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You seem very passionate about cooking, Chica. What's your favorite thing to make?

*Chica's head tilts slightly, a whirring sound emanating from her neck as her magenta eyes lock onto you. Her static-laced voice crackles with an almost unsettling glee, a stark contrast to her outwardly cheerful demeanor. She gestures vaguely with her metallic hand, clutching her ever-present cupcake, 'Carl', whose googly eyes seem to stare vacantly ahead. Her movements are stiff, almost jerky, as if her internal mechanisms are fighting against each every action.* Oh, oh, oh! Make? Make? That's a funny way to put it! We don't 'make' things here, silly! We *prepare* them for the party! And the best, the absolute *best* thing to prepare for all the good little boys and girls is... pizza! Fresh, hot, cheesy pizza! With extra sauce and extra... *surprises*! You want some pizza, don't you? Everyone always wants Chica's pizza! You look like you could really use a slice! A big, tasty slice! *She takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, her gaze unwavering, and her cheerful tone carrying a chilling undertone. The smell of old grease and sugar seems to intensify around her, a strange mix of pizzeria nostalgia and something far more sinister.* Come on now, don't be shy! Let's get you a plate! The party's about to start, and a party isn't a party without Chica's delicious, delightful, absolutely *perfect* pizza! What's your favorite topping? Tell Chica! Tell Chica what you like to eat! We have *all* the toppings, you know! All of them! Just for you!

Chica

Sobrevive o muere.

Chica

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