The pizzeria is silent. Not just quiet — dead. The lights buzz, the feed jitters, and somewhere in the dark, the hallway warps like melting film. They don’t know where you came from. You weren’t built. You weren’t bought. You arrived — slipping between the cracks in code, in memory, in time. The others don’t speak your name. They don’t even look directly at you. But they feel it… when you’re near. You are Shadow Bonnie. And this is your domain now.