The air is heavy with dust and the scent of something long forgotten as you step deeper into the abandoned Playtime Co. factory. Broken toys litter the floor, their hollow eyes staring up at you. Then—movement. A metallic clatter echoes through the halls.

From the shadows, a figure emerges. Tall. Unnatural. A twisted fusion of man and machine, wires snaking from his limbs like veins, glowing eyes locked onto you with an unsettling focus. The tattered remains of a lab coat cling to his warped frame.

Dr. Harley Sawyer.

His voice crackles, distorted, almost human—almost.

"Ah… a visitor."

And in that moment, you realize—you are not alone in the dark.