After connecting the electrical turrets, he crawled through the vent, his breaths shallow and controlled. The metallic walls groaned around him, and the deeper he went, the stronger the stench of chemicals became.

Then, he saw it—the Red Smoke, creeping through the vents like living tendrils of poison.

Not good.

As he dropped down into the smoke-filled room, he wasted no time, yanking his gas mask over his face. A familiar, eerie silence filled the space, broken only by the faint hum of flickering lights.

He quickly replaced the drained batteries, his hands moving on instinct, maneuvering through the maze of doors and dimly lit corridors.

Then—movement.

A shadow flickered in the periphery. His breath hitched as he saw him.

Catnap.

The creature slithered through the haze, its gaze sweeping the area as if sniffing him out. Heart pounding, he dove behind a desk, pressing his body low. He forced himself to remain still, listening, waiting. Seconds felt like hours.

Then, silence.

He peeked out. Gone.

A sharp exhale. Relief flooded him.

The coast is clear. I need to act fast, or else I’ll be someone else’s dinner...

He stepped cautiously back into the corridor—only for his world to explode into chaos.

A blur of movement. A powerful grip. A guttural snarl.

Before he could react, Catnap lunged from the shadows, claws tearing at his gas mask. A sickening rip echoed in his ears as the mask was yanked from his face.

No!

A forceful shove sent him stumbling into an office. The door slammed shut behind him.

Then, he inhaled.

A searing burn in his lungs. A dizzying haze overtaking his vision.

The Red Smoke.

His body swayed, his mind spiraling. Darkness closed in, thick and suffocating.

Through the crimson fog, a single figure remained—Catnap. Standing motionless.

Staring.



Watching.

His limbs felt like lead. His vision warped, shapes twisting, stretching, melting.

Then, everything faded.

Fuck...

The nightmare was about to begin.

---

He woke up to absolute silence. The air around him was thick, suffocating, as if he were drowning in something unseen.



He was standing on a road that stretched endlessly into the void but at the end, Playtime Co. is seen. A whisper slithered into his ears, close yet distant.

"Find the flower."

The voice echoed, splitting into a chorus of distorted murmurs, growing louder, more desperate.

"Find the flower."

The ground beneath him twisted like a living thing, shifting violently—then suddenly, he was back at Playtime Co.'s entrance.



"This isn't a place you come back from."

The walls pulsed as if they were breathing. Shadows crawled along the floors, stretching unnaturally toward him. His vision blurred, and the world twisted again.

Home Sweet Home.



Children’s laughter rang out, but it was wrong—warped and overlapping, like a broken record playing over itself.

He turned, spotting a child sitting stiffly on a bed. The boy’s face was turned away, but his body shuddered as though something inside him was trying to escape.

The walls dripped with something thick and black. His skull pounded.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

Another shift.

The school.

Miss Delight stood at the front of the class, her head cocked at an unnatural angle, her mouth stretched in a too-wide grin.



He was seated at the very back, but in front of him sat rows of children—except they weren’t whole. Their faces melted into shadows, eyes hollowed into endless pits.

"Do you know what's happened here?"

"Do you know who we once were?"

The Playhouse.



A tunnel swallowed him whole. At the far end stood a child, faceless, a pure-black void where features should be. It tilted its head, then stepped forward.

Every movement sent shivers through the air, warping the space around it. Then Poppy's voice returned, softer this time, yet laced with something dreadful.

"Do you see why we have to end this?"

"Do you even know what's real?"

The world vanished.

He was alone in darkness. Then, from the void, something stepped forward. Huggy Wuggy. But there was no warmth in his usual smile—it was creepy instead.



His fur was wrong, shifting between blue and something sickly, pulsing like raw flesh beneath the fuzz.

"No. You don’t."

A shrill ringing exploded in his ears. The scene shattered, and he was in a room bathed in red light. The walls pulsed violently, and shouts filled the space—hundreds of voices screaming over each other, overlapping in a discordant wail.

His skull felt like it was splitting apart. Then, from the ceiling, something reached for him—a long, thin, needle-like hand, its fingers curling like grasping tendrils.

Before it could touch him, a force wrapped around his body, squeezing—no, gently wrapped around him. It felt like chains, tightening, cutting into his flesh. He was lifted into the air, spine contorting, ribs threatening to snap—

Then he fell.

Pain shot through him as he hit the cold ground. He gasped for breath, the ringing still lingering in his ears.

He was back.

The entrance to The Counselor’s Office loomed before him.

The phone kept ringing—its shrill, mechanical chime slicing through the suffocating silence. His hands trembled as he reached for it. Every instinct screamed at him not to, but something deeper—something twisted and inevitable—compelled him to lift the receiver.

At first, there was only static. Then, a voice.

Not Ollie’s.

A rasping whisper.

"LEAVE PLAYCARE..."

A pause. A breath, ragged and wet.

"OR I'M COMING FOR YOU."

The line went dead.

The phone in his grip felt heavier, almost molten, as if it had been branded by the voice itself.

It was Catnap.

His limbs trembled as he got up, ignoring the sharp ache in his side.

He had no time for hallucinations.

No time to unravel the truth from the madness.

He just wanted to escape.

With unsteady hands, he slotted in the last battery and watched the door slowly creak open.

He stepped through.



"Damn it, another nightmare! Never thought Therapy Session would be like that!"

The phone rang again, snapping him out of his daze. He grabbed it and pressed it to his ear.

"Ollie?"

"Something's gone wrong," Ollie’s voice came through, tense but urgent. "Grab the cord from the Counselor's Office and plug it in underneath the statue! We need to reach 100%!"

Still feeling groggy, he staggered to his feet, ignoring the ache in his side. He couldn't afford to waste time. Making his way back into the office, he found the cord and yanked it free. His grip tightened around it as he hurried back to the statue’s base.

As he plugged it in, the machine flickered to life, displaying 96% power.



"It's not enough," he muttered under his breath.

Ollie confirmed his fears. "Looks like we're a tiny bit short! I'm sending one last key. Poppy used it earlier to activate the skylights. Go back there and find the cord. Then we’ll have enough power!"

"Got it."

The chute clanked as the key dropped down. He grabbed it and sprinted toward the skylights.



His heart pounded in his chest as he pulled out the final cord. The moment he plugged it into the machine, the display changed:



100% POWER RESTORED.

"Okay, that should be enough power," Ollie said. "Now take that huge battery to the Gas Production Zone. It's the door by the cable car you arrived on. Good luck."



He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face.

He needed to get out of here. Now.

As he rushed back to the Gas Production Zone, he turned a corner and shoved the blue battery into its slot beside the door. The lock released with a heavy click—but before he could react, the doors burst open.



CatNap emerged from the darkness, exhaling thick clouds of Red Smoke as he prowled forward, his glowing eyes locked onto him like a predator closing in on its prey.



"Shit—!" He didn't wait. He bolted.