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*****
"He... help me..."
In the dim light, a doll with a deathly pale, expressionless face pleaded with Gwen and Peter in a synthesized electronic voice.
The scene was eerie enough to send a chill down anyone's spine, but as seasoned superheroes, they quickly regained their composure.
"What on earth is this thing?" Peter asked, his brow furrowing. He reached down and lifted the bizarre doll from the pit, only to notice its glassy eyes shifting—following his every move, sizing him up as he held it.
The sensation made Peter's skin crawl. "Is this some kind of advanced AI system?" he muttered, looking closer at the wiring.
Gwen shook her head. A mischievous, slightly wicked grin spread across her face. In a haunting, theatrical tone, she whispered to Peter, "Or maybe... it's a vessel for a dark, malevolent spirit."
Peter felt a cold shiver run through him. He slowly turned his head, his neck stiff, to look at the mangled toy in his hand. For a moment, he had a very strong urge to hurl the thing as far away as possible.
"Pfft!" Gwen couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into laughter.
Peter realized he'd been teased and turned to her with a look of helpless resignation.
"Alright, alright!" Gwen said, playfully sticking her tongue out. "I was just messing with you. But even if it were true... I have my own ways of dealing with it."
Peter nodded, looking back at the tattered doll. "So, how do we handle this thing?"
"Let's take it back and have a look," Gwen said. Seeing its bulging eyes staring back at her, she offered a thin, sharp smile. "You'd better not be anything too weird, or I'll take you apart piece by piece."
"He... help me!" the doll croaked out again. Its voice sounded especially sinister under the flickering lights and the dancing shadows of the trees.
As Gwen and Peter turned to leave, just before they disappeared into the shadows, a cold, cruel smirk seemed to flicker across the doll's face.
It had finally been rescued. It finally had a second chance—and more importantly, a chance for revenge.
Just you wait, it thought. As soon as these two idiots fix me up, I'll kill them both!
No! Killing is too easy. I'll torture them. I'll make it hurt. I'll tear them apart!
At the thought of its impending carnage, the doll's twisted grin widened, looking as if it might leak black bile.
"Hey, Peter, look at this stupid thing. It's smiling. It looks pretty creepy, doesn't it?"
A mocking voice suddenly shattered the doll's internal monologue. Its body went rigid. It slowly, stiffly craned its neck upward, and in that moment, it felt as if its very soul had been plunged into ice.
Gwen and Peter were standing there, looking down at it with cold, knowing expressions.
"Hah. Did you really think we didn't notice how freaky you are? You thought we'd just walk home like idiots and fix you up for free?"
The sinister smile vanished instantly. The doll's glass eyes miraculously shifted from malice to sheer, unadulterated terror.
Are kids these days really this terrifying? This calculating? It quickly scrambled to put on a fawning, pathetic expression.
Seeing the doll's rapid change in demeanor, Peter was taken aback. He turned to Gwen, his voice grave. "There's definitely something wrong with this. It's not a normal doll."
Gwen chuckled, a sound that made the doll tremble violently. "Well," she said slowly, "why don't we let it tell us exactly what it is?"
As she spoke, a flash of blue flame flickered deep within her eyes.
The tattered doll began to shiver uncontrollably. The soul trapped within its broken body felt a chilling cold that seemed to come from the depths of hell itself. It was terrifying; the doll's earlier bravado and malice had vanished without a trace.
Inside the Titans' base—located in an unassuming apartment building—Gwen and Peter sat at a table. Lying before them was the broken, trembling doll.
"What are you?"
Gwen stared at the doll's face, her expression a mix of curiosity and unease. The doll was ugly—no, not just ugly. There was a profound sense of wrongness about it. Its face was supposed to be expressionless, yet she could read its emotions with uncanny accuracy. Moreover, she could feel the doll trying to radiate waves of fear, attempting to infect them with its own terror.
"I'm just a poor, discarded toy..." the doll said, its voice rasping with an icy edge. Its cracked face was a mask of feigned sincerity.
Gwen simply let out a low chuckle. Under Peter's adoring gaze, a small, brilliant blue flame sparked at the tip of her finger.
"Aah! No! Keep that thing away from me!"
The doll shrieked, its internal components rattling violently. However, with its limbs shattered, it could do nothing but twitch helplessly on the tabletop.
That flame... it wouldn't just burn its plastic body. Just looking at it made its soul feel like it was being scorched from the inside out.
"Keep it away?" Gwen smiled, leaning closer. The dancing flame was now inches from the doll's nose.
She's so cool, Peter thought, his eyes fixed on her. Even when she's threatening someone, she's so cute and captivating...
Peter had eyes only for Gwen.
"Agh!" the doll screamed. "I'm a doll! They call me Chucky! Or the Ghost Doll!"
"Chucky?" Gwen paused. The flame on her finger flared up, growing larger. "I didn't ask what others call you. I asked what you are. Your real name!"
"I..."
"Don't even think about lying to me," Gwen said, the fire reflecting in her pupils. Her voice turned ice-cold. "I can see the soul trapped in that wreckage, and I can see the rot and evil buried deep within it. If you lie, I will burn you until there's nothing left but ash."
Under Gwen's intense scrutiny, Chucky was paralyzed with fear. Meanwhile, beside her, Peter looked like he was about to start floating, surrounded by pink bubbles of affection.
Gwen is just too cute when she's like this!
"I..."
Chucky had reached his breaking point. The pressure from the flame was overwhelming. He didn't care if his body was destroyed—his soul would survive—but if his soul was incinerated, that was the end.
Trembling before the hellfire, he blurted out, "My name is Charles Lee Ray. I'm... well... I was a man who made some mistakes. It was an accident! I found a soul-transfer spell, and out of curiosity, I used it on this doll... and I got stuck. I've been trapped inside ever since..."
His voice took on a pathetic, pleading tone. "Please, help me!"
Peter frowned. If that were true, the man really was in a pitiful state.
Gwen watched him in silence, then suddenly tilted her head and smiled. As a fawning, hopeful grin appeared on the doll's face, the flame on Gwen's finger vanished.
Chucky breathed a sigh of relief. But just as he was about to lean into his role as the "innocent victim," Gwen's eyes transformed into two swirling vortices of blue fire.
"Actually," she said softly, "I think I'll just look for myself."
In an instant, Chucky's soul felt as though it had been ignited by the fire in Gwen's eyes. A scream of agonizing pain ripped from the doll's throat.
"Aaaaargh! No! Why?! Stop it!"
(End of Chapter)