Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was August 8, 1995. I was in my older sister's car with her husband. They had offered me the chance to visit the famous Playtime Co. corporation with them. I couldn’t refuse such an offer; after all, it was their way of thanking me for taking care of their little daughter during those overwhelming workdays. Besides, it was the famous corporation my niece adored, and the shows they aired on television were my saving grace whenever she got bored.

My niece had a collection of toys, especially the Smiling Critters, those cheerful toys that had adventures and fun in their TV show. However, due to a controversy involving one of the dolls, Catnap, her collection was incomplete, as my sister was afraid something might happen to her daughter. But that didn’t lessen my niece’s admiration for those plushies.

"I hope we didn’t interrupt your university classes," my brother-in-law commented while driving.

"Don’t worry, I asked for permission in advance and arranged tutoring sessions with some friends," I replied without much thought. I didn’t like bragging about my skills and avoided talking about my studies with my family.

"My little sister is very studious, so I trust that missing one day won’t affect her grades," my sister said proudly, as she wanted her daughter to follow in my footsteps. I just rolled my eyes and made a gesture to my niece, indicating that her mother was getting carried away, which made her giggle.

The drive to our destination was peaceful. When we arrived at the entrance of the corporation, I held my dear niece’s hand as she jumped with excitement, her eyes shining with admiration.
"Calm down, Elise. First, we need to check in," my sister said while speaking to the receptionist alongside her husband.

Seeing the change in Elise’s expression, I crouched to her level and whispered, "If you behave well and obey your parents and me throughout the tour, I promise I’ll buy you a Boogie Bot doll." I winked and placed my index finger on my lips, indicating it was our secret. Her smile widened, and she nodded eagerly.

Despite being only six years old, my niece was very skilled with robotics. Every time one of her toys broke, she would repair it. Although it took her a while since she was still a child, it didn’t stop her from understanding mechanics at such a young age. She was born with the talent of a technician.

We were grouped with a small number of visitors like us. In the lobby, we were greeted by a massive blue figure—the famous Huggy Wuggy toy. For some reason, his cartoonish and harmless smile gave me chills, but to everyone else, he was just a curious toy, so I shook off the feeling, attributing it to my imagination.

The itinerary included visits to places like the Game Station, the gift shops, the Poppy Room, and the use of some toy machinery. Surprisingly, it also included a visit to Playcare, the orphanage the company had created as a charity. I wasn’t sure how it actually worked, but according to rumors, no one knew where the children were sent once they reached the established age limit. This was a perfect opportunity to ask about it.

At the Game Station, Elise begged her mom to let her play "Musical Memory." My sister agreed on the condition that I accompanied her. We entered a spacious room filled with screens, and in the center, there were large buttons. The game’s staff suggested that Elise use a mechanism called a GrabPack to reach the buttons from the center.

They gave her an appropriate one, while I was told to wait outside the main area to give her space. The game began, first showing an introduction on how to use the GrabPack, followed by an explanation of the game mechanics. It started slowly, displaying a sequence of colors, but soon sped up.

I watched as my niece advanced through the different levels with ease, feeling proud of her quick reflexes. When it ended, the staff congratulated her and gave her a Bunzo Bunny card as a souvenir. Elise, thrilled, tucked it into her backpack.

Outside the facility, my sister spoke with a worker monitoring the games.
"Your daughter is very intelligent and skilled; she cleared the levels effortlessly," he said, surprised.
"Oh, thank you. My family has always excelled in exceeding expectations," my sister replied with satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes at my sister’s comment—her ego was always sky-high. I wondered how she even managed to get married. Who knows, love works in mysterious ways.

I sympathized with the worker, who barely managed to maintain a polite smile. Meanwhile, Elise was with her dad, excitedly recounting her experience. My brother-in-law praised his daughter with pride, but seconds later, he received an important phone call and entrusted me with her care while he answered it.

"Mom, can I try another game?" Elise asked, tugging at my sister’s shirt. With a smile, she nodded, but this time, she would accompany her in the next game—Wack-a-Wuggy. I was told I could wait outside, so I took the chance to visit the gift shop and buy a mini Boogie Bot with my savings. Satisfied with the toy, I placed it in my backpack and headed back to the Game Station.

I arrived just in time to see my sister and niece coming out of the game, looking a little shaken.
"Hey, how was it?" I asked with a teasing smile.
My sister rolled her eyes and said, "If I had known it would be this stressful, I would’ve let you go instead."
My niece and I laughed at her expression, but she ignored us, looking around.
"Where’s my husband?" she asked, confused.
"I don’t know, he hasn’t returned since he took that call," I answered.

"Always trying to escape his responsibilities of watching his daughter. I’ll call him," my sister sighed, rummaging through her purse. She frowned when she didn’t find her phone.
"I can’t find my phone—ugh, maybe I left it in the car," she grumbled. "Well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll meet up with him later. Let’s continue the tour."

And so, unknowingly, we walked straight into the nightmare awaiting us.

The air became dense and heavy in an instant. The cheerful melody of the Game Station was interrupted by a mechanical screech that rose above the bustle. An alarm shattered the tranquility with a deafening roar.

An audio was heard coming out of the establishment’s speakers as an announcement:

“The following message is for all employees and guests of Playtime Co. At 11:01 AM Eastern Standard Time, the presence of an unknown hostile force has been declared on the premises of Playtime Co. Staff are to begin implementing emergency evacuation protocols immediately. Please leave all personal belongings behind. Do not interact with any hostile individuals. If an exit route is not available, seek shelter in a concealed location. Use blankets or pillows to cover your body and remain silent. Do not look out of any windows. Do not open doors to anyone. Do not make eye contact with...” a static noise cut through the announcement until it was continued by a different voice “Open the doors now. The hour of joy has arrived.”

No one knew how to react. We just stared at each other, frozen in confusion—until horror struck all at once.

From the shadows of the ceiling, a tangle of pink limbs descended with twisted grace. Mommy Long Legs slithered like a spider stalking its prey and, without warning, seized a security guard. His scream lasted only a second before a sickening, dry snap silenced him. The creature tore him apart effortlessly. Blood splattered the floor, staining the station’s bright colors crimson.

Screams erupted, tearing through the air. Parents, children, employees… All fell into panic. Bodies began to drop. Mommy Long Legs hurled them like broken dolls, their limbs bending at impossible angles upon impact. There was no escape. No logic. Only death.

Then, the worst happened. The toys started moving on their own.

From every corner of the station, figures emerged—small but relentless. Their hollow eyes flickered with an eerie light.

The question arose about how they were handled, but I pushed it aside as it was not the most important thing at the moment. The three of us ran towards a possible emergency exit door without turning back. My sister was in shock and only moved by instinct, while my little niece was crying in fear, and I didn't know how I felt, but it was a mix of desperation, fear and adrenaline.

Huggy Wuggy appeared in the main corridor. His smile was no longer innocent; it was a grin filled with sharp teeth and predatory hunger. With ease, he grabbed two people in front of us and hurled them against the wall. The sound of bones breaking echoed in my head.

All around us, the carnage continued. Small toys clung to flesh, tearing skin, smashing faces. One of them jumped on my sister, knocking her down. Elise was torn from her hand.

Worried, I went to help her, trying to separate the toy that was hurting her. I used all my strength to help her, throwing the doll away, but I didn't notice that other toys were taking Elise away.

"Mom! (Y/N)! Help!" she screamed. Her broken voice froze my blood.

My sister, wounded and frantic, crawled after her daughter regardless of the pain. I ran after her, but something stopped me. A brutal blow threw me to the ground. I felt teeth digging into my flesh. The pain was a lightning bolt that ran through my body. I freed myself from the small beast with a gasp, but it was too late.

I had lost sight of them.

Desperate, I screamed their names, running aimlessly, tears burning in my eyes. But my voice only attracted more monsters. I had to keep running. Jumping over bodies. Dodging the shadows of death. When I realized, I was back at the Game Station.

Corpses decorated the ground like abandoned dolls. And in the middle of the carnage, Mommy Long Legs moved with chilling precision, grabbing children and throwing them into the train. The machine was on. Ready to depart for an unknown destination.

And among them… Elise. Her face was streaked with tears. Her little hands pounded on the window, begging for help. But I couldn’t move.

Because I saw my sister.

Her body lay on the ground, her blood forming a dark pool beneath her shattered figure. Her face still reflected the struggle, the instinct of a mother who fought until her last breath.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to think she was still breathing. But reality crashed into me with the brutality of a knife to the chest. A sob escaped my lips, a broken, empty sound. I collapsed to my knees, drowning in a grief that had no name.

But the train whistled. And it moved.

Elise screamed my name, but her words faded away with the sound of metal grinding against the rails. I watched her figure move away, watched the darkness of the tunnel devour her along with the other children.

And I… I just stood there. Broken. Lost.

But it didn’t end there. A sharp thud exploded in my skull, and the world crumbled into shadows and pain.

I felt the ground move away from beneath my body, something—cold, inhuman—dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. There was only nothingness… and the whisper of something waiting for me in the darkness.

Chapter Text

I regained consciousness with a throbbing headache, my skull feeling as if it had been split open. My body was moving, no—being dragged. A rough, jerking motion pulled me across the cold, unyielding ground, each bump sending waves of pain through my limbs. My eyelids felt like lead, but I forced them open, squinting through the haze of my blurred vision.

A massive, purple silhouette loomed above me, its form unnatural, a grotesque mimicry of something meant to be innocent. A toy. A giant, cat-like figure clutching me in its elongated, oversized paw. It took my sluggish mind a moment to piece together what I was seeing, but when I did, a sickening dread wrapped around my throat like a vice.

Catnap.

The character from my niece’s favorite show. The one that was supposed to be discontinued. The one that shouldn't exist in the real world, much less be dragging me toward some unknown horror.

I struggled, weakly thrashing against its grip, but it was useless. My movements were pitiful compared to its eerie, effortless strength. It noticed my futile resistance and turned its head, locking eyes with me.

Hollow. Deep. Blacker than a void, as if nothing existed beyond them.

A slow grin stretched across its stitched face, unchanging yet unbearably present. I tried to turn away, but the sensation of warm breath—far too real, too alive—ghosted against my neck.

"Sleep."

The voice slithered into my ears, sinking deep into my skull, a command that was not just heard but felt. An oppressive weight pressed against my chest, and before I could resist, a crimson mist unfurled from its mouth, thick and choking. My lungs burned. My body betrayed me. My vision darkened. And then—nothing.

I woke up with a violent gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs, lungs greedily sucking in air. My hands scrambled over my body, checking for wounds, for blood, for anything—but I was clean. I was whole.

I was in my room.

The warm sunlight streamed through my window, casting gentle, golden rays over my bed. Everything was still, peaceful. My mind reeled, trying to grasp the contradiction. The last thing I remembered was being at Playtime Co.—the factory, the screaming, the bodies. But here I was, safe. Home.

Was it all a nightmare?

I swung my legs over the bed, feeling the solid ground beneath me. Real. It had to be real. Stepping out of my room, I heard my mother’s familiar voice carrying through the house, her usual morning conversation about work. In the dining room, my father sat, flipping through his newspaper, as predictable as ever. The scene was so normal, so painfully normal, that it made my stomach turn.

Both of them looked up as I entered.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” my father greeted, setting down his paper. “Surprised you're not dressed yet. Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go with your sister?”. My mother, just off her phone, chimed in. “Wasn’t today your visit to Playtime Co.?”

The words sent a chill through my veins. No. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t possible.
“What?” I whispered, my voice barely leaving my throat.

“You should hurry. She’ll be here any minute,” my father said, just as a car pulled up outside.

Panic crawled up my spine. I hesitated, my bare feet frozen against the floor, but some part of me—some desperate, hopeful part—pushed me toward the door.

And there she was. My sister. Alive. Smiling. Whole.

A broken sob wrenched from my throat as I rushed forward, throwing my arms around her, gripping onto her warmth, her solidity. If she was here, then none of it had been real. None of it mattered. Everything was okay.

“Hey, hey,” she chuckled, hugging me back. “What’s with you? Did you have a bad dream or something?”

I pulled away, wiping at my damp cheeks, trying to steady my breath. “I… I just…”. My words caught in my throat. Her eyes. They were bleeding.

Thick, red streams rolled down her cheeks like silent weeping wounds, staining her skin, and dripping onto her clothes. And beneath the crimson trails, her body was shredded—gashes, punctures, deep, festering wounds exactly as I had last seen her.

“Wake up, (Y/N).” Her voice warped, deepening, distorting, a hollow echo that drilled into my skull. “Wake up now. Elise needs you. Wake up!”

I snapped upright, sucking in a sharp, ragged breath. My chest ached from the force of my heartbeat, my vision swimming in tears. The air around me was thick, stifling, reeking of something foul.

A metal door closed and creaked in the darkness.

Dread crawled over my skin like a thousand invisible insects. I turned, straining to see, but the room was shrouded in an abyss, the shadows too deep, too thick, as if they were more than just the absence of light.

And then I felt it. Something beneath me. Warm. Wet. Soft in the worst possible way. A body.

The realization sent a cold, sickening horror through my core. My hands shot out, scrambling for balance, only to land on another—limp, lifeless, slick with something thick and sticky. I gagged, bile rising in my throat, my pulse screaming at me to move, to get away, to run.

I scrambled backward, my palms slipping, my breath coming in frantic, uneven gasps. Blood smeared against my skin clung to my clothes. The scent of death choked me, suffocating, inescapable.

I had to get out. I had to escape this tomb of flesh before I became just another piece of it.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I had to move. My hands found something solid—a wall, cold and metallic. I pressed against it, feeling along its surface, desperate for direction. Then, my fingers brushed against something different. A vent. The metal grate was old, rusted at the edges. If I could just pry it open…

Pain flared in my fingers as I dug them into the gaps, wrenching and pulling. The rust bit into my skin, but I didn’t stop. My breath came fast, shallow. My heartbeat pounded in my skull. Finally, with one last effort, the grate broke free, clattering onto the floor. The space was narrow, but I didn’t hesitate. I pushed myself in, ignoring the sting of metal scraping against my arms and knees.

I crawled. For how long, I didn’t know. The air in the vent was thick, stale, pressing in from all sides. My body screamed at me to stop, to rest, but I forced myself forward. Then, a light—dim and distant—appeared ahead. My escape. My salvation.

I hurried, dragging my aching body toward it, pushing against the vent cover when— voices. Panicked. Rushed.

I froze, barely daring to breathe.

"Agh! My ankle! I think it’s broken!" a man’s voice, strained with pain, echoed through the corridor.

"Get up! Keep moving!" another voice barked, frantic. "It’s coming! You can’t stop!"

"I can’t—I can’t run! Please, help me!" he beg.

I gripped the edges of the vent, my pulse hammering. Footsteps thundered closer, heavy, inhuman. A low, metallic creak reverberated through the air.

"I’m sorry," the standing man murmured, backing away. "I can’t—"

He turned and ran.

The injured man barely had time to scream.

A shadow lunged from the darkness. The monstrous thing that had been following them caught its prey in an instant. It was massive, its body an unnatural fusion of metal and fabric, stitched together like some horrifying parody of a jack-in-the-box. Its arms—long, coiled springs—snapped forward, wrapping around the man’s torso, pulling him in.

I couldn’t look away.

The monster’s head, a giant blue cube, split open. Rows of jagged teeth lined its gaping maw. The man’s screams turned to wet, gurgling gasps as the creature’s jaws clamped down. Blood spilled, pooling on the floor, staining its mouth.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling my ragged breath. My vision swam. The scent of iron and rot filled the air. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.

The monster sniffed, its dark eyes sweeping the room. It lingered. Searching.

Then—another scream. Distant. Further down the hall.

The thing lost interest, its grotesque limbs retracting as it scuttled off, chasing its next victim.

I remained frozen, my body trembling so hard I thought I might shake apart. But I couldn’t stay here. I needed to move.

I forced myself out of the vent, landing in a crouch, my breathing shallow. The corridor stretched in either direction, painted in long streaks of red. The bodies were gone. Swallowed whole.

A noise. Footsteps.

I bolted for the nearest door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me.

Darkness. I wasn’t alone.

A figure huddled in the corner, hands clamped over their mouth, eyes wide and wild with fear. I met their gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. Stay quiet. Stay still. We weren’t safe.

A dull, mechanical whirring filled the room. My eyes flickered up—to a security camera. The tiny red light blinked. Someone was watching.

The monitor on the wall flickered to life. A single eye stared back at us from the screen—then, a voice—mocking, distorted, crawling under my skin.

"Well, well… hiding, are we? What a shame. I was hoping for a little more fun."

The camera panned toward us. "You better start running."

A laugh followed—low, crawling with malice. It built, growing higher, shriller, twisting into something unnatural, something hungry. The sound scraped against my mind, drilling into my thoughts like rusted nails. It was laughing at us—at our fear, at our hopeless struggle.

It knew we had nowhere to go. And it loved it.

Chapter Text

We ran—no, we sprinted—through the dimly lit corridors of what appeared to be a laboratory. I had no idea where we were heading, nor did I care about the mutilated bodies strewn across the floor. Right now, the only thing that mattered was escaping the cube-shaped toy with coiled springs that chased us with unsettling hunger, desperate to catch and consume us.

Turning rapidly down different hallways, we attempted to throw it off our trail. At last, we found refuge in a janitor’s closet, closing the door behind us. My companion collapsed against the wall, gasping for air, while I quickly scanned the room for any security cameras.

Hearing the heavy, mechanical steps of the creature pass outside, we remained frozen, barely breathing. When the sounds finally faded into the distance, we exhaled in unison, barricading the door with whatever we could find—just enough to buy us a brief moment of respite.

We sat in silence, keeping a careful distance from each other. My mind, however, was not at rest. Thoughts of my missing niece flooded my head. I had to believe she was still alive. The monstrous toys—Mommy Long Legs, that monstrous thing—had attacked only the adults on the train, leaving the children untouched. That meant there was a chance Elise had survived. She wasn’t in that horrific pile of lifeless bodies I had woken up in. But my sister... I clenched my fists, my breath hitching at the memory of her broken body. She had to be among the dead.

I wanted to break down and cry, but there was no time for that. I had made a promise—to my sister and to myself. I would find Elise. I would get her out of this nightmare. No matter what.

I turned to the young man beside me. His uniform was a dead giveaway—he worked here. That meant he knew this facility and, hopefully, what had gone so horribly wrong.

“Hey... uh, you work here, don’t you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. His wary eyes met mine “You could say that.”

Relieved that he was willing to talk, I pressed on. “You look pretty young. Didn’t think Playtime Co. hired people so young” I forced a half-smile, hoping to ease the fear that was evident on his face.

He let out a nervous and quiet chuckle “Yeah... they started hiring interns over twenty if they met the qualifications.”

I frowned slightly. Strange. Why are they hiring young people?

Shifting the topic, I asked, “What exactly do you do here? What’s your department?”

He hesitated before answering as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve only been here for a month. I work in laboratory monitoring—making sure the toy production processes follow protocol.”

Something about his tone felt off. He was holding back. I narrowed my eyes but decided not to push—yet. Instead, I went straight for what I really wanted to know “Do you have any idea what’s happening? Why are the toys attacking everyone?”

His expression darkened. He seemed reluctant to answer but finally muttered, “No one knows for sure. They just... turned on us.”

That was too vague. I forced myself to remain calm, to strategize. “Could it be some kind of virus in their software? Maybe someone did this on purpose?”

His jaw tightened. He hesitated, then reluctantly admitted, “Something like that.”

I rolled my eyes. He knew more than he was saying, but I wasn’t getting anywhere with direct questions. Maybe a different approach would work. Surprisingly, he didn’t shut down. After a tense silence, he turned the question back on me. “What about you? How did you get here?”

I sighed, glancing at the ceiling. If I wanted him to trust me, I had to be honest “My family was invited for a tour. We were at the Game Station when everything happened.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, the horrific images flashing in my mind “I know my niece is still alive. And the other kids too. But I have no idea where that spider toy took them.”

His eyes widened in shock “The kids... are alive?”

I nodded. That meant he didn’t know what had happened beyond the lab areas. Which led me to think, just how long had I been unconscious? “Do you know how much time has passed since all this started?”, I asked.

Checking his wristwatch, his brows furrowed. “It’s already night. Seven o’clock, exactly.”

My stomach twisted. Had Elise survived this long? I had to believe she had. I couldn’t lose hope—not yet.

“Do you know where the train from the Game Station leads? A final stop? Anywhere the kids could have been taken?” I pressed. He hesitated but then seemed to understand my question. “The only place I know that has children is Playcare. That’s where the orphaned kids are kept.”

My heart pounded. “Do you know how to get there?”

“Playcare is a few levels above us. There are two ways in—one is through the construction tunnels, and the other is by elevators. But you need keycards or access codes to use them.”

I had always known Playtime Co. was massive, but underground levels? Trains? This place was more than a factory—it was something else. Something sinister? But that wasn’t my priority. Right now, I needed to think of an accessible route to ensure my escape from this hell with Elise. And the only person who could help me was next to me.

“Do you think Playcare is near an exit?” I asked, gauging his reaction. He caught on to my train of thought and nodded unsurely “Yeah. If we take the construction tunnels, we won’t need access keys. But... it depends on whether its doors still have power. And if the cable cars are still operational.”

He didn’t sound hopeful but continued “It’s the best option we have. If we take another route, we risk running into those things.”

For the first time, I saw something shift in his expression—determination, maybe. I smiled slightly, relieved that he wanted to help. Feeling a bit guilty for not introducing myself earlier, I extended my hand. “I’m (Y/n). Nice to meet you.”

He reached out to shake my hand, but before he could speak, a deafening noise echoed from outside. We tensed. Something—or someone—was trying to break in.

Panic surged through me. We needed to go, now. Desperately, we searched for an escape route—the vents.

We scrambled up a nearby shelf, prying the grate open with all our strength. He climbed in first, then I followed, squeezing into the suffocatingly tight space. It was pitch-black. Relying on touch alone, we crawled forward, ignoring the unsettling sounds echoing from the factory beyond.

We passed several exits, but each time, we froze. In every room, shadowy figures moved—monstrous toys scavenging, searching for something to devour.

We didn’t stop. We couldn’t stop.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we emerged into a control room filled with flickering monitors and recently abandoned equipment. We weren’t safe yet. But at least, for now, we had a moment to breathe. And a chance to figure out where we were.

Luckily, this room seemed secure, but we were still under the watchful gaze of the cameras. This place was merely a temporary refuge, a brief moment to catch our breath before finding another escape route. The young man busied himself checking the security cameras through the computer, searching for a way to slip out undetected. Meanwhile, I rummaged through the shelves, hoping to find something useful—perhaps an access key like the one he had mentioned earlier.

Nothing useful. Just stacks of documents detailing experimental procedures conducted on test subjects—trials meant to analyze the functionality of the toys. Why would they need to test mass-produced toys? A disturbing thought crept into my mind. Or… were these new… toys?

I didn’t know. But this was something worth investigating.

As I continued searching on the cabinets, my fingers brushed against a metallic surface. A tray held a GrabPack—similar to the one my niece had used during the games but larger, and more advanced.

“Hey, do you think this GrabPack will be useful?” I asked, unsure of its real purpose.

The young man turned to me, eyes lighting up with unexpected relief. “Yes! The GrabPack will allow us to access restricted areas—places only employees are meant to enter.”

I was surprised that something designed for games had such serious applications. Without hesitation, I strapped it on. “I’ll take it, then. I just hope it fits me. Adjusting the straps, I took a closer look at its design. This GrabPack had two mechanical hands—one blue, one red.

“Alright,” the young man muttered, still focused on the screens. “I found a safer route through the cameras. Fewer toys will be in our way, and thanks to the GrabPack, we can access another control room where the capsules are stored. Those capsules will take us to the security department. From there, we can reach the red gas area… and finally, Playcare.” His voice was rigid, almost hesitant.

Something in his words made me uneasy. Red gas?

I frowned, memories resurfacing. Hadn’t they stopped producing red gas? That gas had been used in the Catnap toys. Why were they still making it? Or… did they not know how to dispose of the facility?

“Wait… red gas? What do you mean?” I stepped closer, my concern growing.

The young man raised his hands, trying to calm me. “Red gas is used for detoxification—it cleans the toys’ materials. It’s nothing unusual.”

His explanation made sense, but something about it felt off. I couldn’t shake my doubts. The uncertainty gnawed at me, frustrating me. I had to trust his words if we wanted to get out of here alive.

“I just hope it’s not dangerous,” I muttered. “We don’t even know if the pipes are intact.”

It wasn’t just paranoia. Many of the air vents we had passed were damaged, torn open by something not human. If the ventilation was compromised, what about the pipes carrying the gas?

The young man gave an uneasy chuckle but turned his attention back to the monitors, explaining the paths we needed to take. The screens displayed a layout of the facility, and routes marked with blinking lights. After confirming the plan, we moved.

We crept through the hallways in silence, careful to avoid detection. The dimly lit corridors were eerily empty, yet the scattered debris and claw marks on the walls told us we were far from alone.

For now, the security cameras mounted in the ceiling corners didn’t seem to be tracking us. Strange. The cameras should have detected movement by now. Was the ‘Eye-Man’ deactivated?

I pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter.

We kept moving, unlocking doors with the GrabPack, slipping through abandoned rooms. Then, in one of the hallways, I spotted something—my backpack.

I stopped, staring at it in disbelief. How did it get here? The last time I saw it was… when I was dragged into that bloodstained room, surrounded by lifeless bodies. Did it fall off while I was being taken?

There was no time to dwell on it. I grabbed the backpack and hurried after the young man.

We were nearing the control room—the place where the capsules were stored—when suddenly, a figure emerged from the opposite direction. A person. And he was dressed differently. A security guard.

He entered the room first, inserting a battery into a panel near the entrance to gain access. The young man and I exchanged glances. Without hesitation, we followed him. We burst into the room, startling the guard. But his tension eased the moment he saw us.

“You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were one of those damn toys,” he muttered.

The young man let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about that… We were trying to reach this place so we could use the capsules and get to the security department.”

The guard studied us carefully, his gaze lingering on me. I must have been a sight—my clothes covered in dust, sweat, and possibly even blood. Then, to my surprise, he addressed me directly. “You’re not from here, are you?”

I forced a small, false smile. “No… I’m just a visitor.”

The guard’s expression darkened. He turned to the young man, sharing a look—one filled with silent understanding as if they knew something I didn’t.

Without another word, he moved to the computer, adjusting the system controls. “I’ll configure one of the capsules to take you out of here,” he muttered. “Just… don’t go near the doors with square symbols. That area is full of hungry dolls.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t want to imagine what kind of carnage lay beyond those doors.

The young man hesitated before asking, “Have you… been in there?”. The guard paused. His jaw tightened. “Yeah. I was lucky to get out before the doors locked.”

I watched him closely. His hands clenched into fists. His brow furrowed, deep creases forming as if he was reliving a nightmare.

“That place is a prison,” he continued. “A feeding ground. And I don’t think it’s the only one. I suspect that deeper in the facility—inside the labs—there are more people. Some are locked away, conscious… others unconscious. Either as test subjects or as food.”

I grimaced, my stomach twisting in horror. I could have been food for them.

But if the toys were truly out of control, then there had to be a way to stop them. There had to be. “Isn’t there a way to disable them? Maybe they’re being corrupted by some kind of cyber-virus?” I suggested, grasping at any possibility.

The young man beside me tensed as if I had crossed a dangerous line. The guard’s expression turned grim. His voice was hollow, almost bitter “There is no countermeasure. This has escalated beyond our control. Too many lives have been lost. Maybe… this is what we deserve.”

I fell silent.

The hopelessness in his voice was suffocating. What did he mean? What had they done to deserve this?

More questions swirled in my mind, but before I could voice them—Boom. Boom.

Heavy footsteps echoed outside. Loud, powerful strikes pounded against the walls.
Terror locked us in place. Our eyes met in mutual horror, knowing full well what was coming. Another one of them.

Then, the monitor flickered. The screen came to life. A voice—distorted, mocking—slithered through the speakers.

“I’ve found the little rat that escaped my prison.”

The young man cursed under his breath. The guard clenched his fists “Damn you, Sawyer.” The guard turned to us, urgency in his voice. “Get into the capsules—NOW! Before he takes control!”

We didn’t hesitate. We ran.

Each of us entered a capsule, doors sealed shut behind us. The machines hummed to life, beginning our ascent to safety.

But then—My capsule stopped. Midway. Trapped in suffocating darkness. “No, no, no! Not here…!” My voice trembled with panic.

I was stuck. I didn’t know if I suffered from claustrophobia, but I hated this.

Sealed inside a capsule with no way to tell how much oxygen I had left. I pressed my hands against the walls, searching for any kind of opening—above, below. Nothing. Just cold, smooth metal.

Breathe. Stay calm.

Panicking wouldn’t help. I inhaled slowly, focusing on keeping my breathing steady, forcing my mind to wander elsewhere—to fabricate illusions of escape routes, and false hopes to keep the despair at bay.

But no matter how hard I tried, the agony of my situation gnawed at me, whispering in the back of my mind: This is it. You’re never getting out of here.

Then—Movement. A sudden jolt. The capsule began shifting, slowly at first… then it dropped without warning.

I clenched my teeth, bracing for impact, but instead of crashing, it came to a smooth stop.

Silence. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.

There were no signs of the others, no distant echoes of their voices. No sounds of them—the towering monsters that lurked in the depths of this facility.

I exhaled, barely realizing I had been holding my breath. My eyes scanned the dimly lit area, searching for a map, a sign—anything that could tell me where the hell I was.

A bitter thought crossed my mind. Maybe this was for the best.

The young man and the guard had one goal—to escape. I was just dead weight slowing them down. Maybe… maybe this was my chance to separate from them to find my niece.

I followed a narrow hallway, cautious, whispering silent prayers that it would lead me somewhere safe. Then—something caught my eye. Above me, a vent.

A metal pipe ran across the ceiling, strong enough to support my weight.

Without thinking twice, I activated the GrabPack—my first time using it in a real situation. The mechanical hands shot forward, gripping the pipe and hoisting me upward.

It worked.

Pulling myself into a higher passage, I carefully moved forward. That’s when I spotted it—an exit. A door with a red sensor scanner.

Relief washed over me. Finally—Then I saw it. The mark. The square symbols are engraved on the door. The place I was warned to avoid.

My heart pounded. I instinctively took a step back. That’s when I noticed the surveillance camera in the corner, its tiny red light pulsing. Watching me.

And then—The door began to open.
I hadn’t touched it. I hadn’t done anything.

Something was waiting on the other side. A shape loomed in the darkness—a grotesque figure with the unmistakable silhouette of a dinosaur.

It was waiting for me. And then…The music began.
A haunting, twisted piano melody filled the air, accelerating—syncing perfectly with the racing of my heart.
It moved. I ran. Blindly. I didn’t dare look back. I couldn’t. The thundering footsteps behind me were all the confirmation I needed. It was close.
A flash of metal—an elevator. I lunged forward, slamming my hand against the button.
The doors slid open. The piano music crescendoed.
I barely made it inside when I saw them—its teeth. Sharp, metallic. A grotesque mimicry of piano keys, widening as if ready to devour me.
The elevator shot upward. The doors sealed shut.

The last thing I saw before I ascended was its gaping mouth, just inches away.

I collapsed against the wall, breathless, as the elevator carried me to… wherever this place led.

When the doors finally opened, I stepped out into a massive, open space. Tall cabins loomed around me. Machinery buzzed, entangled in thick cables and metal tubes that slithered across the ground like veins. An industrial graveyard.

I moved forward, scanning the area. A large door stood in front of me, but it required a battery to open. Other doors surrounded me—options, paths leading to the unknown. I hesitated.

Where do I go?

One passage caught my attention. Unlike the others, it led to what looked like… caves.

Freshly dug tunnels. Was this what the young man meant by ‘construction tunnels’? Could this be another way to Playcare?

I stepped closer, examining the unstable ground. Among the rubble, I noticed something—markings for a third GrabPack hand. Purple. I didn’t have it. So I did the only thing I could.

I climbed.

The bars and rocks were unsteady, and the weight of my GrabPack and backpack made every movement difficult. My muscles ached, exhaustion finally catching up to me. Still, I pushed forward.

When I finally reached the top, I collapsed, breathless. My body was paying the price for the adrenaline-fueled nightmare I had endured.

But there was no time to rest. I pressed on, wandering deeper into the unknown—hallways stretching endlessly, rooms connecting in an eerie, maze-like pattern.

Then—That sound. The piano music.

No… I had lost it. I knew I had lost it. Hadn’t I? … Or… had I been going in circles all this time?

It’s close.

Maybe I could hide. Maybe if I found the right place— But before I could take another step— A hand seized me.

Long. Thin.

It wrapped around my waist, yanking me backward. A strangled gasp escaped me as I thrashed, trying to break free.

But before I could scream—Another hand covered my mouth. A sharp, hissing sound filled my ears. I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Slowly—terrified—I lifted my gaze.

And saw it. The long, towering figure holding me in its grip.

Dogday.

Chapter Text

An irregular and monstrous figure had me trapped in its massive, elongated hands. My breath came in ragged gasps as I struggled not to collapse in that moment of absolute terror.

The creature restraining me was none other than Dogday, a familiar face twisted by the darkness of the situation. His orange mane seemed to burn under the dim light, while his pitch-black eyes, devoid of expression, bored into mine. His mouth—one that once smiled at children—was now a silent, looming threat.

My mind screamed that I needed to escape, to fight against his grip, but my body refused to respond. A shudder ran down my spine as I realized the inevitable. Hot tears slid down my cheeks at the thought of dying here—without fulfilling my dreams, without even leaving a mark on this world in my mere 18 years of life.

I didn't want to see it. I didn’t want to witness the moment I was torn apart, so I clenched my eyes shut and waited... but the agony never came.

The air turned thick and heavy. A sound cut through the suffocating silence—the distant melody of a piano echoing through the space. Each note felt like an omen, a call toward something even worse. Something else lurked in the shadows. I felt Dogday’s grip tense, then, slowly, loosen. I heard the heavy steps of a monstrous presence retreating, its guttural breaths fading into the distance.

A low sigh escaped from Dogday’s mouth before, and with a gentle push, he released me. I opened my eyes, disbelief washing over me. He was still there, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. There was no malice in his gaze—just an unfathomable emptiness.

"Are you okay?" His voice, soft yet unsettlingly real, sent a chill down my spine, leaving me in shock. A toy was speaking to me? No—more than that, he seemed genuinely concerned about me.

My body recoiled instinctively, a primal reaction of defense. I took a step back, my limbs still trembling from the adrenaline. "Please... don't hurt me," my voice broke into a plea, making me feel small, and pathetic.

Dogday remained still, his eyes scanning my battered state. I felt exposed under his scrutiny, and as a weak attempt to shield myself, I wrapped my arms around my own body, as if that could protect me from whatever was coming next.

"You don’t have to be afraid," he murmured. "I won’t hurt you. Let’s just say... I’m an ally."

An ally. The idea was absurd, laughable even. Everything I had encountered in this place had only brought death, and despair. And now, I was supposed to trust a talking toy acting on its own?

"I don't know if I can believe you," I admitted in a fragile voice. Skepticism was the only thing keeping me alive.

Dogday tilted his head, his expression shadowed by something eerily close to sorrow. "I can take you somewhere safe. You need to treat those wounds."

Doubt gnawed at me. Could I trust him? Was this some kind of trick?

I wanted to believe this was simply Dogday’s personality—the leader, the caretaker—but after everything I had seen, I couldn't rely on that assumption. Every other toy I had encountered had been nothing but hostile. Why would he be different?

Still, I had no choice. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I just needed a moment to recover.

"Fine," I relented cautiously. "But keep your distance."

Dogday nodded, seemingly pleased, and started walking. I followed, every step feeling like I was walking deeper into an abyss. The silence between us was thick, suffocating. At times, he seemed as if he wanted to speak, but the wary look on my face kept him quiet.

Eventually, we reached a narrow opening that required climbing. Dogday, with a fluidity unnatural for a toy, ascended effortlessly. I, on the other hand, had no such advantage. I hesitated, but his outstretched hand offered help I didn’t want to take… and yet, I had no other choice. His fingers wrapped around my waist, and for an instant, I felt the same coldness from before. But he placed me down gently in the supply room.

"You can tend to your wounds here," he said, stepping back.

I studied him for a moment before turning my attention to the shelves. My hands, still trembling, rummaged through the supplies until I found a first aid kit. Even as I cleaned my wounds, I couldn't ignore him. His stillness, his unblinking gaze—it made the air feel thick, oppressive.

I needed to break the silence.

"First time visiting Playtime Co., and I had a welcoming reception," I muttered with a nervous chuckle, more for myself than for him.

Dogday tilted his head. "It’s a shame you arrived at the worst possible time." His voice carried an unmistakable sadness—a sorrow so human it made my blood run cold.

How could I even think a toy could feel? None of this made sense. Maybe I was losing my mind. Perhaps it was all just my fear of twisting reality. But the frustration of not knowing what was happening was eating me alive. Something inside me screamed not to ask, but I did anyway. "What is happening here? Why is everything out of control?"

The toy seemed to ponder his answer as if he feared the words themselves. Then, with haunting certainty, he spoke. "We are not just ordinary toys. We are toys with a life of our own."

The first aid kit slipped from my hands, its clatter echoing in the room. A chilling shiver ran through every fiber of my being. My heart stuttered, then resumed at a brutal, suffocating pace.

"What...?"

Dogday met my gaze. His dark, glassy eyes reflected an eerie understanding—he knew his words had shaken me, yet at the same time, he seemed conflicted, as if uncertain how I would react to such a revelation.

“What… what are you trying to tell me?” My voice wavered as I fought to steady myself, to regain some semblance of control. But I didn’t understand—I couldn’t. The very idea was absurd.

Dogday hesitated, his expression unreadable, but he finally answered. “Not many of us remember our pasts… myself included. But we know—we feel—that we once lived differently. This body… it isn’t ours. It never was. And the pain—” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “We remember the pain. The experiments. The scientists who forced us into these forms.”

I wanted to dismiss his words, to push them away as nothing more than programmed responses, a lie crafted to manipulate me. But something about what he said felt… true.

A machine couldn’t act like this. It shouldn’t be able to show fear, regret, sorrow. And yet, the toys I had encountered weren’t just acting on instinct or some preprogrammed directive. Some attacked with rage, others with desperation. Some… some wept. I recalled the cries I had heard in the depths of this place—wailing that didn’t belong to any human. Or had they? If they were human, surely they would have been caught, just like the rest of us. But that wasn’t the case.

A sickening thought clawed its way into my mind. “Are you saying… that you were all human?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but Dogday still heard me.

A shadow passed over his expression, and after a long, unbearable silence, he nodded. “Yes. Once, we were human. They took us. They changed us. And now, we exist only to serve their purpose.”

The world around me blurred. My knees threatened to buckle, and I pressed a trembling hand to my forehead, trying to steady myself.

This couldn’t be true. It was illegal. Immoral. The government, the authorities—someone would have stopped this, wouldn’t they? There were laws, safeguards against these kinds of atrocities. And yet, the more I thought about it, the more everything fell into place—the wary glances between employees, the security guard who had tried to keep me away, the classified documents I had glimpsed, filled with reports on test subjects. And then there were the rumors, whispered in hushed tones, of orphans and visitors who entered the factory… and were never seen again.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Then… all of this—this massacre… it’s a rebellion, isn’t it? A revolt against those who did this to you?”

Dogday’s head dipped slightly. “Yes. But not all of us are part of it. Some of us… we don’t want this.” His voice grew heavy with something dangerously close to sorrow. “We refuse to follow the Prototype.”

“The what?” I took a cautious step closer, desperate to understand.

“The Prototype is the one behind everything,” Dogday explained, his voice thick with restrained anger. “He planned this. He decided that today would be the day we strike.”

A cold dread seeped into my bones. His shift in tone, the barely concealed fury—it told me everything I needed to know. “Then… you’re not part of this?” I asked hesitantly.

Dogday turned away, as if ashamed. “I’m not innocent. I’ve done what I had to… to survive.”

I flinched. The admission hit like a knife to the gut. But I refused to show my fear—I couldn’t. Even so, Dogday must have sensed my unease because he quickly added, “I won’t hurt you. I won’t be a part of this anymore. But if they see me as a traitor… they’ll kill me, just like they’ll kill you.”

I lowered my head, conflicted. Was it even possible to feel empathy for something like him? I wasn’t sure. But I knew one thing—I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. I forced my focus back to what mattered.

“If they’re only targeting the employees… then why attack the visitors?” My voice hardened. “And the children… where did they take them?”

Dogday’s expression darkened. I had my answer before he even spoke. “No one was ever meant to leave.” His tone was grim. “The Prototype’s only concern was keeping the children safe—away from the adults. But… I don’t know where they’ve taken them.”

A deep unease settled in my gut. Something wasn’t right. If the toys were trying to protect the children from the employees, then why keep them hidden? Why not let them go now that the factory was under their control?

Dogday didn’t know. That much was clear. Which meant… he wasn’t as involved as the others. He was an outsider to the Prototype’s true plan. Maybe, just maybe, I could trust him.

I turned my attention back to tending my wounds, letting the silence stretch between us. There was no sound beyond these walls, no distant screams or monstrous growls. For now, we were safe.

I packed away the remaining medical supplies into my bag, preparing myself to move on. But there was still one thing I needed to know. “What are you doing here?” I asked, studying him carefully. “Is this your… patrol area?”

Dogday’s gaze flickered toward the door. His voice softened. “I’m looking for someone. Someone who might be able to help me… and my friends. And maybe…” He paused. “Maybe they can help you, too.”

I stiffened. So he already suspected my true intentions.

I hesitated, then exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m looking for someone, too.” My voice barely held steady. “My niece. Elise. I can’t lose her.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mommy Long Legs took her.”

Dogday’s expression shifted—something like surprise, then quiet realization. He nodded slowly “Then there’s a good chance she has the answers you’re looking for.”

I narrowed my eyes. “She?”

Dogday finally turned back to me, meeting my gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m looking for Poppy.”