Chapter 3

Batman knew that Commissioner Gordon would go a long way in putting trust in him. He also had a good idea of how much pressure Jim was under--- pressure from the mayor, the DA's office and from the citizens of Gotham. He would no doubt step up and make sure that Croc got the deal that Batman had argued for. But he was going to want answers--- answers that Batman wasn't sure he could give.

Because of his years of being the Batman, he knew Gotham inside and out. And, for the past two months, he had been getting the idea that something was dreadfully wrong in Gotham-- a wrongness that went deeper than the vampire-style killings and gangland slayings. Gotham was a very dark place normally, but over the past few months it had been subtly but surely becoming even more sinister.

Part of it was the behavior of the criminal element. He knew that much of the illegal activity took place in spite of the local criminals' fear of him. The average criminal (arch-villains and crime bosses aside) was not very bright and he knew many of them thought that in a face to face showdown, they could 'take down' the Batman. The fact that he had managed to stop hundreds of similarly minded individuals did little to dispel this idea from their minds. Criminals feared him, yes, but only a few were paralyzed by that fear.

Now something had changed in their attitude. Suddenly his presence was not the only one instilling fear in their hearts. This was a kind of fear that Batman had only seen occur because of the actions of criminals such as the Joker and Two-Face, but as both of them were currently residing in Arkham, it was unlikely that either were responsible. This in itself was a troubling sign. Who could impose this level of terror and yet remain off Batman's radar?

It wasn't only the criminals who were afraid. Dick had made contact with him a couple of times over the past months about a series of suspicious deaths among the homeless people that he as Nightwing was protecting. This too was a sign of alarm. He and Dick didn't have the warmest relationship anymore, mostly because of Dick's own attitude. The fact that he was setting this aside and telling him that there was a problem among the people he protected--- one that he couldn't handle himself--- was a sign of enormous concern.

Even Barbra, connected to the inner workings of Gotham by only her computer, had noticed the change. Some of the major players in Gotham, or at least those not decimated by the string of murders, were exposing themselves less and less, and relying mainly on encrypted e-mails to give orders to their employees.

This could simply be a matter of extra caution, but Barbra knew, as did Batman, that many of the old-school felons did not trust the 'net to get their message across. Something very serious was throwing the fear of God into these hardened offenders. But what was it?

Batman had been considering this question for a very long time. He had long since exhausted the limits of rational thought. Now, as he looked at the picture of the latest victim--- the one Croc had denied killing--- he began, reluctantly, to consider expanding his parameters.

At his heart, Batman was a detective. He believed rather firmly in Ockham's Razor--- the simplest solution is usually the most likely one. But he also believed in A. Conan Doyle's theory that when you eliminate all other possibilities, the one that remains, however improbable, is most likely the truth. Both theories were leading him to considering the truly improbable, or, to be more apt, paranormal.

There was an obvious answer to the reasoning behind these killings and, to a greater extent, the atmosphere of terror that was slowly spreading through Gotham. But to accept this possibility--- to embrace it--- was contrary to almost all of his instincts. He had faced some terrible darkness in his life, but he had the feeling that this one--- this one could be even blacker than he had ever explored.

"Master Bruce?"

The acoustics of the Batcave made it difficult to judge the distance of voices. Nevertheless, the Batman knew without looking that the voice of his loyal manservant, Alfred, was coming from less than twenty feet away.

"Master Bruce, I realize that the lateness of your hours makes it difficult to manage even one square meal a day but when I bring you food, it would be nice to see a token effort made. Having seen that the fork and knife have been used would be appreciated."

With the kind of guilt that only Alfred could inspire, Bruce realized that he had not touched the steak that Alfred had brought him an hour earlier. "I'm sorry. It's just that given the way things are in Gotham, it's hard to tear myself away from the problem."

"I realize that there are great troubles in our fair city." Alfred's voice now held a genuine level of concern.

"And I realize the path that you have chosen calls for an enormous effort. But one can not let these things overtake you. You know your limits far better than I ever could, but should be able to know by now that you do not carry this burden alone."

"I know that. Tim and Dick are busy patrolling the city tonight, while I try to work on figuring out who committed these murders." Bruce gave a sigh. "Though I'm not sure I'm doing much good."

"I'm sure you underestimate yourself, Master Bruce."

"I've been to these crime scenes a dozen times. I've looked at these morgue reports for hours on end. I've studied these crime scene photographs from almost every angle." Bruce punched some buttons. "To be honest I'm not even sure what I'm looking for anymore."

"I find it very hard to believe that someone of your…" By now Alfred had walked all the way over to the computer. Suddenly, he fell silent as he got a good look at the picture on it--- a close up on the dead mans face.

Bruce turned to look at Alfred. What he saw disturbed him a great deal. His manservant had seen a great many terrible things over his years, but very little seemed to scare him. Part of this had to do with his experiences, and part of it was simply his nature. Put them together, and Alfred Pennyworth could be almost as stoic as he was. It therefore took Bruce more than a few moments to realize the nature of his expression—a mixture of shock and memory.

"Are you all right, Alfred?" he asked gently.

The sound of his voice stirred the older man. "I--- I'm sorry, Master Bruce."

Picking his words carefully, Bruce asked his next question. "What's the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Alfred hesitated for a few seconds before responding. "Not quite. But you're not that far off."

"What do you mean?"

Alfred collected himself. "I'm--- I'm at a bit of a loss, sir. But I'm almost positive I've seen these marks before."

"Where?" asked Batman.

Alfred wasn't used to telling stories, so it took him a short while to focus. Finally, he spoke: "You know that my family has always been in the business of service. My father was, and his father before him. But my uncle--- Herbert Pennyworth--- did not follow that path. When I and my family were still living in London he worked at another trade."

"What was that?"

"My uncle used to say that he was in the antiquities business. It seemed innocuous enough, but for some reason my father was never very happy about his being involved in it. He and Uncle Herbert would sometimes quarrel about it."

Alfred shook his head. "During the war, when the bombs were falling, my parents and I went to the countryside to get out of the path of the destruction. Herbert, however, refused to leave London. They had a royal row about it and my uncle blurted out that what he was dealing with made Hitler and the Nazis look like toy soldiers."

Bruce considered this, his eyes narrowing momentarily in thought. "Did he work in counterintelligence?"

"That's what I thought and I kept thinking it until I was nine." Alfred put his hand to his chin. "It was a year before my parents and I came to America. Uncle Herbert came to our home after he went on a business trip to Hungary. He said that he had bought some rare books from sources in the Carpathian Mountains. I was curious but he didn't let us look at them." He paused. "Then, later that evening, after supper, I was excused from the table and went into the spare bedroom where he was spending the night."

"You really wanted to look at the books, didn't you, old friend?" Bruce was having a difficult time imagining his loyal servant as a mere boy, let alone a disobedient one.

Alfred nodded. "One was lying on the top of his briefcase. I opened it and gingerly looked through it. It was disappointing because it was all in a language I couldn't make heads nor tails of. However, it was illustrated, and eventually I came to one particular drawing."

"What was in it?"

"It was the picture of a man's head, but his face was---wrong. His eyes were closer together, there were lines at the bridge of his nose and his teeth were--- they were sharpened." Alfred seemed to be shivering at the mere memory.

"And, at the base of the man's neck were two puncture marks. The same kind of markings that yourself and the Gotham Police have noticed." Alfred pointed to the picture of the dead man's neck. "The caption was just one word. And, even though it made no sense to me, I have never forgotten it."

Batman thought that he knew the word but he needed to hear Alfred say it. He needed someone else to confirm he wasn't crazy. "What was the word?" he asked.

"'Nosferatu.'"

Bruce took a deep breath. He knew that the leap he was about to make was based on a nearly fifty-five year old memory from what could have just been an illustration from a book of old European folklore. Certainly, if the Commissioner had heard what he was basing his decision on, despite years of working together, he'd probably think that the Batman had gone mad. He needed help from a different source, and there was only way to get it.

"Alfred, do you remember the name of the company your uncle worked for?"

Alfred nodded. "It was called the Watcher's Society."

"And they operated out of London?"

"Yes, sir."

Bruce walked over to the keyboard of his supercomputer and leaned over to it, opening the system's main search engine – an engine that had access to more information than some people saw in their entire lifetimes.

He typed in the term "Watchers' Society", and noted in a separate box that any reference found to both words, together, was to be cross-referenced with London, England as a location. A moment later, he punched the search button.

Bruce/Batman wasn't entirely sure what he had expected to find when he looked at the first hit, but the story in the London Times was not an entirely unexpected one. The Batman was stoic when he saw the headline; Alfred was not.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed.

The headline read, "BOMB DESTROYS CENTURIES OLD GENTLEMAN'S CLUB; POLICE SUSPECT TERRORISM. Under that was a picture of what clearly had been a giant edifice, but was now only so much rubble.

The story that followed was even more baffling. It said that on the afternoon of November 26, 2002, a giant explosion had ripped through the headquarters of an organization known as The Watcher's Society. The blast had been so sizable that the glass in the windows of every building within a two block radius had shattered.

From then on, however, the details became very unclear. The paper revealed that the building had been an institution of the City of London as far back as Elizabeth I, yet there were no mention of any of the members' names, or what exactly the Watcher's Society had done in all that time. Though there were elements of the crime that led the London police to suspect an act of terror, there was no information as to why terrorists would target such a place or what there was worth their trouble to destroy.

Batman was extremely good at reading between the lines, and he could tell that this story had been severely adapted. The writers--- and probably the editors--- had done some creative work to make this story seem less important than it really had been. He knew he should follow it up, but as it had less bearing on the current situation than was important, he decided to move on.

He turned to his butler. "Alfred, did you have any idea that this had happened?"

By now Alfred had regained his composure. "No sir. Uncle Herbert died nearly twenty years ago. His children went on to other professions. I'd almost entirely lost track of the Watchers."

The computer had been scrolling down the other hits. "Someone clearly hasn't." Batman said grimly as he looked down at the screen.

Alfred looked and though he maintained his composure, he was clearly shocked by what he was seeing. "Branches of the Society all over the world --- Nairobi, Budapest, Manila, --- all of them destroyed." He shook his head. "How on earth did no one else make the connection?"

"Somebody was going to an awful lot of trouble to make sure that no one this society existed in the first place." said Batman as he scanned through. "The fact that these people were Watchers in the first place is buried after any discussion of the explosions. I think someone in a position of power was making sure that no one connected the dots. "

"Who, though, Master Bruce, could do such a thing?"

Batman shook his head. "I'm not entirely certain yet, Alfred."

Alfred read the dates on the stories. A moment later, he spoke. "All of these incidents took place more than a year ago." He looked up. "Do you think possible that whoever it was who committed these bombings…" he hesitated a moment before he continued, "…finished the job?"

"I can't be certain of that either, Alfred. This is all the information that is on public record. To find more, we're going to have to explore some less-traveled avenues. It's a good thing we have an expert in the field."

He pressed a key, a signal immediately sent to Oracle's main system to contact him.

A minute later, Barbra Gordon's image appeared on another screen. "What is it, Bruce?" she asked.

"Barbara, I think I have a lead on whoever may be behind everything that's been going wrong in the city over the past two months." Batman said without preamble.

Barbara nodded. "I'm listening."

"What would you say if I told you that I believe vampires are responsible for every one of the recent murders?" He paused a second. "And not only for the random ones, but all of the killings that have taken place in the Gotham underworld?"

Barbara considered this for over a minute before responding. "If it was anyone else, I would tell them they were crazy." she finally said.

"I'm having trouble believing it myself, Barbara." Batman admitted. "But I've recently gotten some information that makes me believe it is possible. Vampires do exist. If you can get your mind around that concept, believing the rest isn't that difficult."

Barbara paused before answering. "You know, we may not be the only ones who are thinking this way." she said. "Over the past couple of weeks I've been receiving on-line communications from someone who's asking the right questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"A good number of questions about the murders. I was asked if bodies have been disappearing from the morgue, if there had been a rise in grave robbing." She shrugged a shoulder. "That sort of thing."

Suddenly the Bat had his full attention on Barbara. "Who's been asking?"

"I honestly don't know, Bruce." She admitted. "When his questions started sounding hinky I tried to pin down his interest in this. Guy cut me off cold. I've spent quite a bit time trying to track him down, but it appears he's very skilled at using high-level encryption and he has a very strong firewall."

This disturbed the Batman more than a little. Barbara was one of the most expert computer specialists he knew. If she was having trouble pinning this guy down… "What do you know?"

"Just that he used the screen name 'Lord of the Keys' and he's operating out of Los Angeles."

"Well maybe I can use the computer in the cave to do some back checking of my own." Batman said. "Anyway, that's only part of the reason that I called you. I may have another lead that I could use your help running down."

Now Barbara gave him her full attention. "Name it."

"I need you to try and track down an organization known as the Watcher's Society. I have intel that tells me they might know more on how to handle this problem."

"'Watcher's Society' All right. Let me see if I can get anything right away." Barbra moved over to her computer and began doing some typing of her own.

Two minutes later she came back on the screen. "All right, this is just getting creepy." she said without foreword.

"What?"

" When I typed in 'Watcher's Society' I found this listing that had the name Watcher's Society in it. Only it says that they've changed their name."

"To what?" asked Batman.

"Angel-Slayer Inc.' And do you know where their central office is located?"

"London?"

"No. Los Angeles."

Batman made the connection. "That's how your source knew what he was looking for." He thought for a second. "Is LA the only city that it operates out of?"

Barbara did some more typing. "No, according to this they have offices all over the country—Cleveland, New Orleans, east Texas—"

"What about here?'

"According to this it there's a note. 'East Coast Offices opening."

"When?"

Barbara did some more typing. "According to the backtrail, a week ago."

"How close is this office?"

"Less than ten miles away." Barbara looked at Batman. "Now that we know where they are what do you think we should do, Bruce?"

An excellent question. Batman knew that his reluctance to call in for help had gotten him--- and by extension Gotham—- in serious trouble in the past. But this wasn't a matter of calling in someone like Tim or Dick. This appeared to be completely outside help and Bruce wasn't sure how much he would be willing to trust total strangers.

Then again, if he was right about his basic assumption, the current situation was above and beyond anything that he had ever dealt with before. And if Batman went in nearly blind there was an excellent chance that he could end up dead or…

Or. Now there was a word with frightening possibilities. Until he had nearly been totally paralyzed by the monstrous Bane a few years ago, the idea of a 'fate worse than death' had never crossed his mind. Now he knew that there definitely were such things. And if he was seriously considering this possibility, there was something even worse than that. Something… unthinkable

"Batman? You still there?"

With a shock Bruce realized that he had allowed his mind to go of on a tangent, something that he never did.

"Sorry. It's just… this is a very thorny situation. I'm not sure how to proceed." he said quickly.

"Maybe you shouldn't."

That got Batman's attention in a hurry. "Barbara, what do you mean?"

"It's going to be very tough selling my father on the idea that vampires are killing people, much less taking key positions in organized crime." Barbara spoke as gently as she could manage. "The idea that we can't handle it ourselves---" She gave a sigh. "That will probably bother him more than the fact that the undead are setting down roots here."

"Granted that's true" asked Batman "how are we supposed to do this? There isn't any right way to explain what the hell's going on and there's no way to show him without the risk of more people dying."

"I know." admitted Barbara. "That's why we should both talk with him. Try and sell him that this is a problem that is well beyond our ken and that there are people who might be able to explain what the hell is going on here."

"And then?'

"Then I make contact with them. Get an idea if they know what they're doing. It will be a lot easier for him to buy this if he thinks that it came from me then if it comes from you alone."

Normally Batman would have disputed the logic in Barbara's scenario as well as the idea that he wasn't qualified to handle this himself. However, the reality was this potential new threat unsettled him more than he was willing to let on. It wasn't that he was afraid of the possibility of vampires in his city; it was that they represented a force he had no experience dealing with. This was going to call for a whole new plan in handling this threat and he needed time to prepare his own response.

"All right." Bruce agreed. "Talk to the people at this Angel-Slayer and find out if they're on the level. I you think that they are, arrange for me to make contact with them on a secure line."

"Sure."

"I'll contact Tim and tell him what's going on. You get in contact with Dick—though if what we think is happening has been going on for awhile, he may already have his suspicions." Batman got to his feet. "I'm going to do some research. Try and figure out the weaknesses these creatures have."

"All right." Barbara hesitated. "Is it all right that I hope that whoever's in charge at Angel-Slayer laughs me right out of their office?"

"That would make things easier." Batman said. "But our job is not about doing the easy thing."

"I know." There was a long silence that could have stood for many things. Finally Barbara said: "Oracle out."

Batman got to his feet preparing himself for both of the difficult jobs that lay ahead of him.

And readying himself for the idea that there was something in the darkness more frightening than him.