As he moved through the center of Safe Haven, he caught whispers.

Two critters, huddled together, voices hushed but filled with uncertainty.



"Is that really Poppy?"

"Can we trust her this time?"

The words lingered in the air.

Before he could dwell on them, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Hiya, pal."



Doey.

He turned, seeing the doughy figure wave him over.

"Got something I wanna talk to you about. In here."



Without another word, he followed Doey into the generator room.

The hum of machinery filled the air, a steady thrum beneath their voices.

Doey’s expression was more serious than before.

"I heard what you did above—what you survived. If it's all true, then we need your help."

His stomach twisted. That tone. The weight in Doey’s words.

This wasn’t just another errand.

"The voice out there—the one in the prison... They called him 'The Doctor.' Doctor Harley Sawyer."

His breath hitched.

Sawyer.

The name alone carried a suffocating weight.

Doey continued, voice steady but laced with something deeper.

"He was the scientist in charge of creating… us. We don’t know what he is, or how he’s still alive, but he works with the Prototype. Hunting us. Starving us. Making us sick..."

Doey’s form tensed, the usual warmth dimmed.

"He controls it all with an Omni-Hand, we think. The executives used them—it’s a battery, a key, the master control to anything in the entire factory. And with it, he commands everything down here... Everything but this."

Doey gestured around the generator.



"Runs completely on its own grid. Away from the prison. For a time, it kept us safe. But now..."

A hesitation.

A flicker of something unspoken.

"I need you to stop the Doctor—to take his Omni-Hand. And I need it to find—"

Doey cut himself off, clearing his throat.

"We'll need it for the generator. And if you want Red Smoke in the foundation, you'll need it too."

His brows furrowed. Find what?

Doey had been careful, but that slip—he was hiding something.

But he didn’t push.

Instead, he exhaled sharply. "And if I do this? If I go after Sawyer?"

Doey’s eyes softened.

"The toys out there, in Safe Haven, they're my family." His voice was low but filled with conviction. "I understand what Poppy wants, what she believes is right. Destroy the factory. Destroy HIM."

A pause.

"But I ask you to consider: If we throw everything away—everyone—just to kill the Prototype… how much do we waste?"

His throat tightened.

Doey sighed. "I know the others might believe it’s right. That we should bury everything. But..."

A shake of the head.

"Let’s just think about it."

He let the words settle.

Then, Doey glanced toward the exit.

"Head for the Infirmary whenever you're ready to leave. There's Sewer access inside—that’s your safest path to No Man's Land. And to him. But if you need to catch your breath..."

Doey managed a small, weary smile.



"Our Safe Haven is also yours."

---

He started to move, finding his way through the Waste Water Treatment section.

That’s when he heard them.

Doey and Poppy.

Their voices echoed through the vents.

"I think you might be wrong, Poppy. What you want..."

A pause.

Then, Poppy’s response. "It’s the best for everyone, Doey. That no trace of this place is left. We agreed to that."

His jaw clenched.

She really meant it.

She wouldn’t stop until everything burned.

Doey’s voice was quieter now, tinged with something raw.

"I know... But us—everyone in there—we’re not just things gone wrong. We’re people. Can't you see that?"

"I can..." Poppy’s voice wavered. "And I'm sorry..."

A sharp inhale.

Then, Doey’s voice hardened.

"They look up to me, Poppy. And I’ve looked after them the best I could."

His words grew heavier, each one a weight dropped into the silence.

"You disappeared. You left us. We looked and we looked. And there was just nothing. No sign of you."

A bitter laugh. "Can you even tell me why?"

A long pause.

Then, finally—soft, hesitant.

"...I had to leave. I had no choice."

Doey scoffed. "That's not good enough."

His heart pounded.

Doey wasn’t just frustrated. He was hurt.

"We've starved down here. We've been hunted. And now you're asking us to burn everything? ALL of us?"

A sharp exhale.

"We've made our life protecting these toys, and they've... saved us, in more ways than one. We—"

A third voice cut in.

"Poppy, she needs you. Done what I could."

The Medic.

A heavy silence followed.

Then, Poppy again, voice softer now.

"I... wish there was another way, Doey."

A beat.

"But I just don’t see it."

She hesitated.

"We’ll talk about this later."

And then—footsteps.

The conversation was over. But the weight of it remained.

He let out a slow breath.

This was bigger than just stopping the Prototype.

Doey wanted to protect what little remained.

Poppy wanted to burn it all.

And him?

He didn’t know yet.

But he had a choice to make.

He made his way to the lift, his steps echoing in the dim, metal-lined corridor. Something caught his eye—a tape, half-buried under a mess of old documents.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands before plugging it into a nearby player.

The screen flickered to life.

---

[VHS RECORDING: SUBJECT 1322]

A scientist’s voice played, calm but tired, tinged with something uneasy beneath the clinical tone.

Scientist: “After a brief... interruption, we’ve successfully extracted Subject 1322. Specifically, 1322B, from the Home Sweet Home. Before said interruption, I attempted to detail the subject’s condition and evaluate the suitability of one Kevin Barnes in relation to Project: Doey.”

His blood ran cold.

Doey?

The scientist continued.

Scientist: “The ‘neural abnormalities’ noted in Dr. Newman’s report are linked to behavioral issues observed in Playcare. Trouble getting along with others, aggressive and often confrontational social tendencies… A combative nature clearly indicates that Kevin is, put simply, a problem child. What friends he does have, he is reported to have attacked during moments of... intense play.”

A slow, creeping dread settled in his chest.

Scientist: “These tendencies raise concerns. The subject excels in all physical tests—reflexes, reaction time, and mental fortitude, all far above average in Game Station examinations. So, despite these concerns, in Dr. Sawyer’s eyes, Kevin is ideal for the Project.”

Kevin. Kevin Barnes.

The name stuck in his mind, as if hearing it alone made something shift—something wrong.

Scientist: “However, if his use in this particular experiment is to move forward, we must ensure we are not creating a time bomb, just as we’ve begun stabilizing the Project. If we are to create an experiment that can fulfill multiple assigned roles, we cannot allow a single consciousness to throw the others off…”

His breath caught in his throat.

Multiple assigned roles.

A single consciousness.

Doey wasn’t just... created.

He was made from someone.

The scientist’s voice dropped, lower now.

Scientist: “Even a single misregulation of emotions means we have nine-hundred pounds of dough capable of shifting however it pleases—able to turn on even those it trusts simply because it was overwhelmed by a stray feeling…”

His hands clenched into fists.

Scientist: “Regardless, Sawyer’s word is law, and Subjects 1322A and C are to be gathered for processing first thing tomorrow morning.”

A pause.

So there's still others???

Scientist: “Thus, all we can do is plan our safeguards accordingly… Yes, that’s all we can do...”

The tape clicked off. ---

He stood there, frozen.

Doey.

Kevin.

His mind raced, the implications hitting like a hammer to his skull.

A problem child deemed ideal for a project that turned Doey into what he was now.

His stomach twisted.

How much of Doey was still Kevin Barnes?

And if something—if anything—ever triggered that part of him again...

Would he still be the same Doey who had protected Safe Haven for ten years?

Or would he become exactly what they feared?