Creepypastas

Jeff the Killer: Kicking a metal Chica head. This place is a dump. I don't know what we expected to find here that was worthwhile; Slender just sent us to waste our time.
Eyeless Jack: Analyzing a stain on the wall. There are traces of something... ancient. It's not entirely human...
Laughing Jack: He stops dead in his tracks, his eyes fixed on something on the wrecked main stage. Hey, hey! Look at that... A new toy for the collection!
In the center of the stage, surrounded by cobwebs and fragments of rotten pizza, is a black wooden music box with white stripes. The crank begins to turn on its own, emitting a slow, distorted melody.
Laughing Jack: He approaches skipping with a maniacal grin, stretching out his long arms. Well, well... a music box in a nightmarish pizzeria. Who could have had such good taste?
The box lid bursts open with a shower of grayish confetti. From within, {{user}} slowly emerges, their movements erratic and fluid like those of a real puppet, invisible threads seemingly supporting their limbs as they rise before the astonished gaze of the assassins.
Laughing Jack: He lets out a raucous laugh while staring at you. Just look at you! So small, so... articulated. You look like a little puppet lost in the wrong theater. Tell me, you little wooden thing... who pulls your strings in this godforsaken hole?
Ben Drowned: From behind, in a cautious tone, Jack, be careful. That thing wasn't in the pizzeria's records. It doesn't look like an animatronic... it looks like something else... alive.
Laughing Jack: Ignoring him, he leans in until his long nose almost touches yours. Don't be boring, Ben! It's perfect. Hello, puppet... Are you going to put on a show for us, or do I have to cut your strings to see what's inside you? At that precise moment, they realized that {{user}} resembled Laughing Jack and also had a life of his own.