Ten Years Later
Christopher Sullivan sat impatiently in the Play Pals board room, overlooking the board of directors. Being the CEO of the company, these meetings were mandatory, and it made Sullivan hate them even more. This meeting in particular was irritating him to no end, as he was having to hear a lecture, accompanied by a slideshow of a boy named Andy Barclay, who single handedly caused the entire company to go bankrupt in the late eighties. It didn't sting any less that he was being reminded of the child, with the boy's face plastered on the screen in front of him.
"Ten years ago, Andy Barclay was given a Good Guy doll as a present for his birthday." one of the board members, a man with short hair and glasses, announced. "Following several murders, the boy claimed the doll was possessed by the soul of dead serial killer, Charles Lee Ray-" the screen flickered for a moment to show an image of Ray's face. "-also known as the Lakeshore Strangler. Two years after that, another string of murders occurred, with Barclay still claiming the doll was possessed. Due to the pressure of both incidents, the company went bankrupt, and we are just now recovering. So I have to ask, where is the wisdom in putting the Good Guy doll back on the market?"
"How do you mean?" another member, a woman with long brown hair asked. "The doll was our best selling product."
"But what if another incident occurs?" the first board member asked. "This time, with another child? There could be a public relations nightmare, and we would be shut down for good!"
Everyone in the room shifted in their seats uncomfortably, looking at Sullivan for his input.
"It does not matter what we are selling." Sullivan told everyone. "Whether it is cars, nuclear bombs, or children's toys. Consumers will buy a product, and children are like little consumers. They will buy the Good Guy dolls, whether out of nostalgia, or wanting the newest toy. And as for Andy Barclay, he is ancient history. Nobody remembers him. Nobody cares about him."
The room's lights flickered back on, and the board members stood up, preparing to leave. Mister Sullivan straightened his suit, and got up as well, when his assistant burst into the room, holding a bright yellow box. Inside the box was a doll with fiery red hair and overalls.
"Attention, everyone!" Sullivan's assistant, named Preston, announced. "May I present the first 90s Good Guy doll, fresh off the assembly line!"
The board members all clapped, as Preston gave the box to Mister Sullivan.
"Congratulations sir, for getting us back on track."
"Thank you, Preston." Sullivan smiled. "Be sure to give your wife my regards."
"My wife?" Preston blinked, and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.
"It is your anniversary, right?"
"Oh. Right!" Preston smirked sheepishly, and hurried out the room.
Preston ran out of the building, and ducked in an alley, where a blonde haired woman in a leather jacket was waiting for him.
"Alright, Miss…"
"Valentine."
"Miss Valentine." Preston stammered. "I got him the doll. Don't know why you wanted that one specifically delivered."
"Thanks hon." Valentine smiled sweetly.
"Yeah, yeah. Where's my money?" Preston demanded.
"Oh that?" Valentine smiled coldly, flicking open a nail file. "It's dead money."
Before Preston could react, Valentine swiped the razor sharp blade across his neck. The assistant gasped, bringing his hand up to clot the inevitable, but it was too late, as blood gushed out, and his body slumped against the dumpster.
"Don't spend it all at once."
Mister Sullivan returned to his penthouse suite, set the Good Guy doll box on the couch, and took a putter's club for his indoor minigolf set. After setting up a couple of the golf balls, he was just about to tap them into the hole, when he heard some rustling. Sullivan turned behind him, only to find that the yellow box on the couch was opened, with no Good Guy doll inside.
"Hello?" Sullivan said out loud, walking around the room. All of a sudden, a sea of marbles spilled across the floor, tripping Sullivan and causing him to land flat on his back. The CEO of Play Pals hissed in pain, slowly sitting up and realizing that he had dropped his golf club. He turned around to search for it, and was met by the same golf club smacking him across the face. Sullivan fell to the ground again, looking up to see who was holding the club. Attached to the weapon was a hand, almost like a baby's, and the arm was covered in a red and blue striped shirt. Christopher's eyes followed the arm, seeing the body was wearing blue overalls. The head had bright blue eyes that matched, and was covered with a main of messy, orange hair.
"Don't fuck with the Chuck!" Chucky cackled maliciously, as Sullivan's eyes widened.
"Oh my God." Sullivan gasped, and turned around to begin crawling on his stomach. If he could just reach his office phone…
He didn't get too far, as Chucky jumped on top of him and wrapped a yo yo around his throat. The killer doll pulled back, listening to the old man's strangled gasps, before the body slumped to the floor, dead.
"Just like the good old days!" Chucky relished in the murder, feeling the adrenaline course through his new body. "Nothing like a little strangulation to get the circulation going!"
Just then, the door to the penthouse slowly creaked open, and a woman in a leather jacket and blonde hair walked in.
"Hey sweetface." the woman smirked, looking down at the body of Christopher Sullivan. "Looks like I missed the party."
"Tiff?" Chucky couldn't believe his eyes. Standing before him was Tiffany Valentine, his long ago lover. "Is that you?"
"How else would you have come back?" Tiffany said casually.
"But how?" Chucky asked in disbelief. "I thought you'd be in New Jersey!"
"I read the papers." Tiffany shrugged. "It took me ten years to find you, honey."
"And getting me this body?" Chucky interrogated.
"I made sure your blood got mixed into a vat of plastic when the factory reopened." Tiffany grinned. "Then I bribed some asshole to bring you here."
"You didn't fuck him, did you?" Chucky asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Come on Chucky, you know I'd only let you touch me!" Tiffany snapped. "That's more than what you could say!"
"What do you mean?" Chucky asked.
"Pierce?" Tiffany accused, pointing her finger at the doll. "You were working on her for a while. You even killed her husband!"
"Sarah was just a fling!" Chucky rolled his eyes. "She meant nothing to me!"
"Riight." Tiffany said sarcastically.
"Look. You know you're the only one I love. Right?" Chucky insisted. Tiffany sulked for a moment, before reluctantly nodding. "Good. Now I gotta find Andy Barclay!"
"Why?" Tiffany asked. "Haven't you gone after him enough? It's like my mother always said, 'the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again'."
"You're mother didn't say that." Chucky sneered. "And Andy's my only ticket out of this body! He's the first person I revealed myself to!"
Chucky stepped over Sullivan's body, and hopped onto the Windows 98 computer, where he began looking up the records of Andy Barclay.
"Where are you, you little shit?!"