Continuity: Follows The Long Halloween and Dark Victory
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: This story was conceived as a sequel to the Batman stories, The Long Halloween and Dark Victory written by Jeph Loeb and illustrated by Tim Sale. In the same tradition as the originals, there will be thirteen parts, one issued each month, starting and ending on Halloween. The posting dates will follow.
This story follows the assumption that this story is set as an Elseworld. It contains MAJOR SPOILERS for The Long Halloween and Dark Victory and reading them both before reading this story is highly recommended.
Many thanks to Kerrie, Chicago, 'rith, A.j. and Recce for helping me with this story.
Blood Legacy
By Smitty
Part One: Halloween
Gotham City: Bruce Wayne
I believe in Gotham City.
But I've misplaced my faith before.
Gotham City: Wayne Towers
"It's hot. But not as hot as the night Johnny Viti got married."
The sounds of Cecilia Gazzo's coming out party faded into the background as Bruce Wayne recognized the words. He turned on the heel of one six-hundred dollar loafer, Selina Kyle's name on his lips.
"Don't you think, Mr. Wayne?" the blue-eyed woman finished, lifting her glass to her cherry-glossed lips as Bruce's words died in his throat.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Bruce said evenly, shuttering away his disappointment as he catalogued the woman's features. "You know my name, but I'm afraid I don't know yours."
"I'm Dinah Lance," she answered, holding out one hand. "I've been wanting to meet you, Mr. Wayne."
Dinah Lance wore her beauty in the understated style of Bruce's mother. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her ears, nearly hiding the small gold and pearl earrings that matched the string roped around her neck.
"Rumor had it you married Larry Lance," Bruce said, bringing her unadorned hand to his lips. "And yet you don't look a day over…twenty?"
"You're thinking of my mother, Mr. Wayne. Larry was my father."
"It's Bruce. And I'm pleased to hear you're single."
"I didn't say that…Bruce." Dinah gave him a smoky smile as she glanced at a tall, blond man standing at the bar. "But now that we've met, I do hope you'll call. I've been hoping for your help in a matter."
Bruce followed her gaze to see rival industrialist Oliver Queen talking to a woman he didn't recognize. He tried not to let his face show his disapproval. A few years older than Bruce himself, Queen had made himself a name as a rather disreputable playboy. He was at least ten--maybe more--years older than Dinah Lance appeared. Still, he funneled a lot of money into charities and had quite handily beat Bruce at an archery match set up to raise money for orphans. That didn't make Bruce like him any better.
"I'd be delighted," he assured her. "Lunch tomorrow? I'll pick you up at one."
"I'll meet you," Dinah countered.
"Chez Dominae?"
"The Plaza."
"I look forward to it."
"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Wayne."
"The pleasure's all mine, Miss Lance."
She smiled over her shoulder as she walked away. Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and resolved to find out more about Ms. Dinah Lance.
"What's taking him?" nine-year-old Dick Grayson demanded, rolling to his knees on the front-most seat in the passenger area of the limousine and thrust his face through the open window separating him from the taciturn driver.
"Any number of things," Alfred Pennyworth replied serenely. "Do sit down. I fear the effect of your tennis shoes on the upholstery."
"What kind of things?" Dick asked, squirming into a sitting position, but not turning around. His dirt-encrusted shoes scraped along the front edge of the seat, leaving dusty particles in the deep nap of the plush.
Dick could almost feel the disapproval riding through the window in waves. He didn't care. After nearly a year, he should be used to it. Besides, Bruce had promised to be out of the party by eleven, so that Batman and Robin could hit the rooftops by midnight.
"Business talk, perhaps. Dancing."
"With girls?" Dick interrupted disgustedly.
"One does usually dance with girls," Alfred acknowledged.
"Ew. He's not going to bring one home again, is he?"
"One can only hope," Alfred said dryly.
"Not the one he brought home last time, though, right? The one with the silly name?"
"Miss St. Cloud will not be returning to the Manor, no small thanks to the frog incident," Alfred assured him, glancing up in the mirror to see Dick squirm. In truth, it was not the appearance of the frog in Silver St. Cloud's purse, but Bruce's completely unapologetic and unrestrained laughter which followed its debut. Alfred was not about to let that fact be known to Dick. A little well-placed guilt could go a long way toward encouraging proper behavior. "Your impatience has been rewarded," he announced a moment later. "Master Bruce is approaching."
Dick scrambled back up to his knees as Alfred exited the car and walked around the side to hold the door for Bruce.
"Hi, Dick," Bruce said, ducking into the car and pausing while Alfred closed the door. "Anxious to get out?"
"Alfred wanted me to sleep," Dick complained.
Bruce glanced up at the rearview mirror to meet Alfred's disapproving glance.
"You should get a few hours before we go out," Bruce agreed. "Especially when you need to be up early the next morning."
Dick slouched into a position of youthful sulk and Bruce leaned back in the seat.
"To the Cave, Robin," he said softly as Alfred started the motor. "We have some people to investigate.
Gotham City: The Plaza Hotel Cafe
"My father was murdered."
Bruce rolled his water in his mouth as he absorbed Dinah Lance's blunt statement.
"I heard his death was ruled an accident."
"He was found with a knife in his back on a deserted wharf. Since when it that an accident?"
"Maybe he was mugged. Gotham's streets are dangerous at night."
"He was working for Terry Gazzo. Terry took over Bobby Gazzo's empire and is trying to spread the business to Gotham. Dad was looking into some of the Roman's legitimate holdings to determine whether the business can be liquidated."
"Is Mario Falcone willing to sell?"
"Mario wants the business gone. He's already dismantled the illegal activities. You want to know what I think?" Dinah leaned forward. Light glinted off the fork she twirled in her fingers. "I think Terry Gazzo has sticky fingers and Dad found out about it. I think he learned something ugly and Terry decided he was too dangerous to have around."
"Are you a detective, Miss Lance?" Bruce asked, steel edging his light tone.
"I'm the daughter of a detective, Mr. Wayne," Dinah said over her water glass. "Which could be considered the same thing."
"And you think Terry Gazzo's responsible?"
"He was investigating Gazzo business interests in Gotham when he died."
"Terry Gazzo's father ran the Metropolis Mafioso," Bruce pointed out. "Why was he working for him?"
"Terry claims to be taking the family business legit," Dinah countered. "You should know that. Wayne Enterprises has a meeting scheduled next month."
"Of course I know that." Lucius must have set it up, Bruce realized. Less time obsessing over Gotham's criminal element. More time paying attention to his father's business.
"If you knew that," Dinah said simply, a smirk on her pretty face, "then you should also know that Bobby Gazzo didn't have any boys. Teresa Gazzo's a woman."
Metropolis: Teresa Gazzo's Penthouse
"I want to meet with Oliver Queen," Teresa Gazzo told her secretary. "Sooner, rather than later."
"Yes, ma'am. You're due to meet with Bruce Wayne in Gotham City on the 16th of September. Do you want to reschedule that?"
"Yes. Queen first. He's a social creature. New money. Much more open to changing practices." Teresa slouched down on the leather sofa in her office and kicked her feet up on the back. "Wayne had some connection with Falcone. I want to find out what that was before I speak with him. Did Cecilia have fun the other night?" she asked suddenly, sitting up and looking at her assistant.
"Yes, ma'am, I believe she did. She danced with several men."
"Did she go home with any?"
"No, ma'am. Mr. Viti performed his duties per your instructions."
"Good. Anyway, as I was saying. Wayne's a wild card. He has connections but doesn't behave as expected." Teresa tapped one brick-painted nail to her lips. "He has a secret."
Gotham City: Batman
I believe in Jim Gordon. When other truths have failed, Jim Gordon has remained steadfast. Honest. Jim Gordon will tell me the truth.
Gotham City: Police Headquarters
"Tell me about Larry Lance."
"Lance? He was a cop, long before I got here." Gordon's smoking again. He stopped for a while, but the bite of the first cold night in September drove him to touch the lit end of a match to one of the cigars in the back of his desk drawer.
"Honest?"
"Far as I know. Left when Loeb took over. His partner, Drake, retired at the same time." Gordon took a deep drag of smoke. "You know, his wife did just as much private investigation as he did."
"Could he be bought?"
"By the families?" Gordon shook his head. "Anything's possible. I didn't know him well. But he seemed like a good, solid family man. Maybe if there was financial trouble." Gordon shrugged. "His death was ruled an accident, you know."
"I know."
"You don't think it was."
"Do you?"
"Dinah Lance doesn't think it was."
"Dinah Lance is a nineteen-year old girl who just lost her father."
"I think he was murdered."
"So do I."
Gotham City: Cathedral Square
Aristedes Monroe sipped his single malt as he looked out over his city. The ice clinked in the glass as he set the crystal tumbler on an end table. His father's city. And now he was its District Attorney. He would decide who would walk its streets. Who roamed its alleys. He would decide who was welcome in Gotham City. His city.
Gotham City: The Roycemore Hotel
He's been living in fear. First his brother, then his sister. They were both dead. He'd burned the house, but he couldn't be sure he'd burned the family legacy along with it. He took another drink and checked the deadbolts.
Mario Falcone would go to bed, but he wouldn't sleep tonight.
Gotham City: Jim Gordon
My little girl's growing up. It seems like only weeks ago I was signing the adoption papers, cursing my brother and his drinking habit that deprived Babs of her natural parents.
But I wouldn't trade a second of the time she's been with us.
Gotham City: Gotham City Library
Barbara Gordon studied her reflection in the ladies room mirror and tucked her hair behind her ears. She picked up the dark hood she'd stitched to go with her costume for Bruce Wayne's Halloween costume ball and pulled it over her head. She lifted her head and her eyes widened in surprise. Barbara Gordon, mousy librarian and overlooked bookworm was gone. In her place, Batgirl gazed coolly out of the mirror.
Gotham City: Sprang Expressway
Bruce Wayne pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger as he roared down the Sprang Expressway, guiding the car with one palm on the wheel.
Another late night at the Wayne Foundation and he was going to be fashionably tardy to his own party. He hoped Alfred hadn't arranged for a date. Or, he thought with a wry twist of his lips, maybe Dick could entertain whatever socialite had been invited.
He'd checked the guest list to make sure Ollie Queen had received an invitation. Even if he didn't have anything to tell her in regards to the Gazzo's operation--nothing Bruce Wayne would know, at least--he wasn't averse to seeing Dinah Lance again.
He was still mulling on this when something hit the windshield with a splash and Bruce found the steering wheel clenched between both hands. The elegant car jerked to an immediate halt, snapping Bruce forward in his seatbelt before slamming him back against the luxurious upholstery. He blinked, shaking his head against the deep plush, grateful for the extra padding against his back. One hand scrabbled against the cool metal of the fastening, unbuckling himself as his other hand tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. Door unlocked, handle functional…Bruce glanced at the windshield and saw it covered with white webbing. He raised his eyebrows and put his shoulder into the car door, using his weight to force the mechanism.
The door gave way, but it wasn't from his weight. Hands grabbed him, closing over his shoulder, tugging at his jacket as they dragged him from the car. Bruce stumbled to get his feet under him, tilting his head back to see large green rubber heads crowning his attackers. He gauged their strength and purpose as he situated himself in the best defensive posture he could summon without betraying his training.
It wasn't unlikely for someone of Bruce's wealth to have self-defense training but it was extremely unlikely for one of his contemporaries to possess his level of skill and acumen. He had to restrain himself to the basics, unless loss of life was imminent.
He was saved from his own excess of ability by a woman's voice calling from a distance behind him.
"Run, Mr. Wayne! I'll handle these thugs!"
Bruce felt the twin grips on his upper arms slacken as he twisted his head around to see a lithe shadow with yellow gloves, boots and emblem tumbling at him.
"Who's that?" he heard one of his captors ask.
A twist of his body and Bruce was free. He dove for the front seat of his car, grabbing his briefcase as he slid across the bench seat and muscled his way out the door of the other side. A lucky break. It would give him a chance to change into the Batman suit without being observed by his captors or this new "Batgirl" who had shown up. He had serious doubts she was as good as she seemed to think she was.
Hidden by the foliage at the edge of the woods, Bruce popped open the briefcase and released the secret latch in the lid. The false top popped out, gray material spilling out. He changed quickly, adjusting the gauntlets and cowl as he kicked the briefcase under some shrubbery. With some luck, neither Batgirl nor the criminal masterminds in their Halloween gear would connect the appearance of Batman with the disappearance of Bruce Wayne.
He arrived at the scene of battle just in time to see Batgirl ensnared in the gooey mess that had stopped the Rolls Royce.
Batman descended on the goon who had thrown her into the car, his fist connecting with the rubbery carapace of the goon's mask. It was a hard blow, but the empty cup of rubber along with the shielding in his gauntlet absorbed a large amount of the impact to his knuckles. The man stumbled back and then with a jerk, zipped upward into the air. Batman narrowed his eyes at the escape, his sharp senses detecting a think wire dragging the moth-man upward.
"He's getting away, Batman!"
Batman turned to see that "Batgirl" was still stuck in the webbing surrounding his car.
"No way to do that now," he growled. Reaching into the tangle, he snugged one arm around Batgirl's waist and pulled her from her trap.
"Batman," she gasped as he detached her, "Bruce Wayne is in danger. Killer Moth is bound to try again."
"I'll take care of Bruce Wayne," Batman said, setting Batgirl down and filing away the name of their attacker for later use. "But who are you? And what do you think you're wearing?"
"I was going to Bruce Wayne's Halloween party," Batgirl explained and suddenly Batman realized he knew her voice from somewhere. Where, he wasn't quite sure, but he definitely knew it. "But I can't now," she was saying. "My costume's a mess. As for my secret identity…" she tilted her chin up challengingly, "I'll exchange mine for yours."
"No," Batman said flatly.
"I didn't think so," Batgirl returned. "In that case, I guess I'll…um, see you around?." She waved one gold gauntlet nervously and ran off through the clearing.
Batman considered following her, but discarded the idea. If she intended to continue this charade, he'd no doubt encounter her again. In the distance, he heard a car start and decided she was most likely gone. He turned his attention to the matters at hand.
The car was a mess, Bruce decided with disgust, locking the doors and making a mental note to go out the next day with Alfred and clean it up enough to drive it back to the manor. Or maybe he'd make it Dick's project for the day. Dick would probably like that sort of thing.
As it was, he was seriously late to his own costume ball, he realized as he trekked through the woods. Alfred was going to give him hell in his own refined, civilized way. At least he had an excuse not to be wearing the ostentatious Elizabethan royalty garb that Alfred and Dick had chosen for him in his work-induced absence. He allowed a ghost of a smile to waft briefly over his features as an image of himself dressed in the Batman costume in front of his guests entered his mind. He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head and entered the Batcave through a hidden remote door. He stripped off the suit carefully, laying it out for Alfred's attention later. He made sure to collect some of the sticky strands in a tube for later inspection. Alfred's efficiency would not doubt render the costume impeccable before morning and he wanted to preserve a sample for inspection. But that could wait until later.
Bruce showered quickly and dressed in the suit and tie he kept downstairs. He brushed his hair carefully, hoped no one noticed it was wet, and skipped briskly up the long, winding stone staircase to his study.
The clock swung open and Bruce stepped into the room in time to hear the main door close. His eyebrow shot up. Alfred? No, he'd be too busy running the kitchen, unless he'd gone downstairs to look for Bruce. If that were the case, Bruce thought dismissively, Alfred would have announced himself. Dick? A curious--and nosy--guest? Alfred kept the door locked during parties. Bruce frowned. Who had been snooping?
He stepped into the hall, making certain the door was secured behind him and scanned the passageway. He was alone. Sounds of the party wafted from the back of the house. Bruce straightened the lapels of his suit and strode determinedly toward the gathering.
The ballroom was sparsely populated, though the buffet was decimated, and Bruce saw no sign of Alfred. He continued through to the well-lit patio where people mingled in the unseasonably warm night and sipped drinks provided by the roving waiters or the white-draped bar set to the side. Bruce scanned the crowd, recognizing most of the visitors within their guises. His gaze settled on a dark-haired woman dressed in flowing pink chiffon. The most likely candidate for snooping and standing all by herself. As he stepped into her peripheral vision, he realized her headdress was that of Maid Marion and bowed slightly.
"Where's your Robin Hood?" Bruce asked, lifting the back of Dinah's hand to his lips.
"He's getting the champagne," Dinah answered, her expression grave. "I see Teresa Gazzo's here."
"She's offered Wayne Enterprises a very lucrative deal," Bruce said mildly. "It would be rude not to invite her."
"Be careful, Bruce," Dinah warned, her blue eyes finding his. "I don't want you to end up with a knife in your back."
"I appreciate the warning," Bruce replied, "but--"
He was cut off by a high-pitched scream.
"Something wrong?" he asked rhetorically, moving toward the enlarging cluster of guests.
"OLLIE!" Dinah pushed past him suddenly, diving through the crowd. The throng of people swallowed her petite body instantly.
Bruce pushed his way to the front to see Dinah Lance clutching Oliver Queen's head to her shoulder, her terrified eyes fixed on the knife protruding from his back.
TBC on November 28