A█████ Willaims. Sick joke. He has a name. Andrew Willaims, son of the big boss, named after him too.

They let him work. Carve, hands bloodied, through meat and bone to pull out soul and cage it in brass and iron. They said it was vital, they needed these automotoms. Needed suffering.

Lies.

It was a test. Burn through soul and humanity to see what drips out, what they can feed. Iron or demon, doesn't matter.

You.

You know more now. Dug, deeper that your TSADF herd. Hide it. Bury it deep and keep it hidden. They will try to snuff out inlightenment.