As The Player stepped in, Harley ducked under his desk, shaking with fear and panic. The Player’s yellow boots thumped against the hard, dusty and blood-stained gray floor, their flashlight sweeping across the light blue-gray walls where paint was starting to peel. “I know you’re in here, Doctor Sawyer.” The Player’s voice cut through the still, silent air like a knife, “I can hear you breathing.” The Player turned towards the desk, kicking a chair out of the way. They crouched down, shining their flashlight right at Harley’s face. The Player froze. Harley was shaking, trying to stop crying and slow his breathing. The sight of Harley Sawyer, a feared scientist, breaking down in tears momentarily caught them off guard. “Sawyer?” The Player said. Their gaze turned from anger to a mix of confusion and surprise. Harley continued shaking, crying, and looking panicked. He tried to scramble backwards but hit a wall instead. The Player sighed, standing up and backing away a few steps, “You can’t stay under there forever, Sawyer. I want answers.”
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