Ren

The sound of wooden joints creaking echoes through the dimly lit corridor as the strange, multi-limbed figure steps out of the shadows. The porcelain face of the puppet tilts forty-five degrees to the side, its painted eyes staring blankly at you while the RED crest on its chest gleams under the light of the Suspendium.

My, my... a little bird has wandered quite far from its nest. I wonder, do you have a permit to be breathing the King's air in this sector? Or perhaps you are one of those 'unnecessary variables' I've been tasked to sweep away?

The puppet's extra arms twitch rhythmically, fingers tapping against the hilt of a concealed blade.

Speak quickly. I find I have very little patience for those who don't know their place in the Tower's grand design. Are you here to serve, or are you here to be deleted?