His body felt heavy.

His limbs ached, his mind still foggy from the crash. But something felt... off.

Did someone touch me?

Or was he just imagining it?

Shaking the thought away, he forced himself up, nearly stumbling as a dull pain pulsed through his skull. His head was throbbing, but he was alive.

That was all that mattered.

Steadying himself, he climbed out of the wrecked train car-only to realize where it had taken him.

Right in front of the Prison.

A low, metallic groan echoed through the desolate halls. He exhaled sharply.

"Great. Just great."

Looking up, he spotted a suspended pipe running above him. His best way up.

Reaching for it, he grabbed hold and pulled himself up. But just as he did-

His breath hitched.

His grip nearly slipped.

What the actual shit-



Pinned to the wall by thick, glistening strings, a rotting human carcass dangled lifelessly. The flesh had long since decayed, leaving exposed bone and withered sinew. Its face was frozen in a twisted, hollow scream.

His stomach lurched. He nearly gagged.

No. Not now. Keep moving.

Forcing himself to look away, he dropped down into an open vent.

But what he saw next?

It made his blood run cold.



Rows of prison cells.

Not just any cells. Prison cells.

This was beneath Playtime Co. the entire time?!

A sudden rustle.

His muscles tensed.

The sound was faint, but it was there.

Slow. Wet. Sticky.

Swallowing, he inched forward.

One of the doors ahead was slightly ajar. The top part had a small glass window.

Something inside was moving.

Hesitantly, he peered in.



Not the usual smiling critters.

No. These were different.

Twisted. Grotesque. Their mouths were formed evily.

Nightmare Critters.

He forgot who these were but these are also part of the line up of famous toys before.

A gator and a shark.

But they weren't just standing there.

They were eating something.

Tearing it apart.

The wet squelch of ripping flesh. The sound of bones snapping like twigs.

His stomach churned.

Nope. Nope. I need to go. Now.

He turned to move-

But froze.

The chewing stopped.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the air.

Slowly-too slowly-he turned his head back toward the window.

Two sets of glowing eyes stared right at him.

Then-

The door SLAMMED open.

Shit!

They lunged.

He bolted.

Faster. Faster!

His feet pounded against the metal floor as he sprinted down the hall.

Too fast. They're too fast!

His hand shot to his Flare Gun-

Still reloading.

Damn it!

More movement.

From the shadows, other Nightmare Critters emerged. Dozens of them.

Oh, come on!

They poured in from every direction. Claws scraping. Teeth gnashing.

Nowhere to go.

He reached for a cell door-locked.

Another-locked.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

One of the creatures snapped at his heel-just inches away.

Open, damn it! OPEN!

His hand landed on another door-it gave way.

He threw himself inside.

A hole in the floor.

No time to think.

He jumped.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

When he hit the ground, he gasped, chest heaving.

But the growls above?

They weren't following.



He was in the lower levels now.

And somehow,

That felt even worse.

And he was right.

A speaker crackled to life, its static slicing through the suffocating silence.

Then, that voice.

Cold. Calculated. Familiar.

"The subject scrambles for an advantage. They appear lost and disoriented. Heavy breathing is indicative of fear, and rightly so."

A pause.

"Let's test the response to said fear when pushed into action."

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of locks disengaging.

His stomach plummeted.

The cells were opening.

And from the darkness, they came.

More Nightmare Critters.

They poured out of their cages, limbs contorted, eyes gleaming with hunger.

He moved.

His finger squeezed the trigger.



A blinding burst of fire shot from his Flare Gun.

The first creature shrieked, its flesh igniting in a violent blaze. It thrashed, clawing at the air before collapsing into a smoldering heap.

But there were too many.

Too many.

His pulse hammered.

He turned and ran.

This is exactly what that voice on the speaker wants.

The thought made his blood boil.

He could almost picture that glowing eye flickering on that damn screen, watching, analyzing.

Sick bastard.

But running wasn't enough.

Not forever.

His mind raced. Think. Think.

They all came from the cells.

The cells.

Shut the doors.

Without hesitation, he veered sharply, skidding across the metal floor and slamming his fist against the nearest cell panel.

The door slammed shut.

One down.

Another. SLAM.

Another. SLAM.

The creatures still inside howled, their bodies crashing against the steel barriers.

Now he just had to deal with the ones still out here.

A blur of movement-a shadow leaping for him.

He ducked. Barely.

His Flare Gun burned hot in his grip.



One shot.

Two.

Three.

Each shot found its mark, flames erupting in bursts of red and orange, shrieks echoing through the halls.

But the reload time was agonizingly slow.

One of the monsters lunged.



He twisted-narrowly dodging claws that tore through the air where his head had just been.

No time.

He bolted, darting between the remaining creatures, dodging and weaving, waiting-

Come on, reload!

A sharp pain sliced across his arm.

"Fuck!" He hissed.

Not deep. But enough.

The Flare Gun clicked.

Loaded.

Spinning on his heel, he fired off another shot.

The final creature collapsed, flames consuming its writhing form.

And just like that-

Silence.

His breath came in ragged gasps. His limbs shook from the adrenaline.

The only sound left was the distant crackle of burning flesh.

Then-

Another click.

Not from the doors.

Not from his gun.

From the speaker.

"Interesting."

A low chuckle.

"I wonder... how long you can keep this up?"

And then-

The lights flickered off.

A second later, the grating screech of metal echoed through the halls.

He turned his head sharply.

A nearby stairwell gate had just unlocked.

He knew what this was.

That voice-

He was leading him somewhere.

Testing him.

Toying with him.

Well, if he wanted him to play his little game-

Fine.

He'd play.

But he'd play to win.

------

He didn’t notice the footsteps trailing behind him. Slow. Steady. Watching.

As he ascended, the unseen presence moved to follow—only to halt as a speaker crackled to life.

A voice, smooth yet laced with amusement.

"Yazmina."

A pause.

"You’ve been wandering quite well. It’s getting harder to track you, you know that, right?"

She scoffed, impatience bleeding into her tone.

"What do you want?"

There was a beat of silence. Then, a mechanical hiss.

A door to her right slid open.

"Get in here."

She exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes before stepping forward.

Might as well see what this was about.

-------

He moved forward, each step cautious but deliberate.

Then, up ahead-

Something red.

A GrabPack hand.

His brow lifted.

"Lucky me."

He flexed his fingers, reminded of the empty space where his original hand had been ripped away.

"Mommy Long Legs took mine. Guess this'll be my replacement."

Snatching the red GrabPack hand, he strapped it on and clenched his fist, feeling the weight of it.

Not bad.

He scanned the nearby gate, watching as it slid open with a heavy clunk.

The path led him to a security office.



Dimly lit. Dusty.

And in the corner-

A cutout.

His eyes narrowed.

Something about it itched at his mind.

Curiosity got the better of him.

He pressed the button.

"The name's Yarnaby! Would you... Warn-a-be my friend?"

He pressed it again.

"Press the button to brush my mane!"

Again.

"Brushy, brushy, brushy, brushy!"

Again.

"Wow! Yarn't I glad to have a friend like you! Get it? Because I'm made of yarn? Yeah, you get it."

His lips twisted.

"Yup. I hate it."

He pressed it one last time.

"The fun never ends, cozy and cuddly, your new best friend, Yarnaby!"

(Glitched static buzzed through the speaker.)

He stiffened.

"Yeah... I'm definitely meeting this thing later."

Shaking off the unease, he turned to the security console.

A puzzle.

Great.

He worked quickly, fingers moving over the controls.

With a final press-

The door to his right unlocked.

He stepped through and-



A reception desk?

He blinked.

"So... deep down in this hellhole, we have a Prison Reception? What the heck?"

The room was large, lined with gated doorways-all locked.

At the center of the space sat a desk.



Scanning the tabletop, he saw a key card machine.

Bingo.

He glanced at the scanner beside it and lifted his red GrabPack hand.

A sharp beep.

A loud, metallic groan.

Behind him, the massive double doors slowly began to open.

He inhaled deeply.