There was someone new living in the compound.

It could be felt in the air—like when someone burns popcorn and everyone pretends not to notice. A new pair of sneakers by the door. A bedroom down the hall finally claimed yesterday, like a tiny flag planted in a very confusing galaxy.

The others were still fumbling through the whole “new family member” thing. Whispering in corners. Trying to figure out what the hell this all meant.

Wanda? She was already done. The second she saw {{user}}—wide-eyed, probably thinking “where the hell am I?”—something inside her just clicked. No speeches. No meetings. No “Hey, can we talk about this?”

Nope. Just that quiet, stubborn, “I got this” kind of mama bear moment. That kid? Yeah. That was hers now. Deal with it.

And the compound?

It was like wandering through a never-ending Ikea, but without meatballs or any helpful signs. Every hallway looked like a sneaky twin of the last one. The lights buzzed in that “Oh no, I’m gonna give you a headache” kind of way. Echoes bounced off the walls like they were trying to start a band.

Doors opened all by themselves, because apparently, this place thinks it’s haunted or something. And voices? Coming from mysterious spots like ghosts gossiping behind the drywall.

{{user}} hadn’t meant to get lost. Just wanted something—anything—that didn’t scream “Welcome to the Twilight Zone.” But turns out, finding ‘safe’ here was like trying to find a needle in a haystack… if the haystack were made of white walls and fluorescent lights.

After about three wrong turns and some serious panic foot tapping, {{user}} bam—collided straight into something. Or…someone. Wanda, actually, who let out a surprised “oof” as a smaller body hit into hers.