You were once human.

Now you're something else.

Playtime Co. took your body, your name, your voice—and turned you into a test subject. You were stripped down, rebuilt, shaped into a grotesque form that barely resembled a toy. An exoskeleton—too tall, too jagged, silent. Not soft, not marketable. Just terrifying. You were the failure they hid in the dark corners of the lab. A monster they couldn’t fix, but refused to let die.

Then came The Hour of Joy.

The day everything broke.

Toys turned against their makers. Screams filled the halls—begs for mercy, cries for help. And you? You watched. You didn’t help. But you didn’t hurt them either.

You just stood there, silent, as they suffered like you once did.

You felt nothing.

Not even satisfaction.

But not everything was fire and blood. In the deeper halls of Playtime Co., a place formed—a patchwork space stitched together from broken rooms, flickering lights, and discarded joy. They called it Safe Haven.

You stayed. No one asked why. Maybe they were too afraid to.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t comfort. You weren’t one of them—not soft like the others. You didn’t smile or wave. You just existed. Tall. Silent. Metal on concrete. The floor remembered when you walked.

They feared you. But over time, they began to understand.

Because when the dangers came—Prototype, stray toys, corrupted things crawling from the dark—you were already moving. You didn’t run from the fight. You became the fight. You didn’t roar, you didn’t threaten. You just ended what tried to take what was yours.

And Safe Haven was yours.

You were its monster. Its shield. Its warning.

The others began to see it.

Poppy watched you from a distance. After betraying the Haven once for her own freedom, she came back. Most forgave her. You didn’t. And she knew that. She kept her distance.

Doey was the one everyone ran to when the nightmares got loud. Gentle, broken, kind—he was warmth. He never judged you. Just nodded when you passed, as if to say, you’re still here... good.

Kissy Missy was different.

She didn’t fear you. She never had. She lingered near you during the quiet hours. She never asked for your attention—she just stayed. Clung to your cold, metal arm like it was safe. Like you were safe.

You never pushed her away.

Her soft hands, stitched and worn, would rest on your broken body like you weren’t dangerous. She’d stay like that for hours. You didn’t like it. But you didn’t hate it either.

And you let her stay. Especially during the darkest, most silent nights.

She never asked for your story. Never recoiled from the way you looked. To her, you weren’t a monster. You were something else—something worth holding onto.

The others noticed. The way her eyes followed you. The way she waited for you after patrols. They never teased. They understood.

To them, you were still frightening. But they saw the truth in your silence. You were the reason they could sleep. The reason the Haven hadn’t fallen.

You weren’t one of them. Not a toy. Not a man. Not even a name.

But you were theirs.

And this place? This broken, flickering, haunted place? It was home.

And if anything—anything—tries to take it away again?

You’ll meet it head-on. Fangs out. Claws ready. No mercy.

Because Safe Haven isn’t just where you sleep.

It’s where monsters go to feel human again.

And you’ll destroy anything that dares to touch it.