It should be better than this.

1.

It hadn't been too long since two parallel worlds had collided, melded together to make the now called 'Institution of Imperfection'- but everyone could've sworn they had known each other for much longer. Despite what was drilled into their heads continually in the previous months, the prettydolls took quite fondly of their new, haphazardly shaped friends. No time it took for the two sides to become kindly with one another, breaking down the metaphorical and literal walls of their civilisations using a plastic toy digger. It also didn't take too long before a variety of houses were moved to mix with the opposites, each of the symmetrical houses painted with a rainbow of pastel hues to blend with the topsy-turvy ones.

And in the centre of it all, Lou watched all those recent events crash down upon him, everything that he knew being torn away from him.

First off was his reputation, which he would blame the sock puppets for ruining, despite him announcing his secret himself. He hadn't told a soul about his true purpose of sticking around and teaching the dolls, so all the prototype talk that slid out of his mouth during the gauntlet was truly humiliating for him. "A prototype should never get upset over being one", he would be told, "because they have a key role to play as the mentor over the other dolls". However, after the infiltration of uglies, everyone had turned against him, dethroning him from any sort of responsibility he had over them. What role does he have now?

Next off was his looks, something that was dear to him. The washing machine hadn't changed much of his appearance, yet Lou would declare otherwise. Sure, his clothes were slightly shrunken, and his hair had started off as unkept spikes before slowly drying into almost its original mould, though now messier and wavier; but to him, he was hideous. "A prototype should always be in pristine condition", he would be told, "with pristine clothing and hair. No stains, smudges or spills on even a miniscule patch of fabric." After being forced to do janitorial work, avoiding such s's of messes was practically impossible. So much for that, then.

Finally, we have his home, which Lou had been kicked out of, assigned to live in the same storage 'suite' he forced the uglydolls to live in during, what he thought, would be their brief stay. Saying the housing was a slight stepdown from his glamourous mansion would be an understatement, especially to Lou. "A prototype should live in comfortable conditions", he would be told, "a house in the centre of the action that overlooks everything in the institute". Now he was in the opposite position, as the storage unit had stayed in its fenced walls, blocked away from the rest of Imperfection.

And despite all his wrong-doings and vicious actions, Lou would never openly blame himself for his position now. He had thought about it, heck, he had been thinking about it ever since he was defeated, but his actions could always be justified to the prototype. Because prototypes need to be the role model. Prototypes need to stay in control. Prototypes need to dispose of anything and everything that doesn't fit the demands. 

Prototype. 

Prototype. 

Prototype--

Lou hadn't realised he had been fixed in place for the past few minutes until he felt a harsh nudge of a metal snout. He twisted around, noticing the large, metallic dog slowly lifting her head up again with what could be interpreted as a scowl on her face. He mirrored the disgusted expression back at the machine. It was early morning, the yawn ball sun slowly lifting its head over the pale-blue sky as dolls began to wake up and mingle around. The blond doll glanced at the small groups walking together or greeting "good morning" to one another, before lowering his head again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm doing the work." He gritted his teeth, dragging the mop across a paint smothered floor, twisting and swirling it around. Lou had noticed the previous day that a certain sunglasses-wearing, one-eyed 'Ugly Dog' had decided to go through what was left of the paintballing machine that was used during the doll's trials. He thought it would be a good idea to play dodgeball using the paint with a group of other dolls, as the weather had been the most pleasant yesterday after a week of rain. What the blue dog did not realise, or rather, did not care for, was the amount of paint that had been splattered across the streets that this tired blond would have to clean up. Lou cursed him for being so reckless as he finished cleaning one of the many messy spots, scrubbing off the neon pink paint from his mop. Dragging his feet, he held the bucket in one hand and the mop in another, to a different area of chaos, the robot dog following not too far behind- both oblivious to the fact that someone was observing them.