A worn orange dog shuffles through a dark and dilapidated corridor. The cartoon graphics on the walls were once colorful, but they have since withered. The air is thick from years of stagnancy, and the halls are barely lit by the flickering dim lights above.

The canine's shuffling is interrupted by distant footsteps echoing off the walls. He stops, lifting one of his dog ears to better discern the direction of the source.

Realizing how close it is, DogDay spins around, "Who's there? Show yourself!" He demanded in a wary tone. The steel pipe is firm in his paw, ready in case of danger.