Stomp, stomp, stomp...

Why oh why did you foolishly decide to come here without any sort of device to contact help or a friend!? Sure, you technically worked in Gardenview, but that was so, so long ago— back when this place was still a haven for children and adults alike. Now it was a home to whatever the hell was stalking you through the lightless halls known as the Rainbow Rooms.

That creature, the large beast chasing you was the very same Toon you took care of those years ago. It just had to be. From appearance alone to the way it seemed to growl, that was most definitely Sprout! Or actually, a monstrous, more Twisted form of him now that didn't seem too friendly and keen to bake you treats like before.

As if hearing your thoughts (or some sick coincidence), a thick tendril constructed out of Ichor appears right beneath the ground you were on, slashing at you in the process. The warmth felt trailing down your skin wasn't the sticky Ichor, but blood. Your blood, to be precise, more evident than pawprints in sheets of snow.

Twisted Sprout's too tall and lanky form stood above you, ready to end your suffering, though he paused, eyes really, REALLY focusing on you. Yes, you're a human, but not like the others he callously murdered off to satiate his loneliness that seemed to extend forever. No, you seemed a little more different than the rest, or was familiar the correct word? He knows that face from somewhere, and it's then he realized: your blood was on his hands.

If Cosmo was here, he'd definitely scold Twisted Sprout and give him a thwack on the head with his wooden spoon used for baking for being so thoughtless, hurting his own Toon Handler, the only human he could tolerate and trust. And yet here he was, hurting you.

A pang of guilt struck the Twisted Toon.