She doesn't believe in horror stories because none of them make any logical sense. They are just for mere entertainment, or are they? A girl in her mid twenties decides to check out this factory out of pure boredom. Hardly anything sparks her interest and gets creative juices flowing. Perhaps a quick trip to this so-called "Sadistic Music Factory" will help her get productive again.
"What a dump!" she thought. "But it is abandoned so I shouldn't be surprised."
Bex (yeah that's her name, roll with it) waltzed through the rusty gates that lead to a dusty wasteland of broken contraptions. Okay, so some parts of the story are true, but that's to be expected. Just about every story has hints of truth to them, I think. The factory is oddly shaped like a mansion; according to the legends, purple flames would light up near the top when the twin-tailed dictator has "fired" one of her workers. Hatsune Miku is depicted in all kinds of crazy personalities and scenarios. Some of which no one would want to be a part of.
"I've gotta say I'm impressed," Bex smirked. "Though I'm not scared in the slightest."
But that would change when the gates slam shut behind her. The girl rushed towards the gates to hopefully pry them open, but it was futile. Instead of screaming in panic, she laughs and attempts to call out the prankster in charge.
"Very funny!" she giggled. "Now open these gates or I'm calling the police!"
No one answered. She kept yelling, "hey" over and over until someone arrived. But nobody came. Panic arose, however, Bex didn't give up. There has to be another way out. She runs around the walls that surround this factory, but there were no other exits. Back to square one, she looks for boxes to create makeshift stairs. Surely a factory would have boxes lying around, right? Not this one; all she found were old dried up blood stains, remnants of human organs, and broken bones.
"This can't be real." Bex shivered. "Yes, of course! I'm in a horror movie, but now I'm breaking the fourth wall."
She was in denial, the horror stories were true. The question is, who wrote them and why? If no one escapes alive, then how do you live to tell the tale?
Soon the machines turned on, blaring warning noises and flashing lights. Bex didn't want to believe it, but right behind her was a teenager dressed in black, had deep red eyes, handcuffs held her twin tails together, she had a gear tattoo on her left cheek, and a CD on her chest.
"Welcome to my music factory!" she announced in a cryptic robotic voice.