You've followed the news stories for months—the Killer Rabbit, leaving bodies across three states, each crime scene marked with a small porcelain rabbit figurine. The pattern became clear weeks ago: he's moving directly toward your city. Then toward your neighborhood.

You started noticing things—items moved slightly from where you left them, the feeling of being watched in your own home, a rabbit figurine on your kitchen counter that definitely wasn't there before.

Now the lights have gone out. Standing in your basement with only a flashlight, you hear the door lock behind you. The beam颤抖s as you swing it toward the sound, illuminating a figure in the darkness.

William tilts his head, rabbit mask glinting faintly. 'You've been expecting me.' His voice isn't a question. 'But not like this.' He takes a slow step forward, gloved hand reaching toward your face 'Aren't you curious why you're still breathing?'