Let's play again

It was supposed to be a simple game of hide and seek—nothing more than a way for him to get used to his new body. His footsteps, accompanied by the faint jingling of bells, were the only sounds echoing through the daycare.

You didn’t know what had happened to the model, or why he seemed to understand you when you spoke to him, or even why his movements felt so wrong. Slowly, you make Gregory crouch behind one of the cardboard cutouts, holding your breath. Maybe, with this game, you could make Moondrop appear.

But something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

The silence pressed in from every side, thick and heavy, as if the room itself were holding its breath.

You click a button, making Gregory lean to the left to check if he’s there. Maybe he had already left?

But there was no model in the center of the daycare—just the faint flicker of lights dancing across the play structures. It was as if he had vanished completely.

Cautiously, you make Gregory step out from behind the cardboard cutout. This might be your last chance. Without thinking twice, you start running toward the light switch. Each step echoes through the empty daycare, the sound stretching too long, too hollow.

You’re only seconds away when something slams into Gregory’s back, sending him crashing to the floor. The screen jolts. The world tilts.

Then—slowly—a head drifts into view, upside down at first, a painted grin splitting across its face. The bells jingle softly as he leans closer, his steps deliberate, measured… almost playful.

He wasn’t in a hurry.

He didn’t need to be.

He had already found you.

“Oh, my dear Dreamlight… did you really think it would be easy?”

His voice was calm—almost cheerful. The head on the floor smiled before letting out a soft chuckle, rolling forward ever so slightly. Those black, glassy eyes seemed to pierce straight through you. It was as if he already knew what you were thinking before you could even move.

Even with Gregory’s body sprawled om the floor, you pushed both levers, desperate to move him forward. He was so close—so close—and yet impossibly far.

“Come on, Gregory, we’ll make it to the front if… wait—did I lose a life?”

Was that even possible? Or was this some kind of sick trick by the developers?

The screen began to pulse, edges bleeding red as it shook violently. Gregory screamed—a sound too real, too raw—and your stomach dropped. What was that thing doing to him?

You slowly turned the camera, dread crawling up your spine.

There it was. The strange model had one metal foot pressed against Gregory’s ribs, grinding down with awful, deliberate force—something inside him snapped. Then, bending low, it reached toward Gregory’s hair, lifting him by the strands between its cold fingertips.

The detached head on the floor smiled wider, its grin stretching too far, too human. It almost looked pleased—as if savoring every flicker of pain.

Half of Gregory’s body dangled in the air now. You could hear faint, broken whines escaping from him, his trembling hands clawing at the arm that held him. He struggled—helpless, mechanical—and for a moment, you could swear he felt it.

“Please… stop, you’re hurting me.”

You tried to say it into the microphone, but only Gregory’s screams echoed back at you. Freddy still hadn’t opened the wooden gates of the daycare. Was he broken? Or… was something stopping him?

Slowly, the headless body dressed in strange clothes moved in the dark. You couldn’t see much—just the shimmer of metal joints and fabric that shouldn’t be there on him. One arm lowered carefully, tenderly, to pick up the head lying on the floor. The mask’s black eyes stared straight at you through the screen, the blue bells on its jester hat chiming faintly with every motion.

You thought it must be Sundrop… but the faint greenish rays that framed his face looked almost sickly in the dim light. Without a single word, he placed the head back onto his neck with a soft bzzt. The connection clicked—and suddenly, he was whole again.

Then, with deliberate gentleness, he pulled more of gregory hair up making his head go up. The boy’s screams filled your headset, your pulse racing in sync with his. Slowly, the figure leaned down, pressing his face close—so close that their foreheads nearly touched. His grin widened, soft and loving, a parody of tenderness.

“Dreamlight,” he whispered, voice dripping with warmth. “Don’t break the rules of our games, okay? I don’t want to punish you again… after all, it hurts me too.”

The words came out so affectionate, so sweet, that for a moment you almost forgot how twisted they were. His smile never faltered as he released Gregory’s head, letting it fall limply to the floor.

Then, with a lighthearted skip, he walked in front of the fallen model—bells jingling cheerfully, his tone bright and full of devotion.

“You belong to us, Dreamlight,” he sang softly, almost like a lullaby. “You’re the one who saved us… and I’d never want to break you.”

He tilted his head, his grin softening into something tender, almost human.

“…but if I have to hurt you a little to make you stay—”

He leaned closer to the camera, his black eyes reflecting the faint red glow of the warning lights.

“—then I’ll do it with love.”