Johnny held Brunhilda close, looking all around for the source of the voice. It didn't seem to come from one direction, it came from all directions. It surrounded him and seeped into his body, causing him to shudder. He felt like he was coming down with the flu, or a virus. It sapped his strength and made him ill.

The shelves glowed with an orange, vibrant light, as if they were being heated from the fires of Hell itself. The floor became hot as the voice said, "So, this was all they could muster? A broken tin soldier. Sound the horns and bang the drums, make way for this… human."

Struggling to his feet, pushing himself up from the burning concrete, he stood in the sweltering heat and demanded, "Show yourself!"

A loud, horrid laugh came from the slightly Irish-accented voice. "You hear that, boys? G.I Cryptkeeper here wants us to show ourselves."

'Ourselves?' Johnny thought.

"Indulge the slime!"

The toys began to hop off their shelves. An ethereal orange glow to their eyes as they marched right for Johnny. An army of possessed, demonic toys came at him as he backed away from the encroaching horde.

Instantly, Brunhilda was unsheathed and her blade shined in the hellish glow. Her edge sharp, her blade spotless, Johnny had taken care of his trusty weapon all these years. A marine was supposed to die with his weapon in his hand, and Johnny had been ready for a long time.

A slow infestation crawled towards him as more of the shelves emptied. Some of them sauntered, others rolled, slithered, crawled, and wriggled towards him. Bears, dolls, robots, dinosaurs, and all manner of other small abominations. Johnny wondered if those plastic teeth could hurt, if those toy ray guns could kill? More and more came after him, the floor covered in childish hellspawn as he slowly backed away. This was when a rubber crocodile snapped onto his leg and drew a gusher of bubbling blood.

Johnny was quick with Brunhilda, cutting the toy in half, kicking the two pieces away. He nearly fell to the floor, but latched onto the gray cement wall, dragging himself away from the encroaching horde.

Several bright beams fired at him as he ducked and hid his head, looking for some kind of cover. His ankle left a trail of boiling maroon across the hot floor. Limping around another tall rack stacked with more toys, gasping for air, he felt his age creeping up on him. Grunting, wiping sweat from his forehead, desperately he tried to look for a place to hide.

Suddenly, several tiny arrows needled his arm. Gritting his teeth in pain, looking at the tiny, fletched ammo peppering his arm, he picked a bunch out. Snapping his sights towards one of the shelves, he saw a group of small Indian archers, reloading. "Holy God!" Johnny cursed.

"Go ahead, run! There is nowhere to run!" the voice threatened.

Hobbling around the shelf, looking for a place to take cover, a loud, horrible noise filled his ears, screaming just to drown it out. It was so bad it dropped him to the hot floor as he saw an army of clapper monkeys heading his direction. Their orange glowing eyes beamed at him, their white chompers snapping hungrily for flesh. Those symbols slamming in unison like an evil parade marching right towards the old marine.

Johnny tried to get to his feet and roared out against the monsters, slashing and dicing at the legion of loud, evil primates. Red hats, furry arms, and white fluff went flying everywhere.

Back on his feet, Johnny ran and caught sight of one of the cordon off areas. There was nowhere else to run. Maybe he could make a stand there? Rushing for the small corner, he was suddenly attacked by a brigade of plush, pink bears. They were about four feet high with amber eyes, deathly looking claws, and teeth that belonged on an angler fish.

Johnny stood his ground with that loud clapper monkey cacophony getting closer. He slowly lifted Brunhilda and stared down the feral, fuchsia demons, spreading his legs in a combat stance. Fixing his grip, Johnny readied his body for battle. "I am a marine! Murder my profession, protection my code. Let Lucifer send his horde for I am from the corps. Better and more powerful than a thousand of your legions. Armageddon is here, and you don't have a prayer."

"Don't need'em, tin soldier. Take him out, now!"

Johnny swiveled down and sliced several of the bears in half, coming back up, decapitating another. The old marine slipped, but regained his position and found himself on the other side of the bears with two more in pieces.

The heat took him back. The concrete floor became yellow sand, the tall shelves transformed into hot dunes in the Arabian desert. The bears pointed high powered rifles at him and made him react, slicing and dicing. Brunhilda slashed through the pink fluff as the warehouse slowly slid back into his vision. Swallowing hard, Johnny nearly fell to the floor with exhaustion as his vision filled with plastic hellions. The clapper monkeys and bears were joined by the Indians, the robots, and the dinosaurs. Above, came squadrons of flying toys from helicopters to pterodactyls.

Johnny slipped into the small alcove and landed on his back. He cried out with pain and grabbed his spine, barely able to move his legs. Trying to lift himself, his palms soaked with sweat, he groaned out with a long, pained whimper. Nothing was around to get a good grip on and all he could use was Brunhilda, but after three attempts, he knew that standing was out of the question.

"Please God," Johnny prayed.

"God is not here today, soldier."

The orange light faded as the doorway filled with toys. Big ones, small ones, all of them out to kill the marine. Their shadows fell on him like an eclipse of evil. Johnny tried one last time to stand, wanting to die standing, fighting. He cursed his aged body, his slow reflexes. Turning towards Brunhilda a tear came down his face, grabbing his sword. He held her close and said, "I tried, good Lord, please know I tried."

One last time he tried to stand. He focused all his hate, all his love, everything he had left to stand and face down this evil enemy on his feet. They might turn him into what Gaines had said, "Old man soup." But God almighty, they're going to work to earn an appetite for me!

His whole body burned, his leg leaked blood, he slammed Brunhilda into the concrete, probably chipping her blade, and grabbed her with both hands. Screaming at the top of his lungs, "COME ON!" He felt both feet on the burning ground and stood tall with all the fight he could muster. Pulling his saber, swinging her like a windmill in front of him, Johnny brought the chipped blade slowly in front of him. With sweat soaking his skin and heavy breathes, he huffed out, "Who's first?"

The voice chimed in again, "You are. You're god is dead!"

"But I am not," a dark voice said beyond the evil horde. A strong, cool, male voice. It was regal with great refinement, but had a sinister edge to it that Johnny had never heard before. The evil army parted and looked behind itself. At the opposite end of the warehouse stood a tall, white-haired man dressed in a blue trench coat. He held a royal blue scabbard with two, golden tassels. Stood in a wide stance like a sapphire samurai, his icy blue eyes leering at the army with diabolic intentions, a slim devilish smile slid across his lips.

The voice asked, "Who the hell are you?!"

"Death."