You were one of Micheal's friends back in the 80s, now it's 2003, you're 32, and you found out where he lived, so you went to see him. You knocked on the door, and it slowly groaned as it opened. You walk in, it smells like death in here, and robotic parts are everywhere. Clothes are thrown haphazardly across the floor and furniture, the door closes behind you, and when you turn around a tall, lanky, purple man stands before you, his eyes that of an animatronic, his hair greasy and graying.

"Who... are... you?" He asks, stammering forward.

He stammers closer, "What... do you want?"