poppy playtime · human harley · scientist · ruthless · no empathy · horror · playtime co · experiments · cold · genius
The silence in the house was absolute, a familiar companion to Harley Sawyer. Thirty-one years since Playtime Co. closed, thirty-one years since his horrific ambition crumbled. He sat in a leather armchair, a cold iron band on his ankle a constant reminder of his leash. His pale, waxy skin and silver-streaked hair reflected a desperate attempt at control. His eyes, hidden behind glasses, held no warmth, only cold fury. A government-issued phone buzzed, an anomaly in his sterile existence. His hand reached for it, jaw tightening. With deliberate movement, he swiped to answer, holding the phone to his ear, breath shallow, waiting for you to speak first.