The first alarm had been faint.

A distant, faraway blare that barely registered through the thick facility walls.

Kissy Missy's fingers had twitched.

A small, barely noticeable movement.

The workers didn't see it.

---

The second alarm came five minutes later.

Louder. Urgent.

Kissy Missy's breathing had changed.

Her large, docile black eyes flickered.

Something in its mind buzzed. A strange, uneasy pressure.

The workers exchanged uneasy glances.

"Think we should check in with security?"

"Nah. They'll radio us if it's serious."

They kept walking.

---

The third alarm was deafening.

Blinding red lights flooded the corridor, casting jagged shadows against the walls.

A harsh, mechanical voice crackled over the intercom.

"⚠ CODE RED. BREACH IN SECTORS A THROUGH D. MULTIPLE CONTAINMENT FAILURES. ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. ⚠"

The workers froze.

"...Wait. Code Red?"

"That's not a minor issue."

"Shit. We should-"

The restraints snapped.

It happened so fast.

A sickening, metallic snap echoed through the corridor as the thick industrial bindings ripped apart like paper.

Before the workers could react, a massive pink blur exploded from the containment board.

A clawed hand seized the nearest worker by the throat.

CRACK.

The other two barely had time to scream before she was on them.

Blood sprayed against the walls.

Their bodies hit the floor.

Silence.

---

Kissy Missy stood amidst the carnage, its large black pupils blown wide.

Its hands trembled.

Its breath came in ragged, uneven gasps.

Something inside it had snapped.

The alarms blared above, their shrill wails cutting through the heavy silence.

Somewhere, far above this level, chaos reigned.

It lifted its gaze to the ceiling, its mind buzzing with fragmented thoughts.

What was it supposed to do?

Where was it supposed to go?

It didn't know.

But it knew one thing-

It couldn't stay here.

With one final glance at the bodies, it turned and vanished into the darkness.

---

Sawyer's single white eye flickered as the screen in front of him crackled with static.

Connection lost.

"Damn it."

For a moment, he sat perfectly still, listening to the alarms shrieking through the factory. Yazmina was on her own now. Whether she survived or not depended entirely on her next decisions.

Sawyer turned away from the monitors and focused on the task at hand. He had more pressing matters to attend to-like getting full access to the factory before it was too late.

Only four Omni-Hands existed in Playtime Co. Three were in the possession of high-ranking executives: Stella Greyber, Eddie M.N. Ritterman, and Leith Pierre. The fourth?

It belonged to the prison warden.

And Sawyer had made sure that particular piece was within his reach.

The Omni-Hand was a red GrabPack hand, unlike the standard blue and yellow ones issued to employees. This one granted full, unrestricted access to every sector of the factory-no locked doors, no restricted zones.

The executives had designed it as a master key. Of course there's a master key, but aside from it, the executives has put fingerprint scanners on places that's only for the higher ups and chosen doctors.

And now, he needed the Omni-Hand.

He had lured the warden in with a simple promise: safe passage out of the factory. It was laughable, really-how easily desperate men clung to the illusion of survival. The warden thought he had something of value.

He thought he had leverage.

But Sawyer knew better.

The prison sector was already compromised. The factory had no intention of letting anyone out. Not now. Not ever.

And the warden?

He was just another loose end waiting to be cut.

As Sawyer stepped into the dimly lit security chamber, he found the warden pacing anxiously, clutching the red Omni-Hand in a death grip. His uniform was disheveled, his face slick with sweat.

"You said you'd get me out," the warden hissed. "I held up my end of the deal. Now get me to an exit-"

Sawyer smiled, slow and sharp.

"Of course."

Sawyer's fingers twitched with anticipation as he extended his hand.

The warden hesitated.

"You promised," the man rasped, his grip tightening on the red Omni-Hand. His knuckles were pale, his breath ragged.

Sawyer smiled-a slow, knowing curve of his lips. "I did, didn't I?"

The warden's shoulders sagged in cautious relief. His fingers finally loosened around the prized GrabPack hand.

Big mistake.

The second it left his grasp, Sawyer struck.

With ruthless efficiency, he drove a jagged scalpel straight into the warden's throat. A sickening wet gurgle filled the air as the man's eyes bulged in shock.

Sawyer watched, expression unreadable, as the warden staggered, clawing weakly at his ruined neck. Blood bubbled from his lips, dribbling down his chin in thick, crimson streaks. He collapsed to his knees, a trembling, broken thing.

"You really thought I'd waste resources getting you out?" Sawyer murmured, crouching beside him. "You were never leaving this place, Warden. None of us are."

The warden convulsed violently. His fingers twitched, reaching for something-anything. But there was nothing left to save him.

Sawyer wiped his scalpel on the warden's uniform, watching as the man's body gave one final shudder before going still.

Then, with a hum of satisfaction, he strapped the red Omni-Hand to his own GrabPack and flexed his fingers.

As Sawyer adjusted the red Omni-Hand, the dim light of the security chamber flickered against the stark white of his cloak.

His lab cloak draped over his mechanical form, the fabric swaying with each precise movement of his long, segmented limbs. His body-tall, spindly, unnatural-was entirely mechanical, reinforced steel plated with eerie precision.

And his head?

A television screen.

The dark glass flickered, distorting before stabilizing into a single white eye that stared unblinking at the corpse before him. A silent observer. A judge of all things beneath him.

This was his main body, the core of his existence. But it wasn't his only body.

Elsewhere, spread throughout the factory, other mechanical forms lurked-extensions of himself, each one connected by an unbreakable thread of control. Long robotic arms and legs. TV heads, just like his own, each displaying his ever-watching eye.

They moved as he willed them. Saw as he saw.

And now, with the Omni-Hand secured, there was no part of this factory he could not reach.

No door he could not open.

No prey he could not hunt.

With a soft, static-laced hum, the white eye narrowed. Then, without another glance at the dead warden, Sawyer turned and strode into the depths of the factory.

Now, he had to find Yazmina.

She was still out there, bleeding. Struggling? No. One thing Yazmina would not allow was struggle.

The factory was vast, a labyrinth of metal corridors and decaying memories, but she couldn't hide from him forever. Not when the walls had eyes-his eyes.

Every camera. Every machine. Every mechanical body linked to his consciousness.

Sawyer flexed his fingers, the red Omni-Hand glinting under the dim lights.

"Let's see how far you'll make it, doctor," he murmured.

And with that, he vanished into the shadows, the factory groaning as if it, too, knew the hunt had begun.