(A/N) Hello fellow FanFictioners! It is I, The Human Paradox! Oh, and Happy Halloween! Since it is Halloween, what better theme for my first FanFic than a horror? I am not new to FanFic writing, but this is the first I have posted so please be nice. Anyway let the story commence!

"Beard Papa? Beard Papa are you there?"

The walkie- talkie inside the security booth buzzed to life. But there was no one there to answer. The booth that usually contained a sleeping elderly man was now empty. However, there were no signs of a struggle, it's as if he has vanished into thin air.

"Wynnchel, Duncan head over to the Cart Bakery, Beard Papa hasn't checked in and isn't responding to radio contact.

Within 20 minutes, Sugar Rush's famed police officers arrived at the checkpoint to the Kart Bakery on their motorcycles. Wynnchel stepped off of his vehicle, while Duncan remained on his. Wynnchel, with his baton at the ready approached the booth with caution.

"Beard Papa, you there?" he called out. He grabbed the side door handle and opened it with speed with his baton raised. The booth was empty, he enters but keeps the door ajar.

"Anything?" his round partner asked from his motorcycle.

"No sign of him" Wynnchel looked to the bakery ahead of them, "Come on let's check out the bakery". He exited and walked back to his motorcycle, the two law enforcers stared their engines and drove towards the building.

The two parked and climbed off of their bikes. The Kart Bakery, aside from the palace, is the largest building in the whole of Sugar Rush. Its white icing walls on the exterior contrast with its chocolate brown walls on the inside. Its towering funnels that release the fumes from the ovens building the carts were now dormant, due to the arcade being shut.

"You think he's inside?" Wynnchel asked.

"It's a possibility" his slimmer partner replied. Something caught Wynnchel's eye- a hole in the window next to the side entrance. "Duncan…" he motioned to said officer. He also caught sight of the abnormality, both instinctively reached for their batons and tazers. Duncan ran up to the door and kicked it down. He stood at the doorway, peered in and nodded at Wynnchel to join him. He complied and slide by Duncan and ventured inside the building, with Duncan at his tail.

What was overwhelming was the silence, it was the bad silence. The one that feels like something is going to crawl up and attack you without your awareness. The kart is usually devoid of life, apart from the rare times Beard Papa does some routine maintenance checks, which is what the officers were hoping he was doing.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this buddy" Duncan said, with tinge of nervous.

"Me too bud, me too" Wynnchel responded also with nervousness. "I'm gonna check out the main oven room. You head to the generator room".

"You be careful" Duncan warns.

"You know it" Wynnchel smirks before heading towards the red curtain concealing the actual bakery. He looked towards his partner one last time, who nodded at him in encouragement. Wynnchel breathes in deeply and disappears through the red cloth.

The circular room was darker than the last time Wynnchel was there. The highlighted red push button in the centre was visible in the black shroud that surrounded him. CLANG!

Wynnchel whips around, weapons raised in defence, at the silence penetrating sound.

"Who's there?" he shouted, but to further silence. "Show yourself!" he approached the edge of the fabric in anticipation. But before he could reach the curtain, the room lit up in contrasting colours. The images showing the Kart models were as clear as daylight. "Who the hell is in here?!" Wynnchel began to breathe hysterically, adrenaline pumping through his body. A footstep behind him. Gasping in shock, the officer turns around tazer sizzling but came face-to-face with a deformed pig and the sting of a needle jammed into his neck.

On the other side of the factory, Duncan entered the cramped generator room with a kick on the door. With his tazer out in front with his right hand and baton raised above his head with his left. The sight that greeted him was strange indeed: a cloaked figure sitting in a chair overlooking a power generator.

"Beard Papa, it's that you?" The figure doesn't answer, or seem to respond at all. "Put your hands up" the doughnut orders. When the figure continued to make no movement, Duncan advanced forward. "I said: put your hands up!" he shouted and pulled the shoulder of the figure towards him. Unfortunately it was a puppet in disguise: said puppet had a hollow hole for mouth which blew a gust of powder onto Duncan's sprinkled features. This kicked off a ragged coughing fit and as Duncan blacked out, due to the chemical taking effect, all he could hear was the animatronic laughter of the puppet that strangely resembled an ex-racer of Sugar Rush.

The buzzing was the first thing he heard. The buzzing you get after losing consciousness in the least admirable fashion. Wynnchel groaned in discomfort, as he elevated his head off of the ground. His vision spiralled, the feeling made him nauseous. He remained still until his eyesight was level again. But when it did, he wished he couldn't see what he was seeing. He was trapped in a large room that was divided by two rows of metal fences. In between the fences was a contraption consisting of a scale in the middle, with two tubes leading up to a hole on his side of the fence and another onto the other side. It was at this time he learned that he was not alone. A groan, similar to the one he emitted not a second ago, came from the other side of the two fences.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"W…Wynnchel?" a voice asked. Wynnchel recognised it.

"Duncan?" his partner sat up and stood on shaky legs as they stared at each other in confusion and bewilderment. "What's that on your head?"

"I could ask you the same thing" Duncan replied. Both of them reached for their heads to discover that their heads were contained in some sort of headwear. Wynnchel makes a note that on either side of the helmet, there was a screw pressed against each temple.

"What the hell is this thing?" As soon as Duncan asked that question, a television set beside the scale buzzed into life. What materialised was disturbing. The exact same puppet that caused Duncan to pass out, was staring at them with cold, yellow, lifeless eyes. The puppet also had ice blue skin, dressed in near-all white with a red "T" on its wooden body and head. This strange toy was a homage to the image of the infamous Turbo, the monster that had impersonated their fallen ruler King Candy and exiled their rightful Princess Vanellope.

"Hello officers" the puppet addressed them with a sinister distorted voice compared to the real Turbo's cartoonish one, "I want to play a game. The devices on your head are symbolic of the shackles you place upon others. When Turbo dictated this game, you recklessly arrested those who stood against him, even the rightful rulers of this land. Though it is true you were not aware of that these acts were crimes at the time you committed, they are still crimes and criminals must be punished. You are predators. But today, you become the prey, and it is your own pound of flesh that I demand. The scale before you is your only path to freedom. However, only one of you may pass, and the toll is ultimate sacrifice. The sacrifice of flesh. Before you are the instruments to exact this flesh. Move with haste though, for when the sixty second timer hits zero, the one who has given the most flesh will release their bindings, while the gears on your opponent's head will engage, piercing their skull. Who will offer the most flesh in order to save their life? The choice is yours. Let the game begin…"

The petrifying transmission turned off, but before either could comment the 60 second timer commenced and the gears drove screws on the sides of their heads in by a few inches. Both screamed in agony and fear.

"This is all your fault!" Duncan accused.

"Me? Why is it my fault?!" Wynnchel retorted back with fury.

"You… you took pleasure in locking Vanellope up!"

"Me?! As I recall, you were the one who dragged her from Diet Cola Mountain in tears and trapped her in those 'Glitch-Proof' chains!"

"You were the one who called her a freak!"

"I…I… didn't mean it!" Wynnchel poorly defended.

"See! You don't deserve to live. I do!" Duncan declared, grabbing one of the provided tools: a kitchen knife. With screams and contortions of pain, but with determination, Duncan begins to slice small pieces of his skin from his rotund form. He begins to deposit them down the tube onto his scale which rose with each splatter of flesh.

This snapped Wynnchel out of his trance, who had been staring at his friend in horror and disbelief. He too grabbed a knife from his own worktable, but with more hesitation. He glanced at Duncan who had the upper hand with his extra weight. The ever growing gaps in his skin were now leaking his jelly innards. Wynnchel pressed the blade against his forearm before pulling back. It's not big enough, I'm gonna need to hack off something bigger. He glanced at his leg and hip and back at Duncan. Unsure, he looked at the timer which now showed 30 seconds left. With horrific purpose, Wynnchel dug the steel into his hip and began to slowly cut into his flesh to no avail. Too slow. Another instrument of torture caught his eye: a meat cleaver. He rushed to the table, discarding the knife, picked up the butcher's weapon and ferociously hacked at his hip. After wails of self-induced torture, Wynnchel's whole right leg and a part of his hip and stomach fell off. As a result, he collapsed onto the floor with melted chocolate gushing from his life-threatening wound. With strain and exertion, Wynnchel managed to crawl to the fence with his dismembered leg in his hand and climb up from the ground to the same height level as the tube. With 5 seconds to spare, Wynnchel dropped his body part down the tube and onto his scale, completely outmatching Duncan's. When Duncan realised he had lost, he stared at Wynnchel with fear, sadness and… respect.

"No hard feelings… eh buddy?" Duncan's last words spoken as the timer reached 0. Thus setting off the mechanism and burrowed the screws into his brain, ending his life. Duncan flopped to the ground like a rag doll while Wynnchel slid to the ground with his back to the fence, staring at the hole where his hip and leg should be.

Wynnchel was dragged from his thoughts by the screeching of tyres. From behind a pair of red-blood curtains at the back of the room, the same model puppet of Turbo as seen in the tape rolled into Wynnchel's proximity on a white model race car.

"Congratulations" the puppet commented, "You are alive" Wynnchel fell to his side due to shock of losing a limb and the loss of his friend. "Have you learned your lesson Wynnchel?"

Wynnchel spat at the child's toy, "Go to hell". The puppet remained emotionless, its yellow eyes piercing Wynnchel's soul. A door slammed open, a figure strolled towards him with a needle. Wynnchel wanted to fight, but was too weak and drained. He put up no struggle when the needle pricked his skin. As he drifted off once again into oblivion, a rush of words from the figure brushed past his ears and mind without recognition except for: "How disappointing".

Duncan… I'm so sorry buddy…

End of Chapter 1.

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