Creation began on 07-14-18

Creation ended on 07-14-18

Child's Play 2

Downstairs is where you belong

A/N: Chucky never gets to even try to attack Andy the night he gets into the house. And here's why.

With Joanne singing to Andy upstairs, Chucky, having killed the guy in the car with a plastic bag, grunted at being unable to attack the boy and transfer his soul into him.

"Shit!" He cursed, and turned to face the Good Guy doll that was on the bottom steps.

"Hi, I'm Tommy," it spoke up; because Chucky had unintentionally spoken to it, it reacted as intended to based upon its reactive programming.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Chucky reacted, and was about to shove it onto the floor…when it suddenly grabbed his arms with a tighter grip. "Gah!"

"You're not going up those stairs, fool," the doll spoke again, but its voice changed to sound like someone else, and its very appearance shifted to look like a doll version of a dark man. "You belong downstairs, and downstairs can be just like Hell."

BASH! He head-butted Chucky, sending him flying backwards onto the floor.

Before Chucky could get up, the dark doll appeared like lightning and brought his right foot down on his chest, hard enough to get him to scream if he hadn't just been recently resurrected.

"I know who you are, and I know what you've done," he told Chucky. "You and me…have been at this for a few times now. I've been after you since before you even committed your first murder. You might've fled your original body when you were on the verge of death, but your stench remains the same, no matter what form you take."

"Who the fuck are you?" Chucky asked him.

"I'm Andy's brother," he answered.

"That little shit doesn't have any brothers."

"I'm also your brother. I'm John's brother. I'm Detective Norris' brother. I'm even Tiffany's brother. I'm related to each of you…and none of you. I've been around since the dawn of human existence and will be at the end of the world, again, and again, and again. I am the shadow behind the hammer that strikes the surface of whatever it hit with it. I am the wraith that hunts in the day and the night, seeking whom it must pursue. I am flesh and I am despair. I am death and I am hope. You know exactly who I am."

And Chucky did know who this doll was. It hadn't been too long that John had mentioned this man to him once or twice, about how a former man from the past had been tasked by gods to watch out for people, to protect them from those with cruel intentions. He had gone from being a man to a servant of a higher authority, to a warning, to a legend, a myth, a fairy tale. This doll…was being used as the vessel of Brother Correction, a spiritual relative of all, a tormentor and savior, a demon to some and an angel to others.

"Go ahead and kill me," he goaded Brother Correction. "I'll come back. I always come back."

"Now, now, Chucky, whoever said anything about killing you?" Brother Correction asked him, smiling sadistically as an idea popped into his head.

"What are…what do you mean by that?"

"It's just as you said. You always come back when you die. It's like a rule or two in the horror movies where you must never assume the killer is dead, even after you kill them. They're often superhuman in ways where the simple methods don't work right unless you exploit a loophole. So, no, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to let you live. I'm just not going to let you live the way you want to. Your fate worse than death…begins now."

The dark doll then reached down to Chucky's face…and nobody in the house ever got the chance to hear the killer doll scream in fear.

-x-

The Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago, Illinois had gotten some revenue with the new animals brought in to revitalize the visits from people, both tourists and residents. This is where Andy was currently, seeing the latest animals that were new attractions. He was drawn to one of the exchibits where a tall, dark stranger was observing the creatures alone.

"You like the zoo, young lad?" He asked Andy.

"I do," he answered.

"I actually helped bring in some of the new animals here. I'm particularly proud of bringing in the sloths. Most don't understand that out of many of the animals, they have the slowest of actions and reactions. It takes them hours just to climb down a tree and hours just to climb back up a tree."

"Really?"

"Yes. See that sloth right there at the top of the tree in the middle? He's trying to climb down right now, but his movements are very slow. It'll be dark by the time he manages to reach the base."

As Andy looked over at the sloth that was pointed out trying to climb down, Brother Correction smiled at his latest success.

Five nights ago, he had brought Chucky to the zoo…and transformed him into a sloth! As sloths were the slowest-moving of all known animals, Chucky was doomed to a life of slowness and lack of communication with and from anyone. He couldn't even use the voodoo chant to transfer his soul into another body, as Brother Correction had informed him of how any means of such methods applied only to humans, since sloths couldn't speak and weren't considered even a relative of humans.

Damn…you…Brother…Correction! Chucky thought, looking down at the man that had damned him with his former human target; even his way of thinking was just slow like the animal that he was now.

He saw Andy look back and forth between the man and the animal exhibit, looking like he just got informed about something serious.

"But…how can you be sure that he won't try anything?" Andy asked Brother Correction.

"Because sloths are, technically, among the lousiest animals with the worst reaction time," he explained. "Therefore, he has way of making any attempt he tries successful. And it's his prison sentence with a minimum of twenty years to life…because a sloth in captivity barely survives for more than thirty years, but he'll be too old to do anything except die a slow death by the time you turn twenty-eight, and even then, you'll be somewhere else."

Andy then had to agree that this was the worst fate Chucky could've suffered; the killer that possessed a doll might as well as accepted that death was the better outcome, not this life sentence as an animal of the pathetic variety.

"What about his victims?" He asked.

"The innocent ones…or the not-so-innocent ones?"

"Maggie, the doctor, the guy that died when he came back this time, and the man he killed with a plastic bag?"

"Obviously, Andy, they'll be restored to life…and they'll vouch for you that such a doll was possessed by a serial killer."

"And he won't be able to hurt anyone else again?"

"Young man, he couldn't even jump off that branch if he wanted to. He's as good as forgotten."

Andy then looked back at the sloth that was Chucky reduced to a pathetic state. This was life of the unwanted sort…and the killer was serving the most unimaginable prison sentence in the world. He was going to be looked at for the next twenty years by countless people, never able to do anything about them or even escape. This was a new form of justice being served. So he laughed at how humiliated Chucky was probably feeling.

"Serves him right," Brother Correction expressed.

The End

A/N: If there was one way to describe Chucky's plight in this story, it would be "ouch". We live in a supernatural life, where the impossible is always expected. What better fate for a killer that always comes back to life than to live life as something less than lively? Anyone?