Strings Not Attached

A Sign

The snowfall had been heavy, and within hours coated the ground until no grass was visible. To most people, this would be exciting. Especially young children, who dreamed of having their schools shut down so they could go outside and play in the white goodness. But to Dr. Freuhoffer, it was a disgusting display of mother nature mocking him into submission. For years now he had despised the eventual coming of winter; often denying it's existence until it knocked on his doorstep. Sighing, the man cranked up his heater and sat in front of the fire, staring into the licking flames intently. So much work to do, so little time. A noise behind him caused him to turn his head, looking into the red eyes of a tank-like puppet. The two froze, before he laughed and smiled. 

"You scared me. Don't go sneaking around like that. How is it going? Are you getting anything yet?" The puppet across the room shook it's head, and came over. Freuhoffer let out a loud groan and rubbed his temples. "I'm surprised his little buddies haven't come to rescue him yet. Or, maybe they don't know where he is? What do you think, Blitzkrieg?" The puppet huffed at him and shook it's head, turning to roll away. The puppet disappeared into another room, bumping against a desk to grab the attention of three other puppets.

The first was a female puppet, blonde hair and blue eyes. The second resembled a werewolf of sorts, and the third looked like a racist stereotype of an Asian man. They all looked down at Blitzkrieg who made motions at them. The female shook her head and went back over to a fourth puppet who was strapped down to the table. The puppet had six arms and was struggling lightly to get free, but it was no use. The female picked up a couple cables that were sparking and jabbed him with them, shocking him. 

Blitzkrieg was annoyed that they left to torture the puppet without him, and he tried to roll up the side of a board, but momentum got the best of him and he tumbled back down to the floor. 

You fucking assholes, come and help me up.

Help yourself. A voice responded, and Blitzkrieg felt his anger building up. Giving up, he simply turned and left the room again, presumably to 'tattle' on the other three for treating him that way. Freuhoffer came into the room a few moments later, holding the puppet in his arms. 

"Now, can't you four just get along? I said you could take turns torturing the bastard, now take turns and be nice. Until you get any information out of him, I don't want to see you again." The doctor placed Blitzkrieg on the table and left the room, slamming the door. Weremacht glared at Blitzkrieg and went over to Six Shooter, kicking him in the side. They had already ripped parts of his body off, and shock tortured him to the point where they weren't even sure if he was alive anymore. Bombshell shook her head and sat down, staring at Six Shooter.

He isn't talking. What are we going to do?

What do you think we're gonna do? I think we finally have to use Blitzkrieg's plan. Lure the puppets here with him. 

We don't even know where they are. How are we going to lure them here? Genius.

Listen you fat bitch! They're all the same. They'll come running if they even catch a whiff of their Master. All we have to do is this...

....

Torch felt his body heave, and the next thing he knew he was being lifted into the air. Vision snapped back, and he realized he was being carried by a hawk of some sort, the talons gripping his body tightly and tearing through his clothes. Wanting to fight back, he lifted his arm and blasted the unsuspecting bird with a bunch of fire, and regretted his decision as soon as the cooked bird dropped him and began to freak out. Torch plummeted back to the ground, wishing he could close his eyes so he didn't have to feel himself hit the ground and shatter into a million tiny pieces. This was it; he was going to die here once and for all. Thanks to some stupid bird that didn't even make 100 yards with him. However, the ground never came. Instead, he hit the back of a moving truck, and on a mattress. If Torch could blink, he would. Sitting up, he began to wonder if he was perhaps the worlds luckiest puppet. The truck was heading in a direction he didn't recognize, and there was a small family inside. Two women and a child in the backseat. The small window in the back had been cracked open, and Torch peered inside, trying to hear what they were saying.

"I know you don't like my parents, but we really shouldn't fight in front of Lily. It isn't healthy."

"I know, but your parent's aren't healthy for her either. Plus; Shyla and Kaitlyn are weird children. They might damage her or... worse." The two fell silent, and the little girl known as Lily sighed heavily. Torch was about to go back into hiding when the truck hit a bump, and the poor thing was thrown through the window. He hit the floor, and all three in the truck jumped in fright. 

"What was that?" The woman driving asked, and the little girl reached down and picked him up. 

"A doll." she exclaimed, and held it out to the passenger. The woman in the passenger seat looked at Torch in disgust and instantly took it. 

"Dear God, look at this thing. Must've gotten thrown in the truck on accident. Oh well, it can be a late Christmas present for the twins." Torch was tempted to set the whole truck up in flames and kill them all for even daring to use him as a sort of present for anyone, but he decided against that idea. There was already a roasted hawk on the side of the road somewhere, and Torch really didn't want to die that day. Instead, he was thrown into the glove box and left to smell the spare air fresheners and look at the car manual. This was going to be a long drive.