! Leave the man alone, and cease all threatening movements."