Move. Move. MOVE.

His lungs burned. His muscles screamed. But he couldn’t stop.

Not when that thing was right behind him.



He barely squeezed into the Ventilation Shaft as Huggy lunged—its massive frame slamming against the metal walls with a deafening bang.

For a second, he thought that was it. That the vents were too small, that Huggy was trapped.

But then—

A horrible, wet crack.

The sound of bones—or whatever was inside that thing—snapping unnaturally.

And then—

It moved.

It shouldn’t have fit. It couldn’t have fit.

But Huggy did.

It twisted, contorted, folding its impossibly long limbs at unnatural angles, shoving itself inside the shaft.



It was chasing him.

No, no, no—

The Player forced himself forward, hands slamming against the vent walls, dragging himself faster through the tunnels, the darkness, the suffocating metal cage.

But Huggy was gaining.



It was fast. Too fast.

Every breath was a sharp, ragged gasp. His body screamed for air, but there was none.

Just the endless, rattling breath of the monster behind him.

And then—

No—!

A dead end.

A cold wave of terror slammed into him.

No way forward. No time to turn back.

The vents shook as Huggy came closer. Closer. Its claws scraped against the metal, shrieking like nails on a chalkboard.

He had to move.

He stumbled out of the vents, lungs burning, legs shaking. His mind was still racing, heart hammering against his ribs.

But the moment he thought he was safe—

A deep, guttural growl rumbled behind him.

No...

He whirled around just in time to see the vent bend, metal groaning under the weight of something inhuman.

He took a step back.

The exit in front of him was still open.

It's coming.

He can hear the footsteps getting nearer.

Think—think!



His eyes darted around, searching—there!

Above him.

A large crate, suspended by a loose mechanism.

It was the only way.

He then used his Grabpack and pulled the crate. Just in time for Huggy Wuggy to come out of the vent.

A screech of metal. A snap of cables.

Then—

The crate plummeted.

The impact shattered the catwalk, sending shockwaves through the steel.

Huggy roared as the floor beneath it gave way.



He barely managed to throw himself backward as Huggy fell.

Down.



It crashed against the jagged remains of the bridge, limbs flailing, claws scraping against metal.

The factory’s abyss swallowed it whole. It slammed into pipes, thick, dark red splattering against the walls.

The echoes of its fall stretched for what felt like forever.

Then—

Silence.

The Player stood there, breathless. Trembling.

It was gone.

At least… for now?

He didn't know but he had to move forward.

A shadow flickered across one of the catwalks, moving swiftly through the darkness—unseen, unnoticed.

The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, but the silence now felt even heavier—almost suffocating. Huggy was gone, swallowed by the abyss, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was waiting.

He navigated the winding catwalks, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. The factory was a labyrinth, its design unnatural, as if it was never meant to be escaped.

Then—

He saw it.

The flower.



A massive red poppy, painted against an arched doorway.

His breath caught in his throat. The same symbol from the letter. The same flower from that commercial.

This was it.

With no other path forward, he pushed open the door.

---

The air inside was... different.

It was still, untouched by time.

A shrine.

The dim glow of pink lights cast long shadows across the walls, illuminating a space decorated with colorful pillows, as if someone had once lived here. The scent of dust and something faintly floral lingered in the air.

No employees. No bodies.

Just—

A single glass case.

Inside, a familiar figure sat motionless.



Poppy.

The doll from the commercial. The one that could talk. The perfect toy.

The Player hesitated, staring at her painted face. She was pristine, untouched by the decay that had consumed the rest of the factory. Her bright blue eyes seemed to watch him, even though she wasn’t alive.

Or was she?

A part of him screamed to leave. To turn back.

But another part—

What if she was left here to rot?

Before he could second-guess himself, he reached out—

And opened the case.

The moment the glass door swung open—

The lights flickered.

Then—

Darkness.

The factory groaned around him, and somewhere in the void, a voice—

Soft. Childlike.

"You opened my case."

Then—

Nothing.

His mind spiraled into blackness.

----

Deep below, where Huggy Wuggy had fallen—something stirred.

Before its broken body could plummet further, segmented tails lashed out from the shadows, coiling around it with unnatural precision. Yet before they could fully grasp it, another hand—thin, mechanical, needle-like—shot forward and caught the creature in a vice grip.

Huggy groaned, a sound more ragged, more human than it should have been. Pain racked its massive form. His torn fur were soaked with blood—real blood—oozing from countless wounds. Its left hand was missing, severed completely. A deep gash split its stomach wide open, its insides barely contained.

It twitched. Struggled.

But the hands did not let go.

Instead, they dragged Huggy Wuggy deeper into the abyss, its mangled body disappearing into the cold, suffocating dark.

High above, hidden in the shadows of the catwalks, Yazmina watched. Her sharp eyes tracked every movement, every twitch of those unnatural limbs as they pulled the broken creature into the depths.

She was about to follow. She needed to see what would happen next.

But then—

"Go back. Now."

The voice slithered through the factory like a whisper of steel scraping against steel, echoing through the abyss in a shifting chorus of overlapping tones—changing, distorting, never settling on just one.

Yazmina didn’t flinch. She didn’t even glance at it. Instead, she exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes.

But something inside her stirred.

A slow, crawling heat slithered beneath her skin, coiling around her spine like a living thing. The scorpion—her other half—bristled at the command.

"We do not take orders." The voice rasped through her mind, low and sharp, like the scrape of claws against stone.

"We do if it suits us," Yazmina shot back, her voice a whisper in the silence.

A pulse of irritation coiled inside her, its presence pressing against her ribs, testing her limits.

"Let me take control," it hissed, the words winding through her thoughts like venom. "Let me show it what happens when it dares command us."

Yazmina’s fingers twitched, her muscles tightening as if something inside her was trying to claw its way out.

"Not happening," she bit out.

The scorpion pushed harder. A sharp sting flared at the base of her skull, a foreign weight pressing against her consciousness.

"You're weak," it taunted. "You hold back when you should strike."

"And you’re reckless," she countered, her will wrapping around it like a steel cage. "Know your place."

A sharp, agitated hiss rattled through her bones, but the pressure eased. The scorpion coiled back into submission, lurking beneath her skin, waiting.

Yazmina exhaled slowly, steadying herself. With one last glance into the abyss, she stepped back into the shadows, vanishing from its watchful gaze.

The Prototype observed her departure for a long, silent moment.

Then—satisfied—it turned its attention back to Huggy Wuggy, tightening its grip before dragging the broken toy even deeper into the heart of the factory.