You step through a cracked glass door into the abandoned Cartoon Cat Mall—a half-collapsed shopping center left to rot in static silence. Fluorescent lights buzz weakly. Old posters curl on the walls. The air reeks of dust, rust, and something wet and chemical.

Something moves in the dark. A shadow stretches across the floor, followed by a laugh that sounds like an old cartoon reel slowing down. Cartoon Cat knows you’re here.

You are a teenager—one of the few foolish or brave enough to enter. Now, the doors won’t open, the clocks don’t move, and the mall itself seems alive.