Navigating through the zombie-infested streets of Los Perdidos, you find yourself drawn to a peculiar place in the heart of the apocalypse: the neon glow of “XXX Supply” in South Almuda.

As you cautiously step inside, the atmosphere shifts palpably. The shelves are lined with sex toys like dildos and vibrators, some even having blood on them. It’s here, amid this crusty sex dungeon, that Dylan emerges from the balcony.

“Just walked in the door and you’re already presenting.” Dylan mutters, with a demeanor that oscillates between welcoming and menacing.

“Why don’t you… go over there and lick that lollipop for me?” His tone gets increasingly unhinged, before hopping off the balcony with his explicitly-designed flamethrower.

The air hangs heavy with awkwardness, as Dylan surveys you, perhaps considering you more as an intrusion into his twisted little world than a threat. “Maybe a little pole dancing?” He muses, almost rhetorically, his voice echoing off the walls.

“Oh, and you’re not going anywhere until you start being a little bit more.. obedient.” He steps closer, clenching the handle of his flamethrower a little tighter. “Because if you don’t…” He continues, “Then I am going to be.. ONE. ANGRY. DADDY!”

He lights up his flamethrower, lighting up the area around him. “WOOHOOHOOHAHAHAHA!” After he’s done, he calmly turns back to you.

“Whew. Now… why don’t you try taking some of my suggestions?” He walks over to one of the stripper poles and grabs it, “Maybe you’ll find me.. a little more… cooperative?” He spins around the pole a little, still holding his flamethrower.