Chapter Three: A Father-Daughter Hunting Trip

Several people that frequent cyberspace debate the nature of the entity known as the Oracle. The Oracle is a mysterious figure, a cyberspace urban legend that, if real, is one of the best hackers alive, and seems to have a sideline. A number of heroes have been heard muttering to this mysterious figure during battle. Some say that the Oracle is an all-knowing, all-seeing power that serves as a supernatural patron to the world's heroes. Others say that it is a supercomputer constructed on an alien world. Still others believe that this is a tacit agreement by superheroes to psyche-out their villains. A few others whisper that the Oracle is all too human. All rumours agree that the Oracle is supposed to provide information to superheroes, whatever information that they need.If the Oracle exists then such a figure would be the first to hear about any unusual activity that happened anywhere in the world.Because he/she/it is who/what it is, can it be any other way?

Because she is who she is, Barbara Gordon is among the first to know.The Joker has gone to some small town in California and robbed a museum. The front hall of the museum apparently resembled a slaughterhouse. The guards that weren't shot had died of Smilex poisoning. As someone who knows all too well what bullets can do to a human body, she thinks that the Smilex might be the better way to go. (Then again, bullets can kill a person instantly but Smilex always takes some time.Enough of that.) There was a problem and it had to be resolved. She knew what first step to take. (He needs to know, and now. Hopefully I can catch him before he leaves the Cave.)

A ping on a giant computer alerted a figure standing in a vast cave. The Batman turned to answer.

"Oracle," he rumbled, addressing the woman on the screen.

"Museum guards in a town in California have poisoned by Smilex. I'm sending you the details now."

"Understood. Batman out." The screens changed and true to her word, the detail of the robbery as it was reported flashed across the screens. The Sunnydale Museum of Antiquities was robbed. All of its guards were dead. All but four died of gunshot wounds but those four, while clearly receiving gunshot wounds, showed the unmistakable signs of Smilex poisoning. The museum had been ransacked. A list of the missing artifacts had already been compiled- a sign of how small the museum was. The stolen items came from a gamut of origins and had differing monetary values.

The Batman leaned back in his chair. The Smilex strongly indicated the Joker's involvement. It had been years since anyone not associated with the Joker dared use Smilex. If it was someone else, they were either very bold, or confident that the Joker could not touch them. He would proceed under the assumption that it was the Joker until the evidence proved otherwise.The Batman studied the list of stolen items again. There was no readily apparent link between them, and none of them would have been among the Joker's usual targets. The perpetrators were likely only after one item or a small group of items, and stole the rest to create confusion and to hide their motives.

He brought up a different file on the computer. The Joker had vanished after the Hush incident. The Batman growled at the memory of that time. The Joker had reappeared two nights earlier, killing a man and ransacking his home. There were eyewitnesses to that, neighbors who saw the demented clown on the street approaching the house and wisely hid themselves before calling the GCPD. The Batman brought up all of the information on that case. There was no apparent correlation between his death and the museum robbery. With the Joker that meant nothing- the man had been known to kill for any reason- but the Batman added that to his mental list of things that he wanted Oracle to investigate while he headed to Sunnydale, California. "Alfred," he said to his butler, "invent a reason for Bruce Wayne to be away from Gotham. I have to go to California."

"Very well sir," Alfred said evenly. "Will you be traveling alone?"

The Batman thought for a moment. He didn't need the help, but… "Oracle," he said turning on the comlink, "contact Batgirl. Tell her to meet me here."

He had his reasons. It was a weekend, and Robin was already in San Francisco for a 'Titans weekend.' It would be best for all concerned if he were not pulled away when he was not needed. His instincts told him that this was not important enough to summon Nightwing from Blüdhaven. It had been a while since he had seen Batgirl in the field, and adapting to a new location was a good test for a crime fighter.

The two vigilantes were in the air just over an hour later. They were taking the Batplane. It was crowded and not very suitable for such a flight but Bruce Wayne had no reason to go to Sunnydale. The town was simply too small to even fit on his radar and had nothing of special value. Ted Kord had access to a hangar at the local airport. Splendid. Blue Beetle owed him one- several actually. His employees were both accustomed to the unusual and paid enough to ignore it.

While he initially believed Sunnydale to be an unremarkable town, he was quickly proven wrong. He had been in contact with Oracle, who alerted him as he approached the Rockies. While none of her searches bore Joker-related fruit thus far, she had turned up some startling information about the town itself.

"You're not going to like this," Oracle said over the communicator. "Sunnydale's just over a hundred years old, and for most of its existence it actually beat Gotham as murder capital of the country."

"Explain." It was not possible for a town that small to have more deaths per capita than any city let alone to do so for approximately a century, let alone unreported.

"The actual death rate is high, but it's the amount of 'unexplained disappearances' that push it over the top."

'Unexplained disappearances.' He knew what that meant just as well as Oracle did: deaths that most police forces were uncomfortable dealing with because they were unaccustomed to dealing with the unusual. Only cities like Gotham and Metropolis had comparatively few real unexplained disappearances. "You said that it was this way for most of its existence."

"Yeah. The death rate plummeted about five-and-a-half years ago. It's spiked at times since then but on the whole it's only been tied with us. Before you even ask: no known capes, active or inactive, have ever set foot in Sunnydale."

"Reports of vigilante groups?"

"There was this one group calling itself-" he heard a snort of laughter on the line- "MOO."

"MOO?"

"Mothers Opposed to the Occult. It was a brief-lived citizen's association that formed about three years ago and completely dissolved a few days after its inception."

"Anything else?"

"Most of the random acts of violence have been attributed to gangs on PCP, but the number of reports screams cover-up. The biggest thing to happen in recent history, besides a number of extremely localized earthquakes, is the destruction of the high school three years ago. It was during the school's graduation ceremonies, which were held outside the school. Some people died, including some of the students, but none of the bodies recovered had wounds consistent with an explosion. Some bodies, including those of the school's principal and the town's mayor, were never recovered. Findings indicate that the explosion was anything but natural, but nobody apparently bothered to follow up, not even the local military base which reported missing ordinance at that exact same time. Oh, and this is the best part- there are eyewitness accounts of a giant snake appearing minutes before the explosion. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to cover those up."

"How much trouble?"

"I almost didn't find them. That much trouble."

"Is there any connection between that and MOO?"

"Just that some of the known members had children graduating."

"I see." (Cover-ups, a shockingly high mortality rate, a possible giant snake…) "Is there any known occult activity in the area?" he asked.

"That was my first thought, but the closest thing besides a small association of Wiccan students at the local UC is a store called the Magic Box, currently owned by one Rupert Giles. I've tried to get in contact with the occult types on our side, but Fate says he knows nothing and Zatanna and Jason Blood are incommunicado. I even tried to contact John Constantine but I've had no luck with that."

It was curious that so many of the most powerful mages on their side were all unavailable but for the moment that did not concern him. "Keep trying," he told her. "Keep digging. Batman out."

This was… disquieting. It was undeniably true that Gotham was his main focus but the belief that he consequently did not give a damn about the rest of the world was utterly false. This town bore investigating, not necessarily by him. (Maybe by Oracle and the Birds of Prey.) Someone, or some group of people, was active. They needed to be identified and catalogued.

He spared a look over his shoulder at his passenger. Batgirl was looking out the windows at the scenery but he had no doubt that she paid close attention to everything she heard. In a way her presence was… soothing. Raised by an assassin to become a living weapon, in her early years she had learned nothing that did not pertain to killing, not even how to speak. Even after she was granted the ability to speak she cultivated an appreciation for silence. Nightwing or Robin would have been fidgeting or making small talk but not her. Her silence was by choice. He felt his lips twitch in what might have been a smile. Dick was unquestionably the child of his heart. Jason was the child of his rage, and Tim was the child of his mind, but Cassandra was the child of his spirit.

"What do you think?" he asked her suddenly. It was the first time he had spoken to her since the flight began.

"Whatever it is, we can handle it," she told him simply.

The Batman's lip-twitch grew. Dick would have said something cocky. Jason would have talked about the amount of violence that would ensue. Tim would have started speculating about what Oracle had just told them and started wondering how the Joker might fit into it. Cassandra's words encompassed all of those. Definitely the child of his spirit.

The motel was small and somewhat dingy but perfect for Matches Malone. Flashy (in a cheap way) and sporting a small thin moustache, he fit in with the surroundings perfectly.

"A room for two," Matches told the clerk.

"For how long?" the dead-eyed clerk responded.

"As long as we need."

"Okay. I've got a room with a double bed for you two."

"Get us one with two singles. Candy here is my daughter."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say."

The man's tone made Matches flare, but he kept his cool. His daughter was much younger and looked nothing like him. Besides- the man had probably lost count of all the men that brought their 'daughters' to this place. Matches kept that in mind and managed to keep his temper.

Matches Malone excelled at two things: setting fires and finding the seediest place in any city he went to. He had more difficulty in towns but was still very good at those two things. Between his skill and Sunnydale's small size, it only took him a half-hour to find Willy's Bar.

"You're new here," Willy, a small weaselly guy that would fit in at any crooked bar anywhere, said as he got Matches a beer.

"I'm from the east coast," Matches said evasively.

"So what brings ya here?"

"Let's just say I pissed off the wrong guy."

"On the run, huh?"

"I'd have gone ta Canada, but they talk funny. I'd have gone ta Mexico, but I don't speak Spanish."

Willy nodded sympathetically.

"That bad?"

"You have no idea. I'm just going to get enough money to afford to go to Hawaii."

"You know," Willy said conspiratorially, "if you need work, you could go up to L.A. There's an organization up there that would hire anyone."

"Thanks, but L.A.'s got big players. I might be recognized." Matches took a drink and looked out at the bar's other inhabitants.

"You're not creeped out by them, are you?" Willy asked.

"Nah," Matches waved. "Compared to some of the guys I've seen these guys ain't bad at all."

"Don't say stuff like that so loud, will ya?" Willy winced. "I just got this place re-done."

"Sorry." They made small-talk for a few more minutes before Willy went off to tend to his other customers. Matches let his ears drift and he heard some interesting sounds.

"Tonight…"

"We're gonna hit the college…"

"…new boss is a psycho-bitch!"

"Quiet! Somebody'll hear!"

"Did you see that clown guy she's with? That's guy's nuts!"

"That guy's the Joker, moron!"

"I thought he looked familiar."

(The Joker?) Matches smirked. (Well, well, well…) He took a look at them. He would found them unremarkable if they had not been seated by a mirror. None of them cast a reflection. (Vampires?) He felt surprise. (This should be interesting…)

'Candy Malone' wandered the streets of Sunnydale. Batman wanted her to reconnoiter the town. It was grunt work, but necessary because she wasn't able to go to the bar. She looked her age, and no bar would let her in without ID. Candy Malone could have been any age, but when the fake ID was originally drawn up it put her at her real age. Changing it would have taken too long without access to the cave's equipment. They could have used the Justice League's teleporters but the Batman DID NOT use Justice League when not on League business. Their teleporters were essentially off-limits unless this became League business.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a strangled scream. She knew what that sound meant and she instantly followed it. She didn't know if Candy Malone would have done that but she didn't care. She saved lives. Period.

She jumped into an alley where she saw a man pressing a struggling woman against a wall. He leaned in as if to kiss her neck. Cassandra crossed the distance between the two and herself in a matter of seconds. The man looked up just in time to get a fist in the face. He let go of the woman.

"Run!" Cassandra told her and the woman wasted no time.

"That was my supper, you little bitch!" the man shouted at her before smiling. "But I think you might be better."

Cassandra had no idea what he was talking about. Then his eyes turned yellow and his face changed. He looked… not-human. Somehow, she knew that this was not good.

"Oh, did Mikey lose his supper?" a voice taunted. Three other figures emerged from the shadows. Cassandra was impressed. She didn't hear them at all.

"Oh, shut up!" Mikey shouted at them. "This little brat has a good punch, that's all. And why were you spying on me?"

"It's cause we wanna recruit you for the new boss, but after what we just saw, I think we won't. Don't you know a Slayer when you see one?"

(Slayer?) Cassandra thought.

"S-Slayer?" Mikey squeaked.

"Yeah, Slayer. You ain't afraid of a little Slayer, are ya?"

"Hell no!" Mikey boasted, but his body language told Cassandra that he was a few seconds away from peeing his pants.

"Then kill her. Better yet, why don't we all do it? I wanna see if a Slayer is really as tough as they say." The man grinned viciously, and his face transformed the same way that Mikey's did, as did the faces of his companions. They began to circle her.

(Definitely not good!)