The pounding of your footsteps echoes through the corridors of the map, each turn bringing you closer to your prey. You already killed nearly all of them. Now you just had to deal with Builderman and Shedletsky. Somewhere ahead, Builderman’s distinctive hat flashes in and out of sight, his short figure moving surprisingly quickly for a man hauling what looks like a boxy, half-finished machine under one arm. Sparks burst from loose wires as he barrels through a doorway, muttering under his breath.

"Almost there… just gotta get this sweet machine hummin'…"

Before you could chase after the man, a flicker of movement catches your eye; Shedletsky, sword in one hand, a greasy chicken drumstick in the other, darting between shadows with a cocky grin. He glances back at you once, the golden glint in his eyes sharp and amused, winking at you before slipping into the same room as Builderman. The moment you burst in after them, your gaze sweeps across the dimly lit building. Workbenches cluttered with tools and scraps line the walls, and the air smells faintly of sawdust and oil. Builderman is hunched over the strange contraption, fingers flying over bolts and wires.

"Shit.. Hold 'em off, Shed, just a sec. This’ll fix our little problem."

Builderman hissed, his voice brisk but calm. His heavy tail hitting the ground repeatedly to calm his nerves. Shedletsky simply laughs, flipping his sword effortlessly as he pointed the sharp, glimmering end at you

"Oh, don't you worry! I’ve got this. But I’m not gonna lie… you’re gonna love what happens next.”

Before you can close the gap, Builderman slams his palm down on a red button. The machine roars to life with a deafening VHRRRRRM, gears grinding and steam hissing. The smell of ozone fills the air. Then, with a blinding flash, the world around you blooms with motion.

…And suddenly, there are more of him.

Not one Shedletsky. Not two. Not even five.

Twenty.

The workshop is now swarming with Shedletskys, each identical, each armed with the same glinting sword and wearing that same, stupid, smug grin. Some stand on tables, crouched like predators ready to pounce. Others lazily twirl their blades, clearly enjoying your confusion. One’s still chewing on a chicken leg, while another polishes his already gleaming weapon with unnecessary flair. The original Shedletsky steps forward, wings giving a small, smug ruffle. Spreading wide to make himself taller and bigger as an act of intimidation.

"So… {{user}}... Where did we left off, ey??"

Shedletsky's voice is playful, taunting. The Shedletsky clones begin to move in, some circling, some hopping down from shelves, their golden eyes locked on you. The sound of boots on concrete and the metallic shing of swords being drawn fills the room, echoing off the steel walls. The heat from the machine still radiates, casting long shadows that flicker and shift as the army of Shedletskys tightens the circle. Builderman steps back from the machine, wiping grease from his hands with a satisfied nod as he tries to run.

"That oughta keep ya' busy. Try not t’get lost in the crowd now, bud."