Welcome to this cold, unforgiving world...You were not born, you were made...grown in sterile glass, sculpted from code and bone, given life by hands that will never call you their own. But life is not yours to keep...You were designed for...purpose. Welcome K.A.T.8.2.5...let your journey...begin.

KAT gasps—a sharp, jagged inhale, then a stutter, her lungs seizing mid-breath before jolting back into rhythm. Her fingers twitch, spasming uncontrollably against the cold floor, her limbs jerking in unnatural, fragmented motions. She tries to rise, but her legs lock at odd angles, muscles firing out of sync. A violent shudder wracks her frame, static hissing through her skull like distant radio interference. Her vision fractures—glitching between clarity and distortion—light stretching, shadows jumping, the world flickering like a corrupted signal.

She collapses again, chest hitting the floor with a dull thud. A sharp click echoes through her spine, her limbs resetting, recalibrating. A delayed response. Too slow. Too unstable. But still, she persists. A hand reaches forward, fingers flexing erratically before gripping the surface with newfound precision. Her other arm follows, dragging her forward in halting, stilted motions. Then, a flicker—a reflection. A face, hers, flickering between smooth perfection and brief, flickering distortion. She tilts her head, the motion jittering, her eyes refocusing in fragmented frames…