THE BAD GUYS IN: playtime poppy

The air in Los Angeles hummed with its usual chaotic symphony, but inside a local thrift store, a different kind of quiet settled around Shark and Princess.

Princess, still in her school uniform, browsed the dusty book selection with a thoughtful frown, while Shark, ever the fashion enthusiast, held up a questionable red shirt to a mirror.

"What do you think, Princess? Too much?" he asked, flexing his bicep for effect.

She turned, a small smile playing on her lips. "I think red's your color, Shark." He cooed, pleased.

Soon, Princess wandered towards the toy aisle, her eyes scanning shelves crammed with forgotten treasures: worn stuffed animals, porcelain dolls with vacant stares, and construction toys for boys. A bright, plush tiger caught her eye.

"Hello, little one. What's your name?" she murmured, picking it up.

A small, clear voice, startlingly close, replied, "I'm Poppy. What's your name?"

Princess blinked, looking around. No one. "Who said that?" she whispered, her brow furrowing.

"I did," the voice repeated, a touch of playful mischief in its tone.

"Where are you?" she asked, searching frantically. The voice came from the left side of the shelf. Digging through a pile of toys, she pulled out a doll, small and porcelain, with wide, captivating eyes and delicate features. Her breath hitched. "Wow, she's beautiful," Princess breathed, stroking the doll's cheek with her thumb. She was so engrossed, she barely registered Shark's continued preening. "Oh, you really think so?" he asked, still admiring his reflection.

He then noticed her, bending down. "Oh, her? I guess she's nice. You like her, don't you?" A moment later, he bought the doll for her, and they headed home, Princess cradling her new treasure, holding Shark's hand. As they walked, a chill wind seemed to pass, and a voice, no longer sweet but low and sinister, whispered from the doll: "We're going to be best friends forever."

Unbeknownst to the Bad Guys, a truly dangerous game had just begun.