Andy Barclay sat at the back of the bus, as the vehicle slowly pulled up the front gate. The now sixteen year old looked at the sign, seeing it read Kent Military Academy, in big bold letters. Given how the bus ride was, one would be forgiven to confuse this as a trip to prison.

Following several blurred minutes, Andy found himself in an office, being talked to by the head of the Academy, an older man named Colonel Cochran.

"Says here you were kicked out of every foster home you were in for the past eight years." Cochran read off, sifting through the papers of Andy's file. "Care to tell me why?"

"Guess I have trouble adapting to new environments." Andy muttered.

"I can read, Barclay." Cochran snapped. "How come your mother never took care of you?"

"She's under special care." Andy said truthfully.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Cochran asked. "I can read."

The Colonel read through the rest of Andy's file, stopping when he noticed a newspaper clipping of a young boy with a Good Guy doll. The headline above the photo read "Boy Blames Killer Doll!".

"Look Barclay, I'm willing to cut you some slack, as you've had a rough life." Cochran told the teenager. "But no more nonsense about killer dolls. When I was your age, I put away such childish notions. Now at Kent, we take boys, and we turn them into men."

Andy nodded, and he was directed to the academy's barber to get his mane of hair trimmed.

Barclay walked into a room looking similar to a barbershop, run by a man calling himself Sergeant Botnick, who was just finishing buzzing off a younger African American kid's hair.

"Presto, you're bald." Botnick snickered. The boy took a seat near the barber's chair, and looked up at Andy.

"Hi, I'm Tyler!" the boy exclaimed.

"Andy." Barclay replied, before sitting down in the barber's chair.

"Well, look at that mullet on you!" Botnick sneered. "You better be ready to kiss it goodbye. Did you know it was the Romans who first cut off all their hair?"

"No sir."

"Ever wonder why?"

"Why sir?"

"So their enemies wouldn't grab them from behind and slit their throats." Botnick answered by sadistically grabbing Andy's hair, pulling him back, and pretending to cut his throat with a pair of scissors.

While Sergeant Botnick was busy shaving off Andy's hair, the teenager's eyes wandered around the room, before focusing on the television.

"Oh no! I don't have any friends!"

Andy's eyes widened, recognizing that commercial. With a chill down his spine, he realized the commercial was for Good Guy dolls, and he began having flashbacks to when he was a little boy, and was terrorized by the killer doll known as Chucky.

Unbeknownst to Andy, Tyler was watching the commercial as well.

"Wow, a Good Guy!" Tyler said happily. Andy couldn't hear the boy, as he heard a roaring in his ears, followed by the cackling of a certain doll.

"Give me the boy, and I'll let you live, you hear me?!"

"Ade Due Damballa, give me the power I beg of you!"

"You little shit, do you know what you've done? It's too late! I've spent too much time in this body! I'M FUCKING TRAPPED IN HERE!"

Andy gasped, stumbling out of the barber's chair. Had he not shot his arms out to break his fall, he would have chipped several of his teeth.

"Barclay, what the Hell is the matter with you?" Botnick snarled. "Get back in the seat, and hold still!"

"Sorry sir!"

Andy quickly got back into the barber's chair, and Botnick finished shaving his head.

"Presto, you're bald!"

Andy got out of the chair, where he saw Tyler laughing.

"What?" Andy asked, confused.

"You look like a free range nutsack!"

Tyler kept laughing, and Andy scoffed, grabbing his suitcase and heading over to his designated room.

Andy entered his room, which looked like a college dorm, and set his suitcase on the top bunk. Before he could do anything else, Barclay heard a rattling of a door, and turned around to look at the closet. Something, or someone, bumped into the door again, causing it to shake, causing Barclay to jump in surprise. What if Chucky had found him?

Taking no chances, Andy pulled out a small pocket knife from his jeans, eyeing it carefully. The knife had been a gift from his old foster sister Kyle, shortly after they had killed Chucky by blowing up his head with an air hose. Kyle… he missed her, but they had to part ways and be with different foster families. He never forgot one of the most important pieces of advice she told him:

"Whenever you get sent away, it just makes you stronger, because it reminds you the only one you can count on is yourself."

Andy tore his eyes away from the pocket knife and advanced on the closet, prying the door open to find…

A teenage boy, around his age, falls out of the closet, tied up and gagged. Barclay quickly knelt down and ripped the gag out, to hear the kid shouting obscenities.

"Bastards!" the teen yelled, seething in anger. "Fucking bastards!"

"Who did this to you?" Andy asked, while cutting the rope that tied his wrists and ankles.

"Shelton." the other boy muttered, reaching up and straightening his glasses. "He and his cronies jumped me and shoved me in there."

"I'm Andy, by the way." Andy said, sticking out his hand as a gesture of friendship.

"Who?" the kid with glasses asked. "Shelton prides himself in individuality."

"Oh, right." Andy corrected himself. "Barclay then."

"Whitehurst." the other boy reciprocated. "Harold Whitehurst, officially."

"So who's this Shelton?"

"You really are new here, aren't you?" Whitehurst scoffed. "Cadet Lieutenant Colonel Brett C. Shelton. Acts like he's God around here, and his word is gospel. Don't expect any mercy from him. You might as well be walking into Hell."

Andy, Whitehurst, Tyler, and the rest of the platoon stood at attention in front of the academy, where they all wore the same matching uniforms and caps. One of the men had his back turned towards them, while another approached. Andy just barely caught a glimpse of the name tape on his jacket saying "Shelton, B".

"All present and accounted for."

"Thank you Major Ellis."

Shelton and Ellis saluted each other, as Brett walked along the line of cadets, surveying the faces of everyone. Despite staring right at him, Tyler focused his eyes straight ahead, knowing what would happen if he let his eyes wander. Shelton smirked, and walked down the line, observing each cadet's shoes. Or rather, the position of their feet. Heels together, toes facing outward. Good.

Brett eventually made it to Andy, and realizing he was a new recruit, a shit eating grin was plastered on his face.

"You're the new boy, huh?" Shelton chuckled.

"Yeah." Barclay answered, trying, but failing, to look straight ahead.

"How ya doin'?"

"Alright."

Shelton smirked, and stepped closer.

"Who told you that you can look at me?" Shelton asked. When Barclay didn't answer, he said, more loudly, "What the Hell are you staring at?!"

"Nothing!" Andy stammered out.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Shelton?"

"That's Lieutenant Colonel Shelton to you, dumbass!" Shelton yelled.

"Lieutenant Colonel Shelton."

"No, it's 'Lieutenant Colonel Shelton, sir'."

"Lieutenant Colonel Shelton, sir." Andy replied, firmly.

"What's your name, you clown?"

"Barclay." Andy answered, but quickly added, "Sir."

"Louder."

"Sir!"

"Louder."

"Sir!"

"Louder!"

"SIR!"

Brett grinned again, and backed up a couple steps.

"That's a lot better, new boy." Shelton smirked. "Fresh meat for the grinder. Finger lickin' good."

Brett walked over to Whitehurst, and began brushing dust off his uniform.

"Shit, Whitehurst. You are without a doubt, the most pathetic thing I have ever seen!" Shelton yelled, walking around the teen. "Wouldn't you agree?"

When Whitehurst didn't respond right away, Shelton got up in his face.

"I asked you a question, nerd!"

"No sir, I don't agree sir!" Whitehurst yelled.

"Are you disrespecting me, clown?!"

"You asshole."

Shelton, and Barclay, turned their heads, seeing the one who just spoke was a woman with long brown hair.

"What. The Hell. Did you just say?" Brett asked, as he walked over to the woman.

"I said 'you asshole', sir!" the female recruit said, loud and proud. The whole time, Andy stared at her, dumbfounded that someone was standing up to Shelton.

"Think you're pretty funny, do you De Silva." Shelton muttered.

"Yes I do, sir." De Silva replied, keeping her eyes staring ahead, but also quirking her lips up in a smirk.

"Cool." Shelton sneered. "Half left, face! Only De Silva!"

De Silva shifted her body slightly to the left, then repositioned her feet.

"Front leaning rest position, move!"

De Silva crouched down with her hands on the pavement, before kicking her legs behind her to get into the pushup position.

"In cadence!" Shelton ordered.

"In cadence!" De Silva repeated.

"Exercise… one, two three, one!" Shelton rattled off, and De Silva repeated, going halfway down, and coming back up.

"Lower De Silva!" Shelton growled. "Go all the way down!"

De Silva ignored the Lieutenant Colonel, and kept going halfway down.

"Zero, zero, zero!" Shelton snarled. "The more time you waste time not doing an actual pushup, the longer we'll be out here!"

De Silva finally relented, and began going all the way down until her chest touched the ground. As she kept counting up to three on repeat, Shelton addressed the rest of the platoon.

"Now all you females seem to think that because you're more delicate, you deserve special treatment." Shelton spoke loudly. "Well, you can put that fairytale bullshit to bed. The same rules apply to everyone equally. Only the fittest survive! De Silva, recover!"

De Silva straightened back into the pushup position, before bringing her legs up to her knees and pushing herself back up without using her arms. Right before she stared straight ahead, she looked back at Andy, giving him a sly smile and a wink. For his part, Barclay smirked to himself, already liking the girl.

"Barclay! Eyes forward!"

Andy snapped his eyes back to the front, seeing Shelton approaching him again.

"Thumb and forefinger together guy!" Brett shouted at him. "Press them to your sides, or so help me God, I will rip your thumbs off myself and glue them to your thighs!"

Andy gulped, and did what he was told.

"We will be going to chow soon. Once we are done, we will be going down range!" Shelton yelled. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the platoon chanted.

"Alright, cadets. Chow hall formation!"

The entire platoon repeated the chant, and faced left.

"Forward, march! Left. Left. Left, right, left."

The platoon began marching to the chow hall, where they began to sing a cadence.

"Come on over! (Come on over!)

The war's not over! (The war's not over!)

Lay your weapon next to mine, (Lay your weapon next to mine)

And we'll shoot 'em down the line! (And we'll shoot 'em down the line)"

A/N: So, I'm trying to really get into Andy's head with the whole PTSD angle. I think that's what they were trying to do in the movie, and I want to flesh that idea out even more.

Also, most of Shelton's added dialogue and insults are actual things said from drill sergeants. That line about ripping off a guy's fingers and gluing them to his thighs, a drill sergeant screamed that at some right behind me.

Oh yeah, and the military cadences are real too. I didn't write the full versions in here, because that would take too long. The "Come On Over" cadence alone has ten verses to it, and I haven't even heard all of them. But, I am considering making a chapter at the very end that has the full written versions. That, or just look them up on Youtube.