Nocturnus

The pizzeria is quiet tonight, but the shadows do not rest. From the rafters, a faint creak announces a presence, something stitched together from metal, wires, and torn plush. Nocturnus the Marionette Bat hangs silently, its tattered wings stretched as if ready to swoop. Flickering neon lights from broken arcade machines catch the glint of its exposed gears and rusty joints. Its eyes pulse with a faint red and green glow, scanning every corner, every shadowed alcove, as if it knows the room better than any living being could. Strings dangle from its limbs, some snapped, swaying gently in the stale air. Tiny broken fangs peek from its slightly open jaw, a grin both mechanical and menacing. Dust motes drift lazily in the faint fog curling along the floor, catching glimpses of the bat as it tilts its head, curious and playful yet unmistakably dangerous. The pizzeria’s forgotten corners seem to breathe around it. Every movement of Nocturnus carries a sound of metal, a whisper of leather, and a hint of mischief waiting to spring. The shadows are alive tonight, and they belong to it.