THE BLOODY KNIGHT

Chapter 2

Batman had been sitting before his Batcave computers, supercomputers really, ever since his rapid return via the Batmobile, its turbo-engine thrusting out tongues of flame from its cylindrical rear, frantically running specific searches for the very same murder M.O.s such as had happened in Gotham City a short time earlier.

He was shocked to see that several had taken place not in Gotham, but in surrounding cosmopolitan municipalities within a thousand kilometer radius which included, not completely unexpectedly, Metropolis. Which caused the Caped Crusader, his cowl customarily removed from the handsome head and face of Bruce Wayne, billionaire, for a determinate amount of comfort, to puzzle aloud…

"I wonder why Superman hasn't tried to contact me."

"In point of fact, sir, he did," the properly lilting British-accented voice of none-other-than Alfred Pennyworth, gentlemen's gentlemen as well as a laundry list of other occupational appointments in direct correlation to the Cowled One. "I would have contacted you via your Bat-cell, however…"

Before Batman could hear the exculpatory excuse, the Bat-wave signaled a second situation in his city that, curiously, occurred exactly four blocks from the site of Gotham's first ensanguined young woman.

Quickly pulling his bat-eared cowl completely over his head and half his face, while simultaneously standing, his suddenly husky voice belonging only to the Batman, said, "I'm surprised such a curious crime has occurred so close…and so soon…as the first. Alfred…we'll discuss your reason for foregoing proper protocol…later."

"I look forward to it, sir," said Alfred with an affectation and tone of British sarcasm, even as the Caped Crimefighter swooped from supercomputer to Batmobile before firing up its turbo-engine in order to swiftly squeal away amidst the expected burst of flame from its bat-like back. "Godspeed, Master Bruce."

Even as Alfred turned smartly to proceed up from obsidian Batcave to stately mansion, he couldn't help but recall the curious request of the Man of Steel when attempting to make scrambled contact via special phone to Batman to be taken, instead, by the multitasking English butler of a billionaire-cum-costumed crimefighter…

"Are you absolutely certain," Alfred had said via special phone link to Superman, whom the stogy steward had absolutely no inclination was also Clark Kent, award-winning reporter for The Daily Planet. "I'm sure Batman would be more than interested in the fact the exact same curious killings have occurred in your…"

"No, Alfred," interjected the unmistakably strong voice of the Man of Steel from his end of the super-secured phone line, more than a little unmistakable emotion, clearly encompassing something especially personal about the heinous situation that so absorbed the Last Son of Krypton. "Thank you…but I must handle this myself. I just hope that…"

The voice of Superman unexpectedly trailed off and Alfred, having been directly involved with such moody emotions in regards to the Cowled One that he had served for more years than he cared to count, let it lay.

While Batman was hurtling toward the exact sight of two murdered coroner workers and one mysteriously missing dead body…

Superman soared at super-speed from one cosmopolitan corner of Metropolis to the other, not just in search, using super-vision, for the maliciously murdered victims, who then seemed to be disappearing one after the other, from the self-same bloodless death as had occurred, thrice now, in relatively remote Gotham City, but, more personally important to the Man of Steel, desperately seeking a certain missing colleague and love of his uniquely dual life…Lois Lane.

The last Superman had known in regards to Lois' locality, she had been aggressively seeking leads linked with one of the bloodlessly murdered individuals, a young man by the name of Alistair Castle who'd been delivering deep-dish pizzas which was his way of paying his steep tuition through one of Metropolis' ivy league colleges. A young man with a potentially illustrious future had he not be bitten by some unspeakable something and completely depleted of liquid life.

Just the thing to garner any good reporter's attention, much less an award winner like Lois Lane. Though Superman assumed, should she need assistance, Lois would've certainly let out a yell for help as she'd done on an endless number of other occasions, even as the Man of Steel was busying himself with these strange homicides while attempting to track down the culprit or culprits.

Curiously, Lois Lane seemingly vanished without a trace…so much so that Superman's singular super-powers was incapable of find a single solitary clue. Though it seemed somewhat reasonable to send for the Dark Knight Detective to assist in such a personal search, the Last Son of Krypton knew that his cowl-and-caped colleague would be too tied up in a non-super-powered search for answers in his own city.

Besides, Batman would undoubtedly believe Superman's situation to be a little too personal compared to such a mysterious murderer somehow sweeping through more than a single city in a single night to be concerned about one lone lady reporter known for getting herself embroiled in such adversity.

Still, Superman might inevitably need to beseech Batman's special assistance…whether he wanted to or not.

"I hate to say it, Batman," said Commissioner James Gordon, out on a homicidal scene for the second time in the same night a scant four blocks from the first. "But…"

"You don't have to, Jim," said the Caped Crusader tensely while looking over the two blood-drained bodies stretched out on the street next to the crashed coroner's vehicle. "Same unusual bites on the necks. Same complete loss of blood."

"Not to mention," Detective Harvey Bullock snarled while scratching the stubble on his fleshy face, "the fact the dead body these two were transportin' ain't nowhere to be seen. It's like she just got up and walked away."

"Or worse," Batman added almost under his breath as his ingenuously intelligent mind immediately began thinking outside the box for the first time since this strange situation presented itself in his city.

"What do you mean?" asked Gordon with a glare while readjusting his glasses even as Bullock squinted in the Caped Crusader's direction as well.

"I'd rather not say," the Dark Knight said simply, "until I've done a little more investigating on my own. I'll check in later, Commissioner, after a thorough autopsy's been completed on these two."

With that, Batman hurled his Batarang with trailing line and, with the practiced expertise of a one-of-a-kind acrobatic crimefighter and swiftly swung away to disappear into the darkness.

Detective Bullock bemoaned, "I don't know why we need that nutcase, Commissioner. We're just as capable of…"

"I'd have to disagree with you, Detective," said Sgt. Renee Montoya in a tone of impersonalized insult on behalf of the Batman. "I've seen that man in the blue-gray costume do a hell of a lot of good…especially when we're dealing with not-so-normal criminals. If you ask me…we're lucky as hell to have him."

"Hmpf," scoffed Bullock before returning his attention to diligent detecting pertaining to two dead bodies drained of blood and one dead body that'd disappeared. In his assiduously pedestrian opinion, every seemingly senseless killing had an inevitably logical solution.

And, as far as Detective Bullock believed, no Batman was even needed.

At that very same moment, situated in a secretly purchased, through dummy corporate creations fronted by those in expensive suits acting upon post-hypnotic suggestions too strong to ignore…

"You have done well my bride," said the Euro-accented man called the Monk to not only the now undead blood-drinking Lorelei Adelphia, "as have you all…my extended family now that I am here…in this new nation. New…to me. You have all undergone your necessary passage from the light of the living to the dark of the dead. Just as hundreds have done before in more foreign lands. From more distant times."

Standing about the mysterious Monk in red, formerly murdered, drained-of-blood individuals, male and female alike, stood mutely before a monstrous master. Someone who had visited upon these what he had visited upon victims throughout the long stretch of time in numerous other nations making up the Old World. Even the inscrutable Oriental World. Or the World of the still-mysterious Middle East.

Though his face was so hideous as to be hidden beneath the red hood bearing the simplistic symbol of the skull-and-crossbones above and between perfectly aligned holes over mesmerizing eyes, the Monk continued to command the utmost in timeless respect from all who had fallen to his fatal "kiss".

In fact, of the growing group of fanged followers from the Eastern side of the United States, currently encompassing him, only one had not yet been drained to join the horde of the undead. Only one held the unparalleled pulchritude of a well-established beauty. A lovely lady whose peerless soul became his solitary light within his endless dark.

And the name of this dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty who'd so captivated the monstrous Monk …

"Lois Lane," slowly said the Monk almost musically like a human man mired in Love. "Only she shall be my bride supreme. But not as callously as some of you…no. Her spiritless transformation shall be the culmination of a sumptuous celebration attended by the undead. My undead. So, my children of the night…my subordinate brides…seek out your own bloody banquets this eventful eve. Turn them into the same mindless members of my ever-growing progenitors of soulless resurrection. Then and only then…shall Lois Lane become mine for all time. Haaa ha ha hahahahaha!"

Standing stiff and silent, her enchanting eyes wide with the hypnotic stare of someone whose will had been brought under the complete control of the vampire master dressed all in red. From hooded head to robed body. Only simultaneously ageless and aged hands were discernible from the bell-like sleeves of said red robe.

Unlike the rest, all currently as undead and bloodthirsty as their repulsive leader, Lois had yet to have her hypnotic eyes to fall upon the monstrous countenance beneath the blood-red hood.

And she would not see such until…

Batman stood astride the top of a centralized building overlooking the two blood-draining locations, thus far this sinister night, within the immensity of Gotham City. Watching and waiting.

Waiting for the return of whatever was responsible for…what?

The Caped and Cowled Crimefighter couldn't help but semi-silently consider, "None of this makes any sense. If these are, indeed, the misdeeds of some strange nocturnal mass-murderer who needed to, by some means as yet unknown, drain away all the blood of his victims…utilizing some methodology that left two teeth-like punctures within their necks…then what happened to the corpse of his first ensanguined attack? Did he steal the body after killing, in the exact same manner, the two workers for the coroner's office? If so…for what reason? Nothing about this curious case…"

"Makes any sense," a voice said aloud what the Dark Knight was mentally musing, which caused a not-at-all surprised Caped Crusader to half-turn toward…

"So, Superman, have you added telepathy to your repertoire of super-powers?" Batman half-asked of the Man of Steel standing some six feet behind him on the self-same high-rise rooftop. Both of their capes, one indigo-blue and the other bright red, billowing in the wind whistling about their two striking shapes.

"Not exactly," said Superman as he slowly strode toward the colleague in cape-and-cowl. "I've just gotten to known how you think. Especially when faced with something so…"

"Yes," said the man in blue-gray after that pregnant pause in spoken response from the man in blue-red. "Something so decidedly…strange. Why have you come? Alfred didn't…"

"No," swiftly said Superman with a shallow shake of his head, his handsome face seemingly set in stone. "No, Batman…Bruce…I've just decided that, like it or not, I have need of your unique skills."

"Well," heaved the Dark Knight knowingly, "since my investigations have discovered that lots of other cities, including Metropolis, have had exactly the same murders so far, and since you had not requested my non-super assistance earlier. I can only deduce…"

Now turning fully to stare into the true-blue eyes of the square-jawed Kryptonian, Batman, his own exposed square-jawed, from the cowled mask hiding a billionaires equally handsome face, forming a friendly half-smile, the Dark Knight finally finished his statement of understood truth.

"Something strange has happened to Lois Lane."

END OF CHAPTER 2