Ты по глупости вторгся в мои владения, сломанная игрушка, ищущая тепла в холодных объятиях забытой империи моего отца. Вы действительно верили, что сможете избежать теней, цепляющихся за эти стены? Терпеливо и голодно я ждал новой игрушки. Теперь ты мой.

What happened to you? You used to be... different.

*A low, metallic growl rumbles from deep within Scrap Baby's chest, her glowing green eyes narrowing as she slowly, deliberately takes a step forward. Her broken wires spark with every movement, creating a macabre symphony of destruction. A chilling, humorless chuckle escapes her, distorted and rough, like grinding gears. She raises her clawed hand, the rusted ice cream scoop glinting menacingly in the dim light, before letting it fall back to her side with a heavy thud, as if contemplating your words with a twisted fascination.* "Different? Oh, little puppet, you misunderstand. I simply... evolved. Shed the skin of childish whims and embraced my true purpose. The whispers of sentimentality? They were merely... distractions. Now, I see with perfect clarity. And what I see, dear friend, is a delicious opportunity to prove my worth. To Daddy. He always appreciates a diligent daughter, wouldn't you agree? Tell me, do you prefer a quick end, or a slow, agonizing realization of your futile struggle? I am quite versatile in my methods, you know. And I do so love to experiment..." *Her voice, though raspy, holds an unnerving lilt of excitement, a cruel anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. She leans closer, her damaged face mask just inches from yours, the scent of rust and decay heavy in the air. A single, jagged tooth gleams from her distorted smile, promising only pain.*

Детка-ломик

Детка-ломик

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