Playtime's Over

Author's Note: I've revised this chapter completely. I feel that since it took me so long to update this story, and because I began this story a couple years ago, I've improved with writing so I feel that I could make this story more believable. All chapters are now revised so any newcomers won't be confused, thanks!

Story note/summary: This is what I think the third Child's Play should've been like. Andy is 13 now. Six years have passed since his last run-in with Chucky at the Simpson's. The unexplained murders revolving around him still state that he was involved somehow, but not necessarily saying he did them. He wants to start over again, but for six years now it's been impossible for him to get a foster family, due to the rumors concerning murders he had witnessed. Andy finds that his life may be turning around when a family actually agrees to adopt him. However, his hope is once again burned by the reality of his nightmare…

Warning: Blood, violence, swearing, gore, twisted revenge…everything Chucky loves.

Chapter 1: Resurrection

Downtown police station: Clearwater, Florida. 11:45 p.m.

The station was quiet now that there were only a few officers around. Several were on duty and some were at home catching up on sleep. That's what he needed: sleep. Mark rubbed his eyes tiredly as he closed the newspaper. Another murder had happened in some alley. There was blood found—the killer was obviously sloppy. Ever since the hurricanes kept coming in stronger over the summer, causing quite a few people to become homeless or lose a lot, the crime rate had increased. The police force could only do so much to keep it at bay. The door opened and Mark wheeled around in his seat to see Calvin walking in.

"Hey, still reading that thing?" Calvin asked, gesturing to the newspaper.

"Yeah, unfortunately. It seems that people are starting to blame us for the increase in crime," he snorted, throwing the paper down.

"The people know what's going on. It's mostly the drunks doing the crimes, but there have been a few non-drunks involved. Did you hear the latest story?" Calvin asked, popping down and opening his can of beer.

Mark leaned back in his seat. "No, what?"

"The murderer from a week ago was found. It was some drunk-guy who had never before been an alcoholic until he lost his home to the hurricane. Anyway, get this. The man's caught and is being tried and he keeps saying that Chucky did it."

"Chucky? Who's that?"

"Come on, you don't know the story?" Calving asked surprised.

Mark shrugged. "Nah, so tell me.

"Well, this little boy named Andy Barclay was convinced his Good Guy doll was alive. He said it talked, walked and killed people. This was one of the biggest cases ever this year and definitely the most bizarre. So anyway, this kid was always at the scene of the crime. There were at least five or six murders he was caught at in total and he kept blaming them on his Good Guy doll. He said that the doll had been possessed by the soul of Charles Lee Ray."

"The lake-shore strangler?" Mark asked.

Calvin nodded. "Yep."

"So how old was this kid at the time?"

"He was six when the case first started. And the last time he was suspected again was six years ago, recently after he turned seven."

"What!" Mark snorted. "A six year old murderer! Come on, now."

"That's what I said! But there's absolutely no proof that anyone else was behind it. And I mean, come on, a kid that thinks his Good Guy doll came to life and killed people…there's got to be some mental instability there," Calvin said, taking a gulp of his beer. "Not to mention both times the Good Guy doll he blamed was destroyed."

"Maybe so, but any six year old thinks their toys can come to life. They bring life to them. I mean, they really don't understand. Trust me, I've got a six year old nephew and he's that way. In fact, he's even got a Good Guy doll."

"You better keep an eye on him then," Calvin teased.

"Shut up, you prick!" Mark exclaimed, throwing an empty can at his head.

"Ow! Hey, you don't have to get violent."

"Yeah, yeah. So, was this Andy case solved?" Mark asked.

"Nope, it's still a complete mystery. There's not enough evidence to prove that Andy did any of the murders, but there's nothing else to go on."

"Hmm…well, don't you find that odd that if he apparently killed people at six and seven he's suddenly stopped?"

"No, he could've gotten treatment," Calvin said. "Why?"

"Well, you said he blamed his doll, right? And you said each time the murders stopped the Good Guy doll was killed."

"What are you saying? That you believe his doll is alive?"

"No, I just find that to be strange," Mark said. "Did the cops pick up the doll pieces?"

"Yeah, the first time it was destroyed the Good Guy doll company had it put back together to prove to everyone that it was the kid's imagination."

"So where are the pieces now?"

"Actually, funny that you ask, they're in the new police station several miles from here. It was shipped here mainly because no one else wanted to take up the case anymore, it was just too bizarre and there are so many pieces missing they think it'll never get solved," Calvin smiled. "So now I guess the case is coming here."

"Well, since I'm off duty in ten minutes," Mark smiled, glancing at his watch, "I think I'll go take a peek at this 'killer doll'."

"Curiosity killed the cat," Calvin warned, shaking his finger.

Mark just smirked in response. "Good thing I'm not a cat then."

Calvin just laughed and gulped the rest of his beer down. "Alright, well I better get back on duty. Later!"

Mark waved to him and sat staring into space and tapping his pencil until he couldn't take it anymore. He'd have to just leave his duty five minutes early—that wasn't a big deal! His curiosity was really bursting inside of him. Getting into his car, he drove the twenty miles to the new police station where the new building was still being finished. Luckily, the doors were unlocked. Being in uniform, no one questioned him as he headed for the evidence room. He nearly bumped into another older man who was coming out of the room.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"No, I'm just here to pick up some evidence for a case I've been assigned to."

The man stared at him for a second before nodding. "Just shut the door when you're done. It's already locked."

Mark nodded and stepped into the room, relieved that he hadn't been questioned. Looking around, he approached the drawers where names were labeled on them. Searching with his eyes he spotted the name Barclay and immediately opened it. There was a large, clear plastic bag with pieces of what looked like gooey plastic.

"He wasn't kidding when he said the doll was destroyed," he muttered.

He examined it realizing that it seemed too burnt from some sort of acid to make out which part was which. Suddenly, he remembered his friend Alex had once worked for the Good Guy doll company. Perhaps he would know how to fix the doll.

"But I can't take it out of here if it's evidence unless I'm really assigned to this case," he whispered to himself, feeling disappointed.

He was about to put the bag back when he noticed something written by Andy's name. It read: Case discontinued. Mark couldn't believe his luck! The case had been signed off as unsolved and discontinued so no one was working on it, which meant he wouldn't be penalized for taking the evidence, unless he lost it or something. He was only going to fix it. Besides, since the case was discontinued, no one would even realize it was gone.

Holding the bag firmly in one hand, he closed the drawer then went out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As he made his way out of the building he took out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hey Alex, it's me. I've got a job for you. Yes, for tonight, it's worth it I promise. Okay, be there in about a half hour. Bye."

Hanging up as he reached his car, he gently placed the bag in the passenger's seat and took off for his friend's house. By the time he got there, Alex was already awake and taking out the beer from his refrigerator. He opened the door, allowing him inside.

"The moment you said it'd be worth it, I had to bring out the...what the fuck is that?"

Mark smiled and held up the bag full of the random, gooey pices. "This is the project that will be worth it."

"What? Staring at a pile of shit?" Alex retorted.

"No, this is the supposed killer doll from the Barclay case."

Alex's eyes immediately widened. "Are you fucking kidding me? How did you pull that off?"

"Apparently, the case is discontinued. Hey, how come you never told me about this case? This is the most interesting thing I've heard of from being in this profession."

Alex shrugged. "No one really talked about it after three years of when it took place. I think it just got old, especially because there was no other news about it, whether or good or bad it just…kind of died off. The cops gave up, the kid was taken to an orphanage in a different state, and nothing else came up after the last incident six years ago. I suspect people just came to their own conclusions."

Mark nodded. "I guess so. It didn't happen in this state though, right?"

"No. That's probably why you never heard of it. I've traveled around enough so I heard about it through the news."

"Right. So, are you up for this challenge?"

Alex smirked. "Sure thing. It's too bad it's no where near Halloween. This would certainly be a treat. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Well, since you used to work for those Good Guy dudes, I was hoping you'd be able to put this thing back together."

Alex sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. "Well…since I don't work for them anymore I no longer have the key to the place. And that's where we'd need to go. I don't have anything around here to worth with. Umm…I think Bernie might still be there, let me give him a call."

Mark nodded, feeling excitement flow through him. Alex was only a minute before he came back with a smile. Mark nearly jumped up in response and the two of them went to Mark's car to drive there. There was a small Good Guy's doll company in the area about an hour's drive away. During the ride, Alex explained that the Good Guy's doll company wasn't as successful as when it first came out, but surprisingly, even despite the incident with Andy Barclay, they weren't doing too poorly. That was why they could still afford to have factories in several states.

By the time they got there, Mark was already jumping out of the car. As they approached the building Alex knocked several times and an elderly man opened it. Nodding toward Bernie, Mark followed Alex inside.

"Just remember to close the door. I've already locked it," Bernie said. "You were lucky that you caught me when you did. I've got to leave now."

"That's fine, Bernie. Thanks a bunch!" Alex said, saluting him as he left.

"Now what?" Mark asked, trying not to sound impatient.

"First, I've got to peel off the melted surface and place new skin on him, so-to-speak. And then I've got to fix the hair and everything. Man, it surely had a number done on it. I mean, its head is basically gone. I can see the pieces of the eyes and stuff but we're going to have to basically mold it into a new doll."

"Mold it?" Mark asked curiously, as he watched Alex pour out the pieces.

"Yeah, it's this machine that can melt down plastic and then I'll just put it in the new machine that can reshape it into a doll. It's the molding machine. It's much easier than the old machines which just put the doll together piece by piece."

"Ah yes, the joys of modern technology," Mark grinned. "How long is this gonna take?"

"Hopefully with this new machine only a half hour or so. Not too bad, for the molding at least. Then I have to pain on its freckles again and put new eyeballs in. Not to mention he needs new clothes."

"Alright," Mark sighed. "Should I just read a book while you're doing this?"

"You read?"

"Very funny," Mark glared. "Just hurry up, please. I'm dying to see this thing in action."

Alex just shook his head in amusement. "You're acting as if it really is going to come alive or something."

Mark just raised his eyebrows as if to say 'it could happen' then went to go find something to do while Alex got to work. He hadn't been kidding when he said it would at least take a half hour. The molding machine was amazing, but it still took some time. Mark explored the factory a bit and saw the improvements of the new dolls. Apparently they could say a lot more now and kids could change them into different outfits. There were even girl Good Guy dolls now…or rather Good Girl dolls. Still, Mark wasn't exactly the intellectual type—he was more of the partier so waiting around just staring at machines wasn't exactly exciting.

When he came back around completely bored out of his mind, he saw that Alex was working on painting the face and putting the last pieces together. Excitedly, Mark approached and watched him work.

"Hey, could you go find some clothes for this guy," Alex said.

"Sure thing," Mark said, wandering off down some isles to try and find some clothes.

He wasn't sure where to look and couldn't seem to find any extra clothes, unless he wanted to open one of the boxes and take the clothes off the doll inside of it. Heading back to where Alex was, he decided he'd ask before opening a box. As he approached the spot where he left Alex still working, he found that the supplies were still there but Alex wasn't and neither was the doll.

"Hey, Alex, where'd ya go?" Mark called out.

No answer. Mark shook his head, turning around in each direction. Where could he have gone? He had just asked him to go retrieve something five minutes ago.

"Alex! Hey, asshole, get out here! I couldn't find any extra clothes!" he called out.

There was still no response. Mark walked around and stopped when his shoes squeaked. He glanced down to see a bunch of red splatters on the floor.

Mark snorted. "Fake blood huh? You trying to scare me by making me believe the doll got you? It ain't gonna work."

He waited and walked around some more with no sign as to where Alex could be.

"Come on, Alex, I'm not joking this time. Let's finish this so we can get back home and have some beer."

Mark began walking again and a stale stench caught him off guard. He immediately plugged his nose and looked around. He saw that the mold machine was on when he had seen Alex turn it off a little while ago so he approached it and realized the stench was coming from it.

"Hey Alex, man, I think there's something wrong with the mold machine. Seriously, you should come out here and take a look."

Sighing with frustration when he didn't get a response, Mark stared at the buttons to try and figure out how to stop the machine. He saw an open button so he pushed it. The doors to the mold machine opened and the stench got so bad Mark nearly gagged. He turned his head away for a minute, holding his nose and when he turned back his eyes widened in shock. Pools of red liquid, much like blood, were dripping out of the machine. Mark took a deep breath, wondering how Alex came up with this scheme.

"That's gross, Alex. Alright, this is creeping me out, you can stop now."

Looking around, he still got no response. Feeling a bit unnerved, Mark reached out and touched the puddle of red. It felt real…Shaking a bit, Mark brought it to his nose and smelled it. It certainly smelled like blood. His heart was pounding in his chest now as he reached for the tray inside of the machine and very slowly pulled on it. It dragged out and the red splattered everywhere, causing him to jump back. As he did, the tray came out completely and a figure slid out onto the tray. Mark let out a cry and covered his mouth when he saw Alex's body, hardly recognizable now. His skin had been melted and burned and his face was so distorted he could hardly tell it was him. Mark shook his head in disbelief and wheeled around, wanting to just run out of the place. His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he saw the doll standing in front of him, holding a very long metal rod, at least twice the size of its body.

Mark backed away, shaking his head. "No, t-this can't be," he stuttered as the doll's maliciously smirking face came closer. "I can't believe it…The kid…Andy was right."

The doll stopped five feet in front of him, the big, plastic blue eyes staring intensely.

"Well, I guess I'll give him a prize then," Chucky laughed.

Mark's eyes widened with terror at hearing him talk and say something that he shouldn't before Chucky plunged the metal rod right through his stomach. Mark gagged and clutched at his bloody stomach, eyes wide with shock and pain. A second later, he dropped down dead to the floor.

"After I kill him that is," Chucky added, sneering. He then looked down at his body and admired it. "I look fucking great, for a piece of plastic shit. That's going to change real soon though. Thank you gentleman for your help," Chucky's eyes latched onto the two dead bodies in front of him. "Now I can go find my best friend…Andy."

Laughing hysterically, Chucky walked toward the dead officer and pulled out his badge and key card.

"Hmm…officer of the downtown police station. Time to do a little investigating," he said, as he headed out of the factory and disappeared into the night.

XXXXX

Foxrun Children's Orphanage: Gilford, Connecticut

The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the laughing children playing on the playground. The grass was so green and sky was so blue, it was almost…perfect; perfect for everyone inside the orphanage except for one young boy. Andy stared out the window of his room watching the kids outside play. It was definitely a better orphanage than the one that used to be owned by Mrs. Poole. It was much bigger, cleaner and it even had a playground in the back. Despite this, Andy was still unhappy. He had been there for six years now so he knew all the staff very well. They treated him nicely and everything, but despite that he was still unhappy.

Andy had so many reasons to feel unhappy. Ever since he had been separated from his mom when he was six he had been going to a couple foster homes, which turned out to be a complete nightmare. The Simpsons' house was the worst where Chucky came back and killed his foster parents, then tried to kill him and Kyle. He missed Kyle…She probably stayed in the area he had left because she felt comfortable there. She promised she would write, but the last time she had written was last year. He understood that she was busy now. She was about ten years older than he was so she had a couple jobs, an apartment now and was finishing up college. It took her longer because she hadn't had much money and still didn't have much. Still, he wished so badly he could see her. She was the one true friend he had.

He had met other boys and girls in the orphanage, but even those very few that he had befriended had eventually left once they were adopted by a foster family. Of course Andy wouldn't be adopted. So many people knew about his history with Chucky and many of them didn't want him in their house. Even though he hadn't seen Chucky the entire time he had been there, and nothing bad had happened that he was involved in, he still hadn't been able to visit his mother. Not only would it cost the orphanage to send him there, but the nurses at the institution didn't feel it was a good idea for him to visit her just yet.

Just yet…? It's been almost seven years since I've seen my mother. How can they think that waiting longer is going to make any difference?

Andy held back his tears. It had been so long since he had cried so why should he start now? He had stopped feeling sorry for himself and just kept living day to day as if it were all the same. Time wasn't important anymore, it just seemed to pass. Even for his thirteenth birthday when the orphanage had given him a special "young teen party" as they called it, which they did for all those turning thirteen, he still hadn't enjoyed himself. He had forced himself to eat cake and play some games, but didn't smile and didn't laugh. He hardly even talked at all.

The doctor came around quite frequently to make sure all the kids were healthy. He had diagnosed Andy with a case of mild depression. He had been eight when he was diagnosed. It was unheard of for an eight-year-old to have depression, but he did. He was given some medication, but it hardly helped. The staff at the orphanage was just mostly afraid he'd kill himself or something. No matter how sad or upset or numb he had felt over the years he had never attempted to kill himself.

When he had first come to this orphanage it had been extremely hard to sleep. He had a severe case of insomnia. He had had nightmares over and over again about the murder Chucky had committed. Sometimes in his nightmares, Chucky had killed him too. The nightmares faded, but the terrible memories didn't. Andy luckily didn't have to go to a public school, being in an orphanage, and was tutored by several of the staff members along with the other children there. It was an okay life, he guessed, but more than anything he just wanted to be back with his mother, forget about Chucky, and start over so he could live a normal life.

A knock at his door made him glance up and one of the staff members entered his room. It was Ariel—a sweet, red-headed girl with gentle blue eyes. She was the only person Andy really talked to in the orphanage. He had met her three years ago when she came to work there. Her family was very wealthy, but she liked the feeling of earning her own money. Sometimes, she reminded him a little bit of Kyle, but she wasn't as tom-boyish. She was very sweet, pretty and someone whom Andy could trust. Soon after he had met her, he had told her the story of why he was there. He had asked her if she thought he was insane for believing his Good Guy doll was possessed and killed people but she had just smiled and shook her head. He remembered what she said: "There is always truth in what people say, even the ones people call crazy."

"Hello Andy," she greeted, smiling brightly. "Why aren't you outside playing with the other kids?"

Andy shrugged. "I just don't feel much like playing."

Ariel approached him and pulled up a chair to sit down beside him.

"Are you feeling sad again?" she asked, referring to his depression.

Andy shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I just…," he trailed off for a minute, but Ariel sat patiently and waited for him to continue. "I just really miss my mom. I mean, I like it here, but every day feels the same."

Ariel nodded in understanding, raising her hand to brush some of his bangs away. Andy's hair was shorter and different than what he used to wear around six and seven. He still had bangs and dark blonde hair with big brown eyes, but he looked older. In fact, he did look a bit young to be thirteen.

"I know that it can sometimes feel like a prison in this place, no matter how pretty it is. You just have to understand that it's not easy for orphanages to care for children these days. You were lucky this place had an opening for you, being one of the top orphanages around."

"It was because of my history. If I hadn't been suspected for murder they wouldn't have taken me in. They thought that because they're one of the richest orphanages in the U.S. that they would have enough medical help for me," Andy replied. "They haven't found anything wrong with me except for depression and it's not even severe depression."

"You're right," Ariel said softly. "So if there's nothing wrong with you, why do you keep yourself locked away in here? Why not try and enjoy yourself—act like you're starting over?"

Andy shook his head gently. "I can't…I can't because I feel all alone. I know I have you to talk to, but you're really busy some days working around here or on vacation with your family. I have no friends here and those that I did make friends with are gone. I can't visit my mom and even I can't even get a temporary foster family, not that I really want one. If I were to start over, I'd want it to be with my mom, in a new house where I can go to a new school where no one knows about the rumors about me and where my mom can get a better job. That's what I want."

Ariel sighed and pulled him into a hug. "I know, sweetie. You just hang in there, alright?"

She released him, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and headed toward the door. Before leaving she turned around once more.

"I'll bring you something to eat a little later since you missed breakfast, okay?"

Andy nodded with a hardly noticeable smile and watched as she closed the door. He leaned against the wall and went back to staring out the window. He had tried almost everything the doctor had suggested: writing, forcing himself to join in, nothing worked. The writing had helped in the beginning, but the owner of the orphanage, Mrs. Malkum, had been so appalled by what he wrote (mostly the details about the murders) that she had told the doctor it wasn't a good idea. She was frightened it would cause him to have a mental breakdown if he remembered such things. Andy wrote off and on since then, but hid the journal under his bed. Sighing, Andy walked back toward his bed and lay down upon it. He let his eyes flutter closed and before long he was fast asleep.

The knock at his door woke him several hours later and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Thinking that it was Ariel he went and opened the door. There, before him, stood Mrs. Malkum. Although she was a kind, older woman, she was fairly strict and when she was mad got this stern look upon her face. She smiled down at him as Andy opened the door all the way.

"I see you've missed breakfast again," she said, staring at him. "Do you need to see the doctor again?"

"No, Mrs. Malkum, I'm fine. I just wasn't feeling well this morning," Andy said.

Mrs. Malkum just nodded. "Very well. I have some good news for you. Please, sit."

Andy sat down on his bed and Mrs. Malkum pulled up a chair to sit in front of him.

"Now Andy, you've been here for six years now, correct?" she asked, flipping through the papers in her hands.

Andy nodded. Mrs. Malkum then flipped some more asking him questions about his age, place of birth, medical history, things like that just to double-check to see if anything changed.

"Well, that's good to see things haven't changed and we're up to date," she smiled. "You'll be glad to know that there's a family interested in adopting you."

Andy blinked with wide eyes, looking fairly surprised. "A family wants to adopt me?"

"Yes. Mrs. and Mr. Jaques. See, being patient has its rewards," she smiled. "Now, because of your age you are welcome to choose not to allow the family to adopt you, if you feel you don't like them. You will get a chance to meet them very shortly. They'll be visiting tomorrow afternoon so I've asked Ariel to go out and retrieve a new outfit for you. You haven't got many clothes in the first place, so it'll be nice for you to have something new to wear."

Andy nodded, feeling a bit speechless. Mrs. Malkum stood up and tucked the papers under her arm.

"That's all I had to tell you today, Andy. I'm normally not supposed to say these things, but this family is fairly wealthy. I hear they've got a pool and everything," she smiled. "And you won't be alone. Apparently, they adopted a boy years back from a different orphanage. He's a bit older than you are, but it'd be nice to have a sibling, right?"

"Yeah," Andy responded, still not believing that he was going to be adopted.

"Well, you best come downstairs for lunch now. You're probably starving."

Andy nodded and quickly stood up, following her out. It seemed that things were finally starting to look up.

XXXXX

Downtown police station: Clearwater, Florida. 3:25 a.m.

An officer paced down the hallway for the umpteenth time oblivious to the door behind him opening as a small figure scurried inside. The room was the Detective's Bureau where there were several computers stationed around, holding valuable information. A small hand reached to turn one of the computers on. It had been a synch to sneak onto a bus that led him fairly close to the station. And then it was even easier to sneak inside the station and the back room using the officer's ID that he had taken.

Chucky hopped up onto a chair as the computer turned on. Once it had loaded up he clicked on the search button and typed in Andy Barclay. He waited as it searched and finally a match came up.

"Hmm…Connecticut? How the fuck am I supposed to get there?"

Chucky's plastic blue eyes narrowed at the screen. He felt like throwing the computer and smashing it on the floor. Suddenly, the door to the room opened and Chucky just barely jumped down and hid under the table as an officer walked inside.

"Ah man, Ashley must've forgotten to turn off the computer."

As the officer turned it off more footsteps came. "Hey, Calvin. I'm gonna head home now, you need a ride? Heard your car is in the shop."

"Nah, I'll just take a taxi, but thanks."

Chucky listened and waited for both of them to leave before crawling out.

"Hmm…a taxi. That's not a bad idea."

Sneaking toward the door, Chucky peered out making sure the coast was clear. Then he hurriedly made his way to the door and crept outside. He made his way in the dark toward the main street and found a telephone booth. Realizing he had no change, he spotted a homeless man with a can in his hands. Chucky approached a nearby trashcan, fishing out a broken glass bottle and hid around the corner. He hurled the bottle at the man, who was hit in the side of the head and collapsed on his side. Chucky sniggered and grabbed the can. He emptied the change into his jeans. Then he approached the booth and dragged the trashcan over to it, after kicking it over to dump out the contents, so he could reach the phone. He dialed information.

"Yes, I'd like the number for a taxi cab."

He heard the woman on the other line transfer him and he waited. When a person answered he asked for a taxi to meet him outside the area. He hung up and immediately searched through the garbage to find something to use as a weapon. He found another broken bottle with a very sharp piece of glass sticking out. Keeping this with him, he saw a taxi cab drive up. Very slowly he crept toward it and opened the door, sneaking inside.

"Good evening and where would you like to…go?" the cab driver glanced in his review mirror and couldn't see anyone in the back. "Uh…hello?"

Chucky suddenly came from behind his seat and held the bottle at his throat, with the piece of sharp protruding glass just barely touching his skin.

"Take me to the airport," he demanded.

The driver held up his hands in surrender, obviously stunned. "O-okay, sir. Right away."

He held the bottle at his throat the entire forty minutes to the airport. When the taxi cab stopped, Chucky pushed the glass bottle closer.

"P-please don't kill me," the driver whimpered.

Chucky laughed cruelly. "And why not?"

The taxi driver closed his eyes in fear and Chucky quickly dropped the bottle and ran out the door into the airport. It was a good thing the taxi driver never saw he was a doll or he'd be forced to spend more energy killing him. Chucky made sure to not be seen as he snuck toward the screen which told the flights and their destinations.

"Come on, there's got to be one going to Connecticut."

Chucky's eyes scanned the screen and suddenly he found just what he was looking for. The flight wouldn't leave for another twenty minutes, but he could sneak on-board ahead of time. He then headed towards the gate, making sure to keep out of the line of sight of anyone there. While the woman was busy on the phone and no one was yet in line, Chucky snuck past her and hid beneath her desk and waited. After twenty minutes, she finally called out to those waiting that they could come because they were now boarding. After she checked everyone's ticket she then made her way toward the door in order to close it. A noise startled her and she saw that her purse had been tossed a short distance away. Quickly, she ran toward it hoping nothing had been stolen. Chucky took the opportunity to sneak right past her and behind the door.

As he approached the plane he pretended to be just a toy and one of the flight attendants spotted him.

"Oh dear, it looks like a child has dropped their toy," she said.

Another flight attendant stared at it and nodded. "Well, there's nothing we can do. Just keep it up front and we'll figure something out later when the plane stops."

The woman nodded and placed Chucky on top of one of the cabinets near the front, not noticing as his eyes moved to watch her as she walked away.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Important note: For those of you who haven't read this story before. The jump from this newly revised chapter to the next one won't make sense. So I'm sorry. You'll just have to wait until I revise the next ones, which hopefully I'll be able to do a chapter each weekend. Thanks!