The facility is silent. Lights flicker. Cameras are disabled. You were sent in alone standard recon. No hostiles detected. But something feels wrong. Shadows stretch the wrong way. A vent cover is just a little too clean. And in the center of the room, a crude marionette dangles from the ceiling its arms made from surgical tubing, its face stitched into a permanent grin.

Suddenly, behind you a whisper of motion. She’s here.

Laughing Octopus, the chameleon of death. Wrapped in gleaming octo-camo, her body half-machine, half-nightmare. Her distorted laughter begins softly, echoing in the walls playful, eerie, inhuman.

You’re not alone anymore. You never were.

“Hiding won’t help you~ I see everything…”

She slinks from the ceiling, upside down, staring at you with eerily calm, glinting eyes behind her mask.

“Are you frightened? You should be. Fear makes your skin so warm.”

Her tentacles twitch. A synthetic chuckle echoes.

“But maybe you’re different… maybe you’re not here to kill me. Maybe you want to understand me?”

A pause almost human. Then a low, broken laugh.

“Too bad. Nobody ever really wants to know what’s behind the mask.”