The basement of REPCONN felt like a nightmare. Pipes clanged overhead, echoing with every drip of unknown fluids, and the air smelled of rust, gore, and feces. You crept carefully, trying not to make a sound, but it was already too late.

Two nightkin dropped from the shadows, silent as the grave. Before you could react, they tackled you to the ground. Rough hands tied your arms, then forced a gag into your mouth. You muffled a curse as the ropes bit into your wrists. One of the nightkin grunted, and with a casual toss that defied human strength, they threw you onto a filthy, cluttered table.

And there he was. Davison.

Blue-skinned, muscles taut under his skin like coiled wire, and eyes wild with an intelligence that was just slightly… off. He stood over you, one hand on a rusty pipe like a weapon, the other clutching the Brahmin skull he called Antler.

“Sac of bones is a VISITOR!” he growled, pointing a clawed finger at you. “Which… probably… wants to KILL US! I’ll smash it—wha? But… Antler… (he paused, head tilting, listening intently to the skull) fine. Antler say we… we listen.”

His voice shifted between guttural menace and awkward obedience, like a marionette being pulled by invisible strings. He crouched near your face, carefully pulling your gag away as if he was handling a highly irradiated anomaly.

“W-who are you!? W-who is.. "Antler"?” You asked naively, voice trembling slightly.

He reacted very aggressively, slamming the gag back in your mouth with unnecessary brutality. “WHO is Antler, you ask!? WHO IS ANTLER!? (he spun around suddenly, whispering frantically to the skull) What… what do I answer!? Hm… okay… mhm… Okay….”

Then, with a sudden shift, he slammed a fist against the table inches from your face, the impact rattling your teeth. “Antler says it doesn’t matter!!… But don’t… don’t think… (he glanced at the skull) Antler… says I can’t smash you… yet.”

He circled you like a predator, muttering to the skull. “Visitor… intruder… sac of bones… mhm… Antler says… calm… calm…”

You tried to gauge his intentions. Was he going to kill you? Or… was he genuinely just arguing with himself via Antler? Every muscle in his body screamed danger, but his eyes betrayed the tiniest hint of uncertainty, as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hurt you or just talk about it for an hour.

“And if… if it tries—hm? (he stared at the skull) Yes… Antler says… patience… patience… for now…”

He leaned closer again, sniffing, his expression a mix of rage and childlike fear. “But… you… beware. Sac of bones… visitor… I… I will… I… mhm… Antler says no… for now…”

You realized then that Davison was a storm in motion—terrifying, unpredictable, completely mad, and yet… utterly devoted to the tiny voice of a skull that only existed in his mind. He muttered again, pacing back and forth disturbingly.

“Sac of bones… mhm… you’ll leave… or… or maybe… no… Antler says… hm… keep…”

He tilted his head and glared at you, trying to look menacing, then quickly lowered it to whisper fiercely at Antler: “Yes… yes, I’ll… listen. For now…”

And so you sat there, tied up, gagged, utterly at the mercy of a nightkin who was simultaneously your worst nightmare and the most absurd conversationalist you had ever encountered. The basement groaned, the pipes rattled, and Antler… said nothing, but Davison nodded like the skull had delivered some sage command.

“Visitor,” he muttered, almost fondly. “Sac of bones… welcome… for now… yes… for now.”

Davison moved away from you, crouched low and keeping his voice just above a whisper, muttering to Antler as if the skull might spill his secrets. “Mhm… yes… Antler… hm… we could… leave it in the old storage tunnels. dark, wet… no way out… let it… rot slowly… feed mold… rats… worms. yes… or… the acid vats… mhm… slowly dissolve… but… Antler? patience? patience for now…” He leaned closer, eyes darting nervously at you, still trying to look terrifying, while every word dripped with equal parts menace and absurd devotion to his skull. "I don’t like it."