At first, the changes were so small that even Robbie himself was not consciously aware of them happening at all.
He had started to notice that every new failure seemed to make him feel even worse and more tired than the one before.
Thinking as well appeared to become more difficult, but he just shrugged it all off.
Surely he was just imagining things, his mind was playing a trick on him.
Were his ears slighly longer than before? And had his finger nails always been that sharp?
Obviously it was just nerves, all that stress wearing him out, but nothing a bit of sleep could not fix...

.
He tried. Plan after plan after plan. Failures. All of them.
He started to sleep a lot more, only leaving his lair every other every third. He was just so tired.
Soon he did not bother with disguises anymore. What was the point?
On the days he actually did leave his home to implement a new scheme everyone would look at him in a funny way.
They would foil his plans like usual and then had the nerve to keep asking him if he was doing alright, saying „you don't look so well Robbie, are you ok?", all concerned voices and worried eyes.
How dared they? How dared they act like they cared?
Robbie completely lost all joy in coming up with new plans...

.
With time the changes became more obvious.
Long pointy ears. Teeth that could only be called fangs by eyes started to glow in the dark, like some animal' didn't care.
He had smashed his mirror a long time ago, so he wouldn't have to look at his own patheticness.
He barely left his lair at all anymore, since he had found that he could not stand the sunlight - for some reason it hurt his eyes and burnt on his skin.
The last time he had been in town the streets had been uncharacteristically empty.
Everything had just been too quiet.
It might have had to with what Sportacus had wanted to talk to him about a day prior to that.
The elf had sounded exasparated. Desperate even, but Robbie had not let him in and he had soon given up and left again.
That's not normal for Sportacus. It was probably really important.
A fleeting thought that shortly crossed his mind but was soon pushed away.
Whatever. He didn't care.
The last time he had tried eating something it had made him feel sick, but he was really hungry.
Maybe if he just tried again...

.

This is so wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, everything wrong.
Sportacus had come by a few more times these past days. He sounded like he might have been crying.
Wrong, so wrong.
Robbie still would not let him in, could not let anyone see him like this.
He had kept waking up on his floor at random times, mud on his shoes, tears in his clothes.
Wrong, wrong, please stop, make it stop.
Was he sleepwalking? Today he had woken up covered in blood.
Sportacus had said there had been murders.
Why won't anybody help me. Please.
He had been crying in the corner for hours now. He could not fall asleep again...

.
.

Hunger
Robbie had been awake for days now.
His lair was a mess.
The machines were destroyed, ripped to shreds, parts of them scattered all over the floor. Robbie himself wasn't better off.
When coffee had stopped helping him stay awake he had started cutting himself.
Deeper. And deeper. Always deeper. It helped him stay focused.
Or it used to, for a while.
Was that a knife stuck in his leg there? He saw it but it barely registered in his mind.
He felt dizzy. What time was it? Why was he sitting on the floor? Now the room was spinning suddenly.
Oh, no, he had just fallen to the side and was now lying down.
What had he been doing? He couldn't remember. He was so hungry.
He had to eat. But first he would rest his eyes for a while. Not sleep. Just...have them closed for a while. Just rest. He drifted off. . .

.
„Robbie? Your door was unlocked today, so I'm coming in now, alright? I am worried about you."
Sportacus made his way down into Robbie's home.
He wasn't smiling. He hadn't been doing that for quite a while. His main emotion these days was anger. Mixed with some amounts of confusion and worry.
There was a murderer in Lazy Town and nobody knew who it might be and why they were doing it.
They were brutal, basically ripping their victims into pieces.
An animal, really, rather than a person. A wild beast in human disguise.
The mayor had been among the first victims. Stephanie had been sent home to her parents again. The kids weren't allowed outside anymore. The streets were empty most of the time and a feeling of dread hung in the air. Sportacus had had to take off his crystal, which was beeping non-stop these days. And Robbie had been acting so weird these past two months.

Sportacus had heard him crying after he had basically yelled at Robbie's door about Mayor Meanswell's death. Apparently the news had shaken him badly.
So now he had to make sure the man did not have to deal with his grief alone. Surely everyone else in town would welcome and shelter him, and they could all mourn together, as friends were supposed to do in these hard moments.
The lair was drenched in shadows.
Sportacus fumbled for the switch and managed to turn on what was left of the lights, barely illuminating the area directly underneath it.
But that was enough to make his guts turn. Chaos. Destruction. And he was sure that dark red stain was blood. Had the killer gotten Robie as well?
„Robbie? Are you here? Please answer!", he yelled, panic in his voice, looking around frantically, when he heard a shuffling from a dark corner.
He turned towards it.
„Robbie?"
Something leapt at him and the last thing he saw before the light gave out completely were sharp claws and fangs aimed at his face and glowing eyes that belonged to a once familiar face. Then everything went dark.