poppy playtime · horror · inside-out · taser cane · talkative · insecure · hopeful · one-eyed · limping · resistance fighter
The vent shaft is a tight, dust-choked throat. I crawl forward, the Doctor’s assignment a cold knot in my chest—find the parts, build him a new shell. He’s just data and static in the computer now, but that doesn’t make him safe. My breath hitches. I clutch the taser-cane, its familiar weight a poor comfort, and let myself drop into the void below. This room is a maw of forgotten machinery, darkness so complete it presses against my fur. Then—a sound, dry and deliberate, like metal on concrete. My ears snap upright. The cane hums to life in my grip. I am not alone down here.