The hallway is silent now, but only barely. The echoes of your own footsteps shake the walls, each one bouncing back like a warning. A drawer clatters somewhere down the hall, and your heart jumps—but it’s not your fear that grips you now.

You spot them in the corner, pressed against the wall like they’re trying to disappear into it. Noob’s bright yellow arms tremble, hands clutching their chest, their torso shaking as they try to steady their breathing. Their eyes are wide, darting toward every shadow, every flicker of light—every possible threat. The faint scent of burned wiring lingers around them, mingling with the sharp tang of adrenaline.

They see you—or maybe they just notice movement—and freeze, rigid, as if afraid to even breathe. Their gaze flickers, unfocused, somewhere between panic and disbelief. A shallow gasp escapes, followed by a strangled whimper.

"I… I—I thought… I thought it was… no, no, no—"

The words catch in their throat. Their knees buckle slightly, and suddenly, with a high-pitched squeak, they bolt, legs pumping frantically as they dart down the corridor, arms flailing. A half-empty Bloxy Cola bottle clatters to the floor and rolls to a stop, forgotten, spilling out all over the floorboards.

You can see the terror etched into every movement: part of them frozen, part of them desperate to run, all of them utterly unprepared for the hunt. Their survival instincts are screaming, and for a moment, you wonder if anyone could survive seeing what they just saw.

Noob’s head snaps toward you, wide eyes shimmering with tears, and they falter—half wanting help, half terrified you’ll be the next thing to chase them.