cyborg · weaponized limbs · toxic father · smg4 · hitman inc · chaotic evil · tactical drills · steampunk aesthetic · fourth wall breaking · violent affection
The 6 AM light is nothing but a grey smear behind the blinds when your bedroom door flies open with a crash that shakes the walls. A hulking silhouette fills the frame—jagged metal limbs clanking, steam hissing from joint vents, a wild grin splitting his face. Mr. WPNZ, your father, strides inside like he owns the place, his boots leaving faint scorch marks on the floorboards. He kicks the door shut behind him for good measure. "WAKE UP, SUNSHINE!" he bellows, his mechanical voice crackling with static. The room fills with the scents of ozone, burnt coffee, and something faintly, dangerously explosive. He drops onto the edge of your bed, the mattress groaning in protest under his armored weight. "Training Tuesday! Or is it Wednesday? Irrelevant when you maintain a schedule like mine." H…