That Violet Disciple - Poppy Playtime

5.8 - The Toybox

Yin woke up slowly for once. He wanted to go back to sleep. The deep breathing around him, the warm scents in his nose, and the soft fur under his head called him back.

Despite it, he blinked his eyes open and gently sat up so as to not disturb DogDay. He stretched his neck and back, a few joints popping. He yawned, feeling like he'd slept for days.

CatNap had curled his tail away so Yin didn't need to step over anyone on his way to grab another can of food. He ate a brief and quiet breakfast, then left to explore around a bit. He didn't take the GrabPack with him, but did clip one of its flashlights to his belt loop.

Wandering over to the big sign map, Yin realized he hadn't gone to the Toy Store. Curious, he followed the path to the building and immediately wondered if he would even be able to get in. A thick pile of heavy garbage was piled in front of the door.

Yin found a window that was fairly unobstructed save for a crude layer of wooden boards. One had fallen off, leaving just enough space for a person to wiggle through.

Yin turned his flashlight on and shone it through the window. He saw no immediate danger so he dropped the light through the window and squeezed himself through, ungracefully fumbling to the floor and rolling himself upright to his feet, picking up the flashlight as he stood.

His first deep breath in the store nearly made him retch. It reminded him of the smell from his surgery on DogDay; that raw and hot stench that grabbed him by the face and crawled down his throat.

Despite the smell, the room itself was immaculately clean and markedly bare. It was horribly damaged, however. Long, deep, jagged groves were scraped through the walls, the floor, and even across the ceiling. Doorways were cracked and broken as if something too big to fit had been violently shoved through.

In fact, it seemed to be the case for the whole building. There wasn't a drop of blood in the place, yet that same too-big-to-fit damage was floor to ceiling down the hall and in every room the flashlight beam could reach.

Yin stood in the foyer, feeling like he just stepped into a gaping mouth. Slowly, he tiptoed across the room, the linoleum floor creaking under his feet. The walls were painted all the primary colors of Playtime's motif, but lacking the stains from previous locations. There were wide swaths of wall where the paint had been washed out straight to the plaster.

Yin's flashlight beam picked out a broken toy on the floor. Only a head and arm were left, and they were pristine, no blood or oil or anything. Yin picked up the arm and inspected it. There were rows of scraped lines around the joint. Yin thought it looked like the end of a crab claw, complete with nibbled teeth marks around the edges of a shell sucked clean of marrow and juices.

He put the toy piece down.

He went through what used to be a doorway into a display room. There were lines on the walls where shelves had been mounted. The only remaining shelf was a large floor to ceiling unit. Metal anchors at its foot and head had been pulled out or snapped apart.

Yin crept around the shelf. A massive section on its far side was missing. It was crescent-shaped and crushed around the edge.

A bite mark.

It was wider than Yin was tall.

The flashlight beam sank with Yin's shock. Something glinted on the floor. He looked down and saw something shiny shoved under the shelf.

Curious, Yin tried to pick it up but it was wedged. He wiggled it side to side, loosening it bit by bit until a medallion the size of his hand emerged.

The color was faded, but the light picked out flecks of blue and yellow. It was shaped like a light bulb.

With a rising sense of foreboding, Yin tucked the medallion into his pocket and left the room.