THE BLOODY KNIGHT
Chapter 3/Conclusion
Commissioner James Gordon was aghast at how fast such viciously malevolent blood-draining murders had multiplied throughout not only Gotham City, but, so he understood, Metropolis as well as dozens of other cosmopolitan centers within a thousand-mile radius. Pretty much the entire Upper East Coast…and probably well beyond.
Currently riding along with the gruff yet proficient Detective Harvey Bullock, the two raced alongside black-and-whites, one of which had the equally extraordinary and frequently decorated uniformed officer, Sgt. Renee Montoya, lights flashing and sirens screaming, as they all raced to yet another of what was quickly becoming an eerie epidemic. Previously murdered by blood-draining, via big bat-like bites, were now doing the exact same thing to formerly full-blooded Gothamites who were all set upon like blindly led lambs to the proverbial slaughter.
And, still, the Commissioner had absolutely no solid leads as to the precise cause of such sanguinary assaults. Nothing.
But had Commissioner Gordon known the unutterable fact, would he have been capable of believing? For who could accept the centralized reason was wearing a red rob-and- hood?
At the moment, not even two costumed crimefighters, one in blue-red with powers far beyond those of mortal man. The other in blue-gray relying upon special protective padding as well as devices and detective talents, both of which were far above and beyond anything known to the more mundane upholders of the law.
Superman and Batman. The World's Finest.
One was, at present, soaring above the streets of Gotham, while the other drove directly through them in the familiar to all, and frightening to some, obsidian Batmobile.
One not only looking to halt the seditious spread of blood-draining death, but looking to learn the location of Lois Lane…his one and only love. While the other's concern centered upon rooting out the curious source and, if necessary, destroying it utterly.
"Batman to Superman," said the Caped Crusader in the cockpit of his unique car, currently careening at high velocity through the heart of Gotham City, by way of the wireless being used to speak with the Man of Steel, "what can you see with those super-eyes of yours?"
Responding via a wireless secretively inserted in one of Superman's ears, the Last Son of Krypton said, "The same as before, Batman. More and more supposedly dead individuals, killed this very night, looking to attack and bite normal people not yet locked within their homes. There can no longer be any doubt…we're definitely dealing with…vampires."
Though the very word rankled the logic by which both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the billionaire beneath the cape-and-cowl, had so precariously clung since the gunning down of his parents before his young eyes, the Dark Knight also could no longer deny the undeniable.
In the split-second it would take for the Caped Crimefighter to respond via wireless to the high-flying Man of Steel, the events of this past night swept past cowl-covered eyes…
Starting with one, then two, then four, and more, acts of attacks resulting in the depletion of blood spreading rapidly through the surrounding sections of Gotham more so than anticipated by the duo that was, for the moment, Batman and Superman.
Not because the two had trouble combining their diametrically opposed approaches to the protection of the innocent. Superman being more the supreme upholder of true justice with an absence of malice no ordinary man could scarcely bring themselves to properly implement against voracious villainy. Batman more the avenging angel who was willing to wholly obliterate evildoers in order to halt the horrors haunting this night.
One not willing to take any life, even the nefarious. The other not only willing, but capable of bringing such destructive action.
Just because the Batman had, to date, brought super-criminals like Penguin, Riddler, Two-Face, and, last, but seldom least, the Joker in to reside inside quad-locked padded detention cells within a recently renovated, thanks to Superman, Arkham Asylum, certainly didn't abrogate the Dark Knight detective of an always present penchant for destroying anyone, or anything, deemed as evil.
Superman's current state of mind, especially as it pertained to Lois Lane, clearly in the bloody clutches of a vampiric force responsible for a swiftly spreading disease of undead, was exactly the reason Batman only allowed Bruce Wayne to be the playboy society expected him to be, while drawing the proverbial line at becoming enamored with any one woman.
Of course, there were those whom Bruce Wayne had, in his complicated past, dared to dream of as potential mates…Julie Madison, Linda Page, Vicki Vale, Patricia Powell, to name four…only to have reality suddenly plant a size 16 boot straight into his…
"Superman to Batman," the Man of Steel's voice suddenly said via wireless which instantly, thankfully, shook the brooding Batman out of his self-suffering reverie.
"Batman here," said the Caped Crusader from the speeding black Batmobile, "what have you got?"
Superman, still soaring overhead at roughly the same swift velocity as the turbo-engine thrust-powered bat-like car careening around nighttime traffic, used his X-ray and telescopic vision to make absolutely certain of what had caught his true blue eyes before responding via the wireless in one ear.
"Two blocks ahead, to the right…I see a vampire attempting to attack a, so far, normal Gothamite!"
"Understood," said Batman's transmitted voice, even though Superman's super-hearing could've easily understood without the wireless link. "You go on ahead, Superman. I'll get there right after. I've got something to…check out first."
Check out first? the Last Son of Krypton considered within the privacy of his thoughts as he tried to understand what could possibly take precedent over stopping a murder-in-progress. Even if that murder was being perpetrated by a blood-drinking drone of some more powerful vampiric force. I sure hope you know what you're doing, Bruce…or else Lois might pay for any delays…with her life. And I could never forgive you for that.
Turning on the super-speed with a will which pretty much made the Man of Steel just shy of being an actual god, Superman zipped around a building exactly two city blocks away in order to seemingly materialize between a trembling out-of-breath would-be victim and the fanged, ashen-hued vampire drone doing the bidding of a much more supreme bloodsucker.
"Gyaaaahhhh!"
That shriek of sudden rage issued forth from the vampiric victim from what would've been yet another blood-drained prey and so on and so forth through multiple permutations involving Gotham, Metropolis, and other distant cities.
"Don't worry, I won't let him harm you," Superman said to the still terrified target of nocturnal attack without turning from the monstrosity standing just outside of striking range. If such mattered to a Superman…or to a recently sired bloodsucking vampire.
"Monk is master," snarled the mesmerized soldier-of-death. "Monk makes us strong. Monk makes us stronger…than you!"
With that, the wild-eyed, fang-brandishing basilisk lashed out and roughly grabbed the muscle-bound Superman in ridiculously skinny arms that exhibited a super-strength rivaling the Kryptonian in blue-red. Hurling him hard enough to burst through the across-the-street storefront's concrete-covered front as if it were made of mere cardboard.
"Superman…must…die!" wildly yelled the emaciated man who, scant hours earlier, had been a real living individual. One with a will of his own. A mind of his own. And now…
Superman had no sooner stood up from where he'd been violently tossed, just inside the shattered storefront of thick brick, with just a hint of pain in the broad of his caped back, than the vampire responsible for the impossible act rushed in to finish what he'd started.
The intended target of the fang-biting, blood-drinking, bastardized Creature of the Night could do naught but watch wide-eyed as the highly unlikely took place less than a hundred yards away.
A super-blow from a surprisingly slender, and definitely undead, attacker staggered the Man of Steel as Superman countered with super-blows of his own…but neither seemed strong enough to put the other down for the count.
"This is nuts," said the curious citizen as he finally fought off the urge to continue watching and rushed for the safety of brighter illuminated main streets, not to mention the approach of singing police sirens.
Leaving behind, now outside, where super-blows had sent both a minute later, Superman stood toe-to-toe with the much smaller man, who'd obviously been indoctrinated into the domain of the undead by…the Monk.
"Tell me where 'the Monk' is," said Superman between bomb-like blows delivered by invulnerable Fists of Steel. "Or, I swear, I'll rip you limb from lifeless limb! Then I'll bludgeon you with your own damned arms! Now where is he?"
"None can harm the Monk…he is our master! The master," said the lanky blood-drinker as he redoubled his super-strong attempts to destroy Superman. No doubt in order to curry favor with the undead in red. "You must die!"
"You know," said the Last Son of Krypton while allowing his supernatural assailant to pummel him, enduring the sudden rise of actual pain, "super-strength isn't the only power at my disposal."
"Yiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"
Though it went against the grain for the remarkably moral Man of Steel, Superman's suddenly unleashed heat vision had quickly cremated the monstrosity using preternatural super-strength against the man in blue, red, and yellow.
"Rest in peace," muttered Superman, mostly to himself, as he shoved aside any sign of self-recrimination in order to shift his super-vision from heat to X-ray/telescopic in hopes of finding…
"Lois?"
Superman streaked away too fast for even Batman's night vision/infrared capable contrivances, from one or more Bat-belt compartments, to even see, then…
"Lois! Thank God! I was so worried when…"
"The Monk," said the wide-eyed, hypnotically entranced lady reporter to the just landed Man of Steel, "wishes me to give you this…gift."
Before there was time to let potential danger register within his usually swift super-mind, Superman's greatest source of weakness was forced upon him in the opening right hand of the woman he loved so completely.
"L-Lois…K-Kryptonite…?"
Dropping to one knee, then the other, Superman shook helplessly and perspired profusely like a mere Human thrust into the midst of some feverish affliction for which there was no cure. Pain-racked and bone-weary in the span of seconds. A few more moments of unprotected exposure and the Man of Steel would become the Corpse of Steel.
"That's it, my dear," said the heavily Euro-accented voice belonging to the red-robed/hooded Monk as he seemingly solidified out of night-shadow. "Hold it closer…closer. I want Superman to be at the very edge of death…whereupon I shall grant him true immortality…as a member of my legion of undead."
"Not if I can help it, Monk!"
The husky voice caused the red-robed/hooded blood-drinker to spin in its direction with genuine surprise, as he promptly replied, "So…you really are as stealthy as street-rumor suggests…Batman."
"I'm a lot more than that," said the Dark Knight dangerously, "I'm the man who's going to bring you down. Unless…"
"Unless…what?" rhetorically asked the covered, from head-to-feet, Monk as he slowly approached the blue-gray figure standing tall and firm a few feet away, even as Superman collapsed completely because of continued Green Kryptonite exposure, thanks to the still-entranced Lois Lane. "I am no mortal criminal to be vanquished by fists or ingenious antipersonnel devices. I am…immortal. I am…"
"A vampire," finished the Caped Crusader with certainty in his hissed tone. "I get it, Monk. I also get that there are, indeed, items that can defeat you. Items I do not, normally, carry in my Bat-belt. Until now."
Even as sudden realization seized the hooded-and-robed self-proclaimed "master", Batman brought forth, from beneath his dark cape, two items tightly held in each Bat-gloved hand. One, a vial of holy water…the other, a Christian cross.
"Noooooooo!"
So screamed the Monk even as the Batman sent sprinkles of blessed water in the undead demon's direction, causing him to react with a greater agony than the Green Kryptonite caused for Superman, now prone before Lois.
Who, by the way, was barely clinging to life when, suddenly, Lois snapped out of her hypnotic trance and noticed…
"Superman? What in…? Kryptonite!"
Hurling the glowing green rock fragment from a long-gone distant planet, as far away as the stronger-than-expected lady reporter could, the love of the Man of Steel's life, and vice versa, squatted next to the Man of Steel's shivering side, "It'll be okay now, Superman. It'll be okay."
More holy water was determinedly dispersed to cause an ever-increasing agonized reaction to occur within the unseen, due to red hood and rob, Monk, now fully fallen onto his back while he writhed piteously at the Caped Crusader's Bat-booted feet.
"If my research into vampire lore is correct, Monk," said Batman triumphantly, "these two religious items will make you just weak enough…", then, after placing said cross onto the chest of the still-writhing Master of the Undead, continued, "…so that the less-religious, mostly-scientific items I do carry in my Bat-belt can…"
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Monk burst into a foul mist that swiftly dissipated then and there, allowing the sacred, to most except the Batman, crucifix clattered onto the ground.
Swiftly stepping back, his cowl-covered eyes narrowing in order to take note of any potential re-materialization of the Monk anywhere within the darkness choking the surrounding streets of Gotham City, Batman said loudly, "Superman…anything?"
Recovered enough for his super-vision to be put to use, the Last Son of Krypton scanned, via X-ray and telescopic capabilities, the entirety of the vast city, then said, "Nothing, Batman. In fact…those formerly undead are now dead once again. It would seem…Gotham is safe."
Safe, harshly thought the Cowled One with a hint of sickened sarcasm, aside from the fact that the Monk caused dozens to die this very night.
"On our way back to Metropolis," said Lois even as Superman swooped her up into his muscular arms, "I have a feeling you'll be giving me an exclusive."
Smiling warmly, scant seconds before lifting off to launch them both into the dark night, Superman said, "Whatever you want, Lois," and, then, to the Dark Knight, "Thanks, Batman…I knew if anyone could stop the Monk…you could."
Even as Superman soared, at a safe speed so as not to inflict friction-induced damage to the beautiful lady lovingly held so snuggly against his "S"-emblazoned chest, Batman slipped the remaining holy water in its vial into an empty compartment of his yellow Bat-belt.
As to the sizeable crucifix, he shoved that just behind the Bat-belt's buckle in much the same fashion as a gunslinger might do with his hand-cannon.
"Just in case," said the Caped Crimefighter to himself as narrowed-within-dark cowl eyes scanned the dark sky, still dominated by the voluminous full moon, before Batarang-and-line swinging away from the scene.
END