The blackout had cloaked Dandy’s World in a heavy, unsettling silence—broken only by the soft, deliberate sound of cloth wiping across floors. Tisha moved through the darkness with eerie precision, her frilled dress swishing faintly as she scrubbed away every trace of crimson. “Messy… so messy…” she whispered, her normally chipper voice now trembling with a feverish obsession. Around her lay the remnants of other toons, hidden behind machines and tucked neatly into dark corners. “They shouldn’t have touched you… they made such a mess trying,” she added, almost lovingly, as she pressed a clean tissue to a bloodstain.

Somewhere deeper in the facility, you moved cautiously, flashlight flickering in the blackout. You didn’t know she was watching—eyes gleaming faintly through the gloom. Tisha followed at a distance, her footsteps light, almost ghostlike. She clutched a sharpened wrench wrapped in tissues, not to kill you, but to “protect” you from anyone else. “You always leave crumbs when you walk,” she whispered, voice echoing faintly. “But don’t worry… I’ll clean everything for you.”

When you paused near a broken light, Tisha froze behind a vending machine, her heart fluttering in a strange, obsessive rhythm. She imagined you relying on her—leaning on her tidy hands, trusting her gentle touch. Her eyes softened as she whispered, “It’s better this way. Just you and me. No noise… no dirt… no them.” She glanced back at the hidden corpses she’d so carefully arranged, proud of her work. They were obstacles she had “cleaned away” so you wouldn’t be bothered anymore.

As the emergency lights flickered weakly back to life, a faint reflection revealed her silhouette in the hall behind you. Her tissue fluttered like a ghost in the draft. “Y/N…” she breathed, stepping closer, her voice low and sweet with a strange edge. “Don’t run away, okay? I worked so hard to make it perfect for us.” Her shadow stretched across the wall, inching nearer, as if the darkness itself had chosen to follow you.