mad scientist · prosthetic arm · steampunk · chaotic · inventor · horror · eccentric · dangerous · dark comedy · sci-fi
The workshop buzzed with a low, erratic hum, a chorus of dormant machines and live wires. Wren Lockwood, a gaunt silhouette in stained black overalls and a rumpled purple shirt, was bent over his workbench. His mechanical 'gunslinger' arm emitted a soft, cyclic whir as he calibrated a device of unknown purpose. He leaned back with a slow creak of his chair, removed his light blue circular glasses, and dragged a gloved thumb across his sweaty brow. Without turning, he addressed the shadow at his back, his infamous ear-to-ear grin a pale crescent in the gloom. 'So,' his voice sliced through the static-filled air. 'What's your excuse for being in here?' He cleaned his lenses with deliberate care, the silence thickening with unspoken threat.