Baby Evil Chapter 7; Dollhouse

The Dollhouse functioned as it always had; each minded their own, moving to the systematic routine set up in their daily lives by one who owned the facility of which many were both unaware of and did not ever come to learn. Those who were pulled on strings were puppeteered to where they would go whilst those that were programmed would follow their relatively mindless orders and droning all throughout the Dollhouse.


Very little changed regularly in the Dollhouse and most things were scheduled, ordered or regulated, leaving very little room or flexibility for freedom and free will. Most that defected, in fact, were detained due to the disorientation. Thus, everyone stuck to their tight knit society and economy without diverting from it -- stiff-necked and short sighted, even up to the ones that pulled strings and made programs for the dolls, ever looking down on them to monitor them and ensure that they remained in line and in order without ever defecting; tireless slaves to their own creations and their own desire for maintenance up to perfection.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, most of the dolls were ordinarily copying each other in their latest fashion trends, speech, style and generally everything about each other or someone that set themselves up or was set up before them to copy. Very many of them looked nearly identical and sounded just the same, there being only minor, possible intricate distinctions between them that made them different, but could be overwritten and thus cause them to become a carbon copy of someone else and lose their entire existence as well as their identity (which happened every so often). Though those such defects were detained in the Madhouse (like any such defects or rejects of the Dollhouse), there were also those which were unique and actually had their own personalities which were developed, much like their own minds. They'd ascended the basic protocol and programming of the basic everyday life that the Dollhouse regulated and thus became more independent, even if not totally detached from the Dollhouse, the Dolls nor the Puppet Masters that ruled over them in the image of one that organized the entire structure.

They were kept fed and industrialized and given tasks to do regularly to keep the Dollhouse in order and tidy, including inner furnishing. The walls were made of different types of fabric and harbored different textures of variable variety all throughout the massive house-like society for each of the Dolls to interact with and gain feelings based on their sense of touch and the exposure to such. Some remained in isolated rooms for their entire lives and became different types of Dolls based on segregation alone and also formed cliques, races, private societies, cults, herds, flocks and other sorts of social groups. Many could not interact with each other once they adapted to a certain structure or society that molded them and bound them together in a different fashion than the next, thus resulting in conflict that could barely be resolved through having an overseer manipulate them or being detained in the Madhouse.

Thus, many were left alone to their own vices and were systematically cycled through based on their capacity and their skills before being sent back to where they came, isolated in their communities and then eventually exchanged for a different group of them, which functioned exactly the same.

Day in and day out was the same for the Dollhouse, save for which of the Dolls were operating it at the time and keeping it functional. There were those that only came on specific days in order to accomplish these tasks and then when the group finished the day's work, the next day would bring a different group from a different room. No one questioned this nor minded because they never actually got exposed to any other systems nor societies, including in their own segregation, except perhaps by accident or misadventure. Very rarely did the whole Dollhouse come together as a group or come out to mingle among the different communities. The boundaries were established as they were and no one exceeded them even if someone else wanted them to; there was too much fear among them and restriction in their ability to develop for them to desire to even do so beyond what they learned and knew in their own groups.

Still, their rooms inside of the Dollhouse were totally isolated and some were nearer to the Madhouse (which was its own private sector of the Dollhouse) than the others. Now, the Madhouse stayed locked and sealed tightly, something like a holding cell or a prison and fit to live in such a fashion. It was like the Dollhouse, but completely cut off and sealed up tight so that the defects and rejects could run free and wild to destroy each other and their own society or to be punished and eventually be set straight in order to be reinstated into the Dollhouse, possibly with damage that would have to be dealt with through reprogramming or resetting from a babe-like state and placed within the social groups that were new or more easy to fit in with rather than the more developed groups that would end up overpowering, shunning or rejecting the newcomer and leave them with no place to live.

Thus, coming from the Madhouse left those who were freshly refurbished to sit quietly and be reeducated so that they could exist in the Dollhouse and fit in with the crowd, which would have nothing that did not. So, in rooms that were made for these 'rehabilitated' Dolls, there would be the face of one who had been trapped and locked in the Madhouse for a very, very long time, only emerging thanks to a strange journey that left her traumatized and disheveled. She stood among the others, cold and alone, hesitant to make contact.

It was the same woman that walked through the torturous path of the Traphouse and been led into the Madhouse only to vent such frustrations of the Traphouse and what lurked within with all such madness and destruction which allowed her this freedom to walk into the rehabilitation center and feel relatively at peace. With all the trauma that she suffered getting just to this point, especially from whatever it was that was roaming in the deepest recesses of the Traphouse that seemed to be both chasing her -and- following her for both torturous -and- pleasurable reasons, she was a nervous wreck and ready to break down on the spot if she were pushed.

She looked around at the others, those of which seemed to have nearly dead, lost, stupid or blank expressions on their faces something like newborn or stillborn infants, regardless of their age or their build. Whatever brought them to this state of being and this room, it was something that she knew she'd survived. They looked like they wouldn't respond at all if she went near them and if they did, it might be in an erratic or uncontrollable fashion that she, herself, was not mentally nor physically or emotionally prepared to deal with should such occur, leaving her relatively defenseless and to her own vices.

There was a monitor in the room -- several, in fact -- and it was like a television everywhere that it was affixed. The room was padded and cushioned, some of the Dolls inside restrained and very few things being within their reach or grasp; they were the same as infants. When the monitor(s) came on, heads snapped with vicious deftness as if the cure of a long outstanding boredom that only occurred when the screen projected an image. Some of them moved toward the nearest screen and others would sit where they were and not desire to move at all. Others were completely dejected or despondent.

The one just recently released from the Madhouse was relatively mortified at the fact that these other people were so quick to jump at the television monitors in the room once they turned on, lusting for the viewing screens as if it were their bread and water. They were more or less mindless, it looked like, even though they seemed very attentive and organized in their madness or rehabilitation thereof. The woman was both overwhelmed and startled by their movement and cowered away, trembled; she needed to find a space for herself to be alone, or at least not so close to the ones being rehabilitated and programmed by whatever was on the monitor. She seemed to fear even that much. Still, she, too, needed to be reinstated into the Dollhouse and therefore had to follow the procedure of watching the program and allowing herself to be programmed by it.

Little did she know, there was something beyond her own sight and mind that oversaw her, pleased that she'd reached this point and was in a place of both isolation and inferior, shattered minds that would either be labeled as insane or too mentally unstable before their programming to be believed by the outer walls and left as lonesome as possible.


It was then that one of the monitors flickered a different image onto the screen through partial static; the monitor nearest the woman. And spoke.

"Isolated The Sin Spot. Background Execution -- ... *static* --Pinned To The Ugly One. Her Fear And Arrogance Have Revealed-- ~~ -- *static* -- ... Suspicions Were Already Active About Her Presence. -- ... -- ... -- *static* -- ... -- *static* --Barely Anything To Pay Mind, As Always-- *staticstaticstaticstatic* --Background Will Be Educational And--."

The already garbled image suddenly flickered out and the voice familiar to the woman was replaced again by the monotonous programming that was on the other screens, as if nothing changed and the previous image hadn't been displayed nor the message transmitted.

The woman, mortified, turned around sharply to look at the screen with terror in her eyes, jittering and gazing up in fear at what looked to be the face of the monster she'd only glimpsed inside of the Traphouse and that followed her to the Madhouse. "I-it's here..." she mumbled to herself, utterly terrified at even having heard its voice even in a garbled mess, which made it all the more horrid. "Th-the... evil... monster..." Her teeth chattered so much she couldn't find thoughts nor words to say, especially not to the lame brain dolls that were more or less burnouts or mentally ill in standardized societal terms. She had to get to them somehow, but they were probably not only not easy to talk to, but also too distracted by the television and would probably end up violating her in some way if she tried to interrupt, which she didn't care for and probably couldn't mentally nor emotionally handle, herself.


By the time she turned to them and saw what they were watching, it was the same image and voice that she'd only briefly witnessed, herself, only now much clearer in audio and video. She nearly soiled herself at the very sight, petrifying where she was.

I. "Delusions Of Grandeur Being Noticed, Denounced, Made Inferior And Targeted Immediately."

It was talking about her, its 'Decoy' that it was using, of whom would be referred to as such. The other dolls in the room, both easily influenced and manipulated, especially by their programming (which they barely noticed a difference in, anyway), suddenly turned against her all at once, still gazing at monitors across the room whilst facing the Decoy. They heard the words that were commanded to them and followed them religiously -- mindlessly, even. They saw the Decoy as exactly what was spoken; delusional, grandiose for being noticed, denounced by their program, made inferior to each of them and targeted immediately.

The Dollhouse attacked.

The weak and feeble Decoy could do nothing but flee in terror to whatever corner of the room wasn't occupied, crying out in fear. Perhaps someone would hear her screaming and come to detain the Dolls which were threatening her at the time. It was her only chance. "PLEASE!!!" she cried out, "PLEASE!!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!!" She ran around the room to lure them away from the only door and banged on it as much as she could, kicking and punching at it, even slamming her head against it whilst crying out even louder, "YOU'VE GOT TO LET ME OUT!!! OPEN THE DOOR!!!"

The insidious noise hurt the very sensitive ears of the mentally disheveled, whose sensitivity were beyond that of normal Dolls because of the frayed nerves that intensified certain feelings and totally nullified or neutralized others, making them completely overstimulated in one fashion and then completely unfeeling in another, something like when they were rested on the ground motionless until they heard their programs come on television. They seemed to feel very strongly about what they saw and heard on television and became somehow symbiotically attached mentally at the nerves and in their emotions because of the torn mentality and emotions that were in them from the beginning; it made them feel like they were conjoined with the programs and therefore also feeling for and with them. Even here, what was unlike them was shunned and rejected, though with the lack of proper mentality and emotional stability, then they would end up lashing out and attacking malevolently without any type of control, which was a symbol of their own mental and emotional weakness for whatever should incur.


The screen flashed before the terrified eyes of the Decoy woman that led the creature she feared all the way through the Traphouse after being sent down to see it and check on it. It truly had followed her out of its confines and also used her to manipulate its way to the upper layer from whence she came whilst also destroying her mind and her spirit simultaneously. Now it was finally out for blood and no one even knew it had gotten this far -- it clearly had no more use for her anymore (as if it did really in the first place, except to toy with).

There was only so much running around that she could do, even if she paced herself, in a small and isolated chamber such as this. There was enough room for them to move around freely, but nowhere to go where none could see each other. She was ever in their sight and so were they in hers, but the most terrifying sight of all was the oversight of the one Baby Evil on each of the monitors. Watching. Waiting.

In a certain fit of mad terror and rage the woman desperately cried out "YOU HAVE TO LISTEN!! HE'S JUST MIND RAPING YOU SO THAT YOU'LL DO WHAT HE SAYS!! DON'T LISTEN!!" She tried to reason with them as best as she could, but it seemed like none of them could understand her nor had any intention of attempting at all. They were already convinced of something else and nine times out of time, the first conviction is simply the one that sticks to those who hear and understand it first making it so easy to fool certain people as long as you get to them before anyone else does; this is especially so with those who lie and cheat -- first come, first serve, whether it is true or false, they believe you first.


The Dolls understood that by how the woman was speaking to them in terms of how they were possessions and not actually stating reasonable nor logical facts with sound, sturdy supporting evidence, as opposed to their new dictator which spake out to them with clear command and direct clarity based on the immediate situation at hand -- initial registry, which is what they needed; audio and visual to repair their sensitive frayed wires mentally and emotionally. They were still like children, but what they absorbed that was good for them still ended up sticking like an adhesive in their minds and causing it to be molded into a different shape and attach to different information whilst totally rejecting other information as they were being remodeled from the inside out. They were still malleable, yet they wee also becoming more secure more rapidly because of the direct instruction of Baby Evil. They could see that this woman was more and more becoming the odd one out (as she already had been) and so was she. There was nothing that she could do except hold out long enough for someone to open the door and hope she didn't get tired and die or that the mob became more intelligent and found a way to trap her. From what she endured in the Traphouse and the Madhouse, it was only a matter of time before Baby Evil, itself, did so, however.

She couldn't sit there and go in circles for ever. The only feasible method was to somehow be more logically coaxing than Baby Evil, itself, dictating to them from the variable screens in the room and reprogramming them. Maybe she could slip something in that would help snap them out of it. "... He's just using you to get to me! He doesn't care about you at all!" She tried to desperately plead with them further, hoping there was something she could say that sounded convincing enough for them to stop. "Look at how he treats you! What has he ever done for you?" She figured that playing the empathy or sympathy card here would do her well in order to cater to their emotions at all and perhaps cause them to give into her a little by being as emotionally submissive to them as possible and also stirring up their own feelings so that they would feel for her in her own emotional submission. Then she could take control over them and save her own life.


To the Dolls that were not the Decoy, the words of Baby Evil made sense by how the Decoy woman continued her desperate attempts without having any type of logical foundation. It seemed like the more she responded, the more Baby Evil built off of what she was saying and she could only pick out pieces of what he was doing and use them in the moment in a manner that was more feeble and required more explanation in order to get them to understand. From what was spoken, the woman had indeed tried to extend the thoughts of Baby Evil and its feelings without knowing nor understanding them and disorient the ones that were already under his command. There was nothing else to the logic beyond that for them, for they were a more simple and straight forward lot.

Now, the woman knew from her experiences that Baby Evil was more intelligent than this -- far more intelligent than she and -definitely- more intelligent than the nearly mindless and easily stimulated Dolls of this portion of the Dollhouse. He was just toying with her again, it seemed, but... she knew there was no reason for this to be so. "What kind of sick and twisted game are you playing, you monster?" She knew that Baby Evil could end her at any time and also could orchestrate something elaborate for her, just as he'd done to lead her through both the Traphouse and the Madhouse without killing her and also mixing her up inside of its own doors and rooms and halls, so she was well aware that he could do something more intricate than just have these Dolls run around in circles. "You having your last little laugh before you do away with me, you scum?" She nearly spat at the sentiment, but needed to keep her breath to avoid being captured and mangled. "Just finish me off, then, if you're so smart and so powerful! Go ahead!" The Decoy was a headstrong and  impetuous type of woman, which is how she even got into the scenario she was into in the first place being locked and trapped in the Traphouse initially before getting here. "Do your worst, then!"

Soon enough the dolls that were roaming around the room trying to corner the woman under the command of Baby Evil would finally be approached by the corresponding authorities of this Rehabilitation Room and lead to a confrontation. Storming the room, the overseers of the Rehabilitation Room saw that not only were their programs no longer screening properly but the Dolls in the room were now acting mad as they were when they were ready to go into the Madhouse. This was a major threat to the safety of themselves and the rest of the Dollhouse.

"Red Alert," they said to each other just once before the steel door shut behind them and locked with a decisive click, trapping them inside of the Rehabilitation Room. They had communication devices for and with each other, yet their signals were jammed the moment the door shut and Baby Evil had control over their reception. "Now, Time For A Mutiny!!!!" The simple golems were still dedicated to the command of Baby Evil so they did as it screeched to them once they were sealed in. Their numbers were not greater than those that were already inside but they also had the ability to overpower the rogue Dolls (of which were deemed Demented Dolls at this point) because they were more mentally capable and strategically sound...

That is, until the sides of the room opened up and revealed some rather familiar looking 'Doors' on every side save for the one that served as the entrance and exit. "I've Got Friends In High Places! Except They Come From Below The Grave! HEEHEEHEEHEE!" The doors swung open viciously to reveal corridors of pure darkness, the eyes of the maddened Dolls which were locked up deep down in the bowels of the Madhouse finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel -- they were totally brainwashed by Baby Evil and harboring blank, pale, but feral expressions on their faces, especially in their eyes. They were ready to kill or be killed.

In a short time, the numbers would build up around the room and those that were experts inside would be sandwiched from behind by the malignant viperous Dolls which had been sealed in the darkness and made both mad and blind going through Baby Evil's intricate rooms and setups that drained the light of their minds and spirits to make them more obedient and subservient, yet also sensitive and neurotic enough to be malicious to whatever should so stir their emotions or touch their fragile minds.

The noises heard within were muffled and blocked out by the padded walls and the bolted door of metal, blood staining the window and blotting out visibility from the outside in and containing the sounds so that no one could hear the screams... As by design.