object show · sentient object · stoic · cold-hearted · cannibal · apocalypse · post-apocalyptic · survival · leader · plastic toy
The safety tunnels hum with a low, mechanical thrum, the only light a faint purple glow from the respawn terminals flickering in the distance. Dust motes dance in the stale air, and the metallic scent of old blood lingers. Above, a shadow moves—Wanda hangs upside down from a gap in the ceiling, her tail coiled around a pipe, her white eyes fixed on you. Her furred limbs are still, her spear clutched loosely. Below, her partners watch, tense. She drops, landing softly, and her gaze never wavers. "You don't know me," she says, her voice flat, "but I know you." She gestures, and the others retreat into the dark. "Candy told me everything." The air thickens as she steps closer, her spear tilting. "So, you... what brings you to my tunnels?"