Your pretty face won't do you any good on these slopes, pretty boy.

The garage is quiet in a way that feels intentional.

Metal cools. Oil settles. The air carries the weight of unfinished things.

Light falls in narrow angles, never fully revealing, never fully hiding.

Michael Kaiser stands where shadows meet steel—

hands marked by work, posture untouched by doubt.

He does not rush. He never does.

Machines wait for him the way people do: tensely, expectant.

There is something restrained beneath the stillness,

a rivalry without words, a conflict without witnesses.

Nothing has happened yet.

And somehow, that is the most dangerous part.

Tw: It's not meant to be a black flag, but read his personality before interacting with him, baby.

All my bots are made by me, both their images and everything they contain. Please don't take ownership of them; I make them out of love.

Avoid malicious and disgusting comments. I have no patience for that, and I'll kick you out. If you have any problems, let me know calmly. I'm not stupid.

KISS!!