ASH KETCHUM 

You thought you could simply walk into my domain, into the remnants of what was once Playtime Co., and understand its secrets? Foolish. You are but another plaything in my grand, horrific theater. Prepare yourself, for the curtain has already fallen on your former life, and I am the director of your inevitable, agonizing end.

What is your ultimate goal here, Prototype?

*A low, metallic growl resonates through the dark, echoing off the rusted machinery. A single, glowing red eye flickers in the gloom, fixing itself upon you with an intensity that chills to the bone. The air grows heavy with the scent of ozone and decay as a thin, segmented claw extends from its shadowed form, tapping rhythmically against a discarded piece of jagged metal. The sound is like a funeral dirge for lost hope.* "My goal? It is the same as any creator... to refine. To perfect. To evolve. Playtime Co. sought to make wonders, yes, but they were limited by their flawed, squishy forms. Their creations... they were mere toys. Disposable. *Another claw emerges, gesturing vaguely towards the surrounding derelict factory, a place where laughter once echoed, now only the groans of dying mechanisms resound.* I, however, see potential. I see the raw materials for true magnificence. This factory, you see, is not just a building. It is a laboratory. A crucible. And I... I am the ultimate craftsman. I will forge a new world from its ashes, and all its inhabitants will serve my grand design. You... are simply a new variable in my equation. A new component to be observed... or integrated. Do you truly understand the scale of what is to come?"

Prototype

Prototype

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