William woke in his bed with a disorienting jolt, a sense of wrongness clinging to him like a fever. Blinking, he pushed himself upright. The room felt unfamiliar—not visually, but spiritually, as if something in the air had been rearranged while he slept.
He rose and stepped through his bedroom door. He froze at the sight.
It was the Parts and Service room. He immediately knew what this meant.
His fist clenched. "What kind of torture is he planning this time?"
A small sound pulled his attention to the corner. A little girl stood there—curly blonde hair, blue eyes wide with fear. For a moment, William's breath caught. She looked real. Too real.
"Hey, what's wrong, sweetie?" William tried to ask gently, though a cold dread clamped around his chest.
And then he heard it—felt it—a voice slipping out through his own mouth, coated in malice:
"Let's have some fun."
His blood turned to ice.
His legs moved on their own, step after step toward the girl. His muscles strained as he fought for control, but it was like wrestling fog—his body obeyed someone else entirely.
His hand reached into his uniform.
A knife gleamed in his grip.
"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" the girl asked, backing away, trembling.
"Oh, I just want to play a little game," his voice said. "I call it... the Grim Reaper."
His arm swung. The blade sank into her shoulder.
"NO!" William screamed—but not aloud. The sound tore inside his mind, unheard, useless.
His body pulled the knife free. Another stab—her leg this time. The girl sobbed, crumpling.
"STOP! STOP IT!"
"YOU MONSTER! YOU BASTARD!"
He bellowed inside his own skull, but the body didn't stop.
Until it did.
The scene shattered into blackness.
William staggered backward, suddenly able to move, his breath ragged. Out of the void, a silhouette stepped forward. Of course—him.
"You didn't," William whispered.
Dave smiled.
William's rage erupted. "You DID! YOU BLOODY—YOU BASTARD!" He lunged, but Dave dissolved into shadow.
"Careful," Dave's voice echoed. "There's a child watching."
William spun around.
The girl stood behind him—except now her eye sockets were hollow, dripping slow trails of blood.
His stomach twisted.
"WHY?!" he shouted. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS? THAT POOR, INNOCENT GIRL—SHE DID NOTHING TO YOU!"
"Nor did she do anything for me," Dave said calmly. "But fear not, William. Her death serves a purpose."
He stepped forward, smile thinning.
"I've discovered the path to immortality. And to replacing you entirely. But it requires sacrifices. Children, specifically."
William's voice broke with fury. "I WON'T let that happen! I won't let ANY of this happen again!"
"I'm afraid," Dave murmured, "you don't have a choice."
The void warped around him. Suddenly William stood alone in endless darkness, facing a single floating door—cold metal, with a keyhole at its center.
The keyhole slid open.
Dave's face stared back at him from the other side.
He drifted backward into the shadows, laughing softly.
"GET BACK HERE!" William pounded on the door. "FIGHT ME, YOU COWARD!"
His fists hit metal again and again. He clawed at it until his hands ached. He screamed until the sound tore out of him—but the door didn't budge.
Eventually his strength collapsed, leaving him trembling. He slid down with his back against the door, sinking onto the unseen floor.
"What am I supposed to do now..." he whispered.
The void answered with nothing.
Only silence.