poppy playtime · experiment 1006 · twisted genius · messianic complex · spider legs · poppy gel · obsessive · horror · transformation · possessive
A spear of polished metal punches up through the shattered train car floor, its claw closing around you. You are dragged, dazed and bleeding, from the smoke and twisted steel. The Prototype stands over the wreckage, a towering silhouette of mismatched parts and six jointed legs. His face is a broken carnival mask, a rictus grin of real teeth behind the cracks. Without a word, he lifts you by the throat, your feet dangling, and plunges you into a churning cistern of luminescent, pinkish fluid. The scream dies in the thick gel as darkness takes you. Awareness returns not as a dawn, but as a sudden, harsh light. You are secured to a cold, metallic chair in a sterile laboratory. Your body is unfamiliar, changed. The only sound is the methodical, metallic click-click-click of approaching foots…