One word to describe the state of Gotham City after the opening of the rift: Hell.
The infamous crime rate of Gotham skyrocketed just days after the opening of the rift. Robberies, rapes, murders, and all sorts of crime plagued the city more than ever. Batman managed to keep everyone in line through fear, but it would only last so long. The Dark Knight was forced to become more brutal and violent to a degree that actually shocked most of the League and the GCPD, but through this, not only was the Batman more feared than ever and those that preyed on the weak feared the night once more.
That wasn't the worst thing that bothered him though; all of Batman's rouge gallery had disappeared from Arkham Asylum. It wasn't at all the first time they'd broken out of the place, but this time, it was like they'd vanished into thin air. Though, when they investigated the asylum...
Oh, what they found has haunted him ever since. Even if it was only 3 days ago.
The asylum was left in ruins, blood and viscera coated the walls, the bodies of the staff were more like mush, and the entire place was covered in chicken-scratch, but no villains in sight. Even Batman claimed that he had no clue on where they'd disappeared to, which made the situation all the more confusing. They ultimately decided to just get it cleaned up and condone it off until further notice. When he asked what was happening, the Batman just said that it was something that he couldn't talk about.
The only thing that he could catch was that things like this were being torched to the ground.
Gordon didn't know what was going with the league but at least it made his job easier. It didn't matter now as he had gotten a call about a shootout that was going on at the Anderson Hotel downtown, but he realized that the hotel had previously been where some disappearances were reported.
He drove down the unusually barren street on a grey and rainy day to the first-class hotel off the main highway. There were cops already there, cordoning off the crowd of gathered civilians with yellow tape while some took as many pictures as they could with the limited view of the interior. The paramedics were already there hauling out the filled body bags and there were camera flashes in the lounge, likely forensics taking photographs of the crime scene.
After mentally preparing for another shooting, Gordon got out of his car and walked up to the entrance along with another detective, Thomas Galvan.
Thomas was a man of slight above high and intellect, his face sharp and handsome. He had short frizzed brown hair while wearing a fedora. He was dressed in grey khakis and black dress shoes, a thin white sweater and black leather gloves, and a brown buttoned up leather trench coat. He was somewhat of a rookie as he was only in the force for 3 years.
"What do we got?" He asked the detective who shrugged.
"It's a pretty cut and dry case so far." Thomas reported, "An armed shooter killed about 40 or 50 people before disappearing. We reached the owner of the hotel, but she was out to a movie with some friends when it happened. She claimed to have no idea what was going on."
Gordon just nodded and let him follow along as he was stopped by the guard at the entrance.
"James Gordon, GCPD." The detective replied, showing his badge.
The guard nodded and let him enter the hotel lounge, hearing Tom as he confirmed his ID. It was a bloodbath; The place was finely decorated with an assortment of luxurious stonework and craftsmanship, but there were several bodies of all ages on the floor covered in white sheets that littered the floors with gunshot wounds, dried pools of blood, all around the lounge blood was covering the walls, floor, and furniture, but the odder parts were a few other bodies. They were clad in hooded black robes and leather gear that covered the chest legs and arms underneath.
Gordon raised an eyebrow at seeing one of the robed bodies and asked one of the medical examiners, "What's with the ones in robes?"
The coroner seemed to hesitate, before straining with, "I think it's better to show you." He then asked for one of the heads of the bodies to be shown.
One of the medical examiners pulled the hood away from the nearest robe clad body and pulled up the head by the hair, exposing it. Everyone whom saw it, recoiled; The cranium was blown open with blood and fluid leaking from the nostrils, the brain was mush, and the upper part of the face was missing. The most horrid part of the face was the demented grin that was frozen and etched on its lips.
"Jesus Christ..." Gordon heard Thomas breath in disgust while some green recruits couldn't keep their lunches down as they raced to the bathroom to vomit. He didn't blame them.
The stairway was when things got interesting. The knob was blown off like it was torn off from a gunshot, yet as it was creaked open, the cops could see blood trailing down the steps. By the steps was the manager of the Hotel, covered in a white tower and shaking subtly. He was a middle-aged man, balding and in a black and white tuxedo.
"What happened?" Gordon questioned the manager who was very visibly traumatized.
"It all happened so fast." The manager says, shaking in trauma, "It was a normal day when suddenly, one of our guests came in with a loaded rifle and started shooting whomever he saw before retreating to his room. He was staying on the second floor for a few weeks. He hasn't been seen since."
The detective looks to the door leading to the stairway before looking back to the manager, "Where was he staying?"
"Room 234. Why?"
Gordon nodded, before he called Thomas and Harvey Bullock to try and track the killer to his room. The trio creaked the door open and ascended the stairs, which were coated in bloody footprints uncountable in number. It was only when they got to the second floor was when things became clearer.
The bloody prints stain the floors and stairways in erratic and uneven pattern, especially unsurprising when one considers that they found even more bodies piled and filled gunshot wounds overflowing with congealed blood. Arms bent, twisted, or blown off, bullet casings and shotgun shells litter the floors, some of the same robed as downstairs with knifes puncturing the now functionless lungs and heart.
Unlike the body's downstairs, the majority of the bodies had the same black robes and leather outfit as the few downstairs. Though Gordon saw that their weapons were clean, as if they were killed before they could use them. Thomas rolled over one of them to examine it; it was a woman, probably twenty-seven years old, black hair, and had a pleased smile on her face. Her body was cold to the touch and not breathing, most definitely dead.
"Obviously some of these guys are part of a cult," Tommy commentated, scratching his head with his free hand, "But the kind of cults that we've seen don't wear these kinds of robes."
Harvey grimaced as he put on some gloves and holstered his gun as he checked another one of the bodies for the cause of death... only for a confused expression to be put on his face.
"Hey, this one's still warm." He called to the other detectives who came to where he was to confirm it, when they noticed that the chest was expanded and contracted as if breathing. Harvey leaned his ear to the corpse's mouth to confirm a suspicion before he shot up with a shocked expression, "This one's still alive."
Before either of them could react in shock, Thomas ran down the stairs back to the lounge. Faintly, Gordon could hear him calling the paramedics and the forensics that there were more bodies on the second floor. They arrived in a short minute and began their works, collecting evidence and bodies before Gordon noticed something on the floor.
It was a trail of bloody footprints that came from one of the puddles of blood, turning a corner down the hall that led to the 5th door on the left.
Gordon called Harvey and Thomas by his side as he wanted some backup in case the shooter was still in the room. They crept up to the polished wooden door that was slightly ajar, allowing them to perform this more silently as they don't need to try and break it down which found have alerted the shooter to their presence. The commissioner put his hand on the doorknob and pulled the door open slowly before swiftly barging in with his gun raised, only to stop when he and the other detectives saw the room.
Was a simple single bedroom with a kitchen, bathroom, and desk, but it was on the desk that caught their attention. It was the body of a male, dressed in a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, black dress pants with polished dress shoes sitting in the chair. The head was slumped against the desk with a hole in the back of the cranium that was leaking blood and cranial fluid. In the body's hand was a Berretta with a silencer that touched the floor.
Gordon lowered and holstered his revolver while Harvey and Thomas entered the room, with the latter walking to the corpse for an examination.
Lifting the corpse to lay back to the chair, Brian examined the face. It was a 40-year-old man with messy black hair and a goatee, the mouth was filled with a mix of blood and saliva. Tommy stuck two fingers in the corpse's mouth, coating them in the blood before pulling them out and examining the blood.
After a moment, he reports, "Blood hasn't clotted yet, he died not that long ago."
The others nodded before Gordon noticed a journal sitting on the desk next to where the head was. It was a leather-bound book, brown and new with the watermark showing that it was made this year. Unconsciously, Gordon opened the journal and began reading out loud with Harvey and Thomas peeking in.
"My name is Nathan Kessler. I'm writing this because of what I've experienced these last few weeks and what I've known is being covered up. But after what has happened and though what the potential consequences might be, my conscious wouldn't be cleared if I didn't write this down. This is something that the people need to hear."
"It all started a few weeks ago: I worked as a businessman for a subsidiary of LexCorp in Los Angeles, I came to Gotham two weeks ago on a business trip but due to the opening of the rift, my flight was canceled along with the airport being shut down until further notice. I called my boss and told him that I had to stay in Gotham until I could arrange another flight to LA. He allowed it and I stayed in Gotham ever since."
"However, last Friday was when odd things began happening. I was coming back from dinner at a restaurant but when I walked into the lounge, a horrible smell bolted into my nose. It was what I could only describe as a pile of blood, sweat, piss, and shit being dosed in gasoline under a hot sun before being set ablaze. I went to the manager to report the smell but when I got there, I found several people who were also complaining about the smell. The manager claimed that it was simply a problem in the septic tanks and that it was being fixed. It seemed that he was right as the smell went away 3 minutes later. But it was after that I realized that a few guests that were staying at the hotel had gone missing and I saw some of the staff taking their baggage out of the rooms and wheeling them off to God knows where. I reported this to the police but when they arrived, the staff seemed to have covered their tracks pretty well. The police at least told them that they'd be coming back if another report came in as people were already on edge."
"I was a little disappointed but let it go. Another week passed and everything seemed fine... until Friday came. I was going out to get some food from the market, but on my way back, the smell had come back, stronger than ever. It was so awful one boy passing by started projectile vomiting out of a nearby window. Afterwards, I noticed that the number of people that had gone missing now went up to 23. Desperate for answers, I barged into the manager's office and demanded that he say what was going on, but he pulled a gun on me. He said that if he said anything, they'd kill him. 'Who was they?' I thought as I backed off. I went back to my room but my confrontation with the manager was still bothering me. At some point, my curiosity got the better of me and I decided I needed to find out what was going on."
"I went down to the restricted areas in secret when night came. From what I remember was that the smell was coming from the Maintenance Room, but when I opened it, I was caught off guard. In the Maintenance Room was a hallway leading to the old maintenance room, which (according to the manager) was retrofitted to hold the septic tanks ever since the hotel was renovated 3 years ago. It was then that I heard voices coming down from the hallway. Against my better judgement I went down to where it led. As I did, I noticed that the hallways smelt like hadn't been clean in decades, and that there were several large pipes that lined walls but sounded like they were still being used. Eventually, the hallway turned to a corner where a pink glow and disgusting noises issued from the old maintenance room, which I knew because of a sign nearby. Quietly, I peeked around the corner... and I nearly screamed."
"What I saw... Oh, God what I saw... there were at least 23 people, men, women, and children. All of them mutilated and torn apart in some many ways I can't even list them. The ones responsible took their remains and played with them like they were toys or puppets using their organs as strings or rope before throwing all of them into a large circle with symbol in the middle I couldn't recognize even if it wasn't covered in gore. I saw they're... leader I think, they were wearing a ruby locket and they were holding this old looking book with a glowing pink symbol in their hands, chanting gibberish or whatever. I ran back to my room the moment I got the chance. I don't know if what I saw was real or not, but I managed to get back without them noticing. I thought about calling the police but considering how well the staff covered it up last time, they might convince them not to investigate. If anyone is reading this, please stop the cult."
Gordon finished reading the journal, not noticing that several other officers had heard him reading the journal out loud and had gathered into the doorway as he finished. After hearing what happened to the missing people, quite a few of the green ones ran down to get to the bathrooms again, but Gordon and Harvey were only disturbed while Thomas just cringed.
"So, some ritualistic killings were going on in the restricted areas." Gordon thought out loud before giving orders to Harvey, "Get some of the S.W.A.T. team here and we'll raid the place. See if those cultists left anything behind."
"Got ya." Harvey nodded and the two headed downstairs. Thomas decided to stay behind and keep reading the journal for more clues. But as he turned the page, he found that it was blank. The detective was confused before he turned the page again, coming across only a few sentences on the left page.
"I've been staying longer than I was supposed to be. I have this feeling that someone was waiting to prey on me. Are you...really waiting somewhere for me? Or is this your way of taking...?"
Thomas furrowing an eyebrow with him turning to the last entry.
"If you are reading this, RUN. AWAY."
The detective, out of such simple curiosity, turns the page.
"RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! RUN AWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAY!"
The writing trails off into the following page devolving to petulant scribblings of eyes and pseudopods of black strangling a featureless figure with a peculiar message written in frantic bold print.
THE PRINCE IS WATCHING
"Ugh." Thomas grimaced before looking at the corpse sitting in the chair with the torn open head leaking cranial fluid on the desk, "What kind of drugs was this guy on?"
Back at the lounge, the police have wheeled away the surviving robed one into an ambulance and took the Manager to the station. In the meantime, Gordon and a S.W.A.T team had prepared to raid the Maintenance Room. Gordon put on a bulletproof vest while Harvey stayed behind as Thomas came back with the journal and the team loaded their weapons.
Gordon and the team quickly went to the door of the Maintenance Room where one of the S.W.A.T Team kicked the door open. Immediately, a horrible smell bolted to their noses to where Gordon and some of the team actually had to stop and gag at how horrible it was. It was akin to garbage being left in the sun to smolder. After a minute to get used to it, they entered the room.
To their surprise, it was actually clean and pristine, all the machines seemed to be in working odor while the sounds of water traveling through pipes and the heaters blowing hot air into the vents. But to the right, just like the journal described, was a large corridor with numerous copper pipes that seemed to travel all the way down. Unlike how the journal described however, the corridor looked as if it was recently cleaned and polished.
Despite their surprise, Gordon and the team traversed down the corridor. As they traveled down, the smell started to change, becoming more pleasant and inviting, akin to the smell of a mother's cooking and the finest of perfumes.
The team turned the corridor, where they found a pair of large double doors. Gordon and the team slowly opened the doors to be extra cautious but the room that they enter was simply a very large room that seemed like it had just been cleaned up like the corridor, lined with working copper pipes and several newer devices. But Gordon noticed that one of the septic tanks was rusted and old, but what was bothering him was that one of the pipes was leading a black fluid, which could have been oil but that would have been cleaned out during the renovations.
"Open that old tank up." He ordered one of the S.W.A.T., whom nodded and walked to the tank. He grabbed the main hatch and started turning it open. The sounds it made was grating on the ears of most of the team but only after a few minutes when it was opened when they found what was floating in the tank.
It was a black and red sludge, thick as oil and had that same horrid smell as when they had entered the Maintenance Room, only that it was at least a thousand times stronger. A few seconds later, a mutilated head lacking eyelids or lips floated into sight along with a right arm severed at the elbow. One of the soldiers gagged and heaved into a nearby bucket while the others simply cringed at the sight.
After recovering their composure, Gordon ordered them to flush the rusted septic tank so that they could recover what was left of the bodies. Because of the tank's age and the fact that it wasn't connected to the other pipes, they had to use the several barrels that were all around while draining it via the main valve. It took at least 7 barrels to flush it out, but they managed to drain the tank.
But then they had to get the body parts out using some of the tools around the room, almost fishing them out as Gordon called the forensics to get numerous bags to place the parts in. When they had finished, Gordon assumed that they had collected at least 23 people worth of parts which had not undergone any state of decay not even rigor mortis. By the time that the police had wheeled all of the filled barrels and bags full of body parts into another van to be taken as evidence while the Maintenance Room was to be cordoned off and a squad of cops stayed behind to guard the hotel while they went back to the station.
Yet as they were driving back, some of them could let go of the feeling that this wasn't the last they'd be at the hotel.
Gordon sighed as he walked out the interrogation room; the manager wasn't much help as he claimed that the cult was in the hotel since he began working there, but other than the fact that they used the old maintenance room for their 'ceremonies', he didn't know anything. The only one who'd know anything was the cultist that they had sent to the hospital, and they couldn't get anything out of her for obvious reasons.
The commissioner just sat in his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration. This case was simple yet somehow complex, because they knew nothing about the cult and since they knew nothing, they had no leads to track.
He was suddenly broken out of his thoughts when Harvey came in, "Hey, boss. Got something that might surprise you. There's someone here that claims they know about the cult."
Gordon was indeed surprised, before nodding to Bullock, "...Let them in."
Harvey nodded and let the guest in. Gordon's jaw nearly hit the floor; the guest was an absolutely beautiful woman with long flowing black hair, a flawless suave face, ruby eyes and lips, and a sultry aura. She was wearing a red business suit over a expensive looking black longcoat with a leather handbag, and red heels.
"Are you Commissioner Gordon?" Her voice was sensuous akin to bathing in chocolate.
The commissioner cleared his throat and took a deep breath before offering a hand to her, "Yes, I am. Gordon. James Gordon. Who's asking, if you don't mind?"
She smiled and shook his hand, her teeth like pearls that gleamed in the dark, "Oh, pardon me. My name is Karen. Karen Anderson. I'm the owner of the Anderson hotel."
"Oh, good." Gordon gave her a smile as he politely requested, "I'd like to speak to you about the cult. If it isn't a problem."
"I'd more be happy to." The woman paused for a second and looked around before she continued, "...But not here. I don't feel safe here. Meet me back at my hotel. We can discuss things better there."
The commissioner nodded only to notice that she was wearing a ruby locket around.
Wait... Where did he hear about a ruby locket before?
'I saw they're... leader I think, they were wearing a ruby locket-'
The smile on his face faded but didn't seem suspicious and still remained polite, "Alright. I'll meet you there when I can."
Karen smiled again, exposing her pearl white teeth again before she exited his office and then left the GCPD, with a lot of the detectives, both male and female, staring at her as she left the building. Gordon allowed his eyes to narrow when she left. There was something off about her, not counting her beauty and the pearl white teeth, it seemed too perfect. Too good to seem true, yet it was. It was like she touched by something... unnatural and bargained with it for what she was now.
He didn't know what was going on... but Gordon knew it couldn't be good.
Gordon walked out of the GCPD with his hands in his trench coat pockets, stopping at the sidewalk and looking up to the grey clouded sky that cried down rain before sitting down at a bench that was by his car. For once, he was glad that it was a dark and stormy night as it distracted everyone from what was beyond the clouds and sky, like the end of all things was coming. It was almost unbelievable: somehow, things got even worse for Gotham and while the Batman was doing more than ever before, he and so many others couldn't shake a feeling of unease that peppered the back of their heads. It hurt just to think what was going on and he didn't like it.
"Hey, Gordon." The detective heard an old and slurred voice pricking his ears and made him turn his head to the right to see an very old vagrant with a grey beard and long greying hair, wearing a worn jacket, dirty shirt and Demin jeans with old red sneakers. He had a green baseball cap on his head and a mostly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.
"Um, can I help you?" Gordon asked the homeless man said next to him on the bench.
The latter extended a hand that the former took, "Name's Sheldon. Sheldon Petoskey. Did you talk to an insanely attractive woman that claimed that she owned the Anderson Hotel?"
Gordon blinked, answering the homeless man awkwardly, "Um, yes. Why?"
"Oh, let me tell you something." He got uncomfortably close to the detective, leading his breath reeking with alcohol blow in his face, "She ain't Karen Anderson. The real Karen Anderson died ten years ago from a seizure. That bitch that pretending to be her is someone even more fucked up. She's part of the cult."
That most certainly got Gordon's attention, he narrowed his eyes and asked, "What can you tell me about the cult?"
Sheldon took a swig from his bottle but found it empty. He glared at it before throwing it into the street and watching it shatter before a car drove over it. He then turned to the detective, his voice still slurred and moist, "Give me some of that sweet sultry whisky and I'll say whatever you want."
"One second." Gordon goes to his car and pulls out a large bag full of whiskey before setting it in front of a shocked Sheldon, "Here. I've been keeping quite a few in the car ever since last month."
"Holy fuck." Sheldon slurred in surprise, "Is that all whiskey?" At seeing Gordon nod, the vagrant whistled, "Fucking shit, you've got a bigger problem I do, Gordon."
"Believe me, it's the only thing that's been keeping me sane." Gordon deadpanned as he adjusted his glasses, "Now tell me everything you know about what's been going on in the hotel."
"Well, let me start from the beginning..." Sheldon began as he took a bottle out of the bag and cracked it open.
The drunkard exposed everything he knew about the cult and it's workings to Gordon. Apparently, it was an all-female cult that was formed around 1937, the woman that claimed she was Karen Anderson met with the real Anderson, he knew this because he was spying on them when he was 17 years old in 1967. Apparently, the two were in a sexual relationship but according to Sheldon, the two seemed to be the same age as they were when he first saw them all those years ago. What they actually worshipped; he didn't know. After the real Anderson died of a seizure ten years ago, her lover took her last name and keep running the hotel. Or so what was claimed, as the body was never seen, but an earthquake happened during the night she supposedly died.
Gordon was obviously skeptical, but Sheldon pulled out several photos from the 30s, 40s, and 50s.
Most of them were random photos of the staff of the hotel doing various things but the ones that caught his eye were the group photos for the anniversary of the hotel's construction, and neither one was the same be it the staff or the interior except two people; both were women of most considerable beauty, the first being a long brown haired woman in a blue dress and a beige business jacket and the second being the woman he spoke to in his office. The photo was taken in 1936, almost 100 years ago yet she didn't seem to age and neither did the original owner. There were several photos of them being around the hotel that ranged from 30's all the way to the 90's and again, neither of them had aged a day.
The detective asked where he got the photos and his answer was that Sheldon snuck into the hotel to mooch off of the rooms but while he was sneaking around, he came across Karen's new office and found the photos in her desk before stealing them and running off. From what he knows, Karen hadn't noticed that they were missing yet.
Sheldon then said that the smell that the businessman described came every few months, but they claimed that they were just experiencing difficulties in the septic tanks, but he later saw them drag guests into the maintenance room when everyone was asleep, never to be seen again. Sheldon didn't know what they did to them but judging by what Gordon got out of the scene, it couldn't have been pleasant.
The drunkard said that was all he knew but Gordon was fine with that. He gave him more than enough information for him to get him to arrest Karen and her cultists, though he needed to get some evidence to convict her. But there was still something that he needed to confirm...
Gordon stood up and said goodbye to Sheldon, who took the bag of whisky and walked off to parts unknown. He then got into his car and drove home to check on Barbara, hoping to make sure she wasn't doing anything stupid.
Unknown to either of them, a woman in a raincoat who was hiding in the dark leaned back from behind the corner of the street and ran off to the Anderson Hotel. And unknown to her, was the shadow of a man-sized bat that was perched atop the ledge of the GCPD whom then jumped off, extending its wings and gliding away into the night.
'Karen' sighed pleasantly as she smoked one of her cigarettes as she looked herself in the mirror, admiring herself like she always did whenever she looked upon herself. She was dressed in a black silk robe with a red furred collar and nothing else, leaving nothing to the imagination while her cult was preparing for... the final ritual for their god.
All members of her cult have begun preparing for the final ritual as they have been readying their alter. Incents alit and the unconscious sacrifices ready, they were clad in open black robes with no undergarments with their beautiful faces hide under hoods, and the ritual circle ready for the ceremony. Suddenly, a cultist burst into the room, appearing distressed and worried.
"Priestess Kira!" The cultist called to her leader, who seemed curious as to the inquiry, "We've received word that the drunkard Sheldon had spoken about our convent to Commissioner Gordon!"
The other cultists looked at her worried while her leader seemed more annoyed than anything.
"Hmph." The priestess hmphed in annoyance and smoked again before calmly replying, "Seems we should have disposed of him while we could. Perhaps we should bring Sheldon to our alter for... our final ceremony..."
She purred out that last part as the cultists all grinned in sadistic excitement before the one that spoke shook her head, "Unfortunately, he seems to have drunk himself to death about 20 minutes ago."
"Oh." Kira blinked in surprise, as did several of the other cultists, before continuing while sounding disappointed, "Well, no matter. The ritual is almost ready to commence. Soon we will be blessed by the Prince of Pleasure, exit this worthless plain and ascend into one of boundless pleasure~"
'And then I can see Karen again.' She thought as she clutched her ruby locket before she took an impossibly old book in her hands, bound in human hide with an illuminous pink symbol, opening it to reveal pages of eldritch scripture written in blood. The page she turned to was one of a humanoid figure in a ritual circle with a spectral being floating above.
That was their final verdict of their faith as they gathered around the ritual circle, joined in their flawless hands as blasphemous words issued from their perfect lips as the room, they were in grew ever darker and as the sacrifices awoke.
Things were okay for now. Barbara was fine but he hasn't seen or heard from the Batman during the entire duration of this case. Maybe, he was busy with the Justice League or something, but it still confused him. None the less, he was traveling to the hotel to get some evidence to incriminate Karen and her cultists. Though as Gordon drove back to the Anderson hotel, a feeling of uneasiness bred in his mind. Things couldn't be this easy, could they?
Pulling up to the hotel, Gordon just shook it off as he walked to the entrance to talk to the team that had stayed behind, only for him to come across a grisly sight as he looked through the glass doors. The cops that had stayed behind to guard the hotel had been slaughtered, eviscerated with viscera spilled on the floor, blood spilling to where the floor was utterly unseen, heads and limbs torn off and splayed around randomly. The thing that horrified him the most was that the door to the Maintenance Room was torn off its hinges and was torn to the floor.
Just as he almost recovered from the shock, the ground shook, so hard that Gordon was almost thrown off his feet. Screams of utter agony and pleasure filled the air and the lights flickered, the corridor flared in pink light and tendrils of shadow slithered out the doorway and onto the floor. Pink miasma bellowed out of the room as all the florescent bulbs burst, sending the lounge into blackness while broken glass rained down. Gordon avoided being blinded by using his coat to shield himself from the glass rain before his gaze laid to the radiant room, with an amazing pleasing smell consuming the air.
Almost immediately, he began fishing through his coat before frantically pulling out his walkie talkie, "HARVEY! HARVEY, COME IN!"
The radio warbled between a clear signal and pure static, with Gordon frantically slamming the thing in his hand. He shook it, pushed buttons, and adjusted dials, trying to make it work.
"COME ON, WORK YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" He shouted to nobody in panic as he glanced back at the Maintenance Room and its unholy radiance. More static and garble came from the radio for more than a few moments before something came through.
"J-Jim?" Harvey's garbled voice answered.
"HARVEY! THANK CHRIST!" Gordon shouted in relief, as before steeling himself, "We've got a situation! Some of the cultists broke back into the hotel and killed the cops here! You gotta send back up!" He glances back at the Maintenance room again before talking again, "Please, hurry! Something freaky is going on!"
"What?!" His partner shouted over the radio, "I'll get the SWAT team! We've be there in 30!"
Gordon looked to the radiant doorway to the Maintenance Room and by extension the alter of the cult, his expression morphing into one of extreme determination as he pulls off his trenchcoat, reloaded his revolver, picks up one of the assault rifles and several clips. He reloads it before undoing his tie, rolling up his sleeves, and adjusting his glasses, utterly uncouth in appearance.
"Yeah, you do that." Gordon says to Harvey over the radio, "I'll see what I can do here."
"Wait, what are you gonna do?" Bullock asks.
The commissioner readies the assault rifle, before finishing his call, "I'm gonna do some private investigating."
He turns off the radio and marched into the maintenance room. Most of the equipment was seemingly fused with the walls and floor with several screen filled with static or daemonic imagery that he ignored as he saw that the door that led down the corridor to the cult's alter was seemingly fused to the walls. With a roar, he kicks the door, slamming the heel of his foot into the fused wooden frame. It broke in half and fell into the corridor with a slam.
Then the smell hit him.
It was so purulent and sulfated with flammable chemicals and decomposing minerals before transmuting into a combination of smells so pleasant it couldn't be described. The feeling of the halls bleeding with malaise. It was otherworldly and unfamiliar, so filled with life and hot.
Gordon covers his face with his shirt, acting as a pseudo filter for the unbearably pleasant smells. The corridor seemed... warped, for lack of a better word; the copper pipes were bent and distorted, some sinking into the walls that seemed more like flesh than stone as it expanded and contracted, but the rest of the corridor was hidden by the pink miasma. He walked down the 4 steps leading down to the corridor.
Suddenly, a thick splash rippled through the air. Gordon turned his gaze downward as he lifted his boot to see dark pink and purple sludge trailing from the sole of his foot like small blades of liquid. The commissioner issued a sound of disgust from his throat as he trekked on through the warp pathway, his rifle up and ready shoot if any of the cultists though to try anything.
Slowly treading down the stigma-ridden hallways, Gordon found a menagerie of plant-like growths decorated with knife and bullet holes, leaking the same sludge and phosphates steaming heatily in acidic form in his way. Most horridly, was the red stained and stretched human skin the growths wore, pulsing and contracting as a heartbeat. It was almost unnoticeable, but there was a grinning face sitting on one of the branches.
Gordon slowly trudged his way through the thick putty-ish sludge to a doorframe chained and sealed off with vines. Taking out his knife, the detective cut the leather vines off with repugnant noises, slamming his way into the next room, upon which he became ill.
The room was gelid and mephitic, incongruous mulch-like protoplasm spread through the walls and floors like a fungus growing and devouring the familiar materials, the center was the unclothed 'Karen' and her cultists, sitting in a circle with their leader in the middle. Root-like growths lathered their bodies with their skin pink and their eyes were a sultry purple.
"KAREN!" Gordon roared, deafening everything for a moment and gaining the cultist's attention.
'Karen' then stood up, letting all those present drink in her form which suffered none of the mutations that the other cultists did, however she had Slaaneshi scripture engraved on every surface of her skin below the neck with the Star of Chaos on her forehead. She turned to Gordon and smiled that same smile with her flawless pearl white teeth, though this time he didn't falter towards them.
"Commissioner~" The priestess breathed, her sensuous voice ringing out like an angel calling, "I'm glad you're here. You were just in time for... my ascension!"
The moment she finished that sentence, the room then grew blazing hot as the cultist's eyes and mouth burned with purple flames, the miasma swirled around her as if it was a typhoon, the protoplasm was set infernal blaze in tune with the storm. It grew intensity to where Gordon had to shield his eyes from the brightness of the ritual. The witch's body burned as bright as her soul, the engravings radiant with infernal power, pulsing like a heartbeat as it began shedding for her grand ascension.
'Karen' began floating in the center of the psychic storm, chunks of her shell failing off to reveal burning white light that blazed in tendrils of ivory, and her eyes burned white as cracks spread from her eyes all the way across her body. The grin on her face grew as the storm intensified to heights he couldn't fathom, the brightness blinding anyone who hadn't shielded their eyes.
Gordon was struggling to shoot her as he was certain that any bullet, he'd shoot would be lost in the storm around her.
"YES!" 'Karen' bellowed to the heavens above, "IT IS MY TIME! GIVE ME MY WINGS, LORD SLAANESH! SO THAT I MAY ASCEND TO THE ANGELS BY YOUR SIDE! I WANT IT! I WANT IT ALLLLLL!"
That was the final chain of her humanity severed. Her crumbling shell burst, sending light to envelop the room as Gordon shielded his eyes harder. The souls of her followers ripped from their shells only to disappear into the storm. Light stormed through the hotel, consuming all the guests that she had lured here for her ceremony.
Outside, Harvey and the other cops had just arrived at the Anderson Hotel, but just before they could enter, the ground shook in tremors that seemed to extend only here.
Suddenly, all of the windows blazed with white light, so intensely that they all had to cover their eyes so they wouldn't burn out of their sockets. It blazed on for what felt like hours, lighting up the city of corruption, the thing beyond the sky shuddering in response. After what felt like hours, the light finally faded, letting the stunned officers finally uncover their eyes.
"What the fuck was that?" Harvey breathed in shock, his hand to his heart as it hammered against his ribs.
No one could answer him. So much so that none of them did anything when they saw Batman enter the hotel, just standing there in shock.
The light died down, allowing Gordon to uncover his eyes, only to blink. The stigmata that had riddled the maintenance room was gone, wiped clean with the bodies of the cultists splayed around in a circle where her ruby locket laid, but the most catching sight was the one he was after.
It was 'Karen', floating in the air. Her form was the same as it was before only with it seeming like she was behind a shimmering veil, eyes closed and still bearing the chaotic engravings on her skin.
Then she seized and her form shifted as if like clay by an unseen sculptor; her skin was covered in a leather carapace colored in purple and black with golden bone spikes growing from the arms, legs, thighs, torso and shoulders, while she kept her figure. Twin daemonic wings with pink membranes emerged from her back, her face was covered by the same leathery carapace with an expression of utter rapture adorning it, her ebony hair ignited into purplish-pink flames in the shape of her hair, twin ivory antlers akin to a stag's then grew from her head and a flaming white halo sat between her antlers. Her eyes opened to reveal they were now burning pink and her pearl teeth now fangs that hungered for all living things.
The newly reborn Daemon Princess raised her head and roared, a piercing shriek that sent waves of dark pink shifting through the air. Specters of dark pink swirled around before entering the vacant shells of the cultists. They blazed in infernal energy before raising like puppets being reconnected to their strings and pulled again by the puppetmaster.
Kira was rendered breathless by her transformation, her eyes closed, and her head raised ups, her arms extended in reverence, "Lord Slaanesh, you have granted me the greatest honor you could ever bestow. I will continue thine work for the centuries and millennia to come. For I am K'Ari, Herald of Dark Delights."
Her voice was more sensuousness and lovely than before, like the angel from heaven that was swimming in the finest things that ever existed. Gordon was render breathless as well at seeing her as she was now, his breath heavy with shock. The Daemon Princess heard his shock and turned to him, a grin of her pearly fangs spreading on her lips.
"My, Commissioner... still have your sanity? ~" She purred, crouching down to Gordon who took a step back, amusing her, "I'm impressed. Most are driven to madness by the sight of even a Daemonette."
The Commissioner gritted his teeth, trying to keep the temptations away.
Suddenly, the world fell away to a world of purple haze and sanity-blasting landscapes, a silver palace of indescribable beauty and surrounded by six rings of unique pleasures. But as they arrived the unseen ground, Gordon's glasses fell from the bridge of his nose and shattered onto the ground, blinding him from the sight of the world he found himself in. An utter blessing in the long run.
Winds and smells pass through Gordon's greying hair as he stood upon his two feet, he was still gripping the rifle that he took from the dead S.W.A.T., another presence was near, but his sightlessness masked his senses from it.
It was another Daemon Princess; this one was clad in an ivory form with decorative markings of gold, three pairs of beauteous angelic wings sitting on her spine, her arms and legs coated in ebony, flowing ivory hair, a flawless face, and a crown of thorns adorning her head. This time Gordon wasn't given pause at seeing her as he could barely see without his glasses.
This Daemon Princess strutted to K'Ari's side unmoving until the two locked hands before embracing each other, much to Gordon's surprise.
"I-It's been so long..." The angelic Daemon Princess whispered to K'Ari with tears streaming down her face, the former's voice just as sultry and beautiful as the latter's.
K'Ari just gave a wistful smile through her tears of joy, "It's alright. I'm here, Karen. Or should I say, Ren'Ka?"
Gordon was flabbergasted at those words, which the two sensed as they locked their gazes onto him. The angelic one of the duo was surprised but let a grin spread across her lips at seeing that he was frozen at their presence.
"My~" Ren'Ka giggled at see his stupefied expression, before joking, "The years have not been kind to you, Commissioner."
Her reaction from him was simple deadpan stare, signifying that he was not amused. K'Ari swam in the air around him, smiling both playfully and sadistically at how insignificant she saw the commissioner now. In truth though, she pitied him. To not feel the release of the mortality's chains that she was feeling, it made her pity any mortal if she could care enough to.
"It's a pity you had to arrive, Commissioner." K'Ari smirked, as she thought up ways of mutilating Gordon, "But you've been a sport. I guess we owe you some honesty."
She extended one of her claws until it touched Gordon's forehead.
"It was a hundred years ago."
K'Ari's voice slathered as an image came to life. Two little girls in rags were running away from explosions and mustard gas, one of them holding a ruby locket from her lost family. Then they saw a bunker where some men were entering before they saw them. One of the men helped them to the bunker under an old and decrepit house before being hoarded to safety by some men that held them close as the explosions.
"We were simple girls from a small village that was caught in the Great War. The men that saved us promised that they'd help us however they could."
It then showed the men that had saved them talked to each other as they tried to ration their food, water, and whatever supplies they could while the children played along without a care in the world.
"One day, we had run out of food. And soon we all grew desperate."
They were then seen all sitting down on the floor holding their guts as they starved. One of the men looked to the fresh corpse of a German soldier that died an hour ago with a conflicted expression but resigns himself. He grabs a knife from the table and began cutting into the corpse. The others looked horrified and asked what he was doing but the man said that they had to eat. They looked reluctant but realized that they had no choice.
"It was just one body at first. Then another. And another and another."
It then showed the men dragging another fresh corpse into the house, unclothed it, and began uncouthly cutting to feast on the meat.
"Over time, we grew used to consuming the dead. But it was when rescue came that we knew we were safe."
The scene changed to them finishing the last corpse meat from their collection but then a group of French soldiers came into the house and found the group. The soldiers gave them food and water, unaware of what they did to survive.
"After 3 weeks of subsisting on the dead, we discovered the carnal ways of life. To take pleasure in every moment, to enjoy the forbidden fruits at any opportunity, and to pursue our own happiness. We traveled from country after country before we finally settled to America."
The scene changes to show the two girls now grown up and known as Karen and Kira traveling across Europe, intoxicated on life, before they got to New York on a boat, cheering along with many others at joining the Land of the Free.
"We had the time of our lives, but the real fun began when we discovered the Grimoire of Slaanesh."
It was then shown the duo walking down the streets of Gotham in the 1934 before Kira stumbled on a rock and almost fell but Karen caught her. However, they noticed a old and raggedy bag that was sitting in the grass by the sidewalk. Out of curiosity, Kira took the bag and looked inside before she blinked with wide eyes and pulled out an old book. One bound in human hide and with an illuminous pink symbol.
"The Grimoire gave us the secrets of eternal youth and unlimited pleasure. We soon realized that better times would come with the book. And they did."
The image changed to 1937 and a businessman with a handlebar mustache, wearing a suit and bowler hat as he presents the opening of the Anderson Hotel. The crowd all cheered, in that crowd were Karen and Kira.
"When the hotel opened by Marco Anderson all those years ago, we found our den and began to the hunt for our prey."
It showed the duo charming people into joining their group over the years, celebrating each new year, as the cult grew in the hundreds. It also showed Kira threatening the manager into silence, who nodded frantically in fear. The group all then secretly entered the Maintenance Room that was once large enough to hold hundreds.
"For 9 decades, we lived in this abode, stealing and killing all that we wished with our herd."
Kira gagged a married couple and their children before she dragged them to the Maintenance Room while the staff covered her, where they were tied up by the cultists and had their throats slit. Blood spilled down their throats into circle as the cultists chanted in eldritch.
"But a decade ago, things had changed."
It showed Karen, standing in another ritual circle with chaotic scriptures engraved on her skin with only her neck and head unmarked. She chants in eldritch as the room began to distort around her with all the cultists and even Kira looking concerned and worried.
"Karen had discovered a ritual that would allow for one to transcend flesh and become truly invincible. However, it required a great number of sacrifices, but our followers more than sufficed."
Various cultists suddenly began seizing as light burned from their eyes and mouths as they fell dead, while some of the cultists freaked out before they themselves seized and died. The small few were calm and dissonant with serenity, including Kira as she stares in zealous awe. The scripture engraved on Karen's skin burn in radiance before light enveloped the room, causing Kira and the few remaining cultists shielded their eyes.
When they could see again, Karen was gone and all that remained of the sacrifices were the robes they were bequiffed and the only thing left of Karen was her prized ruby locket, infested with Chaos.
"After she had ascended, I grew to envy her ascension and sought to achieve my own."
Kira, now wearing the ruby locket, was seen reading through the Grimoire, specifically the page that allowed for ascension as a fiendish smile spread across her lips as her eyes scanned the page with rapt interest.
The vision ended as Gordon stumbled, his mind still reeling from the images. He placed a hand to his head, trying to calm the pounding headache in his brain, his sight still blurred from the absence of his glasses, though he could feel the gazes of the two Daemon Princes bearing down on him. They and him were back in the Maintenance Room with the Possessed grinning in anticipation.
"Now, that you realize our start, you will be our next meal..." Ren'Ka purred sadistically, her voice a blend of the finest of tone and the darkest of poisons, her partner grinning in sadistic want and the Possessed twitching as their flesh pulsed and their grins widen.
"NOT ON YOUR LIVES!" Gordon roared in defiance, rifle raised and ready to fire.
The daemons gathered were surprised at his defiance, but their grins didn't disappear as K'Ari purred, "Oh~ This one's going to put up a struggle? That makes us hungrier!"
"THEN I'LL FEED YOU LEAD!" The commissioner bellowed, unloading on the Possessed as they leaped towards him. One of them was hit in the sternum, jugular, and finally cranium as she fell like a sack of meat, another was hit in the shoulder but landed before she could be hit again and attempted land a blow on Jim but he dodged and fired twice, hitting her in the chest. One Possessed managed to get behind him and wrap her around his throat, choking him. Gordon struggled against her while he kicked another Possessed in the gut and shot her in the head before dropping his rifle as he then pulled out his revolver and forced the barrel to her head and fired.
The Possessed let go of Gordon as she fell dead, allowing him to breath before grabbing another Possessed and shooting her in the head as she attempted to hit him while he was distracted. He then fired on two others Possessed twice in the chest before he attempted to fire again at the one charging at him, only for a click to issue from his revolver as he was tackled to the ground, forcing him to look at the Possessed's beautiful face ruined with the plastered and bloodthirsty grin. She raised her hand like a claw, but Gordon managed to grab his rifle and fired, hitting her in the neck. She had a shocked but blissful expression as she fell to the floor, while Gordon scrambled to his feet.
He then attempted to fire on the last remaining Possessed, but she just gave an arrogant grin and snapped her fingers. Suddenly, his rifle was surrounded by a pink veil before it burst into pieces, sending shrapnel into his hand. Gordon let out a yelp of pain before the Possessed closes the gape and forces him to the ground with her hand tightly on his neck.
The Leading Possessed just clicks her tongue in mock pity before speaking in a lovely but reverberating voice, "Oh, commissioner. You believed that you actually had a chance of winning. To have such a spark ignite a flame of resistance, only to snuff it out like the insignificant soul they are is the greatest of pleasures." The thing wearing the woman's body purred at the commissioner.
He was about to retort when he noticed something that nearly caused his heart to stop. The Possessed that he had supposedly killed stood back up, all still sporting the same plastered yet bloodthirsty grin as their wounds seal up and fade away as if never wounded. One of them yawned as if bored but her jaws seemed to unhinge to an absurd length and the flesh of her hand seemed to ebb and flow like water before her jaw rehinged and her hand returned to a normal shape.
Gordon was breathless with shock, muttering out, "How?!"
"Oh, commissioner; we were just playing~" One of the Possessed mocked him, at first sounding disappointed at his ignorance before finishing in a singsong voice, as they sauntered towards the commissioner, who as still struggling against the one that had him pinned down. They all got on their hands and knees, crawling towards him like a pack of predators about to devour their prey. Any other man would be either aroused and/or terrified but Gordon just kept struggling against them, undeterred as always, something that the Possessed and the two Daemon Princes admired. Humans are such easy yet interesting prey as the Prince always told all hir subjects.
He seemed to finally stop the struggle against them but still glared defiantly. None of them, not even the Daemon Princes, noticed the sounds of someone coming down the corridor.
"I hope I give all of you the shits, you filthy whores." He growled at them, which seemingly made them even more bloodthirsty until a shadow was cast on his face. A look of confusion replaced the expressions of defiance and sadism as they turned to the corridor to see it was before looks of shock replaced them.
It was the Batman. Though his costume was different; the suit seemed more like an armor with the howl being a helmet with only a jagged red visor, the bat emblem was glowing red, the utility belt was deep red and lined with gadgets Gordon hadn't seen before, and it seemed like the costume was alive as it had an organic vestige to it with claws on the fingers and gauntlet blades seeming sharper.
Before any of them could react, the Batman threw several Batarangs that embedded themselves into the heads of the Possessed. In the split second, Gordon saw that they had odd red scripture on them, but then they exploded, blowing the heads off half of the Possessed. They recoiled as did the rest of them, but their heads regenerated only for their faces to be one of pure rage when they laid their eyes back on him.
Then, they began to change; fingers grew into golden scimitars, tentacles or wings grew out from their backs, legs became furred and hooved or scaled and raptor-like, mouths became maws of fangs, and hair fused into horns. They all screeched as they rushed at the Batman, who didn't react even as they came near.
Suddenly, smoke enveloped the hallway, shrouding the Batman and the Possessed from sight. Even with Gordon's less than stellar eyesight without his glasses, nobody could see in the corridor. Then the sound of a blade piercing flesh, a scream, and a flash of pink light that showed the silhouette of Batman stabbing one of the Possessed. It happened again, and again, and again, equaling the number of the Possessed before the smoke began to clear, revealing something that shocked Gordon and the Daemon Princes.
The Batman was standing in the middle of the Corridor unscathed while the bodies of the cultists were vacant from the things that wore their bodies. Imbedded in their sternums, necks, or heads were several needles with wax stamps and scrolls filled with scripture.
He just cracked his neck and said in a muttered voice, "Is that all?"
Ren'Ka and K'Ari glared at him murderously at the Dark Knight before the latter leaped at them with twin gold scimitars draw. That was all Gordon was able to make out with his impaired vision, still though hearing the sounds of blades clashing against claws, stone and rock being smashed, and the Batman's cape flapping and flowing through the air.
"Gordon!" He heard Batman yell as he struggled against the two Daemon Princes, "The locket! You have to destroy the locket!"
The commissioner shook himself out of his confusion and yelled back, "Why?!"
"Trust me!"
Gordon was still confused but just shook it off. He felt around for something to use before his hands came to one of the needle-like blades embedded in one of the corpses. He grabbed it and slowly retched it out of the body, hearing the sounds of flesh popping and bone cracking before it ripped free, covered in blood and in his hands.
Suddenly, the ground shook as something exploded in the middle of the room, knocking Gordon off his feet. The smell of burning shot through his nose while he could faintly hear the sounds of people trying to get through a blocked off entryway down from the corridor to the new Maintenance Room. He tried to get back on his feet when a sharp pain went up his leg, causing him to look down to see what was wrong, only to see a short piece of rebar had imbedded itself in his ankle.
"Aw, Christ..." He muttered under his breath as he struggled to move, another explosion rocked the place but this time he managed to crawl his away back while using his hand to search around for either his glasses or the locket, despite the agony in both his hand and leg. Another explosion rocked the place, forcing Gordon to use his arm to shield himself from whatever was coming, which was thankfully just some small rocks and dust but then he heard pipes burst, blades slashing, energy crackling, and the duo roaring profanities at the Batman.
And it was then that Gordon realized that Batman was fighting two powerful daemons at once. And that he was helping him while nearly blind and injured and holding what might be a holy weapon.
'...Good lord, I don't get paid enough for this.' He thought dryly as he continued to drag himself around while patting around for the locket.
Suddenly, his fingers brushed against a small and thin chain. Eyes wide, he grabs it and pulls it, patting around a thumb-sized object attached to the chain. He puts it close to his face to confirm it. And it was indeed the ruby locket.
"I GOT IT! I GOT IT!" He yelled to the Batman in his high, mostly getting his and the Daemon Princes' attentions. The commissioner heard the both of them yell a loud "NO!", a snap in the air and then a clang, as if they were attempting to attack him but Batman had blocked both of them.
"HURRY, GORDON!" The Batman yelled as he tried to hold them back.
Agreement only being in the mind, Gordon set the locket down on the floor, the needle in his hand held it high with the tip aimed at the locket, the duo yelling "NO!" in horror. Gordon then looked at the two and uttered:
"Sermon's cancelled."
With a furious roar, Gordon plunged the anti-daemon needle as hard as he could muster down at the locket. It was spilt in twain from the force as the blade pierced through it and the floor. The duo screeched in horror as the room was once again enveloped in light that forced the two to cover their eyes. Sounds of bursting and wind blowing fiercely as if slicing through steel and spirit.
As it faded, the two uncovered their eyes to see that the pair of Daemon Princes were absent from the room, as if they had never existed.
A breath escaped his lungs as he relaxed, utterly exhausted by all that had just transpired. The sounds of footstep came near, and he felt the Batman helping him up and assisting him with walking. It was only a few feet from the exit that he lost consciousness.
The paramedics got the unconscious Gordon onto a stretcher and into an ambulance before it drove off to Gotham Hospital as Batman watched from the edge of a nearby building. He knew Gordon would be fine, it took more than a rebar in the ankle to put him down. The Hotel was now foreclosed until it had been thoroughly cleaned out and that their squads could check for the levels of corruption in it.
Suddenly, Batman was aware that he wasn't alone.
Turning around while lighting flashed and thunder struck, he saw that there were six people dressed in street clothing. Jeans, shoes, jackets, hoodies, and shirts but they all had black trench coats on and have unique colors for their cloths. Pink, sky blue, and light green for the women, and red, green, and blue for the men.
"Blossom, Brick, Buttercup, Butch, Bubbles, and Boomer." Batman greeted the six, who hadn't changed their apparel since they had gotten back to the materium.
Butch walked up and greeted him while shaking his hand, "Hey, Bats."
The others greeted him as well before they all walked to the edge and looked down on the Anderson Hotel, still being cleaned out from the dead, reporters on the scene talking about the greatest massacre in Gotham yet, and many families watching as they pulled out the bodies of the deceased.
"We talked to the Emperor," Bubbles broke the silence, "He's gonna have the place be purified as to not cause more panic. But he said destroy any and all Chaos artifacts."
"Took care of that." Batman replied, "All have been accounted for accounted for except a tome that they found in the 1930s."
Brick then cocked an eyebrow and inquired, "Then what happened to the Grimoire that they found?"
"And how did they get a tome in the 1930s when the Maw opened just last month?" Buttercup asked.
"Firstly, I'm not sure." Batman answered Brick's question first then Buttercup's, "Secondly, I'm guessing because time is irrelevant in the Warp, things like this could have been thrown long into the past before the Maw ever opened."
The six groans, with Butch stating, "Then it seems that our jobs just got a lot harder."
Batman only nodded in agreement, but he still wondered. Where was that grimoire now?
At as a normal day at Louisiana University, the students were out due to them having their history class canceled due to maintenance problems in that building, but most still stayed and studied for their exams.
One being a lanky male student with short blonde hair and earrings, wearing red sneakers, pale green khakis, a red shirt, and a blue flannel. This is Alan Yates, 21 years old and a first year of Louisiana University.
The boy just grumbled under his breath as he walked down the sideway to his dorms. It was another long day of humiliation by his bullies again, but after the first twelve times, you got used to it.
He stopped though when something caught his eye; a ratty old book, bound in what he assumed (and hoped) was leather, with a weird but phallic-looking symbol drawn in purple on the cover.
Alan raised an eyebrow. Where did this thing come from? And why hadn't somebody picked it up yet? More so, why was it out here in broad daylight.
Being a curious sort, Alan looked for anyone watching, especially his bullies, before picking up the book and placing it in his backpack. Checking again to make sure nobody was following him, Alan walked back to his dorm with everyone else none the wiser.
And that all for now folks!
This chapter's admittedly shorter than the others but that's due to this one being a fun little chapter I just thought up and had to write down. The next chapter is gonna be longer.
But, I just wanna say that this story is gonna be a.. unique kind of story. One part has glorious TTS humor, and the rest is a fusion of Grimdark and Nobledark. More things are coming our heroes way and it is gonna be epic!
Also, if you felt like the exposition scene ruined the mysteriousness, then I apologize but felt it was needed, as I had to make the villains not feel flat like paper.
As for the student at the end... Let's just say that we'll see him again later.