Chapter 6 – Family History

Gotham City

Perched on a ledge barely wide enough for the crows that frequented the skies above the city, the Dark Knight waited, observing the streets far below. No one saw him – Gotham City residents kept their eyes firmly focused on the ground, for fear that making eye contact with others could provoke a demented person to violence. Violence was no stranger to Gotham.

If anyone had looked up, they might have mistaken him for one of the stone gargoyles that decorated the city's historic buildings, so silent and still was he. But in any case there were few people out on this chill evening, and no one in the neighborhood he was currently visiting.

Batman had already had a busy night. An arms deal fixed by the Gotham branch of the Crips, and the Chinese Triad mob had gone south when he interrupted their little meeting. Their consignment of ordnance had gone up in flames, with members of both sides left battered and broken, ready for the cops to scrape them off the pavement. Following that, a punk stick-up artist's once-promising career was now sidelined, thanks to a broken arm, a result of unwisely rejecting advice to find a new line of work. No doubt, Batman thought, the punk would complain that he was the 'real' victim in all this.

Complaints by social justice groups in Gotham opposed to the Batman and his methods hardly concerned Bruce at this moment. He was waiting for a certain individual to make his appearance outside the entrance of Frome's Antiquarian and Rare Books. It was hardly his usual stakeout, but after certain inquiries he had been led here, and he was not going to leave until he got the information he wanted.

A portly, middle-aged man stepped out of the bookshop, locking the door behind him. He pulled the lapels of his coat tightly, in a hurry to get into his battered Ford Focus and back to his solitary apartment.

Before he could take another step towards his car parked on the curb, something dropped from a great height in front of him, and he recoiled. At first, he thought something had fallen from the roof, then to his shock, he realized it was a person, cloaked in the darkness.

"Who are you?" The man gasped.

In response, Batman stepped further into the light, giving the bookseller a better view of him. It provoked a suitable reaction, since the man blanched, noticeable even in the dark.

"Why, you're the...what-what do you want from me? I…I don't have any money…"

"I don't want your money," Bruce rasped. He wondered how half the ordinary citizens of Gotham still thought he was some sort of mugger. "What I want from you is information."

"'Information?'" The man repeated stupidly. He still seemed dazed at the presence of the Batman in front of him."Hey, I just run a bookstore, nothing special!"

"Your bookstore specializes in out-of-print and rare books, not paperback romance novels," Batman said impatiently. "I want to talk to you about a certain rare book. Open your door and let's go inside. Our business is better conducted in private," he added, although there was no one on the street.

The man was more than ready to comply - he nervously opened the door again and re-entered. He turned on the lights, letting a harsh fluorescent glare to the sloppily organized stacked shelves of books. He led the Batman to his tiny cramped office behind the register.

"Um…look, I run a legitimate business here, I haven't done anything wrong. What do you want?"

"I'm not interested in your 'business,' just one particular transaction," Batman interrupted brusquely. "Two months ago you sold a book entitled the Necronomicon. I want to know to whom you sold it to."

The store-owner's eyes widened. "Wh-what? Listen, all my sales are confidential…I can't just..."

"You went to some trouble to sell this particular book, I understand. You made the sum of $100,000, a bargain for the buyer, considering its rarity," Batman's eyes narrowed behind his cowl. "I understand that this particular copy's provenance includes Miskatonic University, where it was reported missing and presumed stolen in 1984."

"What? No, I don't know nothing about that!"

The Batman just stared at him with his hooded eyes.

"I didn't steal it!" The man insisted more desperately. "I mean, it was just in a consignment of books I bought in bulk from an estate sale. That's how I get my stock. I didn't know where it came from. I can't check every book's background. I'm no crook!"

"Why did you sell it so cheaply?" Batman demanded.

Another blank stare from this guy, he thought, and he would give him something to look stupid about.

"That book is one of the rarest books there are. There are only a handful of copies of the Necronomicon in the world," Batman snapped. "Each one of them could be considered priceless. You could have gotten quadruple the price, at least."

"But…it's just an astronomical treatise!" The man insisted. "It's just some old medieval text about demons, the universe, some weird religious crap like that. I mean, it's not like it's an original Shakespeare or Gutenburg Bible. I couldn't imagine anyone would buy it. I thought I'd hit the jackpot just getting the hundred grand for it."

"You never read it yourself?" At least, Bruce thought, he hadn't tried to use the book. That was a relief.

"Hell no, I just sell the books, I don't read 'em. This was my late brother's business and he wanted it to kept in the family, and I thought it would supplement my retirement income from the dockworkers' union, that's what I really do, did, I mean. I'm trying to make an honest living as best as I can. I'm not 'fencing' or shit like that, if that's what you're thinking."

Batman knew that that was not quite true, but he ignored it for now. "Who did you sell it to?"

"It was a mail-order purchase. Most of my business is online sales. I never saw the buyer myself. Look, as to why I sold it 'cheaply' you try selling books! Everything's on Kindle, there's no money in this business, don't know why I keep on doing it. So, I tried selling it to a couple of collectors, people who'll buy anything if it's old, and they wouldn't touch it. Said it was bad luck, and I should just burn it. Hell, maybe it's true. Ever since I've hard it I've I had a couple of break-ins, and my Internet kept cutting out in here, switched companies but it kept happening, and sales going down. Bad luck like that. So when I got finally got contacted by a buyer, I took his first offer. Not good business practice I know but at least it'll pay my business taxes, and I got kids in college too...hey, um, if you're interested in owning a business yourself Mr. Batman, I don't know who you are at home but hey..."

Batman decided he had best get out of here while his sanity was intact. "You have the invoice?"

Mr. Frome was more than happy to give it up without further ado, he was in a hurry to get his strange guest to leave. As he guessed, like most people in this profession, he still used paper.

"Is this all you need?" He said, not able to hide the note of desperate pleading in his voice.

Batman examined the bill of sale. Listed on the flimsy form was the price of the book, and an address in the city of Taos, New Mexico to where it was to be shipped via FedEx. The name of the buyer was a Mr. Lee Baldwin. No phone number or email. The information did not trigger any particular clues for him.

"Yes, this is what I need. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Uh, I just have a question of my own?" the man said timidly as Bruce turned to leave. "Why…why are you so interested in the Necronomicon? It's just some old occult book."

"Books have power, any book," Bruce glared at him. "A man in your line of work should know."

The man clearly didn't – Bruce successfully guessed he would probably be going out of business soon, and would decide that quiet retirement would be best.

Wayne Manor, Later

"I trust you had a productive evening, Master Bruce?"

Bruce just grunted in response as he removed his torso armor, a habit Alfred always disliked. "Productive enough. At least there will be a few less bombs and sniper rifles in the hands of the gangbangers this month."

He handed Alfred the invoice. "See if you can trace the person named on this bill of sale."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "A one Mr. Lee Baldwin. It doesn't ring a bell I believe. Where should I begin searching?"

"Buyers of rare books. Known occultists. Suspected terrorist affiliations, the usual. Run everything."

"Are you still on the book hunt, sir?" There was a hint of disapproval in his tone, Bruce noticed. "I already thought you had amassed an adequate collection."

"Not adequate enough," Bruce replied shortly. "I know you find these...items distasteful, Alfred, but they're necessary tools in this war."

"'War,' sir? I wasn't aware of a declaration."

"The declaration was made some time ago, ever since Themyscira, and we've been asleep at the wheel, I think. I need to get up to speed."

"That reminds me, sir: Miss Zatanna called for you," Alfred informed him. "Something about a 'dinner date.'"

Bruce grunted again. "Oh, that's right, that's tomorrow. I almost forgot about it. She'll be dining at the Manor around 6pm, prepare whatever's on the menu for this week. I'll call her back. If she calls again-"

"I'm glad to see that in the midst of this war you still can make time for a social life," his butler replied dryly. "Miss Zatanna seems quite a nice young lady, if rather provocative in her choice of couture..."

"Just get started on the name, Alfred!"

"At once, sir."

Bruce sighed as Alfred left the Batcave. He thought for a moment, then went to a certain cabinet near his workstation. He had recently relocated it from the library in the Manor, the Batcave would be a more secure location for them.

Alfred was correct - he had assembled a small yet substantial collection of occult books during his career. Actually, most of them were fairly dull and pedestrian as far as occult books went: works on witchcraft, voodoo and Satanism, bound in black leather or human skin. He had taken them off criminals who either genuinely believed, or had pretended to believe, in 'black magic' in order to generate fear in their victims. Some gangs capitalized on that. It was better they were off the streets and away from impressionable minds.

His most recent acquisitions, however, were not those gaudy books but a handful of nondescript items, unimpressive at first sight, although the price of their acquisition certainly wasn't. He carefully separated them from the others, and laid them out before him. He sat in front of them for awhile, contemplating them silently. He then picked one up, carefully, handling it as it they were the the most fragile of Chinese porcelain...or volatile dynamite.

Cultes des Goules. A thin volume bound in calfskin, no publisher listed; Bruce thought it looked to be privately bound. Authorship was attributed to a Madame de Vezelay, an obscure French noblewoman of the 16th-century. Written in medieval French, it purportedly dealt with the customs of rituals of a Europe-wide cult that believed necrophagia the key to eternal life.

Cult of the Ghouls, Bruce thought. He wasn't surprised that he was not the first human with intimate knowledge of those creatures. He resolved to learn more about them, much more. Richard Upton Pickman flashed in his mind with an accompanying sense of revulsion. He put it aside and picked up the next book.

The Ponape Scripture. Much cruder in design than the first book; it had accordion-style folded pages held together with twine tied through holes punched in red wooden boards. Scrawled on the brittle pages were hieroglyphs of a kind which did not match any known script. Several sheets of paper were tucked within the book;an account of their discovery, written in English, by a 19th-century ship's captain named Hoag. He had claimed he had copied the strange writing, which he found carved on ancient ruins on an uncharted island in the south Pacific. Hoag's account was disjointed and mostly incoherent, full of Biblical allusions; he claimed that the writing was the language of strange gods worshipped by the long-deceased natives of the island.

Bruce had done some background research on Captain Hoag and learned that the Kingsport sailor had had a reputation as a deranged alcoholic following his voyages to the South Seas and had eventually died of delirium tremens in a gutter. Of the mysterious island and its ruins Hoag had claimed to discover, it was never conclusively identified, although some later readers assumed the island and its ruins to be Ponape and Nan Madol, although no such hieroglyphs were found there. Therefore, it was assumed the old whaler had made the story up in some liquor-induced fit.

Only, Bruce thought, he had seen those same hieroglyphs before...when he was in Pnakoutos. Hoag had not made them up. It was the Aklo writing, perhaps a complete alphabet. He needed to decipher it. He wanted Zatanna's help but he knew she was extremely reluctant to do so. Well, he would have to be more persuasive. He set the fragile book aside, and turned to the last volume in his collection.

De Vermis Mysteriis. Of the books he had collected so far, this was the rarest and which had cost him the most, the equivalent of the upkeep of Wayne Manor for a year. Handsomely bound in leather with gilt edges, supposedly there were less than ten copes extant. Attributed to one Ludwig Prinn, a rogue German Templar and occultist according to the story, which quite probably was mostly bullshit, in his opinion. Bruce had not delved into depth into the book, which was written in a mix of old Latin and High German. He wasn't even sure of its contents: Zatanna had warned him not to "muck about with it" which according to her was not to read, touch, or even look at it, of which he was doing the last two right now. He would at least obey her order not to read it...yet. Perhaps it was his imagination, but holding the tome in his hands, he thought he could almost feel its power. This book might hold the answers to questions he had not formulated yet.

In addition to these books, he had other materials - letters, monographs, pamphlets - that hinted at another world, another dimension, glimpsed at by occultists, adventurers, drug-addicts and the like, who spoke of the things that populated that dimension. Some had learned to access it, much to their regret. There were other stories that that other world could make itself manifest, somehow, in certain places and certain times, but so far all he had to go on were fragments, bits and pieces with only the most tenuous thread connecting them. It wasn't enough: Bruce wanted to know about this threat, had to, no matter what Zatanna said.

Zatanna returned to his mind. A strange blend of emotions swirled through him when she did, and when he thought of her, he thought of other things other than her potential knowledge. Her face swam up in his mind, the feel of her body against his. She had become a need to him, something he found both agreeable and disquieting at the same time. He hadn't been with a woman for a long time, and after Selina's last scenes, thought that was for the best. He was too busy with his business obligations and the Justice League, he did not have time for any 'romantic' entanglements. He wasn't quite sure what his 'entanglement' with Zatanna might be, only that he often found himself eager to see her. Despite that, he tried to keep his distance from her on the Watchtower, without looking as if he was doing so, only behaving as he usually did, at his most professional. To his relief, Zatanna didn't try to flirt with him there. Still, he couldn't help but think that the other members were beginning to suspect.

Bruce pushed that from his mind. The last thing he needed to concern himself with was with what other people thought of him and Zatanna. He focused his thoughts back on her, and her history.

It was evident that Zatanna had some familiarity with their enemy, although this familiarity caused her distress. She had mentioned a grandfather who had trafficked with such forces; other than that, it was evident she was reluctant to talk about that. But he had learned some things, and despite her reluctance, Bruce resolved, he had to get Zatanna to be more open about what she knew. It was frustrating to him that they knew so little. Then there was Amanda Waller and A.R.G.U.S. Bruce was certain that they had their own sources of information, and somehow it was all connected to Waller's adviser, this Dr. Fenderbrake. He resolved to have a little meeting with him...

Another thought came to his mind, startling in its unexpectedness.

Randolph Carter. He can be your ally. He can be your teacher in this.

That was absurd, Bruce thought. Carter was in the Dreamlands, and there was no way he knew to return, anymore than Diana could return to Themyscira. He wouldn't know how to contact him again, even if he had wanted to. As far as he was concerned, although he was a distant relative, the man was deceptive and dangerous. Still...if it was possible...

How did Carter get to the Dreamlands? He dreamed. You can do the same.

"But I haven't dreamed," Bruce muttered aloud, unaware he was doing so. "Not at all. Not since..."

Not since at least Themyscira. At least he hadn't remembered. Some of his memories, he knew, had become hazy. He had only the barest memory - perceptions, really - of his penetration of the alien city of Carcosa. Superman, he knew from his debriefings, did not remember it at all. But something had happened to him there. He had been changed.

Bruce slammed a first on the table, and the Batcave echoed with the sudden noise in the silence. He forced himself to calm down. Nothing would be accomplished by him being frustrated. He had to think logically and rationally, otherwise they'd be back at square one. He resolved, then, to make this investigation a priority. One way or the other, Zatanna would tell him what he needed to know.

The Next Day

"Ah. Good evening, Miss Zatanna. A pleasure to see you again."

Zatanna hoped that was true. She thought Bruce's butler (or valet? manservant? She wasn't sure what the correct word was) was probably one of the most inscrutable people she had ever met. He also a way of making her feel like she was ten years old. But he was smiling down at her pleasantly, holding the door open for her.

"Hi Alfred," She smiled awkwardly. It's good to see you again too."

Zatanna had changed out of her magician's costume into what (she hoped) was a very nice ensemble, courtesy of Zuhair Murad: a scarlet red skirt, short black leather jacket and short high-heeled black boots. Around her neck was the gold necklace she had found in her dressing room.

"Ah, I see you are wearing Master Bruce's present," Alfred said. "He will be very happy to see that you like it."

"Um, sure," Zatanna had her own questions about that. "I want to thank him in person."

Yesterday, she was running a little late to her own rehearsal, thanks to the traffic blocking the Muni trolley. When she arrived at her studio, her eyes widened in surprise. It seemed every available free space was occupied by bouquets of colorful flowers.

"Whoa, what happened here? It looks like a florist's exploded! Who died?" Zatanna had wondered. Then she saw her entire staff staring at her.

"Maybe your innocence?" Her assistant, Mikail, a slender and very flamboyant gay man, replied snarkily. "Flowers and food oh my!"

She saw he holding a basket of muffins, still smelling fresh baked, and that the other members of her staff were munching on more. "These arrived this morning with the flowers. Dozens of them! They're heavenly! Keep blowing your new boyfriend is all I can say!"

Zatanna flipped him the bird. "I don't have a new boyfriend!"

"Oh yeah?"

Her manager, Charly, handed her her iPad. "You better take a look at this, then tell us."

Zatanna saw that it was opened on a well-known Internet celebrity Web site. She saw there were four pictures of her and Bruce Wayne: walking on a sidewalk, getting into his car. Bruce was staring stoically ahead, while she was smiling. Was there a cameraman there the last time they went out? She couldn't remember. The caption read:

"Is the Mistress of Magic now a Mistress of a Billionaire? You Be The Judge!"

"Oh, this," Zatanna knew that this would eventually happen. "No...we're just friends."

"Friends with benefits!" Mikail laughed.

A thought came to Zatanna: beware of bats bearing gifts. What was the old fart doing? She knew he wasn't the flowers-kind-of-guy - what was he up to?

"There's more," Charly said. "Go look in your dressing room."

"What?"

As she entered her dressing room she saw it: a beautiful lacquered box sitting on her table. She touched the lid gingerly.

"Should I call the bomb squad?" Mikail said, only half-jokingly.

She shook her head in exasperation and opened it. She immediately caught glint of gold. She picked up the necklace, and saw it consisted of links of elaborately-worked serpents, and she realized it was modeled after her serpent tattoo. It was beautiful and although she wasn't a connoisseur of jewelry, knew that it must have cost a fortune.

Zatanna turned around, saw that virtually her entire staff was behind her, staring. They oohed and aahed when they saw it. "Try it on!" Not knowing what else to do, she did. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit it looked very good on her.

"Just 'friends,' eh?" Charly said.

"No! I mean, we've only seen each other a couple of times, but..." Zatanna knew she sounded lame.

"This can only be good press for your Gotham tour," Mikail said, ever mindful of the business. "The local press will eat it up!"

"I don't know," Charly murmured.

"What don't you know?" Mikail said airily.

"Bruce Wayne has a reputation in Gotham," Charly said. "Not really a good one."

Mikail flapped his hand in dismissal. "Just because he's a playboy? Even I've heard that. Big deal!"

"You do know his parents were murdered when he was a kid, don't you? Supposedly, his dad did shady dealings with a Mafia chief, and his parents got whacked as a result. I heard he went insane, and had to be institutionalized for years, somewhere out of the country. Who knows what happened to him? When he came back, all he was into partying, making money."

"It's true, I have an ex-husband who lives in Gotham," one of Zatanna's costume aides added. "He read an article about it by that TV show host, Vicki Vale, how this Bruce Wayne is just burning through his company's money, blows it on hookers and toys. Not only that, but Vale used to date him, she wrote a tell-all, how he had dark moods and would get into fights, sounds like he has a really bad temper. Also, she hinted may be into criminal stuff too, just like his old man!"

"Ooh, a scandal!" Mikail sounded delighted at the idea, not fazed at all. "Well, get some of that Wayne money before it all goes up in flames!"

"I'm being serious," Charly said darkly. "Zatanna, I don't think you should be seen with him. Someone whose love life consists of escort hookers isn't boyfriend material."

"Let's just get on with rehearsing!" Zatanna said desperately. She had wanted to challenge everyone's perception but she couldn't tell the truth as much as she wanted to. It was still Bruce's secret. His cover story had taken a life of its own. "Never mind my love life."

"Master Bruce is awaiting you in the dining room," Alfred said. "He's been very anxious to see you all day."

I'll bet, she thought.

The 'dining room' of Wayne Manor was capable of hosting up to 50 guests, hardly an intimate dinner, Zatanna thought. Chandeliers of baccarat crystal hung from the ceiling, oil paintings of European landscapes hung on the walls, and she couldn't imagine spilling anything on the carpet.

"Miss Zatanna," Alfred announced as they entered.

Bruce turned around from where he had been gazing out one of the large rectangular windows on the east wall. He was casually dressed, in a Dior knit sweater and woolen trousers, very much the executive at leisure, Zatanna thought.

"Zee, I'm so glad you were able to come tonight," Bruce smiled. His eyes fell on the necklace. "I hope I didn't create too much of a scene at your work."

That's exactly what you were hoping for, she thought. "No, no, everyone liked the flowers and the muffins," she said, which was true. "Um...thank you for the necklace, but you didn't need to-"

"It occurred to me I didn't properly thank you for saving my life," Bruce said. "I'm glad you like it."

Zatanna blushed. Bruce sounded very sincere. "Yes, but-"

"Dinner is ready, sir," Alfred announced. "Shall I bring in the first course now?"

"Certainly."

He gestured for Zatanna to sit, and she saw that at least they would be sitting next to each other at the table, at least not at the opposite ends. As Alfred brought in the salad, she couldn't help feeling that there was something else going on. But as the 'main course was served - a whole roast duck stuffed with sage and onions and served with a cherry dressing - Bruce avoided talking about anything 'serious' limiting himself to his latest research project at his company (manned spaceflight, to compete with SpaceX) and he asked her about her magic show.

"I have some new illusions I may try," she said. "Plus I'm going to tune up my burlesque act, the one you saw. Oh, did you know, I was approached by the producers of the Titans Against Rome franchise?"

"Really?" Bruce said politely. He hated those movies. "Are you going to be in the next one?"

Zatanna laughed. "They offered me a small role, as a sorceress, big surprise right? But then when I read the role, they wanted to put me in demon makeup! No thanks, I'm not going to sit for five hours so they can slap latex on me."

Bruce nodded. "How do you like the duck?"

"It's very good. It's more than I could eat in the week, I'm done," Zatanna said truthfully.

"I thought we could go sit in the study for the dessert," Bruce said. "Coffee, too, if you'd like."

"Sure," Zatanna replied, and she thought: Here it comes.

Alfred brought in the coffee and tiramisu on a tray while Bruce stoked up the fire in the fireplace. He set it down by Zatanna. "Is there anything else I can get you, Miss?"

"No, thank you, Alfred, everything's been wonderful."

She stared at the elderly butler, as if she could glean a clue from the man, but he had his English poker face well on. He gave her another pleasant smile and with a "Master Bruce, Miss Zatanna," left the two of them alone.

"Our pictures are in the paper, you know," Zatanna said. "Why did you send all that to my studio, really?"

His back still to her, he replied: "I don't think you'd mind a little press. Your stage crew appreciated the flowers and the food, I'm sure, I used the best caterer in San Francisco. Having them like me wouldn't hurt, since we're working together anyway. As for the necklace," he added quietly. "I don't often get a chance to give gifts. I hope you weren't offended."

"No!" A flustered Zatanna said. "I only meant, I mean, I just didn't think-"

"I'd be the type to give presents?"

Bruce stood up and turned around, his face almost as inscrutable as Alfred's. "I have emotions like other men, Zee, it's not often I get a chance to show them, my real emotions, not when I'm playing Mr. Bruce Wayne the Billionaire. The necklace was for real."

Zatanna felt a stab of guilt, then. "Bruce, I only meant that...of course I know you have emotions. Only an idiot would think you don't."

"Hm. There are lots of idiots in the world," he shrugged. He sat next to her, lightly brushed his fingertips against her neck, below the gold. It felt like fire. "I'm not one of them."

Zatanna curled her fingers around Bruce's hand. "I'm not either, Bruce," she whispered, looking into his eyes. "I know you have something on your mind."

"I thought we could talk a little about a certain project I'm working on, and which I'd like you to be involved in too."

Zatanna stiffened. This was what she had been afraid of. "Bruce, I've told you before-"

"You're still in danger aren't you?" Bruce interrupted. "You told me before you felt like you were being watched."

"It's not...no, nothing's happened."

She tried to pull her hand away, but he held onto her. He spoke quickly.

"You still have magickal enemies, people who still want revenge for your grandfather's misdeeds or who had been brought to justice by your father. Or people who think you have the same powers and knowledge Zkauba Zatara did. That's true, isn't it?"

"I can handle them," Zatanna said firmly. "That's none of your business!"

"What's happened in the past two years, that's another challenge for the Justice League, it involves all of us. That makes it my business, our business."

Zatanna abruptly stood up. "Thank you for the dinner, Bruce," she said tightly. "But I think I'm going home now. I should have known-"

"There is no entry in the criminal database for Zkauba Zatara," Bruce said quickly, before she could say anything more. "But there was a man named Guido Zatara, who was employed as a minor functionary in Benito Mussolini's Fascist government. He was tasked with a department similar to the Nazi Ahnernebe. Unlike the Ahnernebe he actually found the proof he was looking for. He followed Il Duce to his Republic of Salo, where he disappeared after the Allied liberation. I imagine no one wants a fascist in their family tree, much less one accused of terrible atrocities."

Zatanna glared at him but didn't speak. He wasn't deterred by the anger in her expression.

"I know that Amanda Waller has redirected the energies of A.R.G.U.S. into the same research as your grandfather. What I don't know is how far they've gotten in the game. Fairly far, judging from what they've been able to do so far."

"It's not a game, Bruce," Zatanna hissed.

"I know that, and I also know that your grandfather's crimes left a terrible mark on your father-"

"You don't know!" She cried. "No one knows...even knows now, how many people he murdered, what he tried to do. Even Father didn't. Only that all his life people blamed him, even tried to kill him-"

"And you," Bruce finished quietly. "Your Father protected you. That was a noble thing."

"Bruce..."

"Zee, your Father fought against this...this Outer Darkness as you call it, tried to protect you from it. Now, other evil people are trying to use it. We have to stop them."

"This is not like your Gotham crimefighting, Bruce," Zee said after a long moment. The anger had drained from her voice, leaving only a sad weariness, older than her years, Bruce thought. "My Father died before his time, this I'll always believe, because of the toll it too on his life and soul."

Zatanna stared at him pleadingly. "That's what this does, Bruce! It's evil...I know you're no stranger to terrible things, but this is different. You know that, I know you do! What my grandfather did, that's my burden."

"You don't have to do this alone, Zee. I want to be with you. I need you," Bruce admitted. "In more ways than one, it seems."

She shook her head. "Bruce, please..."

"I have a lead on one of Waller's assistants, a Dr. August Fenderbrake. He was there when we were captured and brought to Pnakoutos, the old man in the doctor's coat, do you remember?"

"I try not to."

"He's one of Waller's senior advisers, I believe. There's nothing in his background that's related in any way to metahumans or anything criminal, that I can uncover. Yet, I have my suspicions. I felt it."

Zatanna said nothing, just looked at him with dark eyes.

"I know my limitations, Zee. That's why I am asking you for help."

Zatanna thought that that was one of Bruce's boldfaced lies - he really didn't believe he had limitations, and tell Bruce something that he couldn't do and it was as good as done. He would plunge straight into the darkness, heedless of anything she said. He had done it before, starting as a child. Darkness was his destiny, and destiny, Madame Xanadu always said, was unalterable. If she had any brains, she thought, she would just up and leave, leave Bruce, the Justice League, try to be more like Baron Winters wanted her to be...

Zatanna sat back down, reluctantly. "What are you planning to do?"

"I'm going to have a little talk with the good doctor," Bruce said, knowing he'd won. "I want you to come with me."

To be continued...

[A/N: Zatanna was right - beware Batman bearing gifts, lol! Batman and Zatanna are on the case...but Zatanna has her doubts. Is Bruce biting off more than he can chew? You will see, dear readers. BTW, can't wait to see the new animated Justice League Dark! All the new trailers for WW and Justice League look great too! The action will continue next chapter...thank you for reading and all the reviews, keep them coming!]