Chapter Text
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The crushing weight of my physical body slipped away, replaced by a sudden, terrifying weightlessness.
I opened my eyes to absolute nothingness. There was no ground beneath my boots, no rusted pipes, no walls, and no sky. I was floating, suspended in a vast, ink-black void so cold and empty it felt like the furthest, deadest reaches of outer space. The agonizing throb in my muscles, the sting of the torn skin on my arm, and the freezing dampness of my clothes had completely vanished. I couldn't even feel the beat of my own heart.
"Hello?"
The word tumbled from my lips, but it didn't sound right. It rippled outward into the dark, echoing back to me in a distorted, hollow loop—hello... hello... hello...—until the silence swallowed it whole.
A cold spike of panic struck my chest. (Am I dead? Did CatNap finally kill me? Is this the end?) My mind spun into a frantic frenzy, the thoughts racing so fast they made me dizzy. (What about Blue? Where is he? Did I leave him behind with that cat? Is he all alone in the dark?)
Before the panic could pull me under, a microscopic prick of light pierced the abyss directly in front of me.
It expanded in a sudden, violent flash, burning with a brilliant, blinding intensity. It didn't just feel like a beacon; it felt conscious. Conscious, ancient, and alive. A heavy, breathless shiver ran through my ethereal frame. (Is that... God?)
The light remained perfectly still for a few agonizing moments, pulsing softly against the surrounding darkness. Then, the radiance began to shift, bleeding outward and molding itself into a distinct, familiar shape. It grew arms, legs, and a torso, condensing until it stood before me as a perfect, flawless mirror image of myself.
But it wasn't flesh and bone. This entity was forged from pure, incandescent luminescence, glowing so brightly it cast no shadows. And its eyes—they weren't human. They were perfect, unbroken circles of brilliant white fire, staring back at me with a calm, unblinking intensity.
My breath caught in my throat.
I swallowed hard, trying to force my trembling voice to obey me. "Umm... who are you? Where am I?" I hesitated, the next word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Am I... dead?"
The entity didn't move, but when it spoke, the sound didn't come from a mouth. The voice vibrated through the very fabric of the void, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. It sounded exactly like my own voice, but stripped of all fear, completely steady and resonant.
"No, you are not dead," the luminous doppelgänger replied, its fiery eyes locked onto mine. "You are merely... away from your body."
Before I could process the words, a sharp, violent sound echoed through the void—like the agonizing screech of freezing ice or a mirror shattering under immense pressure.
A massive, jagged fissure ripped open across the ink-black sky above us. It wasn't revealing a sky or a room; it was a tear in reality itself, bleeding a chaotic torrent of blinding white static that began to swallow the darkness. The weightlessness surged violently, pulling at my chest like a vacuum.
The entity’s calm demeanor vanished in an instant. Its posture stiffened, its brilliant form flickering erratically like a dying lightbulb.
"Oh no," the light murmured, its voice suddenly laced with a desperate, panicked resonance. "It's happening."
"What is... what is going on?" I stammered, my voice cracking as the violent tremors of the collapsing dreamscape began to tear at my limbs.
The glowing twin stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a fraction of a second. It reached out, its hand closing around mine. The touch wasn't hot or cold—it was a sudden, intense jolt of raw, humming static electricity that surged straight up my arm, grounding me even as the world around us fell apart.
"Look at me," it commanded.
I forced my eyes up. As I did, my heart wrenched. The entity was crying. Trails of brilliant, molten silver cascaded down its glowing cheeks, burning away into sparks before they could hit the non-existent floor. It gripped my hand tighter, its voice vibrating with a profound, aching sorrow.
"Come find me again," it pleaded, the liquid light spilling rapidly from its hollow, fiery eyes. "When you fall asleep."
"What?" I gasped, shaking my head in complete bewilderment. "What do you mean?!"
The entity didn't answer. Its free hand rose, its glowing fingers stretching out toward my face. As its palm pressed firmly over my eyes, the raw, buzzing current surged through my skull.
The darkness was entirely erased. Everything went blinding, deafening white.
The shredder
I awaken with blurry vision in my face, feeling like I had just been hit by a truck. I groaned, trying to fight the oozing horrible sleep I had a while ago. “Where-where am I?” I croaked out weakly.
I looked around in my blurry vision, the smell tased bad…was I still in the waste dump? I wasn’t sure, I could see trash, and…oh god, toys-a catbee toy and other smiling critter plush toys laying on the floor. Old blood that shows it is never a good sign around where I am.
My hands, legs, and my body was strapped down onto a rope metal table.
I raise my head to finally see catnap, he was standing next to a broken entrance.
I then began to grow desperate, trying to break my hands free from the rope. But i couldn’t, I was just stuck hanging there, I yelled at catnap! “WHERE AM I!? WHAT IS THIS!? AND WHERE IS BLUE!?”
Catnap stayed silent.
“WHY!?” I shouted “why are you doing this!? Theodore! Please! I know you’re in there! Just-Please! let me go!”
Catnap stayed silent.
After a moment to catch my bearings and thinking of what to say, I hear an intercom come on in the room and the sound of someone familiar.
“SILENCE”
And then, through the window. I saw the shadow of a jester outside, and that claw-that same claw from before with touille when she was impaled. It scratched the window as if it wanted me so desperately like I was a new pet to a hyperactive child.
(Oh no…it’s him. The prototype, It had to be.)
He then said “Jason. Please understand THIS. GIFT. Is something that you will really love, and something you would never want to lose by ÇĦÃŅÇĒ.
I gulped, and i spoke slowly “what do you mean?”
The intercom continued on with “the gift I am wanting you to receive is NONE other than the rest of these TRAITORS deserve, you however-you have hit a spot into my heart. If you really want to leave, there is one request. LET ME BE YOUR SAVIOR, YOUR LEADER, YOUR EXIT. You won’t have to worry about getting caught up with those CRITTERS or TRAITORS that want you for dinner.”
“BUUUT, if you choose the alternative. Then. Well. Let’s say that YOU HAVE A GRAVE MISTAKE FOR YOUR LIFE.”
“So what do you say Mr. Williams or should I say spark boy?”
Anger boils in my blood, (hell no.) I thought to myself. I’m done, I’m done with this bullsh$$. I AM DONE with this stupid retched factory, and done with these freaking toys!
“FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR DEAL!” I shouted at the window, trying to get close but the rope held me back. And I planted my feet on the metal bed to proper me further “I’m not going to take a deal from some psychotic, manipulative, apathetic, murderer! Either you can let me go right now! Or you’ll have to know why people try and die jumping me!”
A long pause of silence, I cooled down. Waiting to see what happened next.
“Catnap, if you may?” The prototype asked in a low quiet voice.
“YES…SIR” catnap groaned. He then stepped slowly towards something that was out of sight, then the flick of a lever.
The metal bed slowly tilted back without warning. “What are you doing!?” I said to catnap but he ignored me, I was forced to stare at a bright light.
And then the sound of something they sent me down to my core. a shredder. I could see it coming towards me from above, ready to cut me to bits, spinning so fast, I went wild. I screamed, kicked, flailed, anything to get me out this death trap. But then something else happened.
The intercom came back on “STOP.”
the machine stopped. I let out a shaky sigh of relief. (Were they letting me go?)
The prototype continued with “catnap, I have changed my mind, we have better plans than this spark boy, we may need him for future USE. Come help me set up a MESSAGE. For the EMPLOYEE.”
(Employee? Who is he talking about?) I wondered.
Catnap then said “Yes…sir, and slowly left the room. Only to look back at me with those same ghost white eyes and closed the door.
I then began to feel my heart pond in my chest like a hammer. “I have to get out of there, I can’t die like this.” I whispered to myself. I looked around, I only had god knows how long until they came back. Then I saw it, a yellow wire.
I tried once again to wiggle one of my hands out of the ropes, and thankfully-the right arm broke free!
(yes I’m free! Well…almost.)
I raised my right arm and reached for the yellow wire, grabbing hold of it tight. Then I used my volt-craft powers once again, closing my eyes and focusing on the wire.
Suddenly, the saw began to come back on. But it didn’t descend on me just yet, I then open my eyes panicking for a bit it would kill me. And something unexpected happened.
The saw went backwards as if I was scared of it of me….(wait a minute) I then had an idea, it was risky. But I prayed it would work.
I focused my voltage energy on the wire via moving the saw crane towards left hand the rope held me taught on. Slowly and carefully I closed my eyes and braced for impact, the saw cut the rope off and I moved it back again in fear of it cutting me. (Good…now for my legs…oh man I really hope I don’t cut them off.)
I said goodbye to my right leg and moved the saw down to the next rope, like before I braced for it and the saw cut it off in a second. And I launched back again.
Now with the rest of my limbs free, I untie the rope from left leg. And then out of nowhere I fell forwards and faceplanted on the floor, “OWWW!” I yelped and felt a bruise on my face.
I look back at the metal table (…holy shit, I got out! I made it out!)
For a moment I was thinking of a small celebration-but then I cut to more important matters. Blue. I have to find him. And so I got up and hurried towards the door, peeking out of the hallway (No sign of them. Where could they be? what are they planning to do with some employee?)
I then left that cursed torture room and continued through whatever this place is.
Escape the prototype and catnap.
I peek the door open, looking around and controlling my breathing. No one there. I step into the hallway and turn right, every step slow and quiet. They might still be around somewhere.
I peeked into the hallway, looking to my right-the path was blocked by debris and furniture, impossible to get through. Looking to my left, a door that was not blocked but a big scratch mark on it.
I pushed the door open just a crack, the rusted hinges let out a tiny, high-pitched whine that made my heart skip a beat. I froze, holding my breath until my lungs burned, but no heavy footsteps came for me.
Beyond the door wasn't just a room—it was a cavernous sorting bay. It looked like a graveyard for the factory’s failures. Massive, multi-layered conveyor belts stretched across the ceiling like the ribcage of a giant beast, and mountains of mismatched toy limbs—arms, heads, fuzzy torsos—were piled twenty feet high in the center of the floor.
But it was the silence that scared me most.
Then, I heard it. A low, rhythmic *skreeeeee*-the sound of metal dragging on concrete.
I ducked behind a rusted crate marked “BIO-WASTE – DO NOT OPEN.”* I peered around the edge, my metallic hand sparking instinctively. High above, on a narrow catwalk suspended by chains, I saw a flash of purple fur.
CatNap.
He wasn't hunting yet. He was pacing, his long, emaciated limbs moving with a sickening fluidity. He stopped, looking down at the pile of toy parts, and then he looked toward a small, reinforced observation booth overlooking the bay.
"He is... resistant," CatNap’s voice echoed, sounding like wind through a graveyard. "I don’t understand…why won’t he listen to me, why does he run from me? Did I do something wrong?"
(Umm, you were trying to saw my freaking body open.) I thought annoyingly.
But my blood ran cold. He was talking about me. And then, a sound came from inside that booth—a metallic, multi-layered clicking. The Prototype. I couldn't see him, but I saw his shadow cast against the frosted glass of the booth—a long, skeletal arm with needles for fingers.
RESISTANCE IS MERELY DATA” the Prototype’s voice vibrated through the floorboards under my feet. "IF THE BOY WILL NOT BE THE SAVIOR, HE WILL BE THE BLUEPRINT. FIND THE SMALL ONE. THE HUGGY-DEVIANT IS THE KEY TO HIS COMPLIANCE.”
They were talking about Blue, They were going to use Blue to break me. Or worse…kill him.
Anger flared in my chest, momentarily drowning out the pain in my leg. I had to get to that booth or find where they’d stashed my little buddy. I looked around the sorting bay. I couldn't go across the open floor—CatNap would spot me in a second.
I noticed a series of heavy industrial chutes along the left wall. They led upward, likely connecting to the upper processing levels. If I could climb those, I might be able to get above the catwalks and find a way out—or a way to strike back.
I gripped my left hand tight. Raw courage fleeting in my chest, “Hang on, Blue”, I thought, my knuckles turning white. “I’m coming.”
I stayed low, pressing my back against the cold, rusted metal of the bio-waste crate. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure CatNap could hear it over the rhythmic *clack-clack-clack* of the overhead conveyor belts.
The sorting bay was a nightmare of shadows and jagged edges. To my left, about thirty feet away, were the industrial chutes. They looked like giant metal throats leading up into the darkness of the ceiling. Between me and those chutes was a "valley" between two massive mounds of discarded toy parts.
I looked up. CatNap was still on the catwalk, his head tilted at an unnatural angle as he listened to the Prototype’s muffled clicking from the booth. This was my only chance.
I shifted my weight, and a sharp, white-hot bolt of pain shot up from my injured leg. I bit my tongue to keep from yelping, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. “Move or die, Jason,” I told myself. “Blue is counting on you.”
I began to crawl.
I stayed in the deepest shadows, moving inch by inch. I passed a pile of headless CatBees, their yellow fur matted with grime. My metallic right hand felt heavy, the electricity beneath the surface itching to break free, but I forced it down. A single spark in this darkness would be like a flare in the night.
*Skreeeeee.*
The sound of CatNap’s claws on the metal catwalk stopped directly above me. I froze, flattening myself against the floor next to a pile of Bunzo Bunny cymbals. I didn't even dare to blink.
I could see his shadow—long, thin, and terrifying—stretching across the floor in front of me. He was sniffing the air. A low, rumbling purr vibrated through the room, a sound that felt less like a cat and more like a failing engine.
"The scent..." CatNap whispered, his voice raspy. "The Spark Boy... he lingers."
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to whatever luck I had left. After an eternity, the shadow moved. The dragging sound started again, moving toward the far end of the bay.
I didn't wait. I scrambled the last few feet to the base of the leftmost chute. It was a vertical tunnel of slick, galvanized steel. There were no ladders, just small ridges where the metal plates overlapped.
I looked at my metallic hand. I didn't have the strength to climb with just my legs, not with one of them half-useless. I reached up and dug my mechanical fingers into the first ridge. *Cling.* The sound was tiny, but in the silence, it felt like a gunshot.
I held my breath. No reaction from above.
I began the ascent. I used my right arm as a winch, pulling my weight up while my left hand searched for grip. My "Volt-craft" hummed quietly in my veins. I realized I could use a tiny, controlled pulse of magnetism—something I’d never tried before—to help my metallic fingers "stick" to the steel wall.
It worked, but it drained me. My vision flickered, and for a split second, the dark chute turned bright yellow. I saw a hand—a human hand, glowing with light—reaching down toward me from the top of the chute.
“Find me...” a voice whispered in the back of my mind. (Who…who is that?) I thought.
I blinked, and the vision was gone. I was halfway up, dangling over a thirty-foot drop into a pile of trash. My muscles were screaming, and the sweat was stinging my eyes. With one final, desperate heave, I hooked my elbow over the lip of the upper processing vent. I hauled myself into the cramped, horizontal crawlspace, dragging my injured leg behind me.
I lay there for a second, gasping for air, the smell of old grease and ozone filling my nose. I looked back down through the opening. From this height, CatNap looked like a small, purple spider prowling the floor below.
He was standing exactly where I had been hiding just moments ago, staring at the bio-waste crate with those hollow, white eyes.
The Processing Pit
I pushed deeper into the ventilation shaft, my shoulders scraping against the cold, galvanized steel. Left, then a sharp right. I had to squeeze past a desiccated skeleton hand dangling from a rusted grate above, its bony fingers brushing my hair like a silent warning. Then, I heard it—the sickening ping of a rivet snapping.
“Oh crap,” I hissed, my voice echoing in the tight space. “Not now. I don’t have time for this bull—”
The floor gave way.
The vent screamed as it tore from the ceiling, dumping me into the open air. I hit the ground hard, a white-hot spike of pain shooting up my injured leg. I groaned, rolling onto my back as dust and debris settled around me.
I was in some kind of high-altitude storage bay, surrounded by towering shelves and mountains of cardboard boxes.
At least this place is safe, I thought, dragging myself toward a stack of crates.
Famous. Last. Words.
The heavy thud of footsteps vibrated through the floorboards—a rhythmic, metallic clanging I recognized all too well. Panic flared in my throat. I scrambled behind a massive crate marked 'PROTOTYPE ASSET', pressing my back against the wood and forcing my breathing to slow.
The door didn't just open; it exploded. The Prototype stepped into the room, the wood of the doorframe splintering like toothpicks.
“🎵 I know you’re in here... 🎵” he sang.
The voice was a nightmare—a dozen different voices from a dozen different people, all stitched together into a discordant melody.
He was close. So close I could hear the hydraulic hiss of his joints. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Without my bag, my pistol, or my wrench, I was just a fifteen-year-old kid in a leather jacket waiting to be dismantled.
I looked up through a gap in the crates. A long, skeletal hand—needles for fingers—reached down toward the top of my hiding spot. My blood turned to ice. No, no, please no...
Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed from the far side of the room. The Prototype spun around with terrifying speed.
He grabbed a crate next to mine and hurled it with one hand, the heavy box shattering against the wall near the unknown figure.
“COME OUT NOW. WE CAN END THIS ĦÊŘÊ,” he roared. The sound was horrifying—like a goose screaming underwater, distorted by a failing radio.
I dared to peek. Across the room was another "Bigger Body." I couldn't see his face, but a long, thick tail—fleshy and tipped with ridges like an axolotl’s—twitched behind him. He wasn't attacking.
He had the same haunting white eyes as CatNap, but they weren't filled with malice. They were wide with a desperate, familiar look:
Help me.
He pointed a frantic claw toward the left. I followed his gaze. Past a pile of headless Bubbaphant plushes and broken chairs sat an old industrial floor lamp.
The axolotl-figure looked back at me, his movements jerky. He reached into an open box, pulled out a small dry-erase board, and scrawled a single word in jagged black ink:
GLOW!
Glow? I stared at him, confused, then it clicked. The lamp. My hand.
I gave him a sharp nod. I didn't know who this guy was, but in a factory full of monsters, he was the only one offering a hand instead of a claw.
I looked at the Prototype. He was busy tearing through a distant pile of containers, tossing dead plushies aside like trash. I focused. I raised my metallic right hand, feeling the familiar itch of electricity dancing under my skin. I aimed at the lamp’s base and let out a concentrated jolt.
CRACK-ZAP!
The lamp flickered to life, its ancient bulb buzzing with a harsh, artificial light. The Prototype reacted instantly. He lunged toward the light, his shadow-claws shredding a storage shelf into toothpicks as he searched for the source of the disturbance.
“Go,” the tail-figure gestured wildly.
I began to crawl toward him, but he suddenly slammed his hand down in a 'STOP' gesture. I looked up. My breath hitched.
The Prototype had stopped. He wasn't looking at the lamp anymore. He was looking at us.
The flickering light of the dying bulb illuminated his face—that permanent, jagged metal smile and a single yellow eye that felt like it was peeling back my skin to look at my soul.
“RUN!” I yelled, my cover completely blown.
Adrenaline masked the pain in my leg as I bolted. I felt a crate smash into my shoulder, sent flying by the Prototype’s reach. The force sent me spinning, crashing through a wall of reinforced glass.
I fell. I screamed, the wind catching in my throat, until—SPLASH.
I hit water. But it wasn't cold or clear. It was warm, thick, and tasted like copper. I broke the surface, gasping and coughing, and grabbed onto a floating crate. I wiped the liquid from my eyes and felt my stomach turn.
It wasn't water. It was blood. Thick, putrid, and reeking of rot.
“Oh god... oh god, Jesus, this is disgusting,” I choked out, the smell of the waste-depths finally hitting me.
The Prototype appeared at the edge of the broken window high above, looking down at me like a scientist watching a bug in a jar. A distorted, bitter laugh erupted from his chest.
“LET’S SEE IF YOU ARE TRULY A SPARK BOY,” he spat.
With a mechanical groan, the bloody pool began to drain. My feet hit a cold metal grating. Around me, dozens of Smiling Critter plushes—some half-formed, others missing limbs—were being sucked toward the center of the room.
A cold, feminine AI voice chimed over the speakers: “Fluid drain successfully complete. Initiating processing.”
The floor beneath me began to shudder. The gratings started to move like a giant conveyor belt, carrying everything—the blood, the toys, and me—toward a set of massive, spinning steel rollers. The shredder.
“Processing? Crap, no! NO!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet.
(Seriously? Another freaking shredder? This level really only has one trick, doesn't it?)
The shredder roared, a deafening sound of metal teeth gnashing together. I watched as a pile of DogDay plushes was pulled in, vanishing into a spray of fluff and red mist in a split second.
I looked up. The window was too high. There were no wires in reach. Wait—the crate!
I climbed onto the floating wooden box as the floor moved closer to the teeth. It wobbled, nearly dumping me back into the gore, but I used my metallic arm to balance. As the crate reached the very edge of the pit, I coiled my muscles and jumped.
I caught a rusted support beam, my fingers slipping on the wet grime. I hung there, dangling over the gnashing rollers. I tried to pull myself up, but my strength was gone. My legs dangled uselessly, inches away from the shredder’s teeth.
Then I saw it. A grey junction box bolted to the pillar right next to my face.
“Eat this!” I roared.
I slammed my metallic palm against the box and unleashed every bit of voltage I had left. A massive blue arc of electricity exploded from my hand, blinding me. The smell of ozone and burning plastic filled the air.
The roar of the shredder died instantly. The conveyor belt groaned and ground to a halt. The red emergency lights flickered on, and a manual ladder hissed as it descended from the walkway above.
I slipped from the beam, falling onto the stationary floor. I lay there in the silence, covered in blood and shivering.
“It stopped... holy crap, that was close,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
I forced myself to stand, my boots squelching in the mess. I looked up at the broken window. The Prototype was gone. The mysterious tail-figure was gone. I was alone in the dark, smelling like a slaughterhouse.
“Come on, Jason,” I muttered, wiping my face with my clean sleeve. “Ain’t no chill for the wicked.”
I grabbed the ladder and began the long climb up. I didn't know who that axolotl guy was, but I hoped he was still alive. I had to find Blue. And then, I was going to burn this whole floor to the ground.
Leap of faith
I stumbled out of the processing pit and into a long, dimly lit hallway. My lungs burned, and every breath tasted like ozone and old copper. I couldn't slow down—the Prototype knew I was out. CatNap knew I was out. I was a loose thread in their perfect, nightmarish factory, and they were coming to snip me.
I turned a corner and stopped dead.
Something was moving in the shadows ahead. I tensed, my metallic hand sparking, until I realized I was looking at a jagged piece of a broken mirror bolted to the wall. I stepped closer, and for a second, I didn't recognize the person looking back.
The kid in the glass was a mess. A deep, jagged scar from Stella traced across my left cheek. A makeshift gauze bandage was wrapped around my head, dark blood already seeping through the white fabric. Mr. Lee’s jacket was shredded and stained with gore; my Nike shoes were caked in filth.
But it was the eyes that stopped my heart.
They weren't brown. They were a brilliant, electric yellow—glowing so bright they cast a faint light on the floor. I stared at myself, a cold pit forming in my stomach. *Am I even human anymore?* I took a long, shaky breath, forcing my heart rate to slow. As my pulse calmed, the glow faded, leaving me with my normal, tired brown eyes.
"Jeez," I whispered, touching the bandage on my face. "I'm gonna need a ten-hour shower after this."
**SCREEEEE—**
The sound of claws dragging against metal echoed from the hallway behind me.
He was here.
I bolted. I didn't look back. I dove into a nearby office, slammed the door, and shoved a heavy, dusty couch in front of it. I crawled under the desk, pulling my injured leg in tight and clutching my mouth to keep my breathing silent.
Seconds turned into an eternity. Through the slats of the window blinds, a long, thin shadow stretched across the floor. CatNap. I could hear his rhythmic, clicking purr. He tried the handle once—the door groaned against the couch—but then, the shadow moved on. The silence that followed was even more terrifying.
I waited until my legs fell asleep before I dared to move. I found an old first-aid kit in a desk drawer. The medicine was decades past its expiration date, but the bandages were still good. I patched the scratch on my cheek and took a moment to study an old map pinned to the wall.
*Waste Level 3.* I traced the lines. I was in the Cathedral, but Level 3 had the "Cell Block." That’s where they had him. That’s where Blue was.
*Drip. Drip.*
Something warm and wet hit my right shoulder. I looked down. Red. I slowly, agonizingly, looked up.
CatNap was clinging to the ceiling directly above me like a giant, purple spider. His mouth was full of something bloody—a shredded plush—and his white eyes were locked onto mine.
"Found you," he hissed, the sound vibrating in my very bones.
"You are persistent," I snapped, the fear finally turning into pure, exhausted anger. "I'll give you that."
I didn't wait for him to pounce. I dove for the door, tripping over my own feet as he slammed into the floor behind me. I felt his claws snag my pant leg, dragging me backward. I kicked wildly, my heel connecting with something soft, and scrambled for the wall. My hand landed on a fire extinguisher.
I ripped it from the bracket, pulled the pin, and spun around. "Eat this, you oversized rug!"
I squeezed the handle. A deafening *WHOOSH* of white chemical foam exploded into CatNap’s face. He let out a gurgling screech, reeling back and clawing at his eyes.
I didn't stay to watch. I scrambled into a maintenance vent, crawling as fast as my battered body would allow. I could hear him behind me, his heavy breathing echoing through the metal shaft. I found an opening in the floor and dropped through, landing in a room filled with a forest of massive, vibrating pipes.
*The Water Cleaning Transport.*
The door behind me began to buckle. CatNap’s massive paw punched through the wood, wood chips flying like shrapnel. I looked around desperately. There were no other exits. No vents. Just a massive, broken pipe in the center of the floor, rushing with a torrent of grey, turbulent water.
"No, no, no..." I looked at the water, then back at the door.
The file cabinet I’d shoved in front of the door was sliding. CatNap was screaming now, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage.
I looked at the pipe again. It was a "water slide to hell." If the fall didn't kill me, the drowning would. But CatNap... CatNap would do something much worse. He’d turn me into a "blueprint." He’d make me like him.
The door shattered. CatNap lunged, his body a blur of purple fur and teeth.
I threw myself toward the pipe. In mid-air, I felt a sharp, burning sting as his claw raked across my right arm. I expected the pain of torn skin, but instead, there was a loud, metallic *CLANG*.
I glanced down for a split second. The synthetic skin on my right arm had been torn away, revealing the gleaming, intricate silver metal of the machinery beneath. My arm—my *real* arm—was fully exposed.
I didn't have time to scream.
Darkness swallowed me. The freezing water slammed into my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. I was pulled under, the current spinning me like a ragdoll in a washing machine. I clamped my hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to gasp, fighting the urge to let the darkness take me.
I had escaped the cat. Now, I just had to survive the factory.
(Hold on, Blue,) I thought as the water carried me deeper into the gut of the world. *I'm coming.*
Hoppy’s and doey’s pov-the silent mines
The air in the lower mines was thick with the smell of old earth and machine oil. Hoppy and Doey moved through the tunnels, their footsteps echoing against the jagged rock walls. Every shadow looked like a tail; every groan of the support beams sounded like a hiss.
"Jason! Blue!" Hoppy’s voice was barely a whisper now. She had been calling for an hour, her throat raw, her ears twitching desperately for a sound that wasn't there.
They reached a wide clearing where the tracks for the ore carts had buckled. There, lying in the center of a patch of red-stained dust, was something small and fuzzy.
Doey reached it first. He dropped to his knees, his massive plush frame shaking. He didn't say a word as he picked it up.
It was Blue’s right arm.
The fur was matted with grime, and the ends were jagged, torn away with a violence that made Hoppy’s stomach turn. She staggered back, her hand flying to her mouth. "No... no, no, no. That’s... he can't be..."
The silence that followed was terrifying. Matthew—the man inside the Doey suit—felt something snap. For days, he had been the 'Dough Dad,' the anchor, the one keeping everyone’s spirits up with a smile he didn't feel. But looking at that small, severed limb, the reality hit him like a freight train. He hadn't just lost a companion; he had failed the boy he promised to protect.
A low, guttural growl vibrated through Doey’s chest. It didn't sound like a toy. It sounded like a monster.
"Doey?" Hoppy stepped forward, reaching out a trembling paw.
"HE TOOK HIM!" Doey roared, his voice booming off the mine walls. He stood up, his massive fists clenching so hard the stitching on his arms began to groan. He spun around and smashed his fist into a wooden support beam, the heavy timber splintering into toothpicks. "THAT PSYCHOTIC CAT TOOK THEM! I’M GOING TO TEAR HIM APART! I’LL RIP EVERY STITCH OUT OF HIS FILTHY HIDE!"
He was losing it. The "Bigger Body" instincts were taking over, fueled by a father’s grief and a survivor’s rage. He began to storm deeper into the dark, his eyes fixed on nothing, his breath coming in ragged, wet huffs.
"Doey, stop!" Hoppy lunged forward, grabbing his arm and digging her heels into the dirt to hold him back. "Look at me! You go down there like this, you’re just going to get yourself killed, and then Jason and Blue really *will* be alone!"
Doey struggled against her, his strength nearly overpowering her, but Hoppy didn't let go. She moved in front of him, forcing him to look at her wide, tear-filled eyes.
"We can't find them if we're dead, Doey." she said, her voice shaking but firm. "We need a plan. We need the others. We have to go back to the Safe Haven, get our heads straight, and come back for them with everything we've got. Please... don't leave me alone out here."
The rage in Doey’s eyes flickered, then dimmed, replaced by a hollow, haunting sadness. His shoulders slumped, the massive toy frame suddenly looking small in the vastness of the mine. He looked down at Blue’s arm, still clutched in his other hand, and let out a broken, wheezing sob.
"I promised," he whispered. "I promised I'd keep them safe."
"We will," Hoppy promised, gently taking the arm from him and tucking it securely into her pouch. "We’re going to find them. And when we do, we’re going to make sure the Prototype regrets ever touching them."
With heavy hearts and the weight of their failure hanging over them, the two turned away from the darkness of the mines. They began the long, silent trek back to the Safe Haven—not to give up, but to prepare for a war.
Into the Torrent
The pressure inside the pipe was an absolute nightmare. My lungs screamed for oxygen, a hot, bursting agony in my chest as the churning current whipped me around like a ragdoll. Flashing warning lights inside the pipe blurred past in dizzying seconds. I slammed hard into rusted seams and unseen metal valves, tumbling blindly until, just as the darkness started to close in on the edges of my vision, the pipe abruptly ended.
I popped out into a blinding flash of open air. Gravity seized me, pulling my stomach straight into my throat as I free-fell, before hitting another body of water with a bone-jarring splash.
I broke the surface gasping, choking, and flailing wildly until my fingers caught the cold, solid edge of a metal pool. I dragged myself up onto the grating, coughing up mouthfuls of water, my chest heaving as I tried to force air back into my lungs.
When my vision finally cleared, I looked around. I was in a massive, vaulted chamber filled with rows of industrial water containment vats. A strange, soft bioluminescence pulsed from the water, casting eerie azure ripples across the cracked concrete ceiling.
(Where the hell am I?) I thought, my teeth chattering violently as a deep, structural chill set into my bones. (How deep does this place go? How far away am I from Hoppy, Doey, and the Safe Haven?) I collapsed onto my knees, curling into a tight ball to trap whatever body heat I had left. The sheer terror of the last hour hit me all at once. I had nearly drowned in a pipe of liquid bio-waste, but at least I was away from CatNap. And... the Prototype.
A cold shudder ran down my spine. (That was him. The Prototype.) He wasn't just a mechanical claw—he was a towering, stitched-together horror wearing a twisted, decaying jester's visage. I hated clowns. I didn't need a real-life horror movie tracking me through the dark.
And then there was Theodore. I couldn't stop thinking about CatNap’s human name. (Why did he save me from the trash depths? Was it just to hand me over to his monster of a master? Why chain me to a table over a shredder? Was it a threat, or some sick initiation?) A burning ache swelled in my throat, and for a terrifying second, I felt like breaking down and crying.
My heart beat against my ribs like a machine gun.
Instinctively, my hand flew to my chest, my fingers locking tightly around my black cross necklace. The cold metal against my palm grounded me.
(No, Jason,) I told myself, forcing my eyes open. (That’s not Theodore anymore. Whoever he was, he died a long time ago. Right now, you have one job: get Blue and get the hell out of here.)
I pushed myself up. My waterlogged clothes hung heavily on my frame, making every movement feel sluggish and exhausting. But as I walked past the glowing vats, I noticed something strange. The putrid, rotting smell of the waste depths was gone. The rushing torrent inside the pipe had washed the old blood completely from my leather jacket and jeans.
Even weirder, I looked down at my injured leg. The agonizing, throbbing ache that had forced me to limp across the sorting bay was gone. I tested my weight on it, flexing my ankle. It moved freely. No pain. No stiffness. I stared back at the glowing blue water of the vats.
(What kind of sick science did they pump into this place? Did the water heal me, or is the adrenaline just masking the damage?)
I shook the thought away and pushed through a heavy set of double doors at the end of the chamber.
I stepped into a damp concrete hallway where peeling, decades-old posters clung to the walls: *Fresh Water! Hydrated Kids! Clean Playcare!* The cheerful corporate slogans felt like a sick joke in a graveyard.
I squeezed through a gap in a collapsed pile of concrete debris, stepping out onto a rusted iron platform. It was a massive subterranean transit bay. Suspended from heavy steel cables overhead were small, industrial cable cars—built for hauling heavy supply crates across the yawning chasms of the lower factory.
(This is it.) I thought. (This is how I get to the lower prison levels.)
I hopped onto the nearest cable car. The metal floor was cluttered with empty wooden crates, though a few remained nailed securely shut. I stepped up to the control panel, but the buttons were completely dead. It needed power.
Leaving the car, I searched the perimeter of the platform until I found a gray emergency backup fuse box. I grabbed the heavy iron lever and slammed it downward. The box threw a shower of blue sparks, humming to life with a low, mechanical growl. Inside the cable car, the overhead console dinged, a single amber light flickering on.
I jumped back inside, grabbed the primary throttle, and pushed it forward. With a violent jerk, the cable car began to roll forward, swaying precariously as it glided along the overhead cable. It moved agonizingly slow, the gears groaning into the darkness of the subterranean cavern.
After a few minutes, the tunnel widened dramatically. I pressed my face against the glass window, and my breath caught in my throat.
"Woah..." I breathed.
Before me stretched a staggering, subterranean abyss. Millions of water containers, towering networks of massive pipes, and flooded concrete pools stretched out into the darkness as far as the eye could see. It looked less like a factory and more like an underground city buried deep beneath the earth's crust.
The cable car swung hard to the left, heading toward the distant silhouette of a concrete terminal. I let out a sigh of relief, thinking the ride was safely over—until a flash of motion caught my eye.
On a parallel platform just fifty feet away stood CatNap.
His hollow, white eyes locked onto my car through the gloom. He didn't rush me. Instead, he walked calmly toward a secondary, rusted cable car that sat idle on a crossing track.
With a sickeningly slow movement, his elongated arm reached out, grabbed a massive manual track-switch lever, and slammed it down.
Then, with a flash of his long claws, he sliced cleanly through the safety brake cable of the idle car.
The heavy, uncrewed metal car groaned, slipping into motion. It began accelerating down the incline, hurtling directly into my path on a collision course.
"Damn it, no!" I screamed, panicking.
I slammed my hands onto the control panel, frantically reading the faded labels. There was an auxiliary track toggle for left and right deviations. I grabbed the secondary lever and yanked it violently to the right.
My cable car shrieked, its wheels grinding against the iron cable as it forced itself onto a parallel line just as the runaway car roared into view.
**CRASH!**
The runaway car clipped my rear end with a deafening screech of tearing metal. The violent impact sent me flying across the interior, my back slamming hard into the wooden crates as the world spun. I groaned, dragging myself up as a terrible, structural snap echoed from the roof of my car.
The main support hitch was breaking loose. The car was shaking violently, tilting at a horrifying angle as it neared the end of the line. The automated terminal doors were coming up fast, but the exit doors of my car were electrically dead—locked tight.
I looked down at my right arm, where the synthetic skin had peeled away to reveal the raw, gleaming silver metal of my mechanical frame. I didn't have time to process the horror of my own body. I slammed my bare metal hand directly into the exposed wiring of the control panel.
The voltage surged through my veins. I redirected the raw current, blasting it straight into the door’s power box. The locking mechanism exploded in a shower of sparks, and the metal doors slid open.
I peered over the edge and instantly regretted it. The drop to the concrete platform below was massive. If I jumped, the fall would shatter my legs.
Desperate, I lunged toward one of the sealed crates that had split open during the crash. I tore the lid back, praying for a tool, a weapon—anything. Inside, nestled in molded foam, was a heavy, pistol-grip device attached to a coiled steel cable and a wicked, three-pronged steel claw. A grappling hook.
The roof of the cable car gave way with a horrific screech. The metal frame began to plunge into the abyss.
I didn't hesitate. I aimed the grappling device at a massive concrete support column near the terminal ceiling and squeezed the trigger.
**THWIP-CLANG!**
The steel claw launched across the gap, biting deep into the solid stone. I clamped my eyes shut, leaped from the falling car, and braced for impact.
The cable snapped taut, the sudden momentum jerking my shoulders so hard I thought they would dislocate. I swung through the dark cavern in a massive, terrifying arc. The arc brought me swinging hard toward a solid concrete walkway. I released my grip a second too late, tumbling violently across the rough concrete, my head slamming against the floor as my vision blurred into a haze of static.
Behind me, a distant, echoing boom reverberated through the cavern as the cable car finally shattered in the darkness below.
Before I could even drag myself to my feet, a sharp cracking sound echoed beneath me. The very edge of the concrete platform was fracturing from the shockwave.
The stone gave way, collapsing into a landslide of debris. I screamed, sliding helplessly down a steep, dark rock slope, surrounded by falling boulders.
Ahead, the slope vanished into a cliff edge, and right beneath it lay the glass skylight of another massive processing vat.
"OH MY GOD! LORD SAVE ME! FUUUUCK—"
I launched over the cliff edge, free-falling through the darkness before smashing violently through the reinforced glass of the skylight. Thousands of shards exploded around me as I plunged deep into a pool of freezing water.
The current tossed and turned me upside down until I couldn't tell which way was surface. Fighting the daze of exhaustion, I kicked upward, narrowly dodging a falling supply crate that crashed into the water beside me. I broke the surface, coughing violently, and dragged my battered body onto the cold concrete rim of the vat.
Every single inch of my body screamed in agony. I lay flat on my back, staring blankly up at the shattered skylight, completely drained. "Give... me... a freaking... break," I croaked hoarsely.
The darkness finally claimed me, and I passed out cold on the concrete.
The Prison Level
When my eyes cracked open, the world was deadly quiet. I dragged myself up, shivering in my damp clothes, and looked around. This chamber was different from the others. The water in this specific vat wasn't just blue—it was a deep, vibrant, swirling ether that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
I looked down at my legs. The cuts and bruises from the landslide were entirely gone. My skin looked completely unblemished, though the synthetic flesh on my right arm was still torn away, exposing the intricate silver metal beneath.
*What kind of factory is this?* I wondered, a cold knot forming in my stomach. *What were they actually making down here?*
A faint clicking sound echoed from the shadows to my left.
I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. Through the frosted glass of a set of heavy double doors, two glowing white eyes were staring at me. They were wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange, watchful curiosity. It wasn't CatNap. It was the mysterious, long-tailed figure from the office bay.
"Hey! Wait!" I shouted, bolting toward the doors and throwing them open.
There was nothing but an empty, pitch-black hallway. The creature was completely gone.
"Focus, Jason," I muttered to myself, shaking my head to clear the static. "Blue first. Figure out whatever the hell the monsters are later."
I realized I was still clutching the grappling hook gun in my left hand. Tucking it securely into my waistband, I searched the walls until my hand brushed against a heavy manual toggle. I flipped it, and flickering fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead, illuminating a small junction room. Three separate hallways branched out into the dark, but directly in front of me sat the rusted iron cage of an industrial elevator.
I stepped inside and inspected the ancient console. I hammered the 'Down' button, and with a comforting *ding*, the iron gate slammed shut. Engraved directly into the metal wall beside the controls was a crude map of the subterranean sectors.
*Level 3: Cell Blocks.* The elevator groaned, beginning a long, slow descent into the deepest gut of the factory.
When the gates finally slid open, the air hit me like a physical wall. It smelled like a stagnant sewer chamber—thick with the stench of copper, damp rot, and ancient decay. The hallway was a nightmare of cracked concrete and standing puddles of foul water leaking from overhead pipes. Rows of heavy, iron cell doors stretched into the gloom on either side. Most were pitch black inside, but far down the corridor, a single cell was illuminated by the faint, dancing light of a candle.
I crept forward, my boots squelching quietly in the puddles. As I neared the light, my heart stopped.
"Blue!" I gasped.
He was curled up on a filthy mattress inside the iron cage, his oversized blue head resting on his knees. He looked like he was sleeping. "Blue, hey, buddy, wake up!" I whispered frantically, shaking the heavy iron bars.
The blue plush stirred, his wide eyes cracking open. He was alive. A wave of pure, overwhelming relief washed over me—until he shifted his body, and my breath caught in my throat.
His right arm was gone. Completely severed at the shoulder, leaving a jagged, torn edge where clumps of bloody white stuffing leaked through a messy, amateur bandage.
A heavy, suffocating wave of guilt crashed over me. *This is my fault,* I thought, my vision blurring as my knuckles turned white against the bars. *I brought him into this nightmare because I was angry. I was trying to play the hero against the Doctor, and Blue paid the price. I almost got him killed.*
I forced the panic down. I couldn't dwell on it now; I had to get him out. I looked up above the cell door and traced a thick power line leading from the electronic lock. It wound down the corridor and vanished behind a heavy iron door labeled *Auxiliary Power Room—Authorized Personnel Only*.
Locked, of course.
"I'll be right back, buddy. I promise," I whispered to Blue.
I turned and sprinted down the dark corridor, searching for a key or a way inside. I tore through abandoned offices and a ruined lunchroom, my stomach groaning weakly at the complete lack of food or clean water. I was running on empty, every muscle in my body begging for rest, but I kept pushing forward.
I turned a sharp corner and stopped dead.
The beam of my flashlight—which I’d snatched from an old desk—flickered across a half-open door. Lying in the gap was a gray, calcified skeleton hand.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I cautiously nudged the door open with my boot. Inside lay the decomposed remains of a Playcare security guard, his jaw frozen open in a silent, eternal scream of agony. I gagged, looking away as my stomach turned. I had seen plenty of dead toys, but the human remains always brought the horror back to a reality I tried so hard to ignore.
Suddenly, the flashlight in my hand sputtered and died.
"No, no, come on," I hissed, smacking the plastic casing against my palm until the weak beam kicked back on.
I forced myself to search the guard's desk. My fingers brushed against a heavy brass key ring. *Power Room.* "Jackpot," I muttered. But as I turned to leave, my boot caught the edge of the guard's tattered uniform jacket. The skeletal torso shifted, slumping heavily against the floorboards. A heavy, metallic green cylinder slipped from his belt, clattering loudly against the concrete. A small safety pin clinks against the floor.
My blood turned to ice. *A live grenade.*
I didn't think. I threw myself backward out of the office, slamming the heavy iron door shut behind me and diving into the dark hallway.
**BAAAAOOM!**
A deafening explosion rocked the corridor, blowing the iron door clean off its hinges in a violent spray of fire, smoke, and concrete shrapnel. The shockwave slammed into my back, knocking the wind out of me as I skidded across the floor.
I lay there in the dark, gasping through a cloud of thick gray smoke, my ears ringing violently. "Lord..." I wheezed, wiping a layer of ash from my face. "That was too close."
I dragged myself up, my heart pounding, and sprinted through the smoke until I found the Auxiliary Power Room. I shoved the brass key into the lock, turned it, and burst inside.
The room was dominated by a massive, dead control console. I smashed every button on the interface, but nothing happened. Then, high on the back wall, I spotted a massive master switch painted a bright, violent red, labeled *HIGH VOLTAGE*.
I grabbed the handle and slammed it down with all my weight.
The entire room roared to life. Banks of fluorescent lights flashed overhead with a violent buzz, casting a harsh, blinding glare down the long prison corridors. (Yes!) I thought. (The cell doors are open!)
But my celebration was cut short by a heavy, structural grinding sound that echoed from the hallway outside.
I froze. One by one, every single cell door in the block was sliding open.
For a terrifying second, there was only silence. Then came the scratching. Dozens of mini-Huggies and feral, starved plush critters began crawling out from the darkness of their cages. Their hollow, white eyes locked onto the power room door. Onto me.
A mini-Huggy let out a high-pitched, bloodcurdling roar, and the entire swarm sprang forward in a frenzied, chaotic stampede.
"A simple thank you would have been nice!" I yelled, slamming the heavy power room door shut and throwing my weight against it as dozens of tiny, clawed hands began violently hammering against the iron from the outside.
The metal groaned. I was trapped. (I am not dying in this hellhole.) I thought wildly, looking around the room for a weapon.
Then I saw it. Hanging from a utility hook in the corner was my black backpack. My spiked pipe wrench was still lashed to the side.
I lunged for it, tearing the zipper open, and my fingers wrapped around the familiar, comforting grip of my pistol.
Confidence flared in my chest, masking the terror. "Spark Boy is back, you little shits," I muttered, slamming a fresh mag into the well and snapping the holster onto my belt.
I reached into the bag and pulled out my portable battery charger. It was sitting at fifty percent. I clamped my mechanical right hand over the casing, closing my eyes as I sucked every single drop of electrical energy out of the cells, replenishing the hum of voltage in my veins.
I gripped my spiked wrench in one hand and my pistol in the other. I might just be a fifteen-year-old kid in a torn leather jacket, but I was done running.
I kicked the power room door open.
**CRACK-ZAP!**
I unleashed a massive arc of blue electricity straight into the front line of the swarm. A dozen critters scattered, screeching as the current fried their circuits, but the rest of the horde surged forward over the bodies of their fallen.
I raised my pistol, firing in a steady, calculated rhythm as I sprinted down the corridor.
**BANG! BANG! BANG!** Tiny Huggies exploded into showers of fluff and stuffing, but they were fast, lunging from the walls and ceiling. A feral plush leaped at my face; I brought the spiked wrench down in a brutal arc, splitting its skull open before kicking it away.
The prison alarms were blaring a deafening, rhythmic siren, completely drowning out the snarls of the beasts behind me. I pushed through the sea of monsters, their dark, foul blood splattering across my face and jacket.
I rounded the final corner, seeing Blue’s cell just thirty feet away. But another wave of critters burst from a side corridor, cutting me off. I raised my gun, pulled the trigger—and the slide locked back. Empty.
"No choice," I snarled, holstering the useless gun and gripping the wrench with both hands.
Remembering every hour of Hoppy’s training, I channeled the weight of my mechanical arm into my swings. I slashed, punched, and broke through the line. When a group of mini-Critters surrounded me, I leaped onto a rusted supply cart, grabbed one by its throat, and hurled it back into the pile. Another caught my ankle, its sharp teeth sinking into my shoe. I slammed the spiked end of the wrench straight into its head and ripped my leg free.
I dove off the cart, tumbling straight into Blue's open cell. Turning around, I slammed my bare metal hand into the door’s circuit board, unleashing a violent jolt of voltage. The electronic lock screeched, and the iron door slammed shut, locking the snarling horde on the outside.
I collapsed onto the floor, wet, bloody, and trembling with sheer exhaustion.
A tiny, familiar coo caught my attention.
I turned my head. Blue was staring at me from the corner of the cell, his massive eyes pooling with giant, trembling tears.
"Blue!" I gasped, opening my arms.
The little blue plush launched himself across the cell, burying his head into my chest and hugging me so tight I could barely breathe. The relief was so sharp I felt tears prick my own eyes.
He was trembling violently, his tiny voice cracking into a desperate, broken sob. "I'm... s-sorry... I... I was so... s-scared..."
The words broke my heart. I wrapped my arms around him, avoiding his missing limb, and rocked him tightly. "Shh, shh... it’s okay, buddy. I’m here. I’ve got you."
I pulled back gently, looking into his eyes. "No, Blue. I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s my fault you’re down here. I was so angry at the Doctor... I should have never brought you with me."
A tiny blue paw reached up, gently wiping a tear from my cheek. I let out a weak smile. "Thanks, buddy. God, I missed you."
**BANG! BANG!**
The iron cell door groaned as the swarm began throwing themselves against the bars, their tiny teeth gnawing at the metal. We had to move.
I unzipped my backpack. "You ready, buddy?"
Blue nodded bravely, scrambling inside the pack and settling into his usual spot. As I began to zip it up, leaving a safe air pocket, I looked him in the eye. "This time, I won't let this place hurt you. I promise."
I reloaded my pistol with my last remaining bullets, stood up, and blasted a wave of electricity through the bars to clear a path. I yanked the manual release lever, forcing the cell door open just enough for me to squeeze through, and bolted into the maze of hallways.
I ran blindly, turning left, then a sharp right, my breath hitching as the growls of the horde gained on my heels. I was losing my bearings.
"Quick! In here! They're coming!"
A loud, booming voice echoed from the end of the corridor. I looked up. Standing in the opening of a massive steel security shutter was another Bigger Body toy. He was waving his arms wildly, his face frantic with desperation.
He had bright pink skin, a long, powerful tail, and a fringe of fleshy, ringed tentacles surrounding his head like a crown. An axolotl.
With no other choice, I sprinted flat out, throwing my body into a desperate dive beneath the closing barrier. The heavy steel shutter slammed shut behind me with a thunderous **SLAM**.
On the other side, a horrific chorus of scratching, banging, and muffled screams erupted as the horde slammed into the metal, their tiny claws scraping uselessly against the steel.
I lay on the floor, gasping for breath, before scrambling backward away from the newcomer. I tried to stand, but my legs finally gave out, and I tumbled back onto the concrete.
"Are you okay?" the Axolotl asked, stepping forward and extending a massive, soft hand to help me up.
"Don't touch me!" I shouted, instinctively raising my spiked wrench.
The giant toy flinched, pulling his hand back with a startled, anxious look. He seemed genuinely hurt by my reaction. Inside my backpack, Blue let out a muffled whimper, pressing against my back as if asking what was wrong.
"I-I'm sorry," the Axolotl said softly, stepping back into the light. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I don't want to hurt you."
Now that he was in the light, I could study him clearly. He wore a faded, dirty button-up shirt beneath a brown utility vest with a torn right sleeve. Strangely, he was wearing a pair of heavy black work shoes—something I had never seen Hoppy, Touille, or Doey wear. But it was his eyes that caught my attention. They were the exact same wide, white-and-black eyes as the others.
(Is he another trap?) the paranoid voice in the back of my mind whispered. (Touille acted nice at first, too. Can you really trust a giant toy buried this deep in the Prototype's territory?)
The Axolotl looked me up and down, his features twisting into an expression of deep concern as he saw my shredded clothes and the blood on my face. "Oh dear... you look terrible. Please, I promise you, I'm not here to harm you."
My instincts told me to stay guarded, but there was a profound, lonely sadness in his voice that felt entirely real. He had saved me from the Prototype in the storage bay, and he had just saved me from the swarm.
Slowly, I lowered the wrench and let him take my hand, pulling me to my feet. My knees wobbled, but I managed to stay upright.
"Thanks," I muttered quietly.
The Axolotl stared at me for a long moment, his eyes suddenly widening in realization. "Wait a minute... you're the child, aren't you? The last orphan! What are you doing down here? I heard rumors you were with the others in the Safe Haven. Are they... are they okay?"
He was practically bursting with questions, but none of them felt malicious. I kept the story as brief as possible, explaining the bombs, the collapse, CatNap capturing me, and my frantic race to get Blue out of the cells. I pointed a thumb toward the backpack on my back.
"That's... completely crazy," the Axolotl breathed, shaking his head. "You have been through hell, Sparky."
The nickname caught me completely off guard. "Sparky?"
"Yes, Sparky! That's your name, right?"
I thought about correcting him, but honestly, I didn't have the energy to explain my life story.
"Yeah... close enough. That's my name."
"Anyway," he said, a glimmer of hope lighting up his face. "It's not safe to linger out here. The feral toys are always hunting for scraps. I have a secure hideout nearby, and—"
"Whoa, buddy, hold on," I said, raising my hands to cut him off. "I appreciate the help, really. But I'm fine. I can find my own way back to the surface. I just need to get my friend back to safety."
His face completely fell, his head tentacles drooping with a profound, crushing disappointment. "Are you... sure?" he asked softly. "You look so beat up. And you're freezing."
"I'll be fine," I insisted, turning away.
The Axolotl let out a heavy, defeated sigh. As he turned back toward the shadows, he muttered under his breath, "Well... okay. I'm glad I could help, at least. More food for me on the train, I guess."
I stopped dead in my tracks. "Wait!"
The Axolotl blinked, looking back over his shoulder.
"Did you say a train? Is there a train down here that goes to the surface?"
He rubbed his arm nervously, shifting his weight. "Well, yes. There is an old industrial transport train. It connects directly to the primary lift station right below the Safe Haven... but the line is completely dead. It needs a massive power source to jump-start the grid."
An internal grin broke across my face.
(Jackpot.) A train meant a straight shot home—and power was the one thing I had plenty of.
"Actually," I said, putting my wrench away and offering a tired smile. "I think I changed my mind. I'm coming with you."
The Axolotl’s entire face lit up with pure, unadulterated joy. "Wonderful!" he beamed, eagerly stepping forward and grabbing my hand. "This way! I know these tunnels like the back of my hand!... I think."
He seemed joyfully eccentric, a lot like Doey. It felt like it had been years since he had spoken to another living soul. I still didn't completely trust him, but wandering aimlessly through a maze of flesh-eating plushies with a one-armed toddler toy wasn't an option.
(This is the only way home, huh, weird I’m calling the safe haven home.) I thought, following him into the dark hallway as my consciousness flickered with exhaustion. (Just hold on a little longer, Blue. We're getting out of this hole. We're going home.)
We followed the pink Axolotl deeper into the subterranean tracks, moving toward the forgotten underground train, marching straight toward a war to reclaim our freedom.
(Don't worry, guys,) I thought, thinking of Hoppy and Doey as the darkness swallowed us. (We're coming back. Somehow.)
[End of Part 7]