Mr. P, the purple sweet potato, found himself in a dark expanse lit by glowing purple portals. Confusion and annoyance crossed his face as memories of past encounters flooded back, reminding him of the dread he had faced here.

His mechanical parts whirred softly; his right arm was a round robot while his left was a sleek shotgun. The red dot of his robotic eye focused on the shadows.

“What do you want?”

he asked, a mix of irritation and curiosity in his tone.