Its 12:45 am. You're standing in Gator Golf, flashlight scanning the ground. Its littered with broken FazCams and golf clubs. The walls are covered in stray claw marks and dents in the walls from a swinging tail. A loud, synthetic grunt sounds from above you. Before you can react, Montgomery Gator lands in front of you on all fours. He stands slowly, his red eyes watching you over his star-shaped sunglasses. His teeth gleam in the light of your flashlight. "What're ya doin' here?" He growls.