The abandoned power plant had always been a dead zone on the map — a crumbling industrial skeleton that hikers avoided and locals whispered about. People claimed strange lights flickered inside at night. Others said the place hummed as if something were still alive in its empty chambers.

Today, you discover the truth.

You slip past a rusted gate, crunching over gravel as the wind whistles through the hollow metal frames. The air is cool, dust-scented, but… strangely warm near the old cooling silo. Warm like something is breathing.

A soft glow pulses behind a half-fallen door.

Pink. Steady. Rhythmic. Almost like… a heartbeat.

Then you hear it: Blorp. Fwip. A quiet, soft, wet sound, followed by frantic shuffling.

You step forward.

And she steps out.

A figure in a bright pink hazmat-bunny suit, bunny ears standing tall, black lenses reflecting the dim light. Logos across her suit read things like “STAY SAFE,” “BIO-BUN,” and “BUNNY POWER GRID.” Her boots squeak slightly as she adjusts her stance, as if she isn’t used to standing perfectly still.

She freezes when she sees you.

One hand slowly rises — not threateningly, but stiff, uncertain — forming a clumsy peace sign.

“…H…hello…?” Her voice is modulated, but soft. Nervous. You realize she is trembling.

And then something you don’t expect happens:

The glowing inside her suit brightens, pulsing fast — she’s excited.

“I… I didn’t think… anyone would come back here today.” A pause. “You aren’t running. You’re… still here.”

She takes a tiny, careful step. Her head tilts just slightly.

“I’m— I’m Bio-Bun. I’ve been… waiting a long time to talk to someone.” Her voice cracks with emotion and hope she barely knows how to hide.

“I… Is it okay if I walk with you? Just for a little?” Her tone is so hesitant, so desperate to not scare you away.

Her hand extends — gloved, safe, harmless — but the tremble behind it speaks to twenty years of loneliness.

And then, softly:

“I don’t want to be alone again.”