His feet pounded against the floor as he sprinted toward the lift, slamming the button outside with frantic desperation.

Then, he saw it.

CatNap was changing. Twisting. Warping.

His once dark fur faded to a sickly gray, his body hollowing out as if decay itself was consuming him.

His legs thinned into nothing but bone-skeletal paws extending into long, claw-like fingers that scraped against the floor.



His mouth stretched grotesquely, wider and wider, until it was longer than his entire torso.

The ridges along his spine sharpened, forming jagged, stegosaurus-like plates.

And the crescent moon on his chest?

It was no longer golden-it had turned silver, hanging from his neck like an eerie, elongated pendant.

He gaped in horror.

"What the fuck..."

The lift dinged behind him.

He didn't hesitate-he threw himself inside, slamming the button again and again as

CatNap lunged.

The lift shot upward, the grinding of gears and rattling chains barely masking the pounding of his own heartbeat. He clutched his chest, sucking in ragged breaths-until he noticed it.

A massive screen-like metal wall loomed in front of him. And clinging to it-like some grotesque, skeletal abomination-was CatNap.



Its hollow, sunken eyes locked onto him, unblinking. Its elongated mouth hung open, revealing jagged rows of exposed bone, saliva dripping in slow, viscous strands. The silver crescent pendant swayed as its ribs expanded and contracted, each breath an eerie wheeze mixed with something... inhuman.

Then, it moved.

With unnatural, twitching motions, it climbed.



Bare skeletal fingers clattered against the metal, scraping deep grooves into the surface. It didn't blink. It didn't break eye contact. It just watched.

A shudder ran down his spine.

Damn! Damn! DAMN!

The lift clanked loudly as it neared the top. He gritted his teeth, willing it to move faster.

Just before reaching the platform, CatNap let out a deep, guttural clicking sound-a warning, a promise.

Then, the lift stopped.

He didn't wait to see what happened next-he ran.



As he turned the corner, his eyes landed on an old monitor, its screen flickering to life with static.

Poppy.

Her voice crackled through the speaker, but the words also appeared on the screen, as if she wasn't sure he could hear her clearly.



"I hope this is coming through... There's no time to waste. CatNap is on his way."

A chill crawled up his spine.

"The room you're in used to be a sort of panic room. It's... not what it used to be, but it can still protect you. Learn how it works. Try putting the batteries in the different glowing slots."

He turned, scanning the dimly lit room. The walls were reinforced with old metal plating, scratched and dented from something—or someone—trying to get inside.

In the corners, faint green lights pulsed from recessed slots.

He didn’t hesitate. Rushing forward, he slotted the batteries into the glowing ports. A deep hum resonated through the walls as the system came online.

"Good!" Poppy's voice returned, slightly more urgent. "Okay... now, in the hallways outside, there are two side rooms—one to the left, one to the right. Inside them, you'll see green power receivers. They can activate emergency barricades to block the hallways before CatNap gets to you. Try them!"

He sprinted to the left room first, heart hammering. The green receiver glowed in the dark.

He slammed his hand against it, and with a deafening CLANG, a massive metal door dropped into place, sealing the hallway.

"Good!" Poppy encouraged. "If you see CatNap, use those. But listen—you're probably going to start hallucinating. The Red Smoke is still in your system. It'll be hard to tell what's real and what isn't."

His breath hitched.

Hallucinations? Now?!

"Try using your Flare Hand on CatNap to make sure he's real."

The screen flickered violently for a second before stabilizing. Poppy’s tone turned desperate.

"He's almost there!"

A loud thud echoed from somewhere beyond the walls.

"There might be a way to kill him—if you can hold out long enough. Do you see that computer terminal?"

His eyes darted to the terminal in the corner of the panic room. A loading bar sat at 0%, surrounded by empty battery slots.

"Progressively use the batteries to fill the surrounding slots. If it reaches 100%, it might be enough to stop him."

A shrill, inhuman screech rang through the air, followed by the sound of metal claws dragging against concrete.

"Please don’t die."

----

High above, perched on one of the industrial catwalks, a lone figure watched the chaos unfold below.

The Red Smoke curled around the air, distorting shapes and shifting shadows, but it did nothing to obscure her vision.

She leaned casually against the rusted railing, crimson eyes gleaming through the haze as she observed the frantic struggle beneath her.

Once, this was her favorite part of the game—the rush of adrenaline, the sharp edge of fear, the thrill of near defeat before clawing back to victory.

She had lived for moments like these.

But now?

Now, there was no respawn, no restart.

This was reality, and watching it unfold firsthand sent a different kind of thrill through her veins.

She sighed.

How frustrating.

To be a spectator rather than a player.

"Patience."

The voice slithered through her mind like silk, smooth yet sharp. Yazmina’s fingers curled against the metal railing, her lips twitching at the familiar sensation.

"Says the one who had no patience at all." She retorted back.

"You know how this works, don’t you?" the voice continued, calm, knowing.

"Of course I do," Yazmina murmured, her tone laced with amusement.

Inside her, the scorpion shifted, its presence an ever-constant pulse beneath her skin.

"Then why do you hunger for it so much? The fight, the chaos... Is it because you wish to kill? Or do you simply long to see what happens when the weak are devoured?"

Yazmina smirked but said nothing. Her gaze flicked back to the one below—desperate, scrambling, clinging to survival like an insect caught in a storm.

Yet beneath the panic, she saw it—that flicker of determination, burning like fire. Unwavering.

"No," she finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s because I want to see who deserves to live."

The scorpion inside her stirred, intrigued.

Below, a loud crash echoed through the facility. The thing called CatNap was relentless.

Yazmina tilted her head, a lazy curiosity in her eyes.

"You could end this, you know," the voice inside her mused.

"I know."

"Then why don’t you?"

Yazmina smiled faintly, red eyes glowing through the haze.

"Because the game isn't over yet." Her words carried a double meaning—one that only she understood.

Was she referring to this deadly game of cat and mouse?

Or something far greater, something unseen?

Not even the presence within her could decipher it.

The facility trembled under the weight of the nightmare unfolding below.

CatNap’s claws scraped against the floor, its grotesque, skeletal form twitching with every inhuman breath. The silver crescent pendant swung slowly from its neck, reflecting the dim, flickering lights as it waited.

Stalking.

Calculating.

Yazmina remained still, watching.

The Red Smoke curled around her like an embrace, yet it never affected her.

It never could.

Not with what ran through her veins.

"He’s going to die."

"Perhaps." Yazmina said knowingly.

A deep, guttural click echoed through the air.

CatNap stopped.

Its hollow, sunken eyes turned upward—toward the catwalk.

Towards her.

Yazmina met its stare, unblinking.

For a moment, the factory seemed to hold its breath.

Then, CatNap let out a low, unnatural wheeze and twisted its head unnaturally far to the side, as if acknowledging her presence for the first time.

"Interesting," the voice inside her mused.

Yazmina remained silent. After all, whether it saw her or not didn’t matter.

In the end, the outcome would be the same.