"HISSSS! DIE, FOUL CUR!" screamed the pale-skinned demon as it rushed down the halls of the castle. Standing against him with a leather whip in one hand and a long sword in the other, a tall man with jet black hair and a fresh bleeding gash down his right eye. The handsome hunter named Wayne held his blade up with a coy smirk, ready for the creature.
"Bring it on, Lafayette. Let's end this!" screamed the hunter as he raised the whip and swung it with tremendous force slashing Layfette's left eye. The vampire screeched as his flesh burned before being tackled by his enemy, who ran his blade through his heart, causing the bloodsucking demon to cry in pain. Wayne grunted and pushed his weapon more, plunging into the wound before twisting the sword and slashing the left, cutting off the beast's arm along with spilling his blood across the floors. "Rot in hell, you sick creature."
"N-No… Not like this! Edmond!" Lafayette growled, clutching his bleeding wound as he fell to his knees. The Vampire Hunter placed his sword against the neck of his foe, glaring into Lafayette's crimson eyes filled with hatred. "Edmond Wayne. I-I curse you and your filthy bloodline! For the rest of days, until I see that every last Wayne on a pike, bleeding at my feet! DO YOU HEAR ME! I'LL KILL-"
SLICE
THUD
Edmond looks down at the deceased body of his foe, waiting for its corpse to burn to ash. Only for Lafayette's head to roll in a puddle of black blood, a look of disgust formed on his face. Minutes later, Edmond stood several feet away from Castle Arkham with a large sheepskin sac leaking Lafayette's blood sitting upon dry wood. Edmond slashed open the sac and exposed the Vampire to the rising sun as the sun rose over the horizon. The monster screamed in pain as the light touched his pale skin, but Edmond's expression stayed blank. Lafayette cursed and screamed out profanities to his killer, but Edmond spat on the dying devil's corpse. He then spoke, loud enough to be sure that Lafayette could hear him in the most bottomless pit of hell.
"Should your demonic head ever rise from the grave again, then know that there will be a Wayne ready with a blade at your throat and a whip ready to repeat my success. For if you are the storm cloud that haunts me, then my kin shall be the ones to strike you from the sky and bury your fiendish corpse once again. Hear me, Lafayette Arkham. Gotham is under the protection of the Wayne Family, from this day forth!" With those words, Edmond Wayne stabbed his blade through the skull of Lafayette, crumbling the head to ash. Edmond then walked away, leaving his sword as a reminder of the battle that took place there on that night.
300+ YEARS LATER-GOTHAM CITY
Jim Gordon was a tired man, a born and bred Chicago man and veteran. The bespeckled redhead man stared out of the subway window over the gothic nightmare that was Gotham below. He released a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose; his phone vibrated, and his expression changed slightly for the better.
'Hey, Jim. I hope you made it safe. Barbara and James, already miss you.'
'I miss you guys. But, I promise once this Gotham thing is sorted out, I'll be on the first train back.'
He smiled at his wife's messages; he hoped this trip would be fast. That this case would be the first and last time he ever came to Gotham City. As his train came to a screeching halt, Jim exited his train and felt the urge to wretch as the smell of fumes and pollution filled his nostrils. "Shit."
This was going to be a long case for him.
AUGUSTYN & MIGNOLA HARBOR
A loud clank of metal radiated through the metal room. A young man, no older than 22, arose from his blanket on the metal floor inside the room. His jet black hair is unkempt and messy as he awoke from his sleep, while most of his obscured by a sizeable scraggly beard.
"OI! Pretty Boy! Wake the f&$k up! We're here." screamed a sailor from the other side of the metal door. Malone stood up from the floor and stared forward into the dirty mirror over his sink. His blue eyes, filled with something dangerous, a dark drive pushing him forward. Grabbing his ratty old coat, Malone exited his room and stared out at the giant brick and steel jungle he called home. As he left the ship, he pulled from his coat pocket a leather-bound book that had been used to the point of deterioration. Malone wrote down in the book his inner thoughts as he wandered out of the port and into the city.
'Fifteen years. It has been eleven years since I left this city and her people to pursue the strength I need. But, tonight shall be the first night where I face them if all is as I planned for. Where I make myself known to them, the ravenous demons that feed off of Gotham. The dark shall fear the Waynes once again!'
-Bruce Wayne
GCPD HEADQUARTERS-BLEAKE ISLAND.
"Agent Gordon! Glad you could make it to our fine establishment." Jim locked hands with Commissioner Loeb. Jim held back at his disgust and resisted his every instinct to toss the robust man in a cell. His time as a soldier and an Agent taught him how to sense corruption in a figure of authority. Loeb was setting off all kinds of alarms. "How was the trip? I take it Detective Flass filled you in?"
Jim flashed back to minutes earlier as he clung for his life as Flass almost got them killed, trying to avoid traffic. Gordon cleared his throat and adjusted his tie before giving taking out a folder on the case at hand. "Yes, actually, you have several missing persons in the area. All seemingly in the Miagani District, normally the FBI wouldn't get involved, but then I looked into it. Most of the victims your men "found" were either dead upon discovery or in such shock that they've regressed to a vegetative state."
"Yes indeed. What's worse is the press around the situation; Gotham's always abuzz with rumors and stories. So as soon as the tabloids caught wind of this little missing person thing, they've been running wild with it."
"I noticed." Jim reached into his suitcase again, this time placing a tabloid magazine with a poorly rendered image of a human crawling on walls onto Loebs desk. "The infamous Arkham Apparition as they're calling it. Commissioner Loeb, the fact this information managed to leak to the press, and you still haven't enforced a curfew in your city. I'm going to need the names of the victims and their last known locations, as well as any possible information your Missing Persons Unit has at the moment. We clear?"
Loeb looked up at Jim, who gave an unflinching glare behind his wide frame glasses. Jim meant business; Loeb responded with a smile and leaned back in his chair. "Crystal. I'll contact one of my best men to help you as well, names Bullock. The best cop I've ever had the privilege of working with!" With that, Jim huffed and exited Loeb's office, taking all but the paper with him. Once he sensed that Gordon was far enough away, he reached for his phone and dialed away. "Hello? Yes, this is Loeb. Listen, we might have a problem with our little Agent in town. Yeah, I'll send you the address of his hotel. Surprise him with a visit from Victor."
CLICK!
ELSEWHERE IN GOTHAM.
A pale hand hangs up the rotary phone; they sit surrounded by crimson eyes in the shadows behind an old wooden desk. From the darkness, a pale-skinned naked gentleman with a head clean of hair and eyes as red as blood emerges from behind. His upper torso was covered in scars and caked with fresh blood, "So Doc, you called for me?" he said, licking the blood from his hands, his nails sharpened like talons.
"Ah. Victor, I see last night's hunt went well?" spoke the so-called 'Father' from his desk. Victor chuckled and licked his lips with satisfaction, showing off his mouth full of razor-sharp fangs.
"You could say that. I forgot how good Italian tasted for so long. So, who's my next meal?"
PARK ROW-GOTHAM.
In the dregs and downtrodden of Gotham City, Bruce stands outside of a four-story apartment building overlooking an alleyway. As it opens up, he finds an older man waiting for him in a pristine suit with a white button-up shirt. Upon looking at Bruce with his brown eyes, the man breaks into tears as his name escapes his whimpering lips. "M-Master Bruce?" he asks. Bruce smiled as he and the older man embraced one another in a warm and intense hug.
"Yes, Alfred. I'm home, finally."
Hours pass as the two rekindle their friendship, catching up on Bruce's exploits during his years of training across the globe. Finally, after tea, a dead silence fell in the room as Bruce stared at the portrait framed above the mantle. It was a painted portrait of a young Bruce with his father and mother beside him with Alfred off to the side. "Alfred, is everything I asked for ready?" asked the young Wayne with the same silent rage in his eyes as on the boat. Alfred shook in fear at the sudden change in Bruce's voice.
"Yes, Master Bruce. Lucius and I took care of the preparations ahead of time. So everything is ready downstairs."
"And the building?"
"Totally vacant and blacklisted. The only ones aware of this location are me, Master Fox, and yourself."
"Good."
Bruce reached forward and pressed a hidden switch placed on the mantle. A series of clicks and the turning of gears reverberated through the house as a secret passageway opened up behind the nearby grandfather clock. A stone stairway that descended into the darkness below, Bruce glared and clenched his fist as the two fell. As they entered a large cavern, accompanied by the screeching of bats, the two looked forward to a solitary glass display case showing the garb inside.
"Master Fox prepared it to your liking. It has almost everything you'll need for them."
"Almost?"
As Bruce turned to face Alfred, he found the Englishman standing there holding a large chest with the Wayne Family crest decorating its front. Bruce's eyes widened and rubbed the trunk, removing the lock and revealing the contents inside. Sitting in the chest was a silver cross with a trigger around the leather-bound grip. Bruce picked up the device and smirked as he realized its true nature. He pulled the catalyst causing the top to shoot outwards with a metal cable as the bladed tip jabbed itself through the stone walls. With a second press of the trigger, the blade retracted and came back to the hilt, taking a chunk of the cave wall with it.
"Good. This will do nicely."
Gordon was not having a lovely day; you could, in fact, say that out of the thirty-plus years of living, this was the most frustrating out of them all. The partner he had been assigned was none other than the same musclehead who picked him up from the airport. This instantly went off as a red flag for the FBI Agent; Flass was likely ordered to keep an eye on him. Jim needed an excuse or some form of diversion to escape the cop. Though that would be difficult as he was driving down Mainstreet in Flass' muscle car, something that Jim noted couldn't be afforded on even the best cop's salary.
"So Jimmy, how you're liking Gotham?" asked Flass, causing Gordon to twitch in frustration. "A beautiful place, isn't she?"
"It's Agent Gordon. Please remember that," he said as he stared out the window. Via the notes he manages to scrounge up, he noticed a strange yet erratic pattern in the kidnapping locations. Most of the victims all originated from the East End and the Narrows, the poorer sectors of Gotham. Makes sense, less affluent neighborhoods with high homeless rates. Easy to find a victim and not get attention from the police or even the media. But every so often, a victim would stand out amongst the crowd. A judge, a rich primadonna with power, hell one of them was the grandson of Mobster Luigi 'Big Lou' Maroni of the Maroni Crime Family. In fact, most of the victims had connections to the Maroni Family. Ex-Lovers, children, cousins, etc. It looked like-then it hit him.
"They're working for someone," he whispered under his breath.
"What was that, Jimmy?"
"It's Agent Gordon! Stop the car. I need to use the bathroom."
WITH BRUCE
Dear Journal,
The sun is beginning to set. I've shaved and cleaned off the signs of my travels, my first hot shower in what feels like years. My equipment is ready; Alfred is preparing the last round of Holy Water Grenades for me as I write this. I know that I am ready, yet I still feel fear. Fear of death, something I long since thought, lost to me. But now is not the time for fear, not mine at least. For too long, the Waynes had forgotten our creed. Finally, the bell has rung. It's time for the monsters to feel fear once again.
-Bruce Wayne
GORDON
Finally, he'd lost him. Too bad it cost him his left shoe, which is now soaked in what he hoped was water from the toilet of the bar bathroom he escaped from. He was going to regret that for weeks, but he needed a way to the East End to gather clues for now. Or at least ask around about it. He could go back in the bar, but he could hear Flass getting comfortable by how loud the patrons cheered his name as he entered.
"Okay then, Jim, you managed to find your way through Disney Land. You can handle this town."
He could not, in fact, handle this town. Hours trying just to hail a cab, and anyone who he did manage to stop and talk to ran at the very sight of his badge.
SPLAT!
Wow. Water balloon to the face; don't get that much nowadays. Gordon turned and glared at the group of kids laughing at him from around the corner. He scoffed as he vanished from the kid's sight. Using a nearby alleyway to circle and appear behind them.
"Boo."
The kids jumped and tried to run before Jim stopped them by pulling out a twenty from his jacket pocket. The group of four kids huddled together to weigh their options; Jim rolled his eyes, having been used to being shaken by his daughter for field trip money. He quickly produced a second twenty, and they were ready to sing.
Kids. The fastest way to their brain is their wallet or stomach. "I want the information about this Arkham Apparition, any of you kids know where I can find out about this guy?" The kids instantly froze upon the mention of the specters name, all except for one. A young kid in a yellow t-shirt, Jim placed him at around 12 due to his height; the kid said his name was Duke.
"Yeah, I heard about him. My cousin says it's the ghost of Ol' Lord Arkham come back to haunt Gotham." Jim raised a brow at the mention of the name Arkham. "Arkham? Man, you really ain't from Gotham then. Arkham's famous 'round here. My dad would tell me and my cousin ghost stories about them, how their family is haunted by Lord Arkham who snatches kids from their windows at night."
"Oh, please, Duke. That's all bull!" Another of the kids, a young girl with a ponytail of black hair. James Jr. age by Jim's count, so around 13, and with an apparent sense of confidence as she stood with her hands against her hips. "My cousin told me that the Arkham's were just some stuffy old rich family who got Merced a long, long time ago. Ain't no ghosts or anything."
"Oh, come on, Izzy! I'm telling the truth! I saw it. I saw Arkham's ghost with my own eyes from my apartment!" This caused Jim's eyes to widen with intrigue. He placed his hand on Duke's shoulder and looked at the young boy with a raised brow.
"What do you mean you saw it from your apartment?" he asked. Duke nodded and smirked at Izzy in a cocky manner. He gestured to his other friend, a red-headed kid with red shades, who smiled and took his hands out of his pockets.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Listen and hear him well, as Mr. Duke Thomas speaks of the infamous night. He met and saw the Arkham Apparition!" Duke high-fived his friend; Jim was now seriously rethinking his life as this was his best lead. But he sat down on a nearby stoop and heard Duke out. The kid cleared his throat as he had all eyes on him. He then regaled them in his tale.
"Thanks for the intro, Dax. It was a windy night in Gotham, and there I was in my living room watching an old movie on my TV called Rambo or something. Besides the point, my mom and dad were working late that night, so my cousin looked after me. Doors locked tight, and he was busy in my mom's on the phone with a girlfriend." Jim quickly interrupted Duke's story.
"That's nice, but can you skip to the part where you see this thing?" he was then met by Dax, red-headed, who held up his hand in front of Jim's mouth.
"I'm getting to that alright. Now, where was I? Oh yeah! So my cuz is in his bedroom on the phone. Then I hear outside some chick screaming at the top of her lungs! So I rush to the window, and there I see it. Crawling from the alleyway, with claws as sharp as any cat and teeth covered in blood. It stood over a body and screeched before jumping like 20 feet into the air and vanishing into the night! It was the scariest thing I'd ever seen in my life!"
"Aren't you like 10, D?" interjected Izzy with a smile as she took Duke down a peg.
"I'm 12! And I know what I saw. The next day I checked the same alley and saw nothing there but dried blood in a puddle. When I told the cops, they didn't believe shit." Jim looked at his small notebook; he'd been sketching out details of Duke's story. He raised a brow as all he could manage was to create something akin to Nosferatu. He smiled at the kid and sighed. He then placed the money into Duke's hand, causing the young man's face to light up with glee.
"Thanks for the info, kid. Now, hurry home. It's getting late, and don't spend that all on junk food. Get a Hot Dog or a Pizza for you guys. See you around." With that, Jim began to walk away, looking over his sketch as he heard the group of kids cheering excitedly. Jim peered over his notes; he noticed the setting sun and continued to obsess over his drawing. "Likely some junkie on some kind of new drug, and the kid was probably kidding about the jumping bit. Still."
KRAKOOOM!
Jim's attention turned to the skies as storm clouds rolled in, followed by droplets of rain. He sucked his teeth and groaned as the rain began to pour down on Gotham, "Crap. Better hurry back to the hotel. Hopefully, they had my bags sent over already."
Bruce looked at himself in his bathroom mirror, his hair now in a clean buzzcut and his face shaved bare, preparing himself. His eyes flared up again, his anger rising to the surface as memories flashed through the mind of his mission. Of a pale-skinned monster tearing apart at his father's throat, his hand clenched the bathroom sink, and he growled before a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Master Bruce. I've finished final preparations; the sun is down." Alfred said, his hand placed against the wooden door. Bruce splashed water in his face, and he took in a deep breath.
"Weather conditions?" he asked his associate.
"Abhorrent rain and thunder, sir. Might want to bring an umbrella." The door opened slowly, and Bruce walked past Alfred and entered the underground sanctuary. "They'll be ravenous tonight. So you'll need to pick and choose your targets wisely."
Bruce stopped and opened the case, stripping himself of everything but a form-fitting black compression turtleneck and pants. He began by putting on the grey pants made of a Kevlar and spandex material to keep him agile. He then put on his black high boots, steel-toed and made for a boxer, followed by the upper body portion of his uniform. His chest was covered grey torso made of sturdier material than his pants, with a unique, eye-catching symbol drawn across his chest. A giant black bat that stretched across his pectorals. He draped a pitch-black jacket made of the same material as the rest of his suit on, with the collars popped and the ends striking a jagged edge to them. With a click, he fastened a belt around his waist with a yellow buckle and dark grey pouches holding his various instruments and an empty holster placed on his right thigh. Next, the arm guards were; next, they were leather with metal placed underneath and three fins on the sides made of silver, and then covered his hands with purple gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. He put a large black cape over his shoulders, a clip at the front to hide the rest of him, the ends similar to his coat. He then wrapped around his mouth a black scarf to hide his jaw, the less of him they saw, the better. All that was left was the cowl made of leather over metal for protection from head trauma but with long pointed ears that curved at the tip. As he placed it over his face, he turned to Alfred, who stood there holding his weapon. Taking it with his hand, he looked to his friend and companion with his eyes now white and unreadable.
"Wish me luck, old chum."
"Godspeed, Master Bruce."
GOTHAM
The rain came down on the city's immense force; Marian rushed for cover as the newspaper covering her was nothing but mush at this point. As she fled under the nearest awning to an apartment building. The woman panted and dug through her purse close to her chest, searching for her cellphone. Then she heard the voice.
"Little Lamb. Little Itty-Bitty-LAMB!" She screamed in fear as a cold hand latched itself around her throat, silencing her instantly. Her vision slowly turned blurry, and a chill traveled down her spine as she felt two sharp objects graze her neck, threatening to cut her jugular vein.
"Such a tasty snack. I can't wait to taste you ARRRGGGGHHHH!" Her attackers' hands vanish instantly after the sound of shattering glass. She slowly turns around to find the window to the building broken from the inside and stained black blood on the broken glass. She shivers in fear as she hears a horrid and inhuman shriek from the darkness of the empty building. She wanted to live and did the only sane thing one could do, run. In the shadows of the building, a bright flash of orange light burst forth, followed by smoke. Inside, a pair of white eyes watched her run away before vanishing instantly.
GOTHAM UNIVERSITY
"N-No! Leave me alone!" screamed a young man as he fled down the hallway of the Art Department. The lights flickered on and off as he looked back to find a giant red-eyed beast stalking him slowly in the hall. The creature growls its knives for teeth dripping with tar-like saliva. As it raised his hands, the nubs of his fingers elongated, and with a loud screech, it charged at terrifying speeds, ready to sink its teeth into the man. As he cowered and curled up against the floor, he heard a loud crash followed by the cries of the monster of pain before feeling an overwhelming presence above him.
"Go home. The streets aren't safe tonight, not yet." The lights went dead before shining once again. The young man raised his head and wiped away his tears as he found himself alone, left only with a small slip of paper that showed an image of a bat. The boy slumped himself against the hallway walls, holding the piece in his hands as he felt his heart slow down from the adrenaline.
"Harper's gonna lose her shit."
AMBASSADOR HOTEL-GOTHAM
"No, Loeb. I don't know where Flass went. But, listen, I told you everything that went down. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a hot shower and some sleep!" Jim slammed his hotel room phone on the hook and plopped himself onto his bed with an exhausted expression. Now in his hotel room, Gordon shedding himself of his tie and jacket as he checked the time. It was already two in the morning, meaning that Barbara and the kids were likely dead asleep. "God, I need a smoke."
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Room Service." As if instantly, Jim's fatigue left him as he quickly pulled his firearm from his holster and glared at the door. As he slowly approached it, he peered out the peephole to find a tall gentleman smiling with a cart of food. He wore the hotel uniform, but Jim scanned him with his eye and noticed something off. Jim shoved his weapon into his back pocket with a gentle turn of the doorknob and smiled at the waiter. The waiter smiled back and escorted the cart into the room silently as Jim closed the door.
"'Bout time. I'm starving; I take it that Loeb is covering this?" he asked as the door clicked via the lock. The waiter chuckled, letting go of the tray as he licked his lips with anticipation. "Too bad though, I already ate." He raised his brow and turned to Jim, who was now pointing the barrel of his gun in the man's face. "Now then, who the hell are you?"
The man smirked and began to laugh as he wiped his face with his gloved hand, his peach-colored skin vanishing as he reveals himself to have ghostly white skin with blue veins appearing around his neck. The man turns to Gordon and begins to laugh as he stares into the officers' eyes while removing his wig to reveal his bald head. "Caught me."
The attacker lunges at Gordon with his mouth wide open, an aura of malice and hunger emanating from him. Gordon braced himself and held his arm steady before firing three shots, one in the arm, another in the shoulder, and the last one in his stomach. The man took it in stride, slamming his fist against Gordon's chest with such force that it sent him flying against the wall. Gordon wheezed as he felt all the air in his lungs escape with haste as he slammed against the wall and onto the floor. Holding his hand against the impacted area, he felt three broken ribs and likely some internal bleeding from one hit.
"Damn piggy. You got one heck of an aim, and you even ruined this shirt I worked so hard for." The sound of metal clattering against the wooden floor of his hotel room made Gordon lookup. The bastard was removing his shirt and jacket and revealing his pale torso covered in scars. What was worse was that the sick freak was digging his finger into the bullet hole and pulling out the damn bullet. The man smiled at him like a lion looking down at an old wounded gazelle; Gordon didn't know if it was his injuries or that he was old, but he swore that he saw fangs in his mouth.
"Now then," the man walks over to Gordon, stomping on his wrist that it broke and forced Jim to let go of his gun. He hissed in pain, biting his lip to avoid screaming. Sick monsters like this freak always enjoyed it when their victims screamed. "I wonder if you'll taste like bacon!" Opening his mouth, Jim saw his shark-like fangs that could easily tear into his flesh. He picked the injured federal agent off of the ground and held him at eye level. As he closed in on his neck, one thought entered his mind during his final moments.
'I can't believe I forgot to wish Barb good luck tomorrow; what kind of a father forgets to wish his kid good luck for her spelling bee. I also promised Junior that I'd teach him how to skateboard, so what if I can't skate myself? I can rollerskate, the same principle. Dammit! What the hell am I doing?!' Gritting his teeth, James clenched his fist and slammed his elbow into his assailant's ear with all his strength. The bastard hissed in frustration, chuckling as he raised his fist to punch Jim in the face. Jim closed his eyes and smirked before spitting in his face, no sense in giving him the satisfaction.
KRASH!
The glass of the window shattered, Jim's eyes opened as a strange spear flew through the window and stabbed through the arms of the assassin clean through. "RAAAAGHH!" He bellowed before suddenly flying through the same window as if being dragged by an unseen force. Jim fell to the ground with a loud thud and coughed; he stumbled to the window and saw something that he couldn't describe honestly. He saw a large mass of shadows with ears so long they looked like the horns of a devil. What was worse were the pair of cold white eyes that glared back at him. Gordon didn't know what to say or do, but as a bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, he could make out the symbol on his chest before vanishing by the time a second bolt boomed overhead.
Jim fell to the floor, his body in pain and his mind exhausted. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed the only number he could think of. "H-Hey Barbara. Yeah, I know it's late; I-I just wanted to hear your voice tonight. To calm me down for a bit, I uh, I got mugged tonight. No. No, I'm okay. You don't need to tell the kids. Just let Barb know that she can do it tomorrow and that I'm rooting for her. Good night sweetie. I love you."
He dropped his phone on the floor with a click and slowly passed out from his injuries. "A goddamn bat." Minutes later, the night auditor came to his room and found the mess, followed by a rushed call to the local hospital.