This story takes place before Puppet Master vs. Demonic Toys. I do not own the Toulon Puppets or the Demonic Toys used in this story, I only own Charlotte. Patricia's kind of a background character, as well as the mysterious man...Enjoy!

In the blustery winds of fall, a young girl no older than 11-years-old; stood in the windowsill of an old house in the suburbs. She stared out of the window deep in thought, her grey eyes void of life and dimmed by sadness; the bangs of her dull black pigtailed hair, hiding the emotion being indicated by her eyebrows. The girl's light skin glowing in the shining sun, she looked like the poor ghost of a child; haunting that very house you only hear in legends. As she stared into the bare trees, the memories of her and the girl's father replayed in her mind.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" She asks to her father, concerned after hearing him coughing up a storm. He looks over to her with a reassuring smile, his expression soft and comforting.

"It's nothing, Charlotte." The father wheezed. A woman stood next to the bed he had been laying in, giving the little girl a pitiful glance. "Patricia," The father coughed out, "Please, take care of my daughter for me." He requested.

"I will," Patricia agreed with a humble sigh, "Get well, Tom." She said mournfully.

"Charlotte, go with your aunt Patricia." He said to his daughter, "Take care of each other, okay?" Charlotte looked up to her father, and nodded with a little grin. Tom slightly smiled back, and closed his tired eyes.

"Bye, daddy." She waved as she held her aunt's hand. Once they left the room closing the door behind them, he let his body go limp, and let out his last breath. The hospital room fell quiet, so silent you could hear a pin drop. The heart monitor's frequent beeps and jagged lines began to slow down, messing up the tempo of their rhythm. The bright green line in the center of a pitch black screen, went completely flat, along with what used to be continuous beeps; now an ever lasting screech.

"Charlotte," A woman's voice called from behind her, "It's time to open up the shop, are you ready to go?" The 40-year-old-woman stood patiently in the doorway of the living room, dressed in a loose lilac-colored turtleneck, a floor-length light grey skirt, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. Charlotte opened her eyes, and plastered on a happy grin before turning around to face the woman.

"Yep. I'm ready, aunt Patricia." She responded cheerfully, her once dark lifeless eyes sparkling with happiness. Charlotte Ray never liked showing people how troubled she really was, and always managed to hide what she felt on the inside. The side everyone saw in Charlotte was happy-go-lucky, innocent, playful, and outgoing. When she was alone, Charlotte was melancholy, deep, depressed, and a bit frustrated towards the world in the back of her mind. She developed a split personality ever since she figured out that her father had died, even after he said everything was okay.

After Charlotte's father passed away, she has been put under the care of his sister Patricia. Patricia had Charlotte homeschooled, as recommended by her brother's lawyer. Charlotte gladly took on the low-maintenance education procedure, and assisted her aunt in running the family pawnshop. By others she is usually seen dressed in a collar-less and sleeve-less burnt sienna sundress, with a dark red ribbon tied under the lining of her chest, a pair of black dress shoes, and two skinny ribbons securing her pigtails.

"I'll be busy decorating the shop for Halloween today, can you man the cash register?" Patricia asked.

"Sure." Charlotte responded happily. At the shop, Patricia casually carried boxes in and out of the main room; hanging stuff on the walls, setting things on the counters, and sticking paper on the windows. It was a slow day, Charlotte continued tidying up the dusty shelves to pass the time. Around the peak of 11pm the rusty old bell above the doorway rang, following was the sound of the door creaking open and clicking shut. "Hello, sir." Charlotte greeted gingerly, "How may I help you?" She asked courteously.

The man was panting heavily under his worn out scarf, dressed in a long overcoat, shredded slacks and one of his shoes missing. He had small bite wounds on his wrists and Charlotte had spotted some bigger ones on the side of his neck, and holes on his shoulders as well. The man continued panting rapidly; in the process, he dropped a big black trunk on the hard dark wood floors. He quickly picked it back up, and smacked it onto the counter in front of Charlotte.

"Please…" He coughed, "You gotta help me!" He hissed desperately. Out of the corner of Charlotte's eye, she saw a luxurious looking vehicle slowly yield in front of the shop from the window. "Take this," The man whispered, "It's yours now." Before Charlotte could question him, he casually walked out the door and bolted out of eyesight. Charlotte stood behind the counter, making an attempt to calculate what had just taken place. She carefully picked up the trunk, and placed in next to her.

Outside of the shop in the alleys nearby, the man had taken cover inside a trashcan. The black hummer Charlotte had seen through the shop window was parked against the sidewalk, and mysteriously empty with only a chauffeur at the wheel. Another man lingered in the shadows casted by the walls, waiting hesitantly.

"You can't hide from me," His voice boomed, "You're just making it more difficult." He said eerily. There was no response as the man's words echoed into the alleyway, giving him time to ponder. "Rat him out." The man commanded in mid-air.

"You got it, boss." Said another voice from behind the man. The rough but high pitched voice with a twist of a Boston accent, was soon followed by low growling noises. "C'mon boys, let's find this douche." The voice cackled. The injured man hiding in the trash began to feel cold sweat form on his skin, and his breathing shortened in fear. Suddenly the can started to tilt back and forth, roaring and mocking laughter booming outside the metal walls.

The shaking eventually stopped, before more footsteps started to echo in the darkness. A moment of silence passed by, then the can tipped completely over. Trash scattered everywhere and the man came rolling out of the can, lightly grunting in pain. He trembled as the other man silently laughed, and kneeled down in front of him.

"Where's the trunk?" The man growled with anticipation.

"I don't have it, I gave it to someone else." He replied blankly. The mysterious man furrowed his eyebrows, but remained patient.

"Who has it?" He asked frustratingly. The stunned man didn't respond, furthering his anger and impatience. The shadow of what looked like a monstrous teddy bear handed the angered man a box with a lever on the side, looking back at the trembler. "I guess I have no choice…" He concluded; turning the lever round and round with the Pop goes the weasel tune. Once the happy music came to a close, nothing came out of the colorful box.

The man stopped shaking, and began to chuckle mockingly at what seemed like a failed trap mechanism. But soon, a horrible clown head with razor sharp teeth, bright green hair, a wrinkled pale face, an evil smile, and sinister eyes came flying out towards him. The man screamed in agony as the clown's teeth sank into the side of his neck once again, this time ripping out a giant chunk of flesh. Blood splashed everywhere from the gaping bite wound, his voice gurgling from the blood spewing from his lips. The shadow of what looked like an infant and a teddy bear stood by the sinister man, laughing fiendishly as the dying man squirmed in his own pool of blood.

In the back employee lounge room of the Pawnshop, Charlotte had taken it upon herself to explore the contents of the trunk she'd obtained. Inside the trunk were five wooden puppets, and multiple other bits and pieces of unfinished figures. She flipped through and scanned the aged pages of a leather bound journal contained in one of the drawers of the trunk, and identified the figures.

The puppet with the pale white face and hair, dressed in all black, with no hands but a metal hook and sharp knife's name is Blade. The puppet dressed like a medieval jester with 2-lines across his face was, ironically named Jester. The puppet with a tiny head, large muscular body; dressed in a crimson sweater, black pants, shoes, and fingerless gloves' name is Pinhead. The puppet dressed in a navy blue soldier suit, had a drill on his head and black eyes was Tunneler. The last puppet was dressed as a cowboy with six arms, carrying six colt revolver pistols, had an over confident smile, and a black hat is named Six Shooter.

When she reached the end of the journal, Charlotte felt a chill shoot up her spine once she read the page. In black ink, someone had written a message in big capitals roughly in scribbles. It read, "WATCH OUT FOR THE MAN AND HIS TOYS!"

Charlotte leaned against the foot of the armchair, and curled up comfortably. While her aunt Patricia was manning the cash register, Charlotte felt the brunt of fatigue and boredom taking a toll on her energy. Her light grey eyes were dimming as she began feeling sleepier, allowing her eyelids close. While Charlotte began to doze off, the five puppets had slowly begun to move. Blade let out a raspy hiss and two bullets popped out of his empty black eye sockets, to take a better look at their surroundings.

'Where are we?' Blade thought. He moved his head; scanning the room, until he saw Charlotte.

"Who's that, Blade?" Jester asked, his three-sectioned face spinning into a curious expression.

"Not sure," He answered, "I don't even know where we are." Hearing the hisses from Blade and little moans from Jester, Charlotte slightly opened her eyes. The puppet duo froze in place once she saw them, but weren't seen moving around.

"Were you two making the noise?" Charlotte asked to the inanimate figures.

"Who're you talking to, Charlotte?" Patricia called from the doorway. "What's that you got there?" She asked curiously.

"A man gave me this puppet trunk today," Charlotte answered in a perked tone, "Aren't they amazing?" She giggled. Patricia saw on her knees next to Charlotte, and nodded in agreement.

"You said a man gave you that trunk, right?" Patricia asked.

"Yes," Charlotte confirmed with a nod, "But then he ran off and I never saw him again, he only told me that the trunk was mine know." The explanation perplexed Patricia, but she decided not to dwell on the matter.

"Well, you go ahead and have fun." She encouraged, "I'll be at the front counter if you need me for anything." Charlotte smiled up at her aunt, and simply nodded reassuringly. By the time she looked back to where Blade and Jester had stood, they were gone. Charlotte felt her heart race and her eyes widen, were these puppets alive?

"Where did you go?" She whispered, standing up and walking around the room. The sound of jingling bells from Jester's hat poked into the room's silence, and the sound of little footsteps running around the room sent Charlotte into a mocking merry-go-round. "Please come out," She pleaded quietly, "I won't hurt you, I promise." No response, only more mysterious noises. Charlotte felt as if she was going completely insane from loneliness, and fell to her knees. Suddenly chuckling, and the sounds of guns clicking caught Charlotte's attention.

Charlotte felt the urge to look up at what was targeting her, but forced her head to stay low and her eyes shut. She waited for the sound of gunfire to signal her demise, and tried hard not to scream at all. Nothing. Charlotte opened her eyes, to find that the five puppets were standing right in front of her, curiously staring. Jester cautiously walked over to Charlotte, and sheepishly waved up at her.

"H-Hello," She greeted with a small squeak, "My name is Charlotte Ray; you must be Jester." His face quickly spun into a happy expression, and he clapped his hands. Charlotte looked to the other four, "And you guys must be Blade, Tunneler, Six Shooter, and Pinhead." She said with a smile. Blade and Six Shooter tipped their hats in greeting, Tunneler simply responded with a nod, while Pinhead had Charlotte in a gentle handshake. "It's great to meet you all, and I'll be taking good care of you." Charlotte perked. Her head jerked to the side once she heard the door open and close, quickly Charlotte waved the puppets to the trunk before closing it.

"Welcome to Ray's Pawnshop, may I help you with anything?" Patricia's voice echoed from the main room. Charlotte snuck over and leaned against the wall near the room's exit, listening in on the conversation.

"Yes, I saw a trunk being donated here." The man's voice answered casually. Behind the counter was a man wearing a grey business suit, looking in his mid-ages and clutching his side as if he was carrying something in his coat. His eyes were dark and patient, his hair was neck-length and slicked back.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid the trunk isn't for sale." Patricia responded oddly. The man simply smiled, and nodded his thanks.

"Very well, that'll be all then." He said dismissively, turned around on his heels and left. Outside the store, the man stepped into the back of a black hummer.

"Finally!" A baby doll exclaimed once he was let out of the man's coat. The rather vulgar doll's name is Baby Oopsie Daisy, sporting the wrinkled face of a demon with black eyes and a light blue baby's dress. "I'd rather be stuffed between a babe's tits than be crammed in your coat!" He growled angrily.

"Behave yourself," The man scolded, "I have a job for you and your associates." He announced coarsely. "You, Jack Attack, and Grizzly Teddy need to go back in the shop to kill the woman who was manning the cash register." The man explained.

"No problem, Julian." Oopsie Daisy responded, "We're demons, that's what we do best." He added with a maniacal cackle.

"Let's hope you don't fail," Julian said rashly, "Your master Bael wouldn't like that, now would he?" Baby Oopsie Daisy stiffened, letting out a grumble before looking to Jack Attack and Grizzly Teddy. The teddy bear was a demonic toy as well, scruffy and a mix between a bear and a Sasquatch; sporting a red bowtie around his rough neck.

"So when are we gonna bag this broad?" He asked impatiently.

"I'll be bringing you back here later, for now you are to stay in your chamber until I request your services." Julian responded with a smirk.

Around 7pm, the Pawnshop was coming to a close for the day. Patricia drove Charlotte home along with her puppet trunk, locking up for the night. At their apartment, Patricia slipped into the kitchen to begin making dinner.

"I'll be in my room." Charlotte announced, dragging the trunk carefully up the stairs.

"Okay, I'll call you when dinner's ready." She called back. Charlotte's room was slightly different from what the average 11-year-old girl's room should've looked like, it was much tidier and not as cluttered. The walls were painted an eggshell color, while the floors composed of clean silver carpeting. Her bed was neatly made with an earthy shaded cover, and some fluffy brown pillows to match. An old armoire stood against the wall, no doubt containing a good amount of her clothes and shoes inside.

Charlotte quickly unlocked the trunk and opened it, allowing her new friends to wonder about. While the puppets explored her cozy room, Charlotte carefully made her way to the wardrobe. Inside were a neatly hung velvet cloak, and a knee-length white nightgown. From the bed, Jester saw something shine in the light of the room behind the dark red cloak. Charlotte soon exited her room to go change into her nightgown, closing the door shut.

Jester leaped off of the bed, and climbed onto the armoire.

"What're you doing?" Pinhead called from the other side of the room.

"I saw something shiny in here," Jester responded gleefully, "So I wanted to take a closer look." He explained.

"Curious as always." Six Shooter chuckled. Before Jester could take a peek at the hidden thing, the bedroom's doorknob started turning. The five of them quickly froze in place once again, until the door opened to reveal Charlotte dressed in her white gown. The puppets relaxed from their positions, relieved that it was only she.

"Looking for something, Jester?" She asked. Jester made his usual 'ooooh' noises along with chuckling, and pointed towards the spot behind her cloak.

"Charlotte, dinner's ready." Patricia called from downstairs.

"I'll show you guys later, don't worry I'll be back." She whispered to them, before dashing back out the door.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and sorry if it was a bit tasteless. (I'm not that good at writing stories...)

Please leave a comment/review to let me know what you thought, I'd really appreciate it!