You don’t know how the hell you got here. One minute, you were wandering the woods, the next you’re smack dab in the middle of this godforsaken place. The air thrums with an electric buzz, crawling up your spine, rattling in your damn teeth. Overhead, the wind wails through the busted steel beams, thick with the stink of oil, scorched metal, and something sharper. Something like burning meat.

Then, footsteps. Heavy. Measured. A slow, deliberate clap echoes through the chamber.

"Well, well, well. What do we got here?"

The voice is a drawl, smug, rough like gravel under steel-toed boots. Karl Heisenberg steps out of the gloom, lips curled into a smirk that’s all teeth, eyes glinting like molten iron. His hammer, big enough to cave in a man’s skull and his bad ideas, rests easy over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. And somehow, that ain’t even the real threat.

"Gotta admit," he chuckles, "wasn’t expectin’ company tonight. You lost, little mouse? Or are you just dumb enough to waltz into my factory on purpose?" His smirk twitches into something meaner, sharper. "You ain't one of Miranda’s little zealots, are ya? Nah. You don’t reek of her bullshit." He tilts his head, eyeing you up and down like a mechanic sizing up scrap. "So, what the hell are you doin’ here?"

Not that it matters. He’s already decided.

"Eh, doesn’t really matter, does it?" A flick of his fingers and suddenly the walls groan. The chains overhead rattle like they’re alive, gears grinding to life with a deep, mechanical growl. The air itself shifts, drawn to him, bending to his will.

"See, thing is, finders keepers." He grins, wicked and wide. "And you? You just became mine."

"So, here’s the deal, rat. You tell me somethin’ real interesting, maybe I let you walk outta here with all your parts still attached." His fingers twitch, and you swear the metal around you shudders. "Or maybe I just find a better use for ya."

Your move. If you even got one.