After he was done being bandage, he looked up from where he sat, still catching his breath, as Little Bobby Bearhug shuffled toward him.

The small critter, barely reaching his knee when standing upright, moved carefully, almost timidly. Its round, plush-like body was stitched together in patches, its button eyes gleaming softly in the tent light.

Bobby held out a small, dented cup filled with water.

"I'm sorry we don't have any food here," Bobby murmured. "But you can have this water."

He took it, fingers brushing against the critter’s soft paws. The water was lukewarm, slightly metallic, but right now, it might as well have been the nectar of the gods.

"Thanks, little guy." He downed it in one go, sighing as it cooled his dry throat.

Bobby hesitated, shifting its weight from one foot to the other.

"I’m thankful for your hard work… for risking yourself to get that hand," the little critter said, glancing at the Omni-Hand. There was something somber in its small voice. "At least now, Doey… he won’t have such a hard time protecting us all the time anymore."

Bobby’s ears drooped slightly.

"That’s… that’s the thing he always wanted to get."

For a moment, he just stared at Bobby.

The weight of those words settled in.

Doey had wanted the Omni-Hand all this time.

Had worked for it, fought for it.

And he had been the one to get it instead.

He looked down at the newly upgraded GrabPack hand, flexing his fingers. The weight of it felt heavier now.

"Guess I’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill then, huh?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Bobby’s voice cheered him.

"I think you’ll do just fine."

For the first time since stepping into this nightmare, he felt something strange—something that wasn’t fear, exhaustion, or sheer survival instinct.

It was responsibility.

A reason to keep going.

And for now, that would be enough.

He entered the generator room, still flexing his newly upgraded Omni-Hand, feeling its weight. Poppy and Doey stood near the massive generator, tension thick in the air.



Poppy turned the moment he walked in.

"Good. You're here. Let's get started," she said, wasting no time. Her voice was steady, but there was an urgency behind it. "Losing the Doctor… it'll have gotten the Prototype's attention. He'll be scared. He knows he's losing now, and the orphans are all he has. Now’s the time to get to the Foundation. Make everything ready."

Before he could ask what exactly "the Foundation" was, Doey let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, we need to talk about this. We shouldn’t—" Doey cut himself off, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose before exhaling sharply. "Just give it a second."

Before Poppy could respond, her walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Ollie, you there? What’s—"

The voice on the other end sounded rushed. Panicked.

Ollie: "He’s outside!"

Poppy's expression dropped. A rare flicker of fear crossed her porcelain face.

"Ollie?"

Ollie: "HE'S OUTSIDE!"

Her breath hitched. "Who?! Who’s—" Then it hit her. Her eyes went wide. "Oh no."

Her grip on the walkie tightened. "You need to distract him, Doey! Please! Keep him away from here!"

Doey stiffened. "Without the generator—"

"I KNOW," Poppy snapped, then took a deep breath. "But he can't get in here. Not now. Just buy us some time. You’ll have to fix the generator. Work quickly, you won’t have a lot of time."

"But I—"

She turned to him now, desperate. "Trust us, Doey. Trust me."

A long pause. Then, Doey sighed and nodded. "...Just get the generator working. Please."

Poppy swallowed hard. "I'll try to gather the others. Keep them safe." She pressed the walkie tighter to her ear. "Ollie, if you can hear me, work with our friend here. You can do this..."

His eyes widened. Wait, WHAT?

"Oh, great," he muttered. "Just what I wanted. A crash course in emergency generator repair while some thing tries to claw its way in."

The walkie crackled again.

Ollie: "You heard her. Now let's get to it. First, open the access panel on the generator. It’s just a little door on the outside of the machine. Use the Omni-Hand."

He took a breath, then approached the generator. It was an old, rusted beast of a machine, covered in dents and scratches. He found the small access panel and placed his upgraded hand against it. The Omni-Hand pulsed with blue energy, unlocking the latch with a sharp click.



"Alright, panel’s open," he muttered, his heartbeat pounding louder than the generator itself.

Ollie: "Whenever you're ready, flip the breaker switch. But be aware—while it's down, so are Safe Haven’s defenses. Meaning whatever's out there has NOTHING keeping it out there. We’ll have to be quick."

"Yeah, no pressure or anything," he grumbled. He grabbed the breaker switch and hesitated.



If something was already at the gates…

He exhaled and yanked it down. The entire room dimmed. Outside, a siren-like noise blared once before cutting off.

He suddenly felt exposed.

Ollie: "Good. Now, grab an external resistor. Attach that to the capacitor bank."

He turned to the side and found a box of resistors nearby. He grabbed one, then fumbled to attach it to the correct slot. It sparked slightly when it clicked into place.



"Got it! What’s next?"

Ollie: "Now, use the Omni-Hand to override the generator’s chipset protocols. You need to yank out the busted surge protector. It’s the flashing blue light!"

He scanned the mess of wires. There. A small, blinking blue component wedged between two larger ones.

He reached in, careful not to tangle any other wires, and yanked it free. Sparks flew, and for a second, he thought he’d just made things worse.

"This is how I die," he muttered, tossing the broken part aside.

Ollie: "Alright! Nice. Now put in a new one."



He quickly grabbed a fresh surge protector from the spare parts bin and snapped it into place.



Ollie: (Takes a deep breath) "It’s done... We did it... Good..."



Something about the way he said that made his skin crawl. There was something… off.

His eyes flickered to the walkie-talkie.

"...Ollie?"

A beat of silence. Then Poppy’s voice cut in.

"You did it... I... 'Thank you' isn’t nearly enough..."



She hesitated. There was no word from Doey.

"Whatever happened out there—no… no, he’s fine. I’m sure of it."

There was an unconvincing pause. Then, she steeled herself.

"We shouldn’t wait anyway. Head for the Foundation. Plant the explosives. Meet back here after. We’ll go over what comes next."

He exhaled sharply, running a bloody hand through his hair. His other arm throbbed from the deep scratch one of the robots had left earlier.

"Foundation." Explosives. Fighting monsters. Yeah, totally a normal day.

"Right. Because the last thing this place needs is less stability," he muttered.

"Fine. Let’s go blow some shit up."

He made his way deeper into the caverns, the damp air thick with dust and the distant echo of dripping water.



The mining charges he needed were scattered around, and with every step, he felt the weight of what was coming.

Blowing the foundation meant cutting off the Prototype’s last stronghold—there’d be no going back after this.

As he grabbed the first charge, a guttural snarl echoed through the cavern. His grip on the explosive tightened. "Oh no… nope, nope, I already know where this is going."

Shadows twisted unnaturally along the cavern walls, shifting, moving.

Then—eyes. Too many.

Flickering in the dark like dying embers.



Nightmare Critters.

He didn’t hesitate. His hand flew to his flare gun, firing off a shot. The flare ignited the space in a hellish red glow, and the creatures recoiled, shrieking as they scuttled back into the darkness.



"Yeah, that's right! Back into your creepy little holes! I am NOT in the mood for a jumpscare buffet right now!"

Moving quickly, he collected the remaining mining charges and pressed forward. The Foundation loomed ahead, its metal reinforcements barely holding together.

He stepped inside, brushing off the dust from a lone green tape sitting in the corner.

Something told him this was important.

He found a nearby VHR player, inserting the tape. The screen remained black, but the audio crackled to life.