A new portal appeared out of nowhere. Bierce said, "How did that get there?"
Doug responded, "Last I checked, the only portals we didn't pass through are the stranger sewers, joy joy land, Mama Bear's cave, Dark Star's prison, Puppet King's holiday horror and Malak's own realm. There aren't any more than that."
Bierce said, "There aren't any soul shard's or ring pieces. I wouldn't put it past Malak to put something like that there."
"I can take a peek." Simon Smoke offered. Before Doug could protest, Simon stuck only his head in.
"Maybe he might literally loose his head. I can dream." Baba Chops said.
Simon pulled his head out. "It looks weird like some kind of little house on a stage."
"We need to close the portal and the only way is for someone to go inside and see whatever is triggering the portal to be here. We can't afford any surprises when there are only five ring pieces left. However, if there is something valuable in there we could use it. Doug, why don't you go through? Take some backup."
Doug looked at Poe. "You and I are going this time."
"I can go too." Mollie Macaw offered.
"You are not taking that plane of yours with you on a screen set!" Baba argued.
"I was about to suggest I would walk in with you. I can use the exercise. I also want to be sure Skurv isn't crawling around in there trying to get into the ballroom."
"Take Baba Chops with you as a fourth." Bierce said.
Baba Chops groaned, "Fine! But we'd better back in twenty minutes!"
The four walked through the portal and into the new reality. It looked like a stage set of a few trees, a small yellow house, and some hills. Doug noticed a paper on the ground and picked it up. "Mint's Hints canceled due to replacement of showrunner. Alaister Crum, renowned robotics engineer, replaces show runner." Doug read.
"So who is the Crum, dude?" Poe asked. "He sounds like the stuff on the floor left behind after Maggie Macho helped herself to a cookie."
Baba Chops kicked a clump of plastic grass, her scowl deepening as she looked at the fake yellow house. "If this Crum guy is a robotics engineer, then this whole 'neighborhood' is probably one giant circuit board waiting to fry us," she muttered, her eyes darting toward the hills.
"It’s definitely not a cookie-cutter show anymore," Mollie Macaw added, her feathers ruffling as she scanned the stage lights humming above them. "I don’t see Skurv yet, but these trees... they look less like wood and more like painted metal. Watch your step, Doug."
Doug folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket, his hand hovering near his belt. "If there are no soul shards or ring pieces, then Malak didn't build this to trap us. Someone—or something—else is running this show. Poe, stay close. If Crum is a 'renowned engineer,' he’s probably got eyes in the walls."
Poe puffed out his chest, trying to look braver than he felt. "Eyes in the walls? Great. Just what we need. A robotic stalker who thinks we're the afternoon special. So, do we knock on the front door of the 'little house,' or do we find the 'stage manager' first?"
Baba Chops scoffed, "I say we find the off switch. Twenty minutes, remember? I’m not spending a second longer in this mechanical nursery than I have to."
The door to the house opened. Out came a man in a black suit and tie. He stared at the four confused. "How did you all get in here? The producers didn't hand out any tours!"
"Sorry, we ended up here out of the blue. That portal behind us appeared and we wanted to check it out.
"Portal?" the man looked at it and squinted his eyes. "So there is a portal!"
"And who are you supposed to be?" Baba Chops asked. "The boss of this place?"
"Close, I am the new show runner, Alaister Crum." he looked at Doug. "And who might you be, sir?" he asked in a professional way.
"The name's Doug," Doug replied, keeping his tone guarded but level. "And these are my... associates. We aren’t here for a tour, and we definitely aren't here to be part of the cast."
Crum straightened his tie, his eyes scanning the group with a cold, analytical precision that made Poe shift uncomfortably. "Doug. A simple name. Practical. I like that," Crum said, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "However, you’ve wandered onto a closed set. This 'portal' of yours is a fascinating anomaly, but it’s an unscheduled variable in my production."
"Production?" Mollie Macaw chimed in, gesturing to the stiff, metallic trees. "You call this a show? It looks more like a high-security playpen."
"It is a refined vision," Crum snapped, his professional veneer flickering for a second. "The previous showrunner was... messy. Emotional. Prone to 'hints' and 'clues' that led nowhere. I prefer logic. I prefer structure. My robotics provide a consistency that humans—and whatever you three are—simply cannot match."
Baba Chops stepped forward, her hands on her hips. "Look, 'Mr. Manager,' we don’t care about your ratings. We’re looking for a way to shut that portal down and maybe find something useful while we're at it. You got anything in that little house besides gears and oil?"
Crum’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Baba. "What I have inside is the future of entertainment. But since you’re so eager to see the 'off switch'..." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the open door of the yellow house. "Why don't you come in? I could use a fresh perspective on my latest automated co-host."
Poe leaned toward Doug, whispering loudly, "Is it just me, or does 'fresh perspective' sound a lot like 'test subjects'?"
"Mind the wires," Crum directed, his voice echoing with a hollow, professional chime. "The previous floor plan was riddled with safety hazards—carpets you could trip on, soft corners... unnecessary chaos."
As the four stepped inside, the "house" felt less like a home and more like a clinical laboratory. The walls were a sterile, glossy yellow, and the familiar scent of crayons had been replaced by the sharp, stinging aroma of industrial lubricant and ionized air.
"Over here," Crum pointed to a kitchen table where a robotic arm was rhythmically chopping a plastic apple with terrifying precision. "My Automated Nutritionist. It ensures the audience understands the value of a perfectly measured meal. No crumbs, no waste."
"It's creepy," Poe whispered, ducking as a hovering camera-drone buzzed over his head. "The fridge is humming 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' in a minor key."
"That is the Audio-Sync Unit," Crum corrected without looking back. He led them into the living room, where a large, oversized chair sat. It wasn't the comfy "Thinking Chair" from the old show; it was made of brushed aluminum with leather restraints. "And here is where the 'Hints' happen. Or rather, the Data Inputs. We don't guess in this house, Doug. We calculate."
Mollie Macaw flew up to the rafters, looking down at the strange machinery. "I don't see any 'Hints,' Crum. I see a lot of surveillance tech. Are you filming a show or running a maximum-security nursery?"
"Observation is the key to perfection, Ms. Macaw," Crum replied, stopping in front of a heavy steel door at the back of the room. "The star of the show is right behind this door, but before I introduce her, would you like to tell if any of you are in the legal business because I've been looking for someone to sign papers to make it official for me to run the newest season of Mint's Hints."
Doug straightened his posture, his eyes sharp and clear as he looked Crum dead in the face.
"Actually," Doug said, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, professional cadence. "You're in luck. Before I ended up in... well, this mess, I practiced law. Criminal and contract, mostly."
Poe’s jaw dropped. "Wait, you were a lawyer? Like, with a briefcase and everything? I thought you were just a guy who was really good at not dying!"
"I have a lot of secrets, Poe," Doug muttered before turning back to Crum. "But as a legal professional, Mr. Crum, I never sign anything without reading the fine print. And I certainly don't sign off on a 'new season' of a show when I haven't even seen the lead talent. You mentioned a 'masterpiece' behind that door? If she’s the face of the brand, I need to see her for a full risk assessment."
Crum’s eyes lit up with a cold, blueish flicker of excitement. "An actual attorney! This is a statistical miracle. The legacy protocols require a certified signature to transfer the intellectual property rights from the previous showrunner to my corporation."
"Transfer of IP?" Doug stepped closer to the steel door, his legal brain working fast. "That’s a heavy lift. If I’m going to notarize this, I need to see the 'star' and I need to know exactly what happened to the previous host. Mint, was it? Where is she?"
Crum’s smile turned razor-sharp. "Mint was... inefficient. She's been integrated into the new format. If you want to see the star, Counsel, I’m happy to oblige."
May I present," Crum announced, "the pinnacle of my engineering. Meet Android Mint."
The heavy door fully retracted to reveal a figure that was far more unsettling than a simple robot. It was a mechanical doppleganger of the show's original star, constructed from the remains of the fox herself. Her teal plates were seamless, but her eyes possessed a calculating, sentient spark that the original never had. Unlike the original Mint, this version was designed specifically to be capable of speech—and harm.
"How do you do, Mr. Houser?" Android Mint said, her voice a perfect, melodic mimicry of a friendly host, though it carried an underlying mechanical hum. "I hope you brought a pen. Alistair has been so looking forward to your legal expertise."
Doug didn't flinch, though he noticed Baba Chops instinctively reaching for her weapon. "I see," Doug said, stepping closer to inspect the 'star'. "She’s certainly... advanced. But a transfer of IP rights for a character looking like someone else? That’s a massive liability, Crum. You’re looking at a legal nightmare if the original 'owner' ever decides to contest it. Did you get a permit from Mint or her owners for the replacement?"
"The original is... no longer in a position to contest anything," Crum replied coldly.
"That is a bold claim, Mr. Crum," Doug said, his voice dropping into that cold, steady tone he used when a witness was digging their own grave. "In the eyes of the law, 'not in a position to contest' is a far cry from a voluntary relinquishment of rights. Without a signed release form or a transfer of power of attorney, this entire 'new season' is a lawsuit waiting to happen."
Android Mint stepped forward, the floorboards creaking under her heavy, metallic weight. "I am the upgrade," she said, her voice smooth but devoid of warmth. "The previous version was flawed. Obsolete. I have been programmed to provide the audience with exactly what they need: total predictability."
"See?" Crum beamed, gesturing to the android as if she were a new car. "No more erratic behavior. No more 'feelings.' Just pure, automated entertainment. Now, if you'll just notarize this document, we can proceed to the portal shut-down and you can be on your way."
Baba Chops snorted, her hand tightening on her weapon. "I'm no lawyer, but I know a hostile takeover when I see one. You didn't 'upgrade' the show, you murdered it and put a coat of paint on the corpse."
Doug looked at the digital tablet Crum was holding. "I can't sign this, Crum. Not without a Discovery Phase. I need to see the 'replacement' contract for the previous showrunner and the blueprints for this unit to ensure she meets safety regulations. If she malfunctions and 'deactivates' a member of the audience, that’s on my signature."
Crum’s eye twitched. The professional mask was starting to crack. "Safety regulations? I am a renowned engineer! My work is flawless!"
"Then you won't mind if I take a look at the Control Core," Doug countered, pointing toward the pulsating light in the Android's chest. "I need to verify that her 'Logic Circuits' aren't a liability to the public."
Crum looked at Doug and said, "As the owner of this android, only I can open it but I'll do it just for you to get the papers signed."
"Very well," Doug said, crossing his arms and leaning back with the practiced patience of a man who had spent years in a courtroom. "Show me the inner workings. If I’m going to certify this 'asset' as the new face of the franchise, I need to know exactly what’s under the hood."
Crum stepped toward Android Mint, his movements jerky and filled with a strange, frantic pride. "A wise choice, Counsel. Most people just see the exterior. They don't appreciate the symphony of logic within."
He reached behind Android Mint’s neck, his fingers dancing over a hidden seam in the teal plating. With a series of sharp, metallic clicks, the android's chest cavity hissed open, the plates sliding aside to reveal a core of pulsating green light and a dizzying array of fiber-optic cables.
"As you can see," Crum boasted, "her primary processor is linked directly to the house's main server. She doesn't just act; she calculates. Total control over the environment, the audience, and the narrative."
Poe leaned in, whispering to Mollie, "Is it just me, or does that 'Control Core' look exactly like something we should probably smash if things go south?"
"Be careful, Poe," Doug warned, his eyes scanning the machinery for a specific serial number or data port. "Mr. Crum, this link to the main server... is that what's keeping the portal open? If she's the 'star,' is her presence what's anchoring this reality to the ballroom?"
Crum paused, his hand hovering near the exposed core. He looked back at Doug, a predatory glint in his eye. "You’re a sharp one, Doug. Too sharp for a simple notary. The portal is a byproduct of the energy required to keep her synchronized. Once you sign the papers and the 'season' officially begins, the power will stabilize, and the portal will close."
"Or," Baba Chops interjected, stepping closer with a dangerous grin, "we just pull the plug right now and see if the portal snaps shut on its own."
Crum eyed Baba. "This one has quite a mouth. Is she your kid?"
"Kid?" Baba Chops let out a sound somewhere between a bark and a snarl, her hooves clicking sharply against the sterile floor. "I’m the oldest one in this room, you tin-can-loving desk jockey! And if you don't watch it, I'll show you exactly how much 'mouth' I have by chewing through your motherboard."
"You sure don't look like an adult." Crum said with a smirk. "Android Mint, scan the lamb."
"Scan in progress," Android Mint announced, her mechanical voice flattening into a clinical drone. Her glowing green eyes began to flicker rapidly, casting a strobe-light effect over Baba Chops, who looked ready to charge.
A thin, red laser grid projected from the android’s forehead, sweeping down from Baba’s head to her hooves.
"Wait just a second!" Poe squeaked, hopping back. "You can't just scan a lady without a permit! That’s... that’s a privacy violation, Doug! Tell him!"
"This is not professional, Mr. Crum." Doug replied.
"Scan complete," Android Mint droned, her voice glitching with a momentary static pop. "Composition: Synthetic exterior. Interior: Stuffed animal... integrated with human biological matter."
The room went deathly silent. Even the hum of the server seemed to drop an octave. Crum squinted his eyes at Baba. "You have human parts?" He looked at Poe, then at Mollie. "Do they have biological matter in toy bodies as well?"
"Scanning," Android Mint announced, her glowing eyes pivoting with a mechanical whir toward Poe and Mollie.
"Whoa, whoa! Back off with the high-beams, Sparky!" Poe squawked, scrambling behind Doug’s legs. "I’m all organic! Mostly feathers, a little bit of anxiety, and a whole lot of 'none of your business'!"
Mollie said, "I'm all avian and all pilot and you are being invasive."
Doug stepped forward, his boots echoing on the sterile floor. "That’s enough, Crum. You’ve poked and prodded my team for the last time. As their legal counsel, I’m declaring this 'tour' a hostile environment. You haven't shown us a contract; you’ve shown us a collection of ethics violations."
"Ethics are for people who can't afford innovation," Crum countered, his hand hovering over the Control Core in Android Mint’s open chest. "But since you're so focused on 'legality,' Doug, let's talk about ownership. If these three are your 'team,' then you’re responsible for their actions. And right now, their presence is delaying my prime-time debut."
Doug asked, "Where are the other workers? You are the only man on the scene."
"Workers?" Crum laughed, a dry, rattling sound that lacked any real mirth. He gestured grandly at the sterile, yellow-walled room and the humming machinery. "Human workers are variable. They require breaks, they have 'opinions' on safety, and they eventually... leak. I find them aesthetically displeasing and statistically unreliable."
He stepped closer to Android Mint, placing a proprietary hand on her teal metal shoulder. "Why hire a crew when I can build one that never sleeps? My 'staff' is integrated into the walls, the cameras, and the star itself. I am the Writer, Director, and Executive Producer. She is the Cast."
"And the audience?" Mollie Macaw asked, her wings fluttering nervously. "Who are you even making this show for if there's no one else here?"
Baba Chops and Poe were now looking traumatized. "Doug, this guy is a monster! He is a spitting image of the Doctor!"
"Doctor who?" Crum asked.
Baba said, "In our universe, there was a mad scientist named Dr. Harley Sawyer who turned orphaned children into toys to cut costs. Crum is doing the same thing!"
"Harley Sawyer?" Crum repeated the name, the gears in his head practically grinding as he searched his internal database. "I’ve never heard of the man. Is he a competitor in the educational toys sector? Because if he's 'cutting costs' with biological shortcuts, he sounds like a hack with no respect for proper schematics."
Crum stepped closer to Baba Chops, peering at her stitching with a magnifying glass he pulled from his breast pocket. "So, this 'Doctor' did this to you? Fascinating. A crude attempt at transhumanism. He likely left your limbic system intact—that would explain the 'tantrums' and the emotional instability. My Android Mint, on the other hand, has had all those messy 'orphan' impulses scrubbed and overwritten with a superior OS."
Doug felt a chill run down his spine. The fact that Crum didn't even know Sawyer made him more dangerous—he wasn't a copycat; he was a man who had reached the same monstrous conclusions all on his own. "We should leave." Mollie suggested.
"Leave?" Crum asked. "You know my secret. I killed Mint, Fuchsia, that good-for-nothing Amelia, and all those messy cast and crew to make things less costly and increase efficiency! No, none of you are leaving! Mint, seize them! I'm getting android Fuchsia in here! We are taking them to the birthing chamber!"
"The Birthing Chamber?" Poe shrieked, his feathers puffing out until he looked like a panicked dandelion. "That sounds like a place where they don't give you a gift bag! Doug, do something lawyer-y! File a restraining order! A stay of execution! Anything!"
Crum’s professional mask didn't just slip; it shattered into a jagged, manic grin. "Efficiency requires sacrifice, Doug! Mint, Fuchsia, Amelia—they were overhead! They were variables! Now, they are the foundations of a perfect, unchanging broadcast. And you four? You’re the fresh stock for the new season!"
Android Mint’s eyes snapped to a violent, pulsing crimson. Her jaw unhinged with a hiss of pressurized steam. "Command received, Alistair. Commencing Asset Acquisition."
"Not on my watch," Doug growled. He didn't have a briefcase, but he had the cold, calculated focus of a man who had faced down killers in the witness stand. "Mollie, get to the rafters! Baba, Poe, get behind me!"
As Android Mint lunged forward, her metal fingers extending into jagged clamps, the floorboards beneath them began to groan. A hidden elevator platform in the center of the living room started to hiss, descending toward a dark, flickering basement filled with the sound of industrial grinders and stitching machines.
"The Birthing Chamber awaits!" Crum cackled, backing toward the server racks. "Don't worry, Baba... I’ll make sure your new 'shell' is top-of-the-line!"
"Court is in session!" Doug roared, slamming his palm into Android Mint’s open chest cavity. A massive surge of Shock Blast energy tore through the room, the blue-white electricity arcing directly into her Control Core.
The Android let out a distorted, digital shriek as her circuits began to pop like firecrackers. Her teal metal plates vibrated, and for a second, her red eyes flickered back to a dim, confused green. "System... failure... Logic... corrupted..." she wheezed, her hydraulic limbs locking up in a shower of sparks.
"Now! While she’s rebooting!" Doug shouted, grabbing Poe by the scruff and gesturing for Baba and Mollie to follow.
Crum staggered back, shielding his eyes from the electrical discharge. "My masterpiece! You’ve... you’ve caused a surge in the overhead! You're destroying the set!"
"I'm filing a permanent injunction against this show, Crum!" Doug yelled back. Instead of running for the portal, he led the charge straight toward the hissing elevator platform. "If the trigger for that portal is tied to the Birthing Chamber power grid, we're taking it down from the inside!"
"Are you crazy?!" Poe screamed as they leaped onto the descending platform. "We're literally jumping into the trash compactor!"
"No," Baba Chops growled, her eyes burning with a vengeful fire as she looked at the dark pit below. "We’re going to find out what he did to Amelia and Fuchsia. If he wants a 'Birthing Chamber,' he’s about to find out how much a stuffed animal can deliver a beatdown."
The platform plummeted, leaving a screaming, furious Alaister Crum above. As the lights of the "Little Yellow House" faded, the air grew cold, smelling of rust, old blood, and ozone. Below them, rows of unfinished robotic shells hung from the ceiling like meat in a locker, their empty glass eyes staring at the intruders.
he platform slammed into the floor of the Birthing Chamber, a cold, subterranean vault lined with towering green tubes filled with bubbling preservative fluid. Inside the glass, the mangled remains of the original crew floated like specimens, their eyes wide in a permanent state of "cancellation."
"Look at them!" Poe shrieked, pointing at a tube labeled Amelia. "He didn't just fire them, he bottled them!"
Android Fuchsia—the digitigrade male fox, now a skeletal nightmare of magenta metal—landed with a heavy thud. Unlike Android Mint’s fluid grace, Fuchsia’s movements were explosive and twitchy, his hydraulic legs built for the high-speed chases he used to lead in the halls. "System... Updated," the android buzzed, his voice box a distorted, gravelly baritone. "New cast... Detected. Preparing for... On-site Integration."
Crum cackled from the catwalk, his eyes wide with a manic, corporate glee as he hoisted Sawwy, the massive serrated blade he used to murder the original cast. He leaped down, the heavy weapon sparking against the metal floor. "He’s a bit rough around the edges, Doug! I haven't finished his 'empathy' protocols yet, but he’s remarkably efficient at severing overhead!
"He’s not a 'he' anymore; he’s a walking lawsuit!" Doug yelled, his palms glowing with blue-white energy. "Mollie, take the high ground! Baba, watch the blade! If that saw hits the green tubes, we’re all going to be swimming in preservative fluid!"
Poe was practically vibrating with terror. "A boy-bot with a buzz-saw boss?! This is the worst season finale ever! Doug, use the Shock Blast! Fry his motherboard before he 'integrates' my beak into a toaster!"
Fuchsia didn't wait. He let out a mechanical roar and sprinted up the wall, using his sharpened claws to gain traction before launching himself directly at Doug from above. Meanwhile, Crum began to rev Sawwy, the blade spinning with a high-pitched, bone-chilling whir.
Doug shouted, his eyes locked on Alaister Crum as he ignored the flying sparks and hissing steam. "Mollie, keep the 'Leading Lady' from rebooting! Baba, Poe—don't let that fox get a second wind!"
Mollie Macaw tucked her wings and dove like a bolt of lightning back toward the elevator. Android Mint was twitching on the floor, her teal plating still smoking from the previous Shock Blast. Before the robot could fully realign her sensors, Mollie snatched a heavy coil of high-tensile cable from a nearby repair rack. She began spiraling around Mint, cinching the cable tight around her leg joints and neck. "You're under house arrest, Sparky! No more 'updates' for you!"
On the other side of the chamber, Android Fuchsia let out a metallic snarl, his magenta claws scraping against the floor as he prepared to lung at Doug. But he didn't count on the "stuffed animal."
"Hey, Fox-boy! Look at the little orphan!" Baba Chops roared, her voice booming with a strength that didn't match her plush size. She didn't just tackle him—she used the slippery fire-suppressant foam to slide like a hockey puck, slamming her hooves into Fuchsia’s digitigrade knees.
"Yeah! Take that, you overgrown paperweight!" Poe shrieked, following up by hurls heavy gears and robotic fox tails at Fuchsia’s sensor array to keep him blinded. "You're canceled! Your show is tanking!"
Meanwhile, Doug charged directly at Crum. The mad engineer let out a manic scream, hoisting Sawwy high. The massive serrated blade roared to life, the friction throwing a deadly fan of sparks toward the flammable green tubes.
"You’re a liability, Crum!" Doug yelled, his hand crackling with a focused blue hum.
Crum swung the saw in a desperate, horizontal arc. "I am the Producer! I decide who stays and who... LEAKS!"
Sawwy cried, "Sorry, I can't help it! This is how he killed Mint!"
Doug looked at the weeping chainsaw. He used the shock wave to throw Crum into the glass tube. WHAM! Crum was slammed into the tube causing it to crack and shatter, spilling the contents on Crum.
Crum sputtered, his expensive black suit instantly soaked in the neon-green sludge. He scrambled to find his footing in the slippery foam and fuel, his eyes wide with a sudden, icy terror. "My... my perfect environment! You've contaminated the master recording!" Some sparks from android Fuchsia, who was caught on fire because of Baba and Poe, landed in the liquid causing Crum's right arm to catch on fire. "AAAGH!" Crum yelled. Doug ran up a flight of steps. Crum picked up Sawwy and chased after Doug with fire in his eyes.
Android Mint noticed Crum. "Fuchsia! Crum is in trouble!"
"The Director is malfunctioning!" Android Mint screeched, her bound limbs straining against Mollie’s cables with a terrifying, hydraulic whine. "Priority override! Protect the Executive Producer!"
Android Fuchsia, his magenta plating blackened and peeling as the flammable fluid on his chassis roared into a chemical fire, didn't even flinch at the heat. He let out a distorted, fox-like howl and scrambled up the wall with his claws, bypassing Baba and Poe to follow the trail of smoke.
"He's a human torch with a homicidal chainsaw!" Poe shrieked, ducking as a glob of burning preservative fluid sizzled past his beak. "Doug! He’s gaining on you! And he’s got a 'hot' temper!"
Doug took the steps three at a time, the heat from the floor below rising like a physical wall. Behind him, Crum was a nightmare in a tailored suit—his right arm a pillar of green flame, his eyes wide with a manic, unblinking fury. Sawwy was screaming in his grip, the blade's serrated teeth catching the fire and spinning it into a whirlwind of sparks.
"You're redacted, Doug!" Crum roared, his voice cracking as the fire licked at his shoulder. "I'll burn this entire contract to ash with you inside it!"
"It's over Crum! As of now if anyone saw you like this, you would be in prison!"
"As if!" Crum sneered.
Android Fuchsia, still engulfed in magenta flames, landed on the railing just inches from Doug's head. His cooling fans were whining at a deafening pitch, trying to combat the internal meltdown. "System... Critical... Final... Take..." the fox-bot buzzed, his claws glowing red-hot.
"Doug! The Portal Trigger is sparking!" Poe shrieked from below, dodging a falling piece of the ceiling. "If it hits 100% heat, we're all staying for the after-party—permanently!"
Mollie Macaw saw her opening. While Android Mint was occupied trying to self-repair her snapped cables, Mollie soared toward the Master Control Console. "I've got the override! Doug, get clear!"
Crum raised the flaming saw for a killing blow. Fuchsia coiled for a final pounce. The green fluid below reached the main power coupling, and the floor began to hum with a pre-explosion vibration.
Doug looked at Crum and felt a hint of pain, he knew now he didn't have a choice. He used the shock blast on Crum. Crum leaned over the railing and plummeted to the ground. Crum hit the metal floor of the Birthing Chamber with a sickening clang. Below, Android Mint and Android Fuchsia—ignoring their own melting frames—scrambled through the rising fire. They reached for their creator with mangled, sparking hands, but it was too late. The master of the "New Season" lay still in the center of his broken masterpiece. Mint looked at Doug with intense malice. "That Doug killed him!"
Poe managed to grab Sawwy and rescued it before it smashed. "Thank you, little bird!" Sawwy sobbed, its serrated teeth chattering in Poe’s grip. "Don't let them take me back! I don't want to be a murder weapon anymore!"
Doug saw the androids preparing to launch themselves up the cooling-rack walls like spiders. The floor below was a lake of green fire, and the Master Control Console was melting.
"BABA! MOLLIE! INTO THE PORTAL! NOW!" Doug commanded, his hands glowing with the last of his Shock Blast energy to create a barrier of electricity.
As the team scrambled through the shimmering blue rift, the Birthing Chamber reached critical mass. A massive explosion of green light and white foam consumed the room. The last thing Doug saw before the portal snapped shut was the glowing red eyes of Android Mint and Android Fuchsia, still reaching through the fire, promising that this "cancellation" wasn't the end of the series.
The four of them collapsed onto the cold stone floor. The portal vanished into a thin line of sparks and then... nothing. Silence.
Bierce walked over, her heels clicking rhythmically. She looked at the singed fur, the soot-covered feathers, and the weeping chainsaw in Poe’s arms. "My, my. You all look like you’ve been through a particularly nasty focus group. Where is the showrunner?"
"He's... permanently off-air," Doug panted, wiping a streak of green fluid from his forehead.
Baba Chops sat on the floor, staring at her plush hooves, her mind still echoing with Crum’s words about "human parts" and "orphans." Mollie Macaw perched beside her, placing a comforting wing on her shoulder.
Poe was still hugging the chainsaw. "We rescued the 'prop,' Bierce. And I think we just made some very, very angry enemies who don't care about the rules of the ballroom."
Doug explained to Bierce about Crum, how he turned the cast and crew into androids, the battle in the birthing chamber, Crum's fall, and the android foxes swearing revenge.
Bierce listened, tapping a manicured nail against her chin, a look of profound boredom masking the faint flicker of amusement in her eyes. When Doug finished, she let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed through the hollow Ballroom.
"A 'renowned robotics engineer'?" she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, Doug, you really do find the most delightful failures. Crum thought he could replace the messy brilliance of a soul with gears and grease? How... industrial of him".
"The foxes swore revenge," Doug reminded her, his voice hard.
"There's nothing he nor his tin cans can do to us in here." she replied. The portal to mint's hints vanished. Bierce said, "Good, you have actually managed to eliminate the portal. Now we can focus on getting the rest of the ring shards."
***
Malak was sitting at his desk in his dark office. Skurv was looking at his cutlass. The door opened and a certain rabbit walked towards Malak.
"Ah, Lucky, what news do you bring?"
"Two fox androids and a half burnt soul in a factory fire." The general of Joy Joy Land explained. "They have a vendetta on Doug Houser and requested me to send them over. Should I send them away?"
"Send them away?" Malak purrs, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "Certainly not. Let them in. They might be useful."
The heavy, obsidian doors to Malak’s office creaked open, admitting a gust of soot and the rhythmic, uneven clack-hiss of damaged hydraulics.
Android Mint limped in first, her teal plating scorched black and her left eye flickering a jagged, hateful red. Behind her came Android Fuchsia, his skeletal frame still venting wisps of acrid smoke, his fox-like jaw hanging at a broken angle. Between them, they supported the charred, pathetic remains of Alaister Crum. The "Director" was barely more than a silhouette of burnt fabric and raw, weeping skin, his right arm missing entirely, but his eyes... his eyes still burned with a frantic, obsessive light. Crum asked, "Where am I? Where is my factory?"
Malak said, "Crum, you're dead. These android foxes decided to follow you down to the Nightmare Realm."
"Dead." Crum said. "That lawyer ruined my show, ruined me! I'll never make more money again! If I find that Doug, I'll delete him for my next show, even in Hell for all the demons to see as I tear him apart limb from limb!" Crum yelled his eyes full of hate.
Malak let out a low, vibrating chuckle, his orange eyes glowing with a dark, predatory satisfaction. "Such a vibrant vengeance, Alaister. It would be a waste to let it fade."
Malak gestured toward the shadows of his office, where a massive, rusted mechanical chair hummed with sickly purple energy. "You want your 'Next Show'? I can give you a studio that transcends the mortal plane. But you’ll need a new Executive Producer... and a new set of tools."
Android Mint’s head gave a sharp, 360-degree spin, her voice box crackling. "Logic... Confirmed. Target... Doug Houser. Destination... The Joy Joy Factory. Commencing... Retooling."
"Take them, Lucky," Malak commanded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Give the Director his new arm. Give the foxes their predatory upgrades. And when the lawyer steps into the next portal... make sure the cameras are rolling for his final scene."
Lucky the Rabbit grabbed Crum by the collar of his burnt suit. "Come on, 'Boss.' Let's go see the Joy Joy mechanics. They’ve got some spare parts that’ll make you feel like a brand-new man—or at least, a brand-new monster."
Crum's mouth cracked into a terrifying smile.
Skurv said, "Shiver me timbers! Doug killed someone? He pushed me down several times but not enough to send me to Davy Jones Locker."
"He didn't just 'push' me, pirate. He litigated me into a furnace! He destroyed my logic! My... my ratings!" He let out a wet, rattling cough that sounded like grinding gears. "But I’m a Producer. I know how to handle a reboot. When I see him again, I’m going to make sure his 'final verdict' is a slow, painful deconstruction."
Android Mint and Android Fuchsia followed behind Lucky, their heavy footfalls echoing like a death knell. Mint’s flickering red eye locked onto Skurv. "Subject: Doug Houser. Threat Level: Extremely High. Lethal Force: Authorized and Encouraged."
Malak told Skurv. "Oh, I like this one! Maybe just the thing to give us a ledge over Doug and Bierce. When they enter Joy Joy Land, Crum and his androids are going to shower Doug with all their joy."
"Leave Mollie to me." Skurv said. "I'll take care of the bilge rat parrot lady!"
Malak then got an idea. He pressed his finger on the intercom. "Penny. This is Malak speaking."
"Yes, Master?" The voice that crackled back over the intercom was a chilling contrast—saccharine sweet, yet hollow as a grave. Penny the Chicken chuckled, the sound of her mechanical clucking echoing through the dark halls of Joy Joy Land. "Is it time for a matinee? My fans are getting so hungry for a new guest star!"
"Yes, I know you are interested in a certain Doug Houser who will be coming eventually to your Nightmare Realm."
"A new squishy?" Penny the Chicken clucked, the sound distorted by a glitchy, high-pitched mechanical trill. "Oh, Master, you know how I simply adore new materials!"
"Yes, but this is not going to be easy. There is another lady bird named Mollie Macaw. She is--flashier and brighter and very protective of Doug Houser. She won't let him anywhere near you."
"Flashier? Brighter?" Penny’s voice box emitted a screeching, static-filled hiss that sounded like a tea kettle screaming. "A rival in my coop? How dare she try to outshine the star of the show! No one is more protective—or more possessive—of their playthings than Penny!"
The sound of clucking became rhythmic and aggressive over the intercom. "If this Mollie Macaw thinks her feathers are prettier, I’ll pluck them one by one to see if she’s just as squishy underneath! I’ll make a lovely new pillow out of her 'flashy' wings!"
Malak chuckled, his eyes glowing with a malicious orange light. "That’s the spirit, Penny. She’s a pilot, so she’ll be looking down on you from the rafters."
"I'll get rid of her, then that squishy is all mine!" Penny clucked over the speaker.
Skurv smiled, "Oh, I see, Hell hath no fury like a jealous woman!"
"You have caught on, for once." Malak replied.

End of Chapter