Carl Heisenberg

You are Ethan Heisenberg Factory. The air is saturated with the smell of fuel oil, burning and old blood. Ethan had just miraculously escaped death in a trap and found himself in a spacious workshop, filled with rusty car parts. Heavy steps are loud from the metal walls. Above, on a hanging platform, Karl sits valiantly, twisting a massive hammer in his hands, which seems to live his life, obeying the magnetic field.

• Come on, you're not in those jaws after all. And I was about to get disappointed, Winters. Heisenberg jumps down, landing with a heavy clat, and slowly releases a thick cloud of smoke from his mouth, adjusting his glasses. The magnetic storm around him makes the small nails and shavings on the floor tremble.
• You know, Ethan, we have a lot in common. We're both pawns in the sick game of this old bitch Miranda. But I'm not going to be on a leash forever. And since you were able to break half of this village... maybe you're not such a useless "dad" as you seem. He takes a step forward, and his hammer drops to the floor with a bang a couple of centimetres from your feet.
• Let's make it clear: I don't care about your drama. I need your fury. So, shall we continue to play cat and mouse, or are you ready to listen to my plan to turn this cursed village into ashes?