Chucky was currently drinking a beer while smoking a cigarette with a sigh. Of all the god damned work he had to do to not only get Tiffany's doll body from the cops, and then stitch her back to- fucking- gether, and all for SHIT. He heard a rapping on his door and immediately knew who it was. "Son of a bitch..." he muttered. He really wasn't in the mood for Damien right now. But of course, he knew the little shit wouldn't leave him alone, unless he answered.

Chucky slowly stood up, and sighed, opening the door, Cigarette in hand. He was met with a guy with long black hair, (Longer than his own) blue eyes, and many piercings and tattoos. "Hey, Chucky!" he grinned.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Chucky cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway.

"Come on. Let me in. I'll catch my death out here." Damien begged, pretending to shiver.

"Promises, promises." Chucky said, actually hoping the fucker would get pneumonia and die a painful death. But, of course, Chucky let the guy in. To at least warm his ass up so he could kick him out again.

"Whoa. Whoo! Hey, how was your day?" Damien asked, taking off his shirt so it could dry out. Chucky shrugged. "Same old, same old." He took a chug from his beer, knowing he'd need a lot of drinks for this. Then Damien pulled out a photo.

"Oh, hey, check it out." He held up the photograph

"What?" Chucky looked up from his beer.

"Check it out." Damien handed Chucky the photo. On it was a man, covered in blood. It looked like Damien had finally killed someone. Yeahhhh right. Chucky just started laughing. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! O-oh my fucking god!" He leaned against the wall. Damien looked confused. Chucky turned back to him.

"I recognize the nail polish, asshole!" He pointed at the 'victim's hand'. Damien had put make-up on, and taken a photo of it, to make it look like he'd killed someone.

"Shit." Damien looked at his nails. "You never really actually killed anybody, did you, you pathetic cunt?" Chucky threw the picture. Damien should have known by now, Chucky knew what a kill was, and what a kill was not.

"Come on, Chucky. I'm working up to it." Damien whined, trying to grab the picture. Ever since Eddie had left to find a new apartment for the three of them, (Chucky, Tiffany, and Eddie), Damien had been all over Chucky, trying to goad Chucky into making Damien the new partner in crime. And he thought EDDIE had been annoying. Eddie was like a summer breeze compared to Damien.

Chucky listened to Damien whine and complain about his picture, before turning around, where he'd tried to tried to bring the doll back to life- only to freeze. The doll wasn't there. Tiff wasn't there. All there was, was a drag mark in the sand. She had gotten up. And was somewhere around here. He looked around, eyes wide, and lips grinning. Where was sh- Then he heard Damien. Perfect bait.

"Aw, man. You know, it took me ten hours to make that thing." Damien continued to complain. "Damien." Chucky said with a smile. "Yeah?" Damien replied, picking the picture up.
"Could you do me a favor... And see if my lighter is under the sofa there?" Chucky pointed at his sofa. Hey, it was a perfect hiding spot for Tiff. Maybe she could finish the asshole before he did. Damien nodded, crawling over to the couch, and reaching under it.

Chucky watched with a malicious little smirk, just waiting for Tiffany to strike.

Damien looked around under the sofa, trying to find the lighter. "There's nothing under here." Then suddenly- something fell on his face. A small snake. Chucky just chuckled, lifting the snake.

"Tilly. How did you get out?" he sat the snake back in her little cage, while Damien shuddered and made a face behind his back. Once more, Chucky looked around for the doll, almost getting frustrated. 'Come on Tiff, where the hell are you?' he thought to himself.

"Hey, Chucky, wanna become 'amis pour la vie'?" Damien grinned.

Slowly, Chucky turned, giving the most weird expression. "Excuse me?"

"It means "friends for life"!"

"I KNOW what it means dipshit." Chucky rolled his eyes.

"then make me your partner! Eddie left, dude! He's not coming back!" Damien rolled his eyes.

"No." The Lakeshore Strangler just ignored him now.

"Come on Chucky! Don't you think you've kept me waiting long enough?" Damien whined, plopping onto his bed.

"Nope." Chucky finally sat on his sofa, sighing with frustration, before turning his head and seeing- the doll sitting right next to him. "Ahhhh!" He gulped in surprise. Damien stood up. What? What is it?" He questioned. He sat beside Chucky, staring at the doll, before picking it up.

The doll made a clicking sound, and with a childish, but woman-like sounding voice, said a saying. "Hi! I'm Tiffany! Wanna play?"

" Where the hell did you get this thing?" Damien said in disgust, looking the doll over. "Got her from the cops." Chucky shrugged, making sure Damien didn't somehow break the doll. "She's the actual doll from those murders. I stitched her together." Chucky boasted.

"You got to be kidding me." Damien said, rolling his eyes. "No, I'm not fucking kidding you. Why the hell would I kid you?" Chucky glared, crossing his arms. He thought Damien would at least be interested.

"I knew you were obsessed, but...Tiffany? She's so '80s." Damien said, distaste in his voice. "I'm not ob-" But Damien didn't let Chucky finish.

"She isn't even scary." Damien rolled his eyes.

'Obviously you haven't seen her when she wants you to do the dishes..." Chucky thought to himself. "Yes, she is." He argued.

"No, she's not." Damien replied, before turning to the doll. "How the hell could this thing be as badass as your girlfriend?" He rolled his eyes, tossing the doll to the side.

"All right. So, I was wrong." Chucky said, watching the doll. He swore it blinked. Then he got an idea, and stood up, walking to the kitchen.

"I thought she'd make an... interesting weapon." He dug into the knife drawer, and found what he was looking for. He walked to the doorway, seeing Damien looking at the "precious" photo.

"Damien?"

The black haired boy looked up. "Huh?"

Chucky held his red blade in his hand, twirling it in his fingers, making sure not to get cut. "You wanna play?"

Damien gave a small gulp seeing the knife. "OK..."