The outside of the factory had long since fallen into disrepair. Once bright and bold paint was not faded, chipped, and covered in the sprawling vines of kudzu, ivy, moss, and lichens that had begun to reclaim the building. The chain-link fence surrounding the property had long grown lopsided and been reclaimed by the foliage already- now the main structure was the target. Grass and weeds overtook the walkways and parking spaces. By all accounts, the place looked abandoned at first glance.
But past the leaves, past the vines, past the weeds; the windows still intact shone brightly like eyes in the darkness. The power was still on - somehow. Flickering lights within showed that the place was still operational, even if the towering chimneys of the factory had long stopped blowing smoke.
This was the place then. The old Playtime Co factory had not seen a soul in 10 years- not since the disappearance of its staff in August of '95. The disappearances were all so sudden. That day, hundreds of people went to work and never returned. No explanation. No investigation. The police scoured the area but no signs of anyone were ever found. And considering everyone involved were adults capable of making their own choices, authorities merely shrugged and wrote it off as some sort of mass exodus. The families of those people weren't convinced but no one had any answers. No one had any leads.
They'd worked at the factory for quite sometime, and like many, they sought answers. So when the Gang reached out to them for information, they were all too happy to provide it. They even agreed to meet up with the gang to investigate the recent rumors of people hearing things coming from the place late at night. But... there was no sign of them. There was no sign of anyone, save for the front door that was slightly ajar and barely holding on by its hinges.
