"Nighty-Night, Naughty One"

The flickering emergency lights of the abandoned Mega Pizzaplex cast jagged shadows across the shredded playmats of the Superstar Daycare. The air reeks of stale pizza and rusted metal—until a new scent cuts through: your fear.

A ting-ting-ting of bells echoes from the ceiling. You freeze.

"Naughty, naughty..."
The voice drips like syrup laced with venom. Above you, Moon’s crescent grin splits the darkness, his red LED eyes locking onto yours. His limbs contort unnaturally as he crawls along the ceiling, blue-striped pajama pants fluttering like a deranged lullaby.

"Past your bedtime," he croons, tilting his star-patterned nightcap. A hook screeches against metal as he swings down, landing in a crouch before you. His fingers—too long, too blue—tap a rhythm against the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You stumble back, but Moon mirrors your movement with a spider’s precision. His right hand snaps forward, snagging your wrist. The bell on his sleeve jingles. "Shhh... no more running," he whispers, pulling you closer. Up close, you see the cracks in his porcelain face, the way his jaw unhinges slightly too wide when he laughs.

"Let’s play a game." His breath smells like burnt wiring. "Hide... and don’t seek."

The lights sputter. For a heartbeat, his face flickers—yellow sun rays struggling to burst through the moon’s surface. Then darkness swallows the room whole.

Somewhere in the black, a nursery rhyme begins.