In the not too distant future, humans share the planet with a race of techno-organic animal hybrids known as plushies. Despite their cuddly appearance, they can be very, very dangerous. A chosen few are sent to an advanced academy, in which they are...
Late one night, a father was tucking his son, and elephant plushie, into bed. The man said, "Good night, Timmy," as he patted the boy's head. "Good night dad," his son said with a giggle. The father looked over at the elephant plushie, "You too Mr. Wiggles." The plushie perked up and spoke, "Thank you, Mr. Thompson!" Thompson said back, "Please, you're part of the family now, call me dad."
"Okay, dad," Mr. Wiggles said with a smile. "And remember you too, don't let the bedbugs bite!" Thompson said as he opened the bedroom door. "We won't dad!" The kids said together. "Okay, now get some rest," Thompson said before finally leaving the room. The door was shut, and the lights were all turned out. Timmy hugged Mr. Wiggles, but before he could doze off, he heard a scurry. Timmy opened his eyes, "W-what was that, Mr. Wiggles?" he said with a shaky voice. "I don't know Timmy, I'm scared," Mr. Wiggles replied. "Hold me," he said as Timmy squeezed him tighter. They had not noticed that looming above them were eight glowing green eyes. A drop of saliva fell from the ceiling, landing on the boy's blanket. Timmy and Mr. Wiggles slowly looked up, above them, a set of mandibles unfolded, revealing a mouth full of razor sharp fangs. Their screams echoed through the house.
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Thompson busted into the room, "Kids! Are you alright?" He yelled frantically. He backed away at the scene before him, "Deer god!" he cried with a gag. Timmy and Mr. Wiggles were tied in neon green ropes. They were stuck to an enormous web-like structure, made of the same substance. Beside them, leaning off the web as though it were a hammock, was a large, black and gray mechanical spider. His body seemed to have tubes and glass chambers, carrying the neon green fluid his webs were made of. He twirled the boys' cocoons, almost as though he were a child bored with an old toy. They were still alive, but petrified by fear. "D-daddy...." was all Timmy could muster. The spider tilted his head back, looking at the astonished father in the doorway. "Hello there, Mr. Thompson," he said with a smirk. "W-what are you?" Mr. Thompson stammered, knees growing weak. The spider frowned, "I'm hurt, Tommy. How could you not recognise me?" His voice was condescending. He lifted up his arm and pointed to a tank attached to his abdomen. "I've had some work done," a grin spiking under his mandibles. Thompson scanned the being up and down, then said, "A-Archie? Is that....? What happened to you?" The spider shoved his whole body forward, "The future baby! And please don't call me 'Archie.' I'm Centurion now." Thompson got down on his knees and clasped his hands together, "What do you want? Money? The company? The entire power plant, all yours. Just please don't hurt my boys!" He begged. Centurion turned around, dismissing him, "As much as I'd love to skewer you for what you did to me, you're not who I'm after." He turned back to the cocoons, and looked directly at Mr. Wiggles. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Mr. Wiggles panicked. "Yeah, you leave him alone," said Timmy. Centurion ignored Timmy's request, and demanded, "Don't play dumb with me you traitor!" Thompson noticed Centurion seemed distracted. He slowly backed out the doorway. Centurion's head snapped back, "I don't think so daddy!" Thompson made a break for the hallway. He grabbed a phone off the wall and tried to dial the police. Before he could, a green wire shot out from the room, and wrapped around his leg. It pulled him back into the room, the force made him accidently tear the phone off the wall. "Fine, you got me," Mr. Wiggles said in a deep voice. "What are you? Government? Rival organization? Just here to sabotage me!" Wiggles continued. "M-Mr. Wiggles...?" Timmy stammered. "Quiet kid!" Centurion shouted at the boy before diverting his attention back to the plush elephant. "You like playing pretend, don't you? How about we play a game?" He said, frustration growing in his voice. "It's called 'find the spy tracer'." Thompson lifted up his head, "Spy tracer?" he groaned. Centurion threw up a hairy clawed hand, "Let's start with the chest, shall we?" Mr. Wiggled gasped. Timmy cried, "No!" Centurion slashed his claw down. Purple blood stained all over Thompson's face and the dinosaur stickers on Timmy's bedroom wall. Thompson screamed at the top of his lungs.
