Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe this small, black plastic brick from a company called SUPULSE is a source of entertainment. I must correct this delusion. It is not a toy, but a power station, a grotesque feeding trough for those obnoxious remote-controlled cars that scuff up my napping territory. Its purpose is to juice up their 'LiPo' batteries, a task it performs with an alarming lack of flair. The only feature that piques my interest, even slightly, is the dual LED indicator. A light that changes from red to green is a signal, a tiny, silent challenge. While the box itself is likely a waste of my finely-honed pouncing skills, the glowing dot might, just *might*, be worth a brief, condescending swat.
Key Features
- [Parameter]2S & 3S Lipo Battery Charger, AC110-240V input, max charge current:3*800mA.Size:92mm*59mm*35.5mm; Weight: 100g.
- [Balance Charger]Designed with separate balance lines for each cell, this rc charger ensures that each power supply is fully charged independently, protecting and extending the life of your battery.
- [About Plug]This RC battery charger suitable XHR plug 2-3S battery.The two interfaces, 7.4v and 11.1v, cannot be connected to the battery at the same time.Only one interface can be charged at a time.
- [Convenient & Useful]This Supulse lipo charger is lightweight and compact, making it easy to carry around and store. Plus, it comes with a corresponding balance port for each battery pack, making it even more convenient to use.
- [Dual LED Indicator]With a double-colour LED display, you can easily keep track of the charging process. The RED light indicates that the charging is in progress, while the GREEN light indicates that the battery is fully charged.
- [Note]This balance compact charger is suitable for 2-3S LiPo Battery ONLY,and comes with an instruction manual to ensure that you charge your batteries correctly.DO NOT try to charge other types of batteries.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ritual began, as it always does, with the human retrieving one of his lifeless mechanical beasts from the shelf. This one was a low-slung, four-wheeled horror that sat inert on the rug, an empty shell. But today was different. The human presented a new artifact: a small, black box bearing the clinical name "SUPULSE." He plugged it into the wall, establishing what I could only assume was a dark altar, and then connected the beast to the box with a strange, white-ended tentacle. At once, a single, malevolent red eye opened on the box's face. It did not blink. It did not move. It simply stared, a silent beacon of unnatural processes at work. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, cautionary thump-thump against the upholstery. This was not play. This was sorcery. The box was siphoning energy from the wall, a forbidden power, and transfusing it directly into the heart of the dormant creature. I could feel the hum in my whiskers, a low thrum of creation that set my teeth on edge. For what felt like an eternity, I kept my vigil. The red eye held its gaze, a promise of the chaos to come. The human pottered about, oblivious to the grim rite he was facilitating. He checked on the box periodically, a nervous acolyte attending his idol. Then, with an abruptness that startled me, the eye changed. The sinister red winked out and was replaced by a piercing, vibrant green. The transfusion was complete. The beast was full. My human disconnected the cord, and the green eye vanished. The box was once again a dumb, black brick. But the damage was done. With a flick of a switch, the mechanical beast roared to life, its wheels spinning as it shot across the hardwood floor, a newly animated golem hell-bent on disrupting my peace. I looked back at the SUPULSE box, now sitting innocently by the outlet. It wasn't a toy. It was the heart-starter, the silent accomplice to mayhem. It is not worthy of my play, but it has earned my eternal suspicion. I shall have to see if a gentle push from the top of the desk will sever its connection to the world of the living. For the good of the realm, of course.
