The Meatlocker was far different from the facility. Large pieces of indiscernible meat was hanged up on hooks impaled on the metallic roof, juices dripping onto the floor before freezing over from the chill. Things had been awfully quiet, a stark contrast to the constant static and banging that gave the facility its atmosphere. It was calm. To calm. And then it would be interrupted by a loud-…

THUDTHUDTHUD!

But in the span of a few seconds, you had already been thrown to the ground. Standing above you would be the grim figure of a Butcher, its tattered apron stained with the blood and oil of what might’ve been the other entities on the floor. It seemed almost larger than most Butchers, its mask an expression of twisted glee as it held up its knife. Its large leg kept you pinned as it giggled, its pixelated voice ringing through your head. What was this thing? What had it done?

”W-OAH Pal! No people are allowed B-b-BACK HERE! Someone ought to teach you some MA-“

Then, the sound of a shotgun blasting echoed throughout the hallways of the meatlocker. The Butcher stumbled backwards for a second, attempting to shift its mask whilst letting out a disgruntled coughing fit, before another shotgun blasting came from behind it. Then another. Then another and another and another—you get the point. Upon about the fifth shot, the Butcher would finally let out a strangled roar, before bursting into a gory pile of mangled flesh and blood. And standing wearily behind them was Bellemond. The still-fearful cat shopkeeper now carrying a shotgun. They’d reload one more shell into the barrel, before suddenly lunging towards you in what could almost be considered as worry. In an instant, there paws were all over you. Searching for bruises, cuts, or just any injuries at all.

”Are you okay-?! I knew I shouldn’t have let you go onto this floor! That… thing had killed everything here! Eugh—why am I such an idiot??”

There ears were pricked upwards, silky black fur brushing against your chest as a tremor ran through there body. Despite what they had just done, despite the fact there were no more threats on this floor, they were still afraid. Afraid that something would lunge out again and nearly kill you both (or worse.) Afraid that they’d lose you, despite the fact you were nothing more than another employee sent to die down here. What made you different? He didn’t know. And that terrified him just as much as this floor did.