Andy stared at his knife, turning it over in his fingers. He couldn't stop thinking about the accidental death that occurred earlier that afternoon, just after seeing the Good Guy doll with Cochrane.

"You better finish packing, Barclay." Whitehurst warned. "Shelton's notorious for surprise inspections."

Andy turned around, putting his pocket knife on a blue colored binder, and seeing Whitehurst rubbing a rag on someone's uniform shoes.

"What are you doing?" Andy asked, bewildered at his room mate.

"I'm polishing Shelton's shoes, what's it look like?" Whitehurst snarked.

"Jesus, he makes you polish his shoes?"

"Oh, don't worry. I only offered out of the kindness of my heart." Whitehurst said sarcastically.

"Hey Whitehurst, did you see Cochrane with that Good Guy doll?" Andy asked, out of the blue. "While we were out practicing arms?"

"Is that what gave you that seizure?" Whitehurst cocked an eyebrow. "Seeing Cochrane take the doll that you gave to Tyler?"

"It wasn't a seizure." Andy grumbled, as he took his suitcase out from under the bed. "Besides, don't you think it's strange that the garbage man died right after?"

"It was just a freak accident." Whitehurst shrugged. "I'm sure that kind of thing happens all the time."

Whitehurst finished polishing Shelton's shoes, and before he set the pair down, he spat into the soles. Barclay looked up at him, and Whitehurst responded with a mischievous smirk.

"Lights out in a few minutes." Whitehurst warned. "I'm gonna go get washed up."

Andy nodded, and watched as Whitehurst set the shoes on the desk chair, and left their room. Barclay proceeded to pack his clothes neatly in a blue trunk in the corner, as well as place a picture of his mother and his six year old self on the desk. As he stepped back to admire the photo, Andy thought back to his mother, and how she was still in a mental asylum for telling the truth about Chucky. What was the name of the asylum?

Oh yeah, Andy thought bitterly. Lochmoor.

Andy shook his head, ridding him of the memory of his mother for the moment, and looked at the desk. His eyes fell on the blue binder, and they widened in worry, as his pocket knife was no longer there. Did Whitehurst take it on his way out?

Andy's brow furrowed in confusion. Maybe he left it in his suitcase. Barclay walked back over to his bunk and sat on the mattress, rummaging through the contents of his suitcase. In the middle of his search, Andy felt a flash of pain slice into the back of his ankle, and he instantly fell forward from the pain. Andy turned back around to see the attacker, and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Standing before him, was the Good Guy doll, holding his pocket knife.

"Hey! Long time, no see pal!" Chucky taunted.

"No, you're dead!" Andy shouted, seemingly in disbelief. He attempted to form a makeshift barricade between himself and the doll. "We killed you, twice!"

"You know what they say, you just can't keep a Good Guy down." Chucky snickered, looking around the room. Oddly enough, what seemed to catch his eye the most was a PlayPen magazine, with the title indicating the French swimsuit issue. Chucky smirked, remembering when he used to read PlayPen… that is, until he met Tiffany.

"Andy... how you've grown."

"You're not going to kill me, you need me." Andy tried baiting the doll. "You need to transfer your soul into my body-"

"Wrong again, dumbass!" Chucky sneered. "This time, I've got some fresh meat lined up, and I'm not going to let you spoil it, not this time!"

Andy stared at Chucky for a moment, dumbfounded at who it could be, when the realization hit him.

"Tyler."

"Fuck yeah." Chucky laughed. "Just think: Chucky's gonna be a bro!"

"I'm not gonna let you get away with this." Andy vowed, as Chucky cackled. His eyes darted around, landing on Shelton's shoes. "I'm not going to let you near that kid."

"Oh yeah, what're you gonna do?" Chucky sneered. "You need your slut of a mother and Mikey to carry your ass! You even needed Kyle to bail you out!"

Andy's anger flared, and he grabbed the shoes and threw them at Chucky, who simply batted them aside.

"Seriously? Shoes?" Chucky laughed. "What the fuck was that supposed to do-"

Andy rushed forward, grabbing the doll by the throat and slamming him to the floor. Barclay then formed his hand into a fist, and repeatedly punched Chucky in the face, trying to desperately shatter the plastic head.

"BARCLAY!"

Andy stopped, fist still raised, and looked in the doorway, seeing Shelton looking down at him.

"Missing your mommy, so you snuck in some contraband?" Shelton sneered, before picking up his shoes. "What the fuck is this?!"

"I'm sorry about your shoes." Andy quickly said. "I'll polish it. Just give me back the doll."

"No, you listen to me!" Shelton ordered. "You can tell Whitehurst he's off the hook. I've got a new bitch now. And clean up this damn mess, you got five demerits."

"What about the doll?" Andy pleaded, as Shelton began leaving.

"It's contraband, Barclay." Shelton repeated. "But hey, my kid sister's birthday is coming up. I think she'll love it, huh?"

Brett waved the doll's hand at Barclay, and left the room. Out of the corner of Andy's eye, he could see Chucky smirk and wink at him.

Later that evening, close to midnight, Andy crept out of his and Whitehurst's room, armed with his pocket knife. Stealthily, Barclay made his way over towards Shelton's private quarters, and cracked the door open. The Lieutenant Colonel was fast asleep, snoring loudly, despite having left his personalized computer booted up and paused on Doom II.

Andy's eyes scanned the poorly lit room, looking for a tuft of red hair, or a blue cloth sleeve. Nothing caught his eye, except for a rack of knives. Curious, Andy walked over to the board, and noticed that a large hunting knife was missing.

"Holy shit." Andy gasped, making sure he was speaking softly. Barclay quickly looked under Shelton's bed, expecting Chucky to be there, but found nothing except dust bunnies.

"Hey, Andy!"

Barclay turned around, seeing Chucky's face inches from his own. In his hand was Shelton's hunting knife.

"Jesus!"

Andy stumbled forward, falling on top of Shelton. Brett instantly woke up, and pushed the cadet off of him.

"What the fuck, Barclay?!" Shelton seethed with rage. "What the fuck are you doing in my room?!"

Andy didn't listen, and attempted to rush at Chucky, who evaded Brett's eyesight and ran out of the room.

"Oh no you don't!" Shelton shouted, grabbing Barclay by the throat and forcing him against the wall. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"The doll-"

Shelton looked around his room, seeing that nothing was there.

"Where's the doll Barclay?" Shelton yelled. "Did you take it?"

"No!"

"Well, somebody stole it." Shelton narrowed his eyes. "It didn't just stand up and walk away."

Barclay resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because that's exactly what happened.

At that moment, Ellis walked into the room.

"What's going on?"

"Somebody stole the doll I was going to give to my little sister." Shelton feigned being upset. "So we're going to figure out who did it."

Andy, Whitehurst, and the rest of the men in their platoon found themselves walking in a circle in the cold, dark rain, all while holding onto their rifles.

"C'mon, ladies!" Brett smirked. "Get those weapons up!"

Just then, Colonel Cochran walked outside, getting an eyeful of the platoon walking in a circle.

"What's this about, Shelton?" Cochrane asked, as Brett and Ellis saluted the colonel. "It's zero dark thirty."

"I'm trying to weed out a thief, Colonel." Shelton told him. "You said yourself, integrity is one of the best values a soldier can have."

Cochrane looked at the circle, then shrugged.

"Alright, make your point. But wrap it up quick." Cochrane told Brett. "I want these boys back inside by 0100."

Once Cochrane left, Shelton turned back to Ellis.

"Alright, we got half an hour." Brett grumbled. "Let's make it count."

The platoon continued walking around in a circle, with their rifles held high above their heads. Just as Barclay began walking faster, he felt himself get kicked in the back of the legs, and face planted onto the dirty pavement.

"You're dead, new boy."

Andy scowled, but nevertheless, got back up and ran back to his place in front of Whitehurst.

A few of the cadets were getting tired of simply marching, and began singing a cadence.

"Down by the river!" (Down by the river!)

"We took a little wa-alk!" (We took a little wa-alk!)

"Ran into China!" (Ran into China!)

"And we had a little ta-alk!" (We had a little ta-alk!)

"We didn't like their attitude!" (We didn't like their attitude!)

"We didn't like the way they talked!" (We didn't like the way they talked!)

"We pushed 'em (hey!), we shoved 'em (hey!), we threw em in the river!" (Threw em in the river!)

"And laughed as they dro-owned!" (And laughed as they dro-owned!)

"We don't need no commies!" (We don't need no commies!)

"Hanging, hanging, hanging around!" (Hanging, hanging, hanging around!)

"NO!" Shelton yelled. "Shut the fuck up! You will not sing cadence right now!"

Chucky crept into Tyler's room, quickly scurrying over to his bunk and pulling back the blanket to find the boy wasn't there. Instead, there was a paper note, with a little bit of writing on it.

Dear Charles.

YOu're it!

Come and Find me

Your best Friend

TYLer

Chucky scowled, walking out of the hallway. As he pulled out his hunting knife, Tyler darted around a corner.

"Charles!" the boy giggled. "Come and find me!"

"God dammit!" the doll seethed, but proceeded to follow the kid.

"PLATOON!" Ellis yelled at the circle of cadets, pumping his fist up and down. "Double time!"

The circle proceeded to begin running in a circle, while keeping their rifles raised above their heads.

"Get those knees up, ladies!"

"Whitehurst, where do the kids sleep?" Andy whispered to his room mate.

"By the portables, why?"

"We're in combat boots, not ballet slippers!" Ellis yelled. "C'mon, move!"

Andy ducked out of the circle and began running towards the building Whitehurst mentioned, despite his protests. Just as he got closer to the building, Shelton jumped out from behind a corner, startling him.

"Where's your battle buddy, Barclay?" Shelton mocked, punching the kid in the stomach. Andy reeled, doubling over in pain, before straightening back up.

"You bastard!" Andy drew his fist back and socked Brett right in the face. It was only after Shelton turned back to him, holding his jaw, did Andy realize he just did.

"That's one Hell of a punch, Barclay. You think you're a badass now?" Brett smirked, spinning the cadet around to rejoin the circle. "Now let's see how tough you really are."

Chucky followed Tyler into the Colonel's office, looking around to see the boy was hiding.

"Tyler, come out, come out, wherever you are!" Chucky chanted, walking around the room. "Ollie Ollie oxen free! Get out here, you little son of a bitch!"

Suddenly, the doll spied a closet, and wearing a cheshire grin, he turned the knob, finding Tyler, crouched under the coats.

"There you are…"

Andy and Whitehurst stood side by side, as the platoon was forced to do eight count push ups. As they kept going back up and down, Whitehurst began speaking to his room mate again.

"Alright Barclay, you got me curious. What are you trying to prove?" Whitehurst whispered, as he raised his rifle above his head, before putting it back down.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Oh come on, tell me!"

"Okay." Andy groaned. "The doll's alive, and he's after Tyler."

"You're right." Whitehurst scoffed. "I don't believe you."

"I just hope he can take care of himself."

De Silva and her best friend Ivers crept into Colonel Cochrane's quarters, flashlights in hand.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Ivers groaned.

"Just guard the door!" De Silva commanded, as she approached the file cabinet and began rifling through its contents.

"You know, I don't know what you see in that guy anyway." Ivers snarked, walking over to her friend.

"He's different from everyone else." De Silva shrugged, pulling out Andy Barclay's file. "And he's kinda cute."

De Silva flipped through pieces of the file, coming across Andy's psychiatric report, and how it detailed he was put in a foster home at the age of six.

"Foster homes." De Silva commented sadly. "No wonder he's so quiet."

De Silva turned the paper over, finding a newspaper clipping underneath, reading "Boy Blames Murders On 'Killer Doll'." Right next to the header was a picture of a Good Guy doll.

"And that must be way he was spooked earlier when we were practicing our arms."

Suddenly, De Silva and Ivers turned around, hearing some type of crash.

"What the Hell was that?"

The two approached the closet, the area where the sound originated, and slowly opened the door, finding Tyler holding onto the Good Guy doll that Shelton was looking for. The two women began laughing hysterically, as Tyler stood up.

"So you took the doll?" De Silva smirked. "Shelton will have you court martialled if he finds out."

"We were playing hide and seek!" Tyler protested. "What were you guys doing?"

"We couldn't sleep!" Ivers snickered, as she took the doll, much to Tyler's annoyance.

"Hey, give him back!"

"Oh, he's so cute!"

"Will you both shut up!" De Silva hissed at her friend. "Guard the door!"

"Yes, sir!" Ivers did a mock salute, and stood next to the door, while De Silva took the Good Guy.

"So what's his name?"

"Ask him yourself." Tyler retorted.

"Okay." De Silva rolled her eyes. "What's your name, little guy?"

"Hi, my name's Chucky, and I'm your friend till the end! Hi dee ho! Ha ha ha!" the doll's programmed voice belched out, causing De Silva to laugh hysterically.

"His real name is Charles Lee Ray."

"Oh, that so?" De Silva grinned, before turning back to Ivers. "Give me your lipstick."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

De Silva took her friend's lipstick, and despite Tyler telling them desperately to stop, she began smearing the doll's mouth with the makeup.

"Oh shit, someone's coming!" Ivers called out, right as a door slammed.

"C'mon, let's go!" De Silva grabbed Tyler by the arm and ran out with Ivers, leaving the doll on the desk.

Once the three cadets were gone, Chucky tried wiping the lipstick off his face, but it only made the smear worse.

"This means war." the doll vowed.

Colonel Cochrane strolled into his office, already getting suspicious that the door was wide open. The Colonel frowned, flipping the lights on, and saw a Good Guy doll laying on his desk. That only soured his mood further, as he specifically remembered pitching the doll in the dumpster earlier today.

"What the Hell?" Cochrane said to himself, picking up the doll and seeing that lipstick was smudged all over his face. Disgusted, the Colonel through him in the nearby waste basket.

"I like to be hugged!"

Cochrane whirled back around, seeing the waste basket tipped over, but no doll in it. The Colonel's eyes widened, and he could almost feel his heart rate rapidly increasing.

All of a sudden, the doll jumped out from behind his desk, holding a large hunting knife, and letting loose a murderous cry. Cochrane's eyes bulged, and he grabbed his chest, feeling his heart seize up. He's seen crazy things before, but this… it was too much for him.

The whole time, Chucky watched, as the old man stumbled around from his heart attack.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!" the doll said in annoyance.

Cochrane continued to stumble around, until he finally backed up into a glass case of a re-enacted World War II battle. As his weight was pressed onto the case, the glass shattered, and his body fell to the floor, with many pieces stabbing into his skin. Cochrane's eyes finally rolled back into his head, and his heart gave out from too much stress.

As EMTs wheeled Cochrane's body out on a stretcher, nearly every cadet at Kent watched from their windows. Meanwhile, Shelton, Ellis, Barclay, and Whitehurst were all outside with the rest of their platoon, as well as members of Cochrane's family.

"The man lives through two tours of Nam, and suddenly drops dead." Shelton muttered in disbelief. "It doesn't make sense."

Andy nodded, hearing every word Brett had said. Unfortunately, he had a damn good idea what happened to the Colonel.

Unbeknownst to Barclay, someone else was thinking the same thing. Towards the back of the platoon, De Silva and Ivers watched the ambulance drive off with Cochrane's body. As the sirens flashed, De Silva thought back to the newspaper clipping of Andy, and how he blamed the murders on a killer doll.

Maybe he was telling the truth. De Silva thought grimly, as the platoon was sent back to their rooms for the night.