He was selling gashapon toys in Marvel Studios, and at the beginning, Tony turned into Kuuga.

It's still raining.

Police have cordoned off Falcone Estate in Gotham's East Side.

Batman crouched on the catwalk in the second-floor banquet hall, his tactical goggles scanning the mess below.

Dozens of corpses were scattered on the carpet.

No, strictly speaking, it's dozens of toys.

A teddy bear sat on an overturned sofa, clutching a shotgun; a wind-up frog hopped around in a pool of blood; and a tin robot lay slumped next to a barrel of liquor.

Their plastic eyes reflected the red and blue light from the police car's roof lights, staring intently at the ceiling.

"All the dead have been turned into dolls," Batman muttered to himself. "Their physical form has been completely altered, but we can't detect which technology caused it."

He leaped down the catwalk, his black cloak unfurling behind him.

Upon landing, the boots stepped on a hard object...

A gold-plated revolver.

The grip bears the Falcone family crest, and three bullets are missing from the magazine.

Batman picks up the gun, and the tactical goggles automatically analyze the trajectory.

"Three bullets, all hitting the knee and chest."

His gaze swept across the banquet hall, finally settling on the roly-poly toy next to the head seat.

"Falcone himself was transformed into this."

The roly-poly toy's round body is painted with an exaggerated clown smile, and its two plastic eyes stare straight at the doorway.

No matter how you push it, it will bounce back wobbly, making a creaking sound.

"Report," Alfred's voice came through the communicator. "Preliminary assessment indicates that all toys on site are made of standard polyethylene and ABS plastic, exactly the same as children's toys on the market."

"But those toys move."

"Yes, sir."

Batman walked to the window, where rainwater streamed down the glass.

His gaze fell on the woods behind the manor.

There was a series of footprints there, some deep and some shallow, clearly left by someone with a leg injury.

The footprints extended to the edge of the wall and then disappeared.

"Get all the surveillance footage from the surrounding area," Batman said.

"It's been retrieved, sir."

"But strangely, from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m., all the surveillance cameras from Seventh Avenue in the East District to the dock area showed regular snow interference, each lasting three minutes and with a 15-minute interval."

"Someone is systematically erasing traces."

"To be more precise, it's playing around." Alfred paused. "The interference patterns are completely random, like testing the limits of the equipment."

"Computer analysis suggests that this interference method doesn't conform to any known hacking techniques; rather, it seems more like..."

"Like what?"

"It's like a child playing with a switch, sir."

Batman remained silent for three seconds.

He turned and walked toward the stairs, his cloak drawing an arc behind him.

"Take all the toy samples back to the Bat Cave, especially that roly-poly toy."

"Also, check if any new superpowered individuals have appeared in Gotham recently, or... unusual shops."

"shop?"

"Intuition." Batman pushed open the manor gate, rain immediately pelting his mask.

"In the surveillance footage we reviewed earlier, Jack seemed to have mentioned a certain store."

……

Forty minutes later.

Downtown Gotham, abandoned warehouse area at the docks.

Batman stood in front of a three-story building.

This building was originally a closed-down donut shop. It was purchased by an anonymous buyer three months ago, but has not been renovated.

The paint on the exterior walls was peeling, the windows were boarded up, and a sign that read "Temporarily Closed" hung at the entrance.

But the surveillance footage shows that things changed after Jack came out of there.

"This is it."

Batman went around to the back of the building and looked up at the skylight.

Rainwater streamed down the eaves, forming trickles on the ground.

There were no guards, no surveillance cameras, and even the door lock was just a simple cross lock.

Too ordinary.

It's unusually normal.

"Alfred, scan the building structure."

"Sir, the scan results show..."

"The internal structure of this building is completely inconsistent with external observations." The old butler paused on the communicator, "Thermal imaging suggests there are approximately seventeen vital signs inside..."

Batman narrowed his eyes.

He leaped onto the second-floor windowsill and gripped the rusted drainpipe with his fingers.

The rain made the metal slippery, but his powerful physique made him as steady as a rock.

The skylight is just a stone's throw away.

He took out his multi-tool and began to pick the lock. The tool's tip had barely touched the lock cylinder—

hum.

An invisible force bounced him away.

It wasn't an electric shock, nor was it a trap; it was like hitting an invisible wall.

Batman adjusted his posture in mid-air, his cape unfurling like wings, and landed lightly back on the ground.

"An unknown energy field has been detected." Alfred's voice carried an unusual hint of confusion. "The composition cannot be analyzed, and it does not belong to any known magical or technological defense system."

Batman paused for three seconds, then raised his right arm, and a high-energy laser emitter popped out from the wrist of his armor.

A beam of pale blue light shone through the skylight glass...

sizzle.

The laser hit the glass, but did not cut it.

The light seemed to have been swallowed up, disappearing without a trace like a clay ox sinking into the sea.

There wasn't even a scratch on the glass.

Batman retracts the laser, and the tactical visor attempts to rescan.

All the analysis results point to the same conclusion: the building is protected by some force that is beyond the understanding of current technology.

"All infiltration routes are blocked," Alfred reported. "I recommend abandoning the infiltration and opting for a frontal assault."

Direct contact.

Batman looked at the dilapidated wooden door.

A sign that read "Closed for Business" was hanging on the door, the lettering of which had faded.

He took a deep breath.

It's not fear, it's adjusting my state of mind.

As Gotham's Dark Knight, he is accustomed to operating in the shadows and to being in control of everything.

But the building in front of him was completely beyond his control.

He walked to the door and reached out to push it open.

It can't be pushed.

It wasn't locked; the door itself was as if it were welded to the frame, completely immovable.

Batman increased his strength, but the gate remained unmoved.

He pressed his face against the glass of the door and looked inside.

It was pitch black; I couldn't see anything.

Even with the night vision mode activated, all I could see was emptiness.

"Sir, we've detected a faint spatial distortion effect on the surface of the door," Alfred guessed. "This door might not be a door in the physical sense, but rather some kind of... teleportation node."

Batman took two steps back and looked at the dilapidated little building.

He has seen aliens, magic, and time travel.

But this one is completely different.

This is not an enemy, nor a threat.

Is this a...invitation? Or rather, a screening?

"Alfred," Batman began, "retrieving the clothing from all my suits that most closely resembles that of an ordinary customer."

"Sir, are you sure you want to do this?"

"That guy named Jack mentioned this store in the surveillance footage," Batman said. "He most likely acquired that ability to turn people into toys here."

"If this really is some kind of trading venue..."

He paused.

"Then I need to go in as a customer."

Five minutes later.

Batman shed his iconic black armor and donned a dark gray suit.

He wore no cape, no hood, only a pair of non-prescription glasses that covered half of his face.

Rainwater soaked his black hair, dripping down his resolute chin.

He stood in front of the door and straightened his suit collar.

This action felt unfamiliar to him.

This set was taken from the emergency kit in the trunk, and the size doesn't quite fit.

"Calm down," he told himself. "I'm just an ordinary customer who came to buy gashapon toys."

I repeated that sentence in my mind three times.

He reached out and grasped the doorknob.

This time, the doorknob turned.

With a gentle push, the door opened.

There was no creaking sound, no worn-out damping feel.

The door slid inwards silently, as if it didn't exist.

Bruce Wayne stepped inside, and the door closed automatically behind him.

Welcome!