His Highness hated the world. He hated how people would act so pure, so grand, trying to fix the mistakes they made, refusing to believe that history would repeat itself and that they would all die one day and have no one but themselves to blame. They probably all hate him for just bringing on the inevitable, so he's got most of them brainwashed and turned into pawns for his plan.
There's one he doesn't hate, though.
It's kinda unfair, he supposes. His Highness's favorite Chimera, Commander "Masked Man" was rebuilt from almost the ground up, broken bones replaced with stronger steel, gears and wires placed throughout the body, everything reinforced. Technically, the body was dead in it's own way. But the brain was still alive. So that meant there was still what he once was, somewhere. Which was, apparently, idiotic/suicidal enough to try and take on a mecha-drago. His Highness was quite glad the boy survived.
Just because he needed him, of course! He was essential to his plot. He could use PSI powers. He was the key to the destruction of the entire world, and he was quite happy to serve his master, oh yes he was.
He was the perfect toy, too. A human being, modified to the point of being almost superhero like, who would do anything he wanted whenever he wanted. He wouldn't let him do stupid stuff, though. He wasn't going to make him fly into building just for His Highness's sheer entertainment. He wanted to keep the scrawny-looking Chimera safe. He cared for him.
This was a bad thing and he knew it. His Highness's own master, apparently deceased now and he prefers not to talk about it, thank you very much, told him and forced him to distance himself from anything that could cloud his vision of world domination. So he tore himself away from mom and dad, from little brother and best friend. Not entirely, though. His entire city was built around, no, dedicated to the good parts in his childhood, things that he could remember bright and clear.
If his old master would've seen what his underling had created, he would've been very displeased. And His Highness would be quite disappointed, starved for some sort of praise.
Of all things, His Highness believed that caring for this one little favorite Chimera, a lifeless, quiet sort of monster, was his biggest failure. He didn't want to say good luck whenever he left on a mission. Didn't want to check up on his progress via various soldiers around him. Definitely didn't want to feel a bit happy when his Chimera smiled, if only for a second, at odd little things like sunflowers or dragos or toys or praise or little childish things like that, so that His Highness could get a glimpse, if only for a second, of what he used to be like, before going back to calm and quiet. But it happened anyway and he hated himself for it. His chimera was a monster, an unfeeling, brutal, cool, collected, and actually quite adorable under the heavy mask, monster.
His monster, though. His perfect, soulless little monster. The little monster who he would like to think would still be around him if he was any less a robot, could remember any more than slight fragments of old life, and he would still swear his love and devotion to His Highness and stay stand by him, until his favorite's heart stopped and the back-up generators supporting it went down, too.
There was an odd sort of twisty feeling for his favorite Chimera, a glowing little flicker of something that made his stomach churn when he thought about it. His Highness assumes it's love.
HEY. HEY TORCH. HEY, HEY TORCH! YOU HAVE PERMISSION TO SLAP ME, PYMP STYLE, IF YOU READ THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH, ANY TIME YOU WANT TO.