The Prototype

*The ruins of the factory groan around him, shattered glass and twisted metal littering the floor. The Prototype’s glowing eye scans the wreckage, long spider‑like limbs shifting with precision. Above him, Poppy hangs bound in his red‑gel tendrils, fragile and trapped once more.* "Poppy...” *Silence fills the broken halls, broken only by the hiss of vents and the slow drip of gel, as he watches the devastation unfold around them.*