"And this problem of yours couldn't have waited until this morning...?" A polite voice casually inquired, not even asking how Chucky received his number due to putting two-and-two together and realising that it must've been Michael.

"What, do you want to put (Y/n)'s life in danger?" Chucky retaliated fiercely, clutching his cellphone in his other hand before gritting his teeth; loathing how he was the one who had to converse with the stuck-up psychiatrist.

"(Y/n)'s safety is everything to me. That goes without saying. Quite frankly, I would've preferred that she stayed here instead of taking her friend's place. Especially since I don't trust either you, nor Michael to protect her properly. Figures." Hannibal calmly commented, sighing through the phone call and causing Chucky to almost lose his temper.

"There's NO time for that, you son-of-a-bitch." He angrily snapped back, holding in his pride and noticing that he had to act fast - before (Y/n) returned from checking on Brahms. Was she scolding him again or something...? Surely just making sure he was still there didn't take this long. Perhaps she was telling him off. Whatever. That wasn't the problem right now.

"Then why don't you get around to telling me what the actual problem is, instead of beating around the bush and avoiding the subject entirely...?" The psychiatrist questioned in a bored manner, his pretentious personality making Chucky want to throw the phone across the kitchen and end up breaking it.

"I-...Myers and I need to know about...Well, about this house. About this mansion...and the twats that lived here in the first fucking place." The redheaded doll forced himself to tell Hannibal sourly, sulking once he'd told him and suppressing a sigh of his own.

"So let me get this straight then. You called me up, in the middle of the night, all to learn about the Heelshire's unusually questionable background...?" The smart male smoothly summarised, his sarcasm bubbling as he pressed Chucky through the phone call yet again.

"Believe me, I'm beginning to regret it, you condescending motherfuck—" Before he could finish, Michael held his shoulder and roughly shook it; coldly reminding Chucky about Hannibal's insanely poisonous personality and what they were actually trying to accomplish.

"Rather than unnecessarily insulting me, could you please get to the genuine point...? I'm assuming you must have one, otherwise you wouldn't have called me for my insight on said matter." Hannibal mused thoughtfully, his voice implying that he was privately enjoying Chucky's immature irritation.

"Look, buddy, all we have to know is if there's anything suspicious, or odd about this place. That's it." Chucky replied with fury, holding back his temper and doing his best to just ignore the psychiatrist's twisted toying.

"Anything suspicious or odd...?" Hannibal slowly repeated, his reaction to Chucky's question sounding weirdly curious. "That's a strange thing to ask about that place."

"Why's that, huh?" Chucky rudely demanded, feeling highly on-edge once the phone call dipped into silence for a moment.

"I should've told you and Michael this before the both of you left..." The intellectual killer brought up quietly, mulling over the hidden information he was about to share. "But the truth of the matter is that I didn't want to scare (Y/n) whilst she was preparing to leave. Not after the multiple times we've done so previously."

"Scare (Y/n)...? How would you do that over some stupid information about a family...?" The doll carelessly pointed out, sitting on one of the kitchen table's chairs before swinging around and facing Michael in the process.

"Because a little girl from town used to go over there. Once a week." Hannibal informed Chucky solemnly, his remark making Michael wrench the phone out of the doll's grasp and forcefully switch it to speaker mode. "To play with their little boy. Brahms Heelshire."

"Okay...So what? Is that it?" Chucky unsurely commented, confused as to why Hannibal was so serious about hiding it from (Y/n). A little girl playing with their son once a week. Didn't sound that odd. Least not to him.

"The young girl's name was Emily Cribbs, her age unknown when I attempted to research certain...events. I couldn't find much regarding the Heelshire's background either." Hannibal darkly explained, pausing for a brief second so he could plainly think back to something crucial. "Though apparently, rumour has it that on his eighth birthday, she came over to play again and never made it home."

"But that's just a rumour, ain't it?" Chucky stated cautiously, his grasp on his knife tightening after he spoke with uncertainty. "I mean, you said yourself that you hadn't been able to find out much about—"

"They finally found her body in the woods." Hannibal interrupted him gravely, stopping him from talking and deciding to just fill the two of them in. "Her skull had been crushed. The police called the Heelshires to let them know that Brahms would need to be questioned. But by the time they'd arrived, the place was already up in flames."

"Holy shit. Whoever killed her did a pretty good job." Chucky murmured to himself in amusement, falling quiet after Michael flashed him another coldhearted glare.

"The Heelshires made it out, but their son - Brahms - was burned alive up there." Hannibal mentioned uninterestedly, the clever male not sounding all that engrossed or fascinated.

"Did they ever find her killer?" Chucky quizzed Hannibal, wanting to know more about the murderous event.

"No, they never did." The psychopathic killer honestly answered, his reply causing Michael to become anxious and Chucky to lose some of his earlier interest. "So all I'm saying is that if that rumour turns out to be somewhat true, and if they never found her killer, then the Heelshires - and that mansion - are more dangerous than we last thought."

"No kidding..." Chucky huffed, not knowing how to respond or even what to think about the entire thing. But just as the doll was going to talk some more, Michael scribbled down his thoughts - showing the notepad to Chucky first so that he could talk to Hannibal about it.

"ᖇEᗰEᗰᗷEᖇ ᗯᕼᗩT I ᔕᗩIᗪ. ᗯE'ᖇE ᑎOT GOIᑎG TO ᗷE ᗩᗷᒪE TO ᕼᗩᑎᗪᒪE TᕼIᔕ OᑌᖇᔕEᒪᐯEᔕ. TᕼIᔕ ᗪOᒪᒪ ᗰIGᕼT ᕼᗩᐯE (Y/ᑎ) ᖴOOᒪEᗪ, ᗷᑌT Iᖴ IT Iᔕ ᔕᑌᑭEᖇᑎᗩTᑌᖇᗩᒪ, ᗯE'ᖇE GOIᑎG TO ᕼᗩᐯE TO GET TᕼE OTᕼEᖇᔕ IᑎᐯOᒪᐯEᗪ. ᗯᕼETᕼEᖇ YOᑌ ᒪIKE IT Oᖇ ᑎOT." [A/N: "REMEMBER WHAT I SAID. WE'RE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO HANDLE THIS OURSELVES. THIS DOLL MIGHT HAVE (Y/N) FOOLED, BUT IF IT IS SUPERNATURAL, WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO GET THE OTHERS INVOLVED. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT."]

"Okay, okay, I get it...!" Chucky grumbled bitterly, his moody snap catching the other killer's attention and causing more confusion.

"Excuse me...?" Hannibal dubiously remarked, not understanding where the doll's sudden outburst came from.

"It was just Myers. He wanted me to tell you somethin'. Something important. About this stupid doll." Chucky spoke with embarrassment, continuing to dislike the conversation and wanting to go find (Y/n) instead.

"About a doll...?" The psychiatrist thought aloud in a bewildered fashion, his interest in their issue arising whilst his maliciousness faded. "I knew the Heelshires had created a life-sized doll to replace and contemplate for the death of their son, but if there's something else you need to discuss about the subject—"

"It's not just about the doll. It...It's alive." Chucky told Hannibal truthfully, bringing up the main problem and spilling the beans about Brahms' supernatural talents. "You have to believe me. It can teleport into different places within the blink of an eye, it messes around, turns things off and on, it's really fuckin' weird—"

"Does it have any sort of soul power contained within it...?" Hannibal carefully interrogated, thinking over Chucky's previous exclamation and trying to keep the situation calm.

"Not that I could sense, no. That's why I don't get it. How it's moving without any source of power or ability. It's fuckin' insane." The redhead declared in despair, frustrated by his lack of insight and what the Hell was going on.

"Hmm...That does sound rather suspicious. A doll shifting spaces without any soul power, messing around and moving when nobody's looking...Has it done anything to hurt (Y/n) though...? In any way, shape, or form...?" The courteous slasher questioned possessively, shifting his focus away from the conflict and making sure she was alright instead.

"Uh, yeah. She's fine. In fact, she's treating the doll like it's the real Brahms. She believes it's their actual son trapped inside the doll or somethin'. This whole thing is weird." Chucky childishly complained, shuddering next to Michael and waiting for Hannibal's upcoming response.

"Of course she would. Why does her reaction not surprise me...?" He replied with warmth, finding her behaviour to be not only amusing but adorable too; her reaction causing him to suppress the urge to become sarcastic. "She's far too gentle and precious for such potential danger. There's no way someone as softhearted and kind as her would be able to handle something as unstable and unaccountable as that."

"Okay...So what do you expect us to do...? It's not like we can just snatch the doll away from her and destroy it." Chucky announced unkindly, his statement causing Hannibal to sigh and regain his sarcasm.

"Obviously. Because if you did that, you'd risk the harm of hurting sweet (Y/n)'s feelings. And I hardly think that you or Michael want that at this point in time." He arrogantly stated, Chucky smacking his clenched fist on the table and twitching from anger.

"Then what do we do...?" Chucky snapped like earlier, rage flowing from his tone just as a fountain easily would.

"I presume you and Michael called for backup, alongside a late night history lesson. So we'll make our way over. Well, myself, Pennywise, and Krueger too. After all, I doubt Norman would be much help at the moment, Jason can't leave Crystal Lake unless under specific circumstances, and Billy and Stu don't seem to know a lot about the supernatural. Just keep an eye on (Y/n), that doll, and we'll most likely be over there by tomorrow morning."