Richard walked toward the talking doll—Experiment 13-13 of Orfan Lab, Martha Allen.
"Found you." Richard advanced slowly. "Where are my partners?"
Martha giggled. "They're somewhere safe."
"Free them." Richard stepped into the octagonal chamber strewn with corpses, crouched, and met the smiling doll inside the glass cabinet eye-to-eye. "You're a child who keeps her word, right?"
"Martha always keeps her promises." Her bright, clear eyes locked onto Richard's dark ones, smile unwavering. "But are you sure you want me to release them now? The toys outside have been so lonely."
Richard sighed and sat down. "So… you're lonely too?"
"Over-sharp children aren't to Martha's liking." She planted her hands on her hips, cheeks puffed in mock anger.
"You call me child? How old are you?" Richard asked with a grin.
The curve of Martha's smile flattened; her voice cooled, frosting the air. "Age is a girl's secret."
"Fine. Whether human or Anomaly, females guard their stats." He spread his hands. "Question—why turn every orphanage worker into the toys outside?"
"They once treated Martha and my friends as toys; turnabout's fair." Martha beamed. "People can be friends… or toys."
"You're completely broken." Richard shook his head at the twisted binary logic. "No middle ground? Innocents can't just stay ordinary—neither friend nor toy?"
Martha pressed her warped view: "Innocent? Weren't we innocent?"
"You know how awful it feels to hurt the innocent—why do it?" Richard pressed. "Carly and her group came to rescue victims like you, yet you attacked them. Why?"
Martha's eyes widened. "Martha didn't hurt them. Shante only wanted to play; they refused."
Richard: "You and Shante are perfect—both force people into games."
"You knew we were soulmates and still killed him!?" Martha's face twisted; her eyes ballooned, teeth jagged, mouth a worm-like gullet.
"Why so serious?" Richard smiled, finding this grotesque version normal. "He came at me—so I killed him. If you wanted him alive, you could've hidden him or helped him flee. You didn't. You watched."
Martha stared, then slurped back drool and sighed. "I told you—over-sharp children annoy me."
She admitted, "Fine. I let you kill him; it was Shante's own wish."
"He wanted to die by your hand," Richard said. "His last word was your name."
Martha looked miserable. "How could I execute my own friend?"
"The ones in the scrap warehouse weren't friends?"
"Only Shante was my friend." Her voice was flat. "I let the rest rot."
Richard nodded. "You could've done the same to Shante—then we wouldn't have lopped his head off."
"I tried. He wouldn't obey; he'd sneak rotten things to eat." Martha cupped her face, then brightened. "So I waited… until outsiders came to kill him."
Remembering the gnawed dolls, Richard believed her. "Wish granted. So why still trap us?"
Martha pressed a tiny palm to the glass, eyes glistening. "Martha wants new friends. Martha wants out."
"I can take you out." Richard flexed his stiff sword-arm and switched the blade to his left.
Martha tilted her head. "Will you be Martha's friend?"
"I'll be your friend—as a human." He saw through her game.
She pouted. "How many times must I say it? Stop being so sharp. I really dislike it."
The doll-ghost meant to recreate Orfan's experiment on him, turning him into a toy like her. Richard sighed; blue glints flickered in his black pupils. He'd kept Weak Point Exploitation active since meeting her, searching for flaws.
Yet the fragile doll was seamless. Her true body wasn't porcelain but the soul inside—an Anomaly ghost-king.
He hesitated to use Phantom Spirit Body; dueling her soul as a human spirit-avatar was a last-ditch gamble.
"Let's play one more game." Martha rubbed her hands, grinning. "No tricks this time. Win or lose, I'll free your friends. The wager isn't them—it's you. Lose, and you become a doll like me."
Her sapphire eyes roved greedily over him. "I've always wanted a black-haired, black-eyed friend. Your face is exactly Martha's type."
Richard knew he had no choice. "Fine. If I win, don't spare me—just die quietly and I'll send you to Shante."
Martha burst into laughter. "Haha, deal! I like you more and more…"
She blinked, then smirked. "More guests? Today's certainly lively."
Richard realized someone else had entered the Toy Factory, and his heart clenched—he feared the friends from Hawkins Town couldn't resist coming after him; given Robin and Steve's temperament, sneaking in was entirely possible.
"Who's there?" Richard asked.
"Two girls and a boy," Martha said with a smile. "Just like those two little girls with you—each branded with a number."
Richard's brows lifted; could these be other test subjects who'd escaped from Hawkins Lab?
Martha still looked as if every pawn rested on her chessboard. By thought alone she dispatched new orders to the murderous dolls outside, directing a contingent to the hall to hunt the three intruders.
In moments the dolls—intimately familiar with the factory's layout—raced into the hall and collided head-on with the trespassers.
Martha's mind stayed fixed on the clash, certain the unremarkable trio wouldn't last three seconds.
What happened next wiped every trace of composure from Martha's face.
A girl inked with the number 9 suddenly glared red-eyed; her skin flushed pink, veins bulging as power surged beneath. Every weapon-wielding doll lurched, limbs askew, and crashed to the floor, steel clattering.
On closer look Martha saw scorch marks marring the dolls; flames from nowhere wrapped each figure, turning them into crackling torches.
"How..." This was unlike anything she'd seen—nothing like Eleven's telekinesis or Carly's illusions; this was honest fire, visible heat.
Bang!
While Martha stared, she forgot Richard. By the time she sensed him, a huge fist had punched through the glass without shattering it and slammed into her, hurling her backward as the display cabinet exploded in shards.
"You!" Martha rose from the wreckage, body broken, snarling at Richard's Phantom Spirit Body. "So that's your gift—no wonder you caught my eye. I'll claim that mighty soul!"
Recognizing his incorporeal state, Martha—mad but no fool—charged his physical shell; sever body from spirit and he'd be helpless.
Richard unleashed Phantom Horror, conjuring a spectral chainsaw that bit toward her head.
Boom!
In the Toy Factory hall a youth of about twenty, together with twin girls, cut down every attacking doll, then followed the trail of fallen toys to a hidden passage leading toward the entertainment zone.
There they found more dolls in droves.
"Your turn, Jamie," said Ricky, the numeral 3 showing on his wrist. He and another girl stepped behind Nine to face the blood-scenting pack.
"Leave it to me, Ricky, Marcy," Jamie grinned; years on the run had honed her power to deadly perfection.
Every doll within her sight plunged into a searing inferno of heat and flame.
Marcy—Jamie's identical twin, bound mind-to-mind—spotted shapes dangling from a ceiling-mounted stingray model.
Arm extended, she revealed the tattoo 9.5. "Look—people up there!"
Boom! Boom! Boom—"Bad news—flammables!" Ricky shouted. Burning dolls hurled themselves at nearby chemicals, detonating chain reactions.
The factory quaked; flames raced through the vast children's play zone.
Heat blasted Eleven awake. She severed the ropes with a thought, levitating herself, Hopper, and Carly onto a metal catwalk below.
Hopper and Carly woke on the blistering grating; there was no sign of Richard.
Surrounded by dolls, Eleven's fury flared; with a cry she froze every puppet and ripped off their heads.
Jamie and Marcy gaped—then beamed: fellow test subjects at last!
"Carly!" Ricky sprinted over, twins in tow.
Hopper glanced between them; Carly's silent nod said she knew them.
"Sorry I'm late," Ricky murmured, guessing Axel and the others hadn't made it.
Carly shook her head. "We have to reach someone—he could still be in danger."
"Through there?" Jamie pointed to the door in the mural of Elephant Valley.
"No way back," Ricky said; burning debris had sealed the passage behind them.