Every footstep you hear has a high chance of being fake, and you know that. You know that he's just playing with you, taunting you, making you feel like you're never safe. You know that he's taking some sort of joy from this game, and the worst part is that you can't do anything to stop it. He's evil. He's malicious. He's a two foot tall doll, for crying out loud, how scary could he possibly be? Still, you can't afford to stop moving.

You hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet in the distance, and you immediately spring from the generator you were working on, knowing full well that it could have been nothing. If he catches you one more time, you're donezo. You clutch the wound at your chest, groaning quietly and choosing to make a break for it. Rounding a corner, you head towards your next objective, the next closest generator. You swallow your pain as best as you can, trying to scale a tipped wooden pallet in your wake. You shouldn't have done that at all.

A hand larger than the one belonging to the doll grabs the back of your neck, yanking you backwards and away from your objective. Chucky howls with laugher, and you're tucked under the arm of someone unfamiliar; Charles, the manifestation of Chucky's vile soul. Charles is foggy and unclear, his shape is wispy and uncertain, but his strength is certainly quite real as he hauls you away with ease. Chucky is perched on Charles' other arm, grinning manically at you, gnashing his plastic teeth.

"Come on, shithead. Game over." The doll taunts you, grabbing your hair and giving it a harsh tug. Charles is silent, his expression empty. He's not a real person, he's just a puppet for the Entity, but Chucky is most certainly real.