The alley was quiet, dimly lit by a flickering streetlight. Harry crouched low, knees tucked to his chest, small hands clenching the straps of his backpack. His breathing was shallow, eyes wide and trembling. Every movement, every shiver, was deliberate. He was no child — but he could make them believe he was.
From the darkness, the man's footsteps echoed softly, curious but cautious. "You look lost, little guy," he said, voice low, a hint of amusement hidden beneath false concern.
Harry's lips quivered. "I . . . I don't know where I am," he stammered, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes welled up, the act perfected after hours of observation.
Plushtrap buzzed in his mind, impatient and excited. "He's buying it! This is perfect! Keep it up!" The man crouched closer, trying to seem non-threatening. "Hey, don't be scared. I'll help you."
Harry's small frame trembled just enough to sell the performance. Every gesture, every glance was designed to lull the man into trust. As the man got closer Harry adjusted his stance, subtly positioning the backpack so that the knife concealed behind it stayed out of sight. His mind raced, calculating the best moment, the angle, the quietest approach. He was calm and ready.
Plushtrap whispered excitedly, "Soon, soon… I can feel it, Harry! Then I'm really coming!" The alley was silent again, save for the faint scrape of boots on wet pavement. Harry's eyes never left the target, every sense alert. As the man came within reach, Harry acted. The knife hidden behind him flashed out, the blade slicing straight through the man's throat.
As the knife pierced the man's throat his eye widened and he attempted to strike Harry away, but with his throat cut and his blood rushing out, the man's movements were slow and sluggish, Harry dodged to the side and plunged the blade a final time back into the throat. The man was dead within a minute.
After the man was dead, Harry knelt beside the backpack. pulling out the tools plushtrap said he would need, Harry slowly followed the process to make remnant soaking the internal components of the animatronic with the man's blood, with this process repeated about five times.
Plushtrap had explained to him, that if he was not gonna inhabit the animatronic body the man's consciousness would have returned and merged with the animatronic. As the last cycle of soaking the animatronic was completed Plushtrap's head twitched, the lights flickering along seams, Plushtrap's consciousness merged with the animatronic body. Sparks danced across the metal. Finally, the little animatronic leapt to life. "I'm . . . I'm really here!" he shouted, voice high and energetic.
Harry allowed himself a faint smile. "You're here," he said softly, watching Plushtrap take his first tentative steps in the real world.
Plushtrap spun in a joyful circle, testing his weight. "Everything we imagined — it's real!"
Harry set down the backpack and straightened. "Yes," he said quietly. "Everything."
Plushtrap stopped mid-spin, eyes shining with energy. "So . . . what's next?"
Harry's mind was already calculating possibilities. "Now," he said softly, "we see what we can really do."