Hello! Meredy speaking! (sorry for my lame summary)

Ah, I've decided to put my idea of a deliciously destructive villain in a story! This first chapter will just give you full insight on the character, and not necessarily begin the story. Yes, there will be Batman, and the Joker, and possibly others later on in the story. I don't own them. (see how I snuck in my disclaimer there) ;)

I really hope you enjoy this little figment of my imagination. :)

Chapter 1-The Toymaker

The toymaker sat in her colorful workshop, winding up the brass key in her newest creation. Click, click, click. . . ahh, that sound was music to her ears. The rhythmic lullaby of the clockwork toy . . . the nostalgia seeping through to her core, was her drug. Toys were her life. Toys were her reason. She could find no other grounds to exist.

She grinned from ear to ear as she let her creation run lose. It was a little toy clown, marching up and down her workbench. The colors were faded and chipped, but that didn't make it look any less appealing to the toymaker. She clapped her hands, laughing her quiet cackle. After a few more steps, it fell off the end of the workbench and onto the pile of small figurines she had created. That was where most of the little ones had gone, the ones she had lost interest in. The pile itself would be up to your waist.

The toymaker sighed and stood up from the bench, admiring her collection. The large pile of figurines was nothing compared to the bulk of her compilation. Jack-in-the-box's lined the walls, varying in sizes. Giant stuffed animals could be seen here and there, mostly bears and circus animals. Any Barbie doll you have ever seen created and army on the miniature stage she had set up for them. Gadgets and gizmos of all shapes and sizes, anything you could ever imagine even those you could not, the Toymaker had. The workshop, as she liked to call it was in actuality a mansion. Each and every room was stocked full of toys.

She didn't always have the money to create and buy her toys, so when funding was running low; she would make a little "withdrawal" at the bank of Gotham. She would be discreet about it, using only a gun and a black stocking pulled over her head. It wasn't glamorous but hey, it paid for her Barbies.

The toymaker sauntered over to one of the funhouse mirrors she had collected, and gazed into it. She smiled as her reflection was very tall, albeit slightly distorted. She then stepped away and looked into a regular mirror that was beside it. She frowned. Her appearance was very short. The toymaker had always been short. When she was a child and had to crane her neck to see her classmates' faces, it made her feel as small as she looked. Her peers teased her for it. She had no friends, except for her dolls. She would look down on them, and no longer feel small. She felt like one of them. She loved her stature, but hated it more. She would give anything to be tall. She was already thin. Why couldn't she be tall? It wasn't fair to her.

The toymaker danced through her jungle of playthings, humming some familiar nursery rhymes. Her long curly brown (almost black but not quite) hair bounced around to the rhythm of her steps. She might not be tall, but she felt big in her workshop. That was mostly because she avoided human contact as often as she could. She didn't like the feeling of inferior ness when she was around people, even as an adult. In her workshop, with her lovely toys, she was the boss.

As she was dancing, her elbow bumped the television set. She stumbled and caught it before it could fall, accidentally pressing the power button in the process. A big news report on Batman appeared on the screen. Adjusting the set on the table, she sat down and watched; mesmerized. Batman was intriguing, in the toymakers eyes. Like a giant figurine, just waiting to become a part of her toy collection.

And yet, her old toys weren't enough, she thought as she brushed down her red and white pin-stripe suit. The idea had just then dawned on her. For eight years she had been stuck in the wonderful rut of making and buying regular toys (with the help of crime, of course), admiring the dark appearance of Batman, and never really had a revolutionary idea for the ultimate toy. The toy could never be completely lifelike. Even when she would carve Batman dolls. No matter how fine the craftsmanship, no matter how much effort the toymaker spared, the toys appeared to be only that-toys. There had to be something more. There had to be some way to bring life to the dolls.

And just then the Toymaker, Matilda Stilts, figured out just how lifelike toys could be. You just need a strong stomach.

This chapter is short, but it's an intro chapter so that's to be expected. The others will be considerably longer. That is, if I continue. I need opinions if I should or not, so please read and review.