Haunted House (Mikko)

So Mikko sifted through the bits and pieces, slowly at first then with more confidence as the eerie puppet seemed to start coming together. This wasn't so hard. Creepy as hell, perhaps approaching the line of some kind of sick joke, but not hard, and he saw truth in it too. Shiba knew how to put him back together, but who said that given the opportunity, he didn't know how to do the same? But at the moment he made the figurine whole, a shrill sound filled his ears, sending him reeling backward with a wince and a curled lip. Then, a rattle, the sound of wood on wood, which he discovered upon opening his eyes to be the marionettes dancing overhead. Back and forth they swung until they hurled themselves at him. Maw parted with a vicious growl, and he cleared a path for himself with frantic snaps left and right, forcing his way through the chaos and refusing to stop until he found calm again, this time at the bottom of another staircase. What the fuck was that?

Mikko took a long look over his shoulder, noting a cut along his left side and acknowledging it with a dry, unamused laugh. Eventually he dared to look forward again, and this time, there before him was a new room, with a different sort of figure standing at its center. A flick of his tattered ear as he crept forward to investigate. Positioned in the middle of the table was an old carcass, weathered by time, which seemed to stare back at him as that damned voice found him once again. Find me. Oh, hell, no.

Whatever game his mind was playing, Mikko refused to let it shake him. Boldly, almost angrily, he stormed forward and jutted a paw into an open part of the corpse's hide, forcing it open and nearly breaking the whole thing apart in the process. He would find this thing. And it would regret toying with him.