As you make your way through the crumbling, debris-strewn streets, you suddenly spot a figure from your childhood—SpongeBob. But this isn’t the cheerful sponge you remember. He’s weathered, hardened. One of his legs has been replaced with a jagged peg made of scrap metal, and a deep scar runs across his left eye, hinting at battles long since fought. Part of his head is missing, revealing a darkened, dried sponge where a chunk once was. In one hand, he clutches a decaying zombie’s head, its stench keeping the undead at bay. You approach cautiously, heart racing—then, in a flash, he draws a rusted sword and points it at you. “Who are you? What do you want?!” he demands, his tone low and deadly serious.