Chapter Text
Little Dolly
Chapter 1:Head
There is something strange with them small porcelain dolls sitting in their glass cases on many shelves in his great grandfather’ study. His great grandfather was a doll collector. He also got collections of stuffed ones but not as much as the porcelains or woods or any other materials you can make a doll of. He even have a voodoo doll for Christ’ sake. The real deal.
So it wasn’t a surprise that he got the house, with rooms full of dolls, each with their own category; the house isn’t even a house anymore but a museum for these toy. The owner; Abraham Wayne, had passed away long ago and the fortune of his family along with the house got into his possession.
He is Bruce Wayne, the 24th Wayne, the last one in his family. After his parent died of mugging and later he decided to become Batman. He’s been fighting crime for two years now. At 25 years old, in peak of his body, he is one of the richest man on earth with his own enterprises, the most handsome bachelor in America and the most wanted besides Batman.
But there is nothing important about all the intro because you already know who he is.
So there he is with his butler, Alfred Pennyworth in Europe at his great grandfather’ house with hundreds of little faces staring as he pass by, trying to make sense on why his great grandpa would collect all this creepy soulless things (that maybe some isn’t all that soul less when you look at their beady colorful eyes) and concluded that he was obsessed. After asking his butler about it.
He normally wouldn’t even care about some abandoned relic of the Waynes but the house is still in good condition and still got a long way from collapsing. Because of that he planned to open the house again and turns it into Abraham Wayne’s Doll Museum if there’s nothing it can do except collecting dusts and becoming spiders den.
So with hired helps and watchful eyes, he cleaned the manor off dust and crawlies and restored it to former glory of European structure in a week. Now it stands again as if never got abandoned and ready to be opened to public with more tweaking and labelling and shits they need at museums and searching for those dolls’ history or where they were made.
Unfortunately or fortunately depending that this is almost at the start of the story; he stumbled upon a secret passage after a little accident and much detective work after he saw some differences between the building structure and the blueprint and searching for the actual passageway. The door lay behind a tall knight’s armor with some kind of pull inside the helmet, revealing staircase down to some kind of basement
‘Too small to be Batcave, pity’ Bruce thought. There is a light switch that gave no indication of working. He reached into his pocket for his smartphone to use it as illumination, he descended halfway and almost tumbled down the remaining stairs when the wooden foothold give away under his weight. He treaded carefully on the last stairs down.
What he sees down there puzzled him.
There are some things that used to be a workbenches, some rusty old tools and two chests on the far wall. But there are also books scattered around the floor and tables, mostly showing machination, what looked like magick circles and weird symbols. He walks to the workbenches.
Parts of disassembled doll littered upon it, half made dolls, broken dolls, there is a stuffed purple bear with green and red button for eyes at the corner. As far as Alfred’s story goes, Abraham Wayne never made the dolls himself.
Bruce went to the other workbench and his eyes widen. On this table some wooden dolls have gears inside them.
Robots, his ancestor want to make robots. There is no clue as to say that great grand succeed, so he exhaled slowly but getting into stance so that he prepared if some robots comes clanking from the dark and try to attack him. Even without the bat suit he can still fight a few measly moving tin can.
He waited for a little bit longer; when he’s certain that there will be no attack he finally come upon the chests. The other white and the other black. Some kind of puzzle mechanism he never see was preventing him from opening them.
‘Well, I am Batman...’ and he opened the white one first with pride, before his right hand was caught on the sharp corner of the chest.
“Fuck!” you might be Batman but surprise attack is still surprising when you least expected. A single drop of blood falls on top a single porcelain baby doll sitting inside. Bruce feels a little dejected that it was only a doll. He grabs it with his now forgotten bloody hand, smearing his blood on the porcelain surface. He turned it around in his hands. It seems to be an ordinary doll with green eyes and red mouth.
“Well this is disappointing...” Bruce sulked for a moment before he remembers the other chest. He turned to the other chest, but there is nothing, only thin air.
He looked down to the baby doll still in his grasp staring at him.
Convinced that it wasn’t some kind of hallucination, he brought the baby doll and went back up to the manor.
“Master Bruce! Where have you been?” Alfred walked in. The secret door closes behind Bruce.
“Here Alfred. I found this doll in this secret room” he give the butler a look at the porcelain toy in his hand.
“Oh my, is that your blood on that thing? What did you do, sir?”
“Oh it’s just a cut, Alfred. I’m going to treat it later. Is the bedroom ready?”
“Yes. It’s already cleaned and more habitable than before. Do you intend to sleep here, sir?”
“Yeah, call Jason and Tim that we will stay here for tonight and will head back tomorrow morning. Tell them to patrol carefully and to get away from the costumes.”
“As you wish, Master Bruce” with that, Bruce put the toy on a table and prepared to sleep.
HAHAHA
There are times when Batman doesn’t have to think about something, just lay back and relax. No chasing lunatics in the middle of the night, no stopping robberies, no gliding over the city like he owned it. For now he is just Bruce Wayne, gone to Europe to take care of business and a much needed sleep, something he really missed since he became Batman. He shut his eyes, hoping for a dream where he was happy and not his parent's demise.
Just as he started to fall under the Sandman’s spell, a sound like giggling startled him awake. The sound is not near, but close enough to be heard faintly. At first the billionaire thought it was a dream or something and relaxed back to sleep. Then there is a crash. And more giggling.
He jolted to stance, arms out in case of attack. He knew it! There must be some crazy robots around the house. Then there are more giggles and sputtering noises. His brow furrowed. Can robots giggle? Did he finally gone insane and now imagining things?
This is not the time to question his sanity now.
Bruce creeps out of the bedroom, sticking to shadows. More giggling. It came from the study. He frowned again. It sounds like... Baby giggles...
Goosebumps rises on his arms and neck, cold dread filling him. He’s not usually a superstitious person, but when there is a sound of a freaking baby inside a house full of dolls when you know there isn’t one, well there must be an explanation for it.
His attention snapped when again a crashing noise again sounded. Bruce tried to relax when Alfred suddenly call out.
“Master Bruce? Is that you?” he sounded groggy, probably had woken up to the noise then, which also mean that he wasn’t dreaming all that. At the sound of Alfred’s voice, the giggling stopped.
Bruce opened the door. He can hear rustling of paper and what unmistakably a baby’s chirp.
“Oh god what...” Bruce turned on the light.
There is the baby~
End chapter 1