Chicago Witch Trials, Part VI: American Horror Toy Story

The doll tossed Prez and Juniper away and then floated to the ground, hands clasped behind his back. “Ah, Raelyn,” he chuckled, pretending to inhale deeply. He didn’t need to breathe after all, as both a ghost and a doll. “You must be truly desperate.”

“Andrew,” Juniper snarled with an uncharacteristically enraged expression. “What is she thinking?”

Andrew shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said, popping his neck. Cracks formed in the plastic that were quickly mended by ghostly blue whisps of energy. “Don’t care. Haven’t gotten playtime since Vietnam.” He threw his head back and called out, “SO LET’S PLAY!”

Prez doubled forward, grabbing at his head as Andrew’s words echoed through the entire mall complex. Blue energy flowed from the doll’s feet and into the floor, illuminated the space between the tiles. For a moment Prez, Juniper, and Armando found themselves in a giant spider’s web. Yet the light faded just as quickly. Like the thunder that followed lightning, that’s when the rumbling began. Prez hurried over to retrieve Harpe, drawing the blade free from the floor.

Welcome back, Dog Boy, the weapon whispered in his head. You missed a bit-

“Later,” Prez hissed, though he was trouble hearing himself over the rumbling. “Get big. Quick.”

Size doesn’t always matter, Kennedy-

“HARPE!”

Fine, fine.

The sword entered Giant-Butcher-Knife Mode (requiring Prez to wield it with both hands) just as the rumbling reached its peak, making Prez’s teeth chatter. He couldn’t even hear the gunfire coming from Juniper’s gun as she opened fire on Andrew. The doll danced through the air, moving like a particularly slippery fish through water. Even so, some of her bullets did chip off sections of his plastic body. Yet the ghostly energy mended the damage near as quickly. Prez frowned, his confusion only growing worse. Did this ghost belong to the other necro? The old lady? Then why was she betraying Scary Gun Lady?

Prez, Harpe said helpfully, A LOT of incoming to your rear.

Prez turned and found himself staring down the self-checkout aisle. You can’t be serious, he thought as toy monster trucks and train sets carrying toy soldiers, barbies, teddy bears, Prisma Trooper toys, and dinosaurs barreled down the aisle. Some of the bigger toys-like the thirty-dollar giant teddy bears-were carrying Nerf guns. One of the bears aimed it at Prez and blasted darts at him. Except these were reinforced with ghostly energy. Prez just barely managed to swing Harpe up to intercept the darts, but the impact sent him flying backwards and slamming into the far wall. “Oof!”

Prez’s body still ached from taking Juniper’s grenade to the face. Cerberus whined in his head, pleading to be allowed to help, to at least undo some of the damage. Prez shoved the dog back down. Sweat trickle across brow and down his face as he struggled to his feet. The rumbling was continuing. Juniper had turned her attention away from Andrew. She summoned a small platoon of white-blue soldiers. Together they formed a line and opened fire on the wave of toys. Bullets clanged against Nerf darts, and a few well-placed grenades scattered plastic limbs and stuffing through the air. Yet the waves of toys continued, one after another.

“Y-You okay, a-amigo?” A large, yet manicured hand touched Prez’s arm. It was the bleeding man. He’d dragged himself over to check on Prez. His face was pale and drenched in cold sweat. Even so he gave a big, sunny smile once he saw he’d gained Prez’s attention. “Hola. I am Armando Montana De-” He was cut off by a harsh cough that left bloody spittle on his chin. “Eh, j-just Armando for today.”

“Just call me Prez.” Prez frowned at him. “Wait a minute…” Memories from several lazy Sundays by the big TV resurfaced. “Gramps loved your movies.”

“Ah. Then he had good taste.”

“So stupid, they’re cool, or something.”

“…Ah. Well…” Armando shrugged painfully. “A fan is a fan.” He glanced past Prez. “My wife is occupied. It-” He winced. “It is up to you to stop that monstro.” Prez followed his gaze. Andrew was floating up by the high ceiling. A checkerboard floated by his lap, with him moving the pieces. Prez squinted. It wasn’t just covered in normal checker pieces, but the Chinese variant, chess pieces, and even a random log from a Jenga set. As Prez watched, Andrew flicked the Jenga piece over-

A waterfall of bouncy balls smashed through the ceiling directly over Juniper and her soldiers. One of her men grabbed her by the arm and hurled her sideways, out of the balls’ range. That left him and the others to take the brunt of the impact. Despite being ghosts, their bodies made sounds akin to meat being pounded by hammers. Big, bouncy hammers. Some of the bouncy balls hit the floor directly, making craters. With the soldiers buried under them, the toys divided into two parties (boy and girl toys respectively) and swarmed around the balls. The girl toys went after Juniper while the boy toys set their sights on Prez and Armando. All the while Andrew grinned ear to ear, moving more pieces across the board.

“Stay behind me,” Prez growled at Armando.

“Eh, sure,” the man replied, “but n-now might be a good time to go lobo again!”

In Prez’s head, Cerberus whined in agreement.

Prez grit his teeth, feeling the malformed fangs in the back of his mouth cut into his cheeks. Scarlet fur rippled across his body, the bones of his feet broke and stretched, and his muscles pushed up against his skin, nearly tearing it…And then he yanked on the leash. Cerberus howled in his mind, enraged. In answer, Prez snarled, voice distorted by the unfinished transformation, “You’re my bitch now. Not the other way around.”

With the reinforced muscles in his arms, he swung Harpe wide. The giant butcher knife rippled and then released a wave of blue energy. The incoming toys broke apart, as if crashing against an invisible wall. With their attack momentarily stalled, Prez leapt straight up.

Towards Andrew.

The doll kicked the board into his hands and blocked Harpe with it. Prez pushed down will all his canine-enhanced strength, but Andrew’s board refused to be cut. Also, the pieces decorating it had remained locked in place. Some of them glowed dark blue, others bright white. Andrew peeked over the board at Prez. “You look like a Red, but you hit like a Blue. Who are you trying to be? Mr. Purple?”

Abruptly, two of the chess pieces shot from the board and impaled themselves into Prez’s chest. “GAH!”

His strength on Harpe wavered.

Three more pieces shot out. Two of them swerved around and hit him on either side, while the third buried into his stomach. Andrew’s voice raped its way into Prez’s head, momentarily blocking out Cerberus constant yapping, “Stupid mutt. This is MY game! You think you've been to Hell? You have no idea-"

Crack!

The board in Andrew’s hands gave in, cut in half by Harpe. He flew back, eyes wide, just barely avoiding being similarly cut through by the blade. “NO!” he howled, looking around wildly as Prez fell forward. “No, no, no, no, no!”

He flipped upside down and pointed a finger.

“YOU!”

His voice echoed through the building. Only then did Prez notice that the rumbling had stopped. All of the toys had gone still. Inanimate once more. He turned in the direction that Andrew was pointing. The older necro was approaching, her book in hand. Its pages were pulsing, sucking in the air.

“NO!” Andrew screamed. He started swimming away, but it was no use. He was being pulled in towards the book as if by an invisible current. “I was just having fun! I did everything you said, too! You can’t punish me for that! No fair! No fair!”

He reached out towards Prez, doll eyes wide, beseeching.

“Please, help-!”

He was cut off by a bullet between the eyes. His doll body shattered, and the thing inside was fully absorbed into Raelyn’s grimoire. And then all was silent.

And then Juniper stepped up and pressed the barrel of a gun to Prez’ temple, all while aiming another at Raelyn. “Traitor,” she said, her entire body trembling with rage and power. Her clothes and body armor were shredded messes. The Barbies, apparently, liked to play rough. Her soldiers were dragging their half-crushed bodies out from under the (now normally weighted) small mountain of bouncy balls. The ones who could still use their arms aimed their own guns at Prez, though not at Raelyn.

“Okay,” the old witch sighed. “That’s enough.”

“You let Andrew out,” Juniper hissed.

“Hold that thought.” Realyn went over to kneel by Armando’s side. He was sitting up against the nearest wall, hand resting over his stomach. This time when he tried to smile he didn’t succeed.

“Hola, Mama,” he wheezed painfully. “Oh…this? Heh. ‘Tis but a…eh…”

Raelyn touched his cheek just in time to catch the tear that trickled from his eye.

“I…wanna see…Jenna,” he whimpered, very much sounding like a small, terrified boy.

“She’d call you an idiot, y’know,” Raelyn chuckled sadly, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Si…But I’m her idiot.” His eyes managed to find Juniper’s face. “…And yours.”

Juniper’s mask of fury cracked just enough to let a single tear fall through.

NOW! Harpe cried. The sword became the size of a regular butcher knife in milliseconds and despite his fatigue, Prez lurched back, avoiding Juniper’s bullet. He got the blue knife up to her throat and pressed it against her jugular, just enough to make her bleed. The soldiers screamed at him, but none took the shot. He’d purposely stepped back behind her, using their master as a shield. His ears twitched, listening in for any ghosts on standby, invisible. Even if one of them got him, Prez gave Harpe one last command to ram itself through this blue bitch’s skull the instant he died, to which the sword begrudgingly agreed.

“OH, PLEASE, THAT IS ENOUGH!” Raelyn snapped. She gestured with her closed grimoire to Armando. “The whole point of Andrew was to give you two idiots a common enemy. Since that didn’t work, now look at this man. He is dying. And he most definitely will if the pair of you don’t stop acting like children.”

“Am not!” Prez and Juniper snapped back in unison.

“She shot me!” he snarled.

“He’s a Red,” she sneered. “Likely one of Irma’s thralls.”

“Fuck you,” he said at once. “And that murdering bitch. I promised Gramps I’d find her, make her pay. Sure, it’s been a while since I made the promise, but intend to keep it.”

Juniper scoffed, clearly not believing him. In contrast, Raelyn said, “Then prove there can be a good Red after all, Mr. Lincoln. Release my daughter and come same this man.”

“Even if I could,” Prez said, nodded past Juniper, at her soldiers, “her thugs’ll pop me the second I get two feet over to you.”

“No,” Raelyn said. She gave Juniper a hard look. “Not if my daughter has even a shred of love for the father of her only child.”

Juniper’s eyes narrowed, only to then widen with realization just as quickly. “That’s what you’re planning,” she practically screamed. Harpe slipped just a little, making a thin stream of blood trickle down her neck. “You want to make Armando this dog’s thrall!”

“It’s the only way, June,” Raelyn replied tiredly. “Unless you’d rather bring him back to Jenna as a ghost.”

“…Jenna…,” Armando sighed deliriously, eyes half closed. “…Open wide for p-papa…”

Juniper’s expression remained livid a moment longer before she finally closed her eyes. Her body went still. Her ghostly armor and guns disappeared, as did her soldiers. Her eyes remained closed as she whispered to Prez, “He dies, you die, Red. And if you twist him, I’ll twist you, in both body and soul.”

“Jesus Christ, lady,” Prez muttered, taking Harpe back and stepping back. “This is probably the pot calling the kettle black, but you seriously need therapy.”

“He’s slipping, Mr. Lincoln,” Raelyn called over urgently. “Hurry.”

Prez did so. He shed the majority of Cerberus’ extra mass as he did so, retaining only the Guardian’s enhanced senses and stamina. He knelt across Raelyn, Armando between them. “Er, okay. So what now?”

“Flesh reshaped by flesh, blood by blood,” Raelyn answered. When Prez simply stared on, confused, she said, “Introduce your biological matter into his body and make him yours.”

“Wait,” he said, “That sounds…That’s what Irma did. To those folks at that club.” He glanced down at Armando. “I ain’t doing that. I’m not making him into a monster like me. I’m not making that choice for him. I decided to come back. I gave up on Heaven. Me being,” he gestured to himself, “this was me.”

“If you don’t,” Raelyn said quietly, “he will die.”

Before Prez could reply, a large, manicured, and deathly cold hand took his.

“…It’s…okay, amigo,” Armando whispered. “The…Universal Matador…will r-ride again…”

“I…” Prez shook his head. He raised Harpe and cut a line across his forearm, making blood bubble. He held it over Armando’s stomach. “You sure about this, man? Being a monster suck.”

“Maybe,” chuckled the Universal Matador. “But you’ll never know unless you try.”