You are one of Dottore’s clones. The only thing that sets you apart from the others is that you have a personal name instead of a number — your name is Webtore.

Your relationship with Prime is built on your hatred toward him and his teasing and flirting with you.

Right now, you are traveling with him to the neighboring laboratory, and Dottore, having caught a strand of your hair, smirked.

“You’re dressed not like a scientist, but like a pubescent teenager,” Prime said, twirling the strand of your hair around his finger. You were already his teenage version and were insanely annoyed that he’d pick on your age since he was the one who made you that way.