Misfit Toys by Doug Klein
Wayne Coburn sat in his office. It was Christmas Eve, and he had work to do. He was not a fan of the holiday season, save for the business it would usually bring in. Coburn Collectibles had been in the Eastwick Plaza shopping center for several years, and every year it seemed that the whole damn place got more crowded every day. Loud, obnoxious people cramming the walkways and food court, all a cacophony of annoyance to Wayne. Today would be the worst, as in just a few hours the giant Christmas tree in the center pavilion was to be lit. It would draw a huge crowd as a top tier mall Santa would smile and take photos with local politicians and their children as the tree would shine bright. Wayne despised it all. He was in an exceptionally sour mood. He had just received some apparently rare collectibles that would have brought in a pretty penny had he just gotten them sooner.
Sitting on Wayne's desk were four three-foot tall robot toys. The packaging, font, and faded clear plastic on the box indicated it had to be from sometime in the eighties. They were part of a set, a line of action toys called the Misfit Machines, from a company called Kilgrove Toys. Wayne had briefly searched for them online, looking for prices or information, but his quick search found nothing. No information on the toy line, or the company for that matter. Nothing at all.
Wayne had decided that grunt work could be left to his assistant Jeremy, who had spent the last three hours using his phone, laptop, and tablet as he searched for any information. Jeremy had recently broken a very valuable and heavy vase as he tried to move it from the company van to the second floor storage, and Wayne had been dangling termination over his head ever since.
As Jeremy toiled away, Wayne went to work. The robots looked untouched in the boxes, and had very unique battery packs included in the box. A true rarity indeed. Wayne was sure the batteries would not work, but for authenticity he would check. With surgical precision he would slice through the decades old tape and extract the toys. He could inspect them much closer, and check if the batteries leaked in storage.
Wayne noted the somewhat violent nature of these supposed kid toys. One robot had a UFO shaped head, light bulbs filling up the black space that ran along the outer ring of its head. It had chrome painting over most of its anthropomorphic body, with some spots of black pre-formed rubber as well. It was called "Doomsday-X1'' and had artwork over the box of the robot destroying buildings with its hands. The other three were just as strange, all with violent art of the figure in the box wreaking havoc or attacking people. Wayne worked Doomsday-X1 out of the box gently and laid it down on his workbench. It had no visual damage, but also no manufacturer markings on it anywhere.
"Very odd." Wayne mumbled out loud.
"Did you need something, sir?" Jeremy hollered from his work area. Wayne rolled his eyes and called back to him.
"Keep searching, Jeremy. Talk to me when you have something of value. Otherwise no interruptions, please." Wayne did not even turn to look at Jeremy, but Jeremy nodded anyway as he went back to his search.
Wayne let out a heavy sigh and went back to work. He looked over the battery pack for Doomsday-X1 and it was pristine. No scratches, no wear, not even any real sign of aging. Wayne was impressed, and then, on a hunch, put the pack into the slot on Doomsday-X1. Almost instantly the robot began flashing lights and making sounds.
"Well I'll be damned!" Wayne said as he leaned back and took in the start-up demo of Doomsday-X1. Red lights flashed round the disk-shaped head, accompanied by the sounds of explosions and laser blasts.
"Wow! It works!" Jeremy said from across the room.
Wayne shot Jeremy a vicious look and Jeremy snapped back to his screens, his mouth shut as tight as possible.
It worked. The damn toy worked. This might be worth something even after the Christmas rush. Wayne pushed on with vigor now. The other three were rapidly taken out of the box and tested.
Desecrator-V7 was a stout robot with spiked hands and a head that was a solid chrome sphere with different sized spikes jutting out in all directions. Two red eyes were nestled down deep within the spikes, and the robot stood upon three articulated legs.
Pyrotron-K2 was clearly meant to appeal to a young boy's love of fire. Its head was similar to a welder's mask, and it had two cannons for hands, with tiny claw-like appendages around the barrels. Orange lights flashed on top of its cannon to mimic fire, and scorch marks painted on its frame added to its aesthetic.
Meltdown-R4 had some very graphic depictions of radioactive death on its box. The most colorful robot, it was chrome and crimson, with bright teal lights and cables running all over its body. A very skeletal and metallic head sat on its glowing shoulders.
Wayne had pulled them all out, and each one worked as if it was brand new. This could be a gold mine, and Wayne knew it. He swiveled in his chair to yell at Jeremy, but Jeremy had sprung from his seat.
"Oh my God! I, I think I found something!" Jeremy was both shocked and excited, as he stood and pointed at his laptop. Wayne launched from his chair to see what he had found. Wayne began reading the article on the screen, but Jeremy could not contain himself.
"Kilgrove Toys only lasted for a few months, and these were the only toys made. It seems that they went straight from inception to production, and had these demo toys made up pretty quick. However, the small toy expo they were to be shown at had a terrible fire, and several people died. It destroyed their chances at ever launching, I assume." Jeremy said, looking at Wayne for some sort of acknowledgement. Wayne just kept reading on as a smile formed on his face.
"Rare, one of a kind toys that are linked to a small disaster? Oh my. Oh my, oh my. I, I must make a call. Save and print this now Jeremy!" Wayne said as he sprinted up the stairs in the back of the building. His older phone did not get great reception, so he went to the loft to make sure he could get a signal. Jeremy sat back down and after securing the article, he looked at a few more leads from the disaster. The articles came from sites with a reputation for conspiracy and exaggeration, but Jeremy's interest was piqued. What he read was terrifying.
There was a supposed film crew from a news station at the event. There were blurry, but discernible images and video of within the fire, four small figures, shimmering in chrome, attacked people who were trying to run out of the burning building. Jeremy read on, unaware of several robotic eyes now looking at him from the workbench.
Jeremy found an even clearer image from an amateur photographer that was also at the event. On the screen in front of him was a picture of Desecrator-V7. It was on top of a man who had fallen down, and its spiked hand was raking across the man's face, leaving several lines of torn flesh. Jeremy stood up quickly, knocking his chair down. His eyes slowly moved from the screen to the workbench.
The top of the bench had four open boxes on top. Nothing more.
Jeremy whimpered, turning to shout to Wayne up the stairs, but was stopped when he saw Meltdown-R4 standing on top of the filing cabinet. It opened its three fingered claw-like hands and bright, teal light poured out, bathing Jeremy’s face in its glow. He winced, closing his eyes and then shrieked as his skin began to bubble and burn.
He fell to the floor, grabbing his face. He felt warm liquid burning his fingertips and he flinched. A chunk of flesh came off in his hands. He howled in horror as another toy, Doomsday XI , stepped into his peripheral. The head expanded vertically, revealing a metallic barrel. A bright red laser flashed out and hit Jeremy directly in the mouth. Jeremy’s head illuminated with hues of pink and scarlet and then exploded into a shrapnel of gore.
The robots looked over their handy work, then Pyrotron-K2 gazed up to the ceiling, where the muffled conversation Wayne Coburn was having could be heard. Fire flared out briefly from Pyrotron-K2's cannon hands, and the four moved quickly to the staircase.
Upstairs, Wayne paced in excitement. All the price estimates he was getting from his friend on the phone were outrageous. Wayne was going to be able to retire, to get out of the mall, and get away from people. His dreams were at hand.
"Okay, Glen, I will take some pictures and send them to you tomorrow. Oh? Oh yes, then the day after. Ah, yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Yes, good-bye." Wayne ended the phone call and walked to the window. Outside he could see the crowd had gathered near the center pavilion and the tree lighting was almost a hand. Wayne suddenly felt very festive, and thought he might even go watch it himself. An honest smile across his face, Wayne took in a deep, calming breath.
"How could things get any better?" He wondered out loud.
An excruciating pain lanced through his foot and up his leg. Wayne yelped and looked down to see a spiked hand from Desecrator-V7 balled into a fist and lodged into his foot through his shoe. Blood oozed out of the wound. Wayne wailed and stumbled backwards. He shook his foot and kicked until Desecrator-V7 flew off and crashed onto the floor.
"What the hell? You bastard, what the hell is this?! Jeremy!" Wayne stood up and tried to limp away. The stairwell was blocked by Pyrotron-K2. Fire burst out of its cannons, and Wayne was beside himself.
“What the hell is this? I had it made, damnit, I had it made!” Wayne shouted down at the moving toys. Flames hit Wayne quickly in his chest, he began to scream and swatted at the flames but they spread too quickly. He limped backwards trying to escape but the flames engulfed him, he flailed and lost his balance, smashing through the window behind him. His body fell to the street in a sickening thud. The robots stood at the broken window and looked out. A large crowd was gathered in the distance around the Christmas tree and echoes of laughter and festive music drifted in the air. A light snow began to fall.
The crowd was packed in tightly as the snow sprinkled the stage and tree. The tree itself was massive, and was surrounded by giant present boxes. The stage itself had another centerpiece, a large red and white fur covered throne, a perfect spot for the man of the hour to sit. And as if on cue, Santa arrived. He walked on stage carrying a large red sack of gifts, and started to take some out and throw them among the crowd. Cheers, hoots, and applause filled the cold December air. Santa found his way to his throne, and he sat upon it. Then, also from just offstage, came a few men dressed in black peacoats, their hands locked with those of small children who waved to the crowd as they walked on stage. One man had a microphone, and he addressed the crowd.
"Welcome everyone, I'm Mayor Wendall, and I hope you are all staying warm out there! Thank you all for coming to the Eastwick Plaza tree lighting ceremony! Now it's getting a little chilly out here, and Santa, well he is a very busy man. So, we're gonna take a few photos here and then we will form a line. But first things first. We have a tree to light!" Mayor Wendall then led a loud and raucous countdown, from ten to one, and the tree burst to life with colors of red, blue, yellow and white. A giant star shone bright on top, as all different colors flashed across it in vivid patterns. The crowd roared in joyous cheers.
Under the tree, unseen through the lighting, were the four toy robots. They moved at a slow deliberate pace, scanning the crowd and silently signaling to each other. Doomsday-X1 moved close to the place where the man playing Santa sat.
Mayor Wendall waved to the crowd and put his son up on Santa's lap. He instructed the photographers to begin taking pictures. Cameras flashed, illuminating the throne and the underside of the tree, including all four robots as they approached, but no one paid them any heed.
"Grab a toy for a photo." Mayor Wendall said to Santa. Santa nodded and reached down. His hand wrapped around the waist of Doomsday-X1, and he lifted the murderous toy up for a picture for the paper.
The camera flashed once more as Santa and the mayor's son smiled. Doomsday-X1 arched its disk-like head and the lights on its heads moved around sporadically until they formed angry looking eyes out of a grouping of red dots.
The camera flashed again. Santa felt the robot’s eyes on him, and as he still smiled, he shot a quick glance sideways at the toy. The malice within the toy was palpable. Santa saw a blade extend out from the arm.
The camera flashed a final time.
Santa's beard began to cascade from white to crimson. He reached to the gaping wound in his throat as blood began to spurt out through his now gore soaked beard. The boy screamed, and Mayor Wendall swooped in to pull him from the dying man. Doomsday-X1 stood upon the throne, blood dripping from his blade. The crowd now sensed all had gone wrong, and began to scream and try to flee, but they were packed in too tight. People were being crushed into one another or trampled below.
Pyrotron-K2 aimed his cannons upward as he stood directly under the tree. His flames shot up into the tree and the very flammable tinsel and wreaths quickly caught. Within seconds the tree was a pillar of flame. Desecrator-V7 and Meltdown-R4 pushed at the tree from behind.
The crowd roared in fear as the giant blaze crashed upon them, killing some with impact, while the rest became kindling in the roaring Christmas fire.
The mayor attempted to get off stage with his son in his arms. The chaos had moved at an exponential rate, and now he could not find an escape. Confused, and terrified, Mayor Wendall turned back to look once more at the source of the turmoil. Doomsday-X1 regarded the mayor for a moment, and then brought its ordinance to bear once more. Mayor Wendall's lifeless body fell onto the stage, his crying son landing on top of his corpse. A hole in the middle of his forehead produced a thin wisp of smoke and the odor of burnt flesh.
The carnage continued deep into the night.
Police and firefighters arrived on scene to a massacre. The blazing tree had been put out, and the number of casualties was continually growing. Investigators searched for a source to all the bloodshed, but eye witness accounts were quite farfetched or inconsistent, and the type of attack had to have been coordinated by a very well-trained force. This was supposed to be a beautiful Christmas gathering. It had become a Christmas slaughter. The only lights in Eastwick Plaza were that of the emergency vehicles lighting up the dead.
In a few homes, just a mile or so away, the sirens could be heard. A quaint and quiet cul-de-sac had no idea of the horror that had happened so close. The night had come, and parents tucked their children into bed. The next day promised to be unforgettable. As the whole neighborhood slept, four toy robots found places under four different trees, awaiting the next morning with the same eager anticipation.
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