The room was silent.

Too silent.

The only sound was the faint drip… drip… drip of water somewhere in the darkness. The air was thick—damp with decay.



He moved cautiously, stepping over the body bags scattered across the floor. Some hung limply from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly, as if disturbed by an unseen force.

His stomach churned.

How many?

How many had Playtime Co. discarded like this?

Then—

A sudden skittering.

His body locked up.

Something moved behind him. Fast.

Before he could turn, a deformed, rat-like nightmare lunged from the shadows—gnashing teeth, gnarled claws reaching.

Touille... The only rat in Nightmare critters.



His instincts kicked in.

He whipped out the flare gun, pulling the trigger.

BOOM.

A bright red burst illuminated the room in flickering, hellish light. The creature shrieks, recoiling.

Scurrying.

Then—silence.

His breath came in ragged gasps as the flare’s light flickered out.

That thing had been guarding something.



A lever.

He jammed the lever into place, pulling hard. Metal groaned, chains rattling as a heavy cabinet lifted, clearing his path.



But just as he stepped forward, something stretched—

A big hand. Cold. Clamping over his mouth.

He was jerked back— but another force grabbed his arm.

Poppy.

And beside her—Kissy. Wounded. Bleeding.

The right side of Kissy's face and body suffered severe injuries that resemble burns along with several deep slashes to her body with her right arm being kept in a makeshift sling.



"Shhhhhh…"

His heart pounded.

Then, a sound.

Metal scraping against metal.

His breath hitched. He glanced at Poppy and-



she's trembling??...

Suddenly-



Six, long, metallic legs came into view.

It stopped right in front of them.

Clicking. Searching.

After a minute or two, it moved past them. A shadow shifted.

Something was out there.

"Through the showers," Poppy whispered. "We should be able to make it into the Safe Haven from there."

She glanced around the corner.

Checking. Watching.

Then—

"Go!"

He ran.

The floor was slick, puddles splashing beneath their feet as they sprinted down the dim corridor. Pipes rattled above them, the air thick with steam and rust.

---

As they turned to escape, they failed to notice the second pair of footsteps trailing behind the Figure.

A shadow, moving in perfect silence.

Then—a pause.

Just outside their hiding place, the footsteps stopped.

A presence lingered.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then—a flicker of red.

Crimson eyes. Piercing. Unblinking.

They hovered over the narrow corner, staring for far too long.

Then—without a word, without a sound—

She turned.

And followed the Figure into the abyss.

---

The Safe Haven’s doors were ahead.



Kissy stumbled.

He caught her—hauled her forward.

The Scout inside saw them.

It was Boggie Bot with eyes widened.

"Hurry! Close it!"

They barreled inside.

The doors slammed shut.

He breathes a sigh of relief. For a moment, there was only silence.

Doey appeared from the shadows, alarmed.

"What's going on? What's—" He froze. Eyes landing on Kissy. "Kissy! Goodness, what happened???!!"



Poppy was already moving.

"We need to get help. Now!."

Doey’s eyes flickered to Poppy, hesitating.

"Poppy??? Is that really…?"

She didn’t answer.

"Right. Take her to one of the beds," he said quickly. "I'll check the defenses, see if something's still outside."

Poppy’s face darkened.

"Not just something."

She looked toward the sealed doors.

"It’s him! He’s out there!!"

A weight settled in his chest.

That thing… was no ordinary monster.

Doey's expression was both shocked and angry.



"You brought him down??!!—"



"We'll talk about this later. For now, I'll make sure ‘out there’ is where he stays." He rubbed his head and sighed.

Then Doey disappeared into the depths of the Haven.

The air was thick with tension.

Then—

The Scout’s voice crackled through the speakers.

"Locking down Safe Haven. Reactivating the defenses..."

Metal shutters slammed down.



"Get some rest, okay?" Poppy said softly, placing a gentle hand on Kissy's shoulder before turning to him.

Her expression was firm, but there was something beneath it—guilt.

"I didn't know it had gotten this bad. I... I need to make this right."

She hesitated, eyes darting away as if she struggled to find the words.

"What I said on the elevator—it’s true. The orphans weren’t killed during the Hour of Joy… they were taken. They’re below, in the Labs. The Prototype’s home."

A cold weight settled in his chest.

They’re alive?

"They're alive," Poppy repeated as if reading his mind. "But sleeping. And HE knows we’re here. If we’re going to free them AND stop the Prototype, we need a plan for both at the same time."

Her voice lowered, urgent.

"The Red Smoke? You saw it. It comes from Playcare. It’s an accelerant. All it needs is high pressure and a little spark, and it ignites. The plan is: we fill the foundation with the smoke and line it with the old missing charges. Then, once you, me, and Kissy have freed the orphans… our friends here will blow this place sky-high."

She clenched her fists. "That’s our revenge."

Silence.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Jesus, Poppy..." He shook his head. "That’s not a plan, that’s a damn war crime."

Poppy’s gaze didn’t waver.

"It’s the only way."

He let out a humorless laugh. "You want to blow up the whole facility while we’re still inside. Great. Love the part where we turn into dust, too."

"We’ll get out in time."

"Yeah? And if we don’t?" His jaw clenched.

Poppy hesitated for a fraction of a second—long enough.

She wasn’t sure.

She had conviction. But no certainty.

His chest felt tight.

"Look, I want them out of here just as much as you do. But turning this place into a damn fireball with them still inside? That’s not saving them. That’s playing a gamble with their lives."

Poppy inhaled sharply through her nose. "We’ll find a way to make sure they’re safe. But we’re not leaving this place standing."

He exhaled, shoulders tense. "I’ll talk to Doey. See what he needs."

For now.

---

Safe Haven.

He hadn’t noticed before, but now that the adrenaline settled, he took in the place for what it was.



Tents. Small lamps flickering like stars.

Above, strung-up lights formed a makeshift sun, and cloth painted with clouds stretched across the ceiling.



His throat tightened.

It wasn’t much, but… it was something.

A desperate attempt to hold onto what was stolen from them. A glimpse of warmth in a world that had turned them into monsters.

And then, he saw the murals.

One room stood slightly ajar. Candles flickered inside.



Two critters knelt in silence, praying.

Their faces—smiling.

But the wall behind them—

A mural.



Poppy.

A red X painted over her face.

Beneath it, words scratched deep into the surface:

SHE LEFT US!

WE NEED YOU, POPPY!

His stomach twisted.

Poppy had been here before.

And she left.

His eyes flickered to a table in the corner. A photograph lay there—of a girl, no older than eight.

He didn’t recognize her.

But someone did.

He left the room in silence.

---

The walls spoke louder than any voice ever could.



Scratched into the stone—desperate, pleading:

HELP!

WE ARE SCARED!

HELP US!

WILL WE BE SAVED?

His breath hitched.

Another mural.

Crude drawings of food. Chicken, ice cream, tacos, pizza, apples, eggs—



I’M HUNGRY!

I’M HUNGRY!

The words repeated over and over.



And beside them—a refusal.

A drawing of a human in upside down pose with the little critters below saying,

“GROSS!!”

They wouldn’t do it.

Even when starvation clawed at them.

Even when survival meant breaking everything they once were.

They refused.

He swallowed, stepping further.

And at the very center—

A final mural.

Doey.



His arms stretched wide, encircling both Smiling Critters and Nightmare Critters.

Protecting them.

Shielding them from harm...

A single phrase beneath it: SAFE HAVEN

TOGETHER, WE ARE SAFE.

His vision blurred.

His throat burned.

They were just kids.

They didn’t deserve this.

And they survived—alone—for ten long years.

No warmth.

No food.

No one coming for them.

And now, Playtime Co. wanted to erase them.

He clenched his fists.

They were waiting for salvation.

And he had no idea if he could give it to them.