"Show yourself!"

Trapped in a maze if ever-darkening hallways, Fox's mind began slipping into the depths of paranoia. In the dark halls of the decaying structure, Fox was surrounded by sounds. Tiles fell from the ceiling. Walls creaked under the weight of the structure. Footsteps followed the mercenary like hungry predators. All serving only to warp the vulpine's mind.

Blaster drawn, Fox continued on. Whether it was the sounds that haunted his mind or the hunger that haunted his body, Fox knew that time was running out. He had to hurry.

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was rushing into a trap. The halls, though branching out like a spider's web, seemed to funnel him in one direction. And yet, he continued on without thinking about turning back and trying less suspicious halls.

Fox could feel his grip on reality slipping. The halls seemed to be getting shorter and narrower. They appeared to warp into fantastic shapes and colors, though his hands confirmed that they were as straight and smooth as they ever were. The sounds of roars, gunshots, and screams of fear and agony tore into his eardrums like swords. He could feel the sting of bullets ripping and tearing through his chest and belly, though his eyes and hands confirmed no such wounds.

As exhaustion slowed him down, Fox looked around at his surroundings. Shadows of beasts and men that never were surrounded him. Some wielding claws often holding severed heads and limbs. Others wielding guns and swords that dripped with what Fox thought was blood. They taunted him. They threatened him. They welcomed him.

Finally, his body had had enough. After taking a heavy toll from running, hunger, and insanity, Fox collapsed, slowly drifting into the loving embrace of sleep. In his final moments of dwindling conciousness, the halls returned to their uniform gray colors and straight lines. The haunting sounds quieted down to nothing. The shadows vanished. All he could hear was blissful silence.

And footsteps.