Chapter 3.

LONDON, ENGLAND

(APR. 15, 1990)

His name was Drake Anderson. A young Caucasian-American, in his mid-twenties, with brown eyes, pony-tailed blond hair, and a slightly over-sized Navy-blue business suit that had obviously seen better days. Officially, he was a veteran of the U.S. Army Special Forces-turned-military historian for the British Museum. But, in reality, he was an undercover agent for the Special Operations Division… of the British Library.

Originally part of the museum, the library became bureaucratically autonomous, in 1973, as the first step in a long-range plan aimed at "consolidating various highly similar-yet-numerically superfluous information-gathering and record-keeping services." Or, at least, that was the publicly stated reason. The truth, however, was far more astounding.

The library was to serve as the front for a top-secret unit of the Ministry of Defense. One tasked with keeping potentially dangerous knowledge out of the hands of those foreign powers and subversive organizations with goals all-too similar to those once espoused by Nazi Germany!

Drake knocked on the door of the division chief, Joseph Carpenter, who immediately- -and rather impatiently- -told him to enter.

"Sorry for being late, Joe. But, I know how you insist on my dressing formally for these mission briefings. And it took me longer than I thought to get the smell of mothballs out of these duds."

"Gentlemen?" replied Carpenter. "Meet Special Agent Anderson, our resident wit. Half the time, anyway! Agent Anderson? Meet Kiyo Takamine… and Zatch Bell of the Mamodo."

Carpenter gestured to Anderson's left. Whereupon the latter turned to shake hands. Only to stop short and instinctively exclaim, "Whoa! When did Raggedy Ann and E.T. have a kid?!"

Carpenter threw a look-of-daggers at Anderson. But, Takamine half-smiled.

"When I first met Zatch Bell, my initial reaction was very similar, though not in those exact words. His people, the Mamodo, are an extra-dimensional race. And every thousand years, some of them come here, to Earth, to fight for succession to their home world's throne. A fight that involves the use of magic spell books that, for some reason, they can't read themselves. Earthlings have to read it for them!"

Anderson confessed to finding that very interesting. But, he also admitted to being puzzled as to how the S.O.D. could help.

"It appears that Mr. Bell has sensed the surfacing of an unclaimed spell book," replied Carpenter. "And so has your regular partner, Mr. Nakajima. It is in that moral cesspool called Gotham City, of all places!"

"Don't tell me. Let me guess," said Anderson. "You want me and Donny to go get it. Right?"

"Not quite. Mr. Nakajima won't be accompanying you, on this mission, as he'll be too busy tutoring our newest papyrokinetic recruit, Ms. Yomiko Readmon. Instead, you'll be serving as chaperone to Messrs. Bell and Takamine!"

"You can't be serious," said Anderson.

Carpenter smirked. "You've worked for me long enough to know that I'm _always_ serious, Mr. Anderson. Which is why I hate your incessantly referring to me, behind my back, as 'Joker'!"

GOTHAM CITY, N.J.

(ONE WEEK LATER)

"It's me," said Drake over his scrambled cellphone. "With good news and bad news. The good news is… we did what you might call a little 'psionic triangulation'. With Zatch Bell as the plumbob! And we finally got a fix on that spell book. But, the bad news is… it appears to be the property of a local billionaire named Bruce Wayne. And, based on initial recon, the place is built like a fortress! Wired accordingly, too. The only bright side is that he's a bit of a playboy. His folks were killed in a street mugging-gone-wrong when he was seven. And it's evidently turned him into a live-for-the moment kind of guy! As in, he's almost never home."

"Splendid!" replied Carpenter. "Then, just find out when he's most frequently not at home… and break in, then."

MADISON ROUND GARDEN

(THE VERY NEXT DAY)

"Ranma!" Haley Norton called out. "Would you be a dear and paper the ten surrounding blocks?"

Her "son", whose first six months with the circus had taught him that "papering" meant putting up posters advertising their upcoming performance dates, smiled and nodded.

"But, could someone help me?" he added. "After all, this is my first time in America! I don't know this city any better than I know the backs of your hands."

"I can show you around," volunteered ten-year-old Dick Grayson. "My family's been coming here, with the circus, since I was half your age!"

Ranma laughed and nodded, appreciatively. The two boys were, therefore. conveniently absent when two men barged into Haley's personal trailer-cum-office. One of them seven feet tall, in his mid-thirties, and built like a professional wrestler with the head of a male white rhinoceros, tattooed in profile on his right hand. The other one ten years younger, a foot shorter, and- -perhaps- -two hundred pounds lighter. But, with an admittedly much better-looking ensemble!

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Haley, jumping from her business desk. "Just who do you think you are to-?"

"Tony Zucco, Ms. Norton," replied the younger man. "And this is my 'associate', Rhino. We are here representing the Benevolent Amalgamated Brotherhood of Playhouse and Movie Theater Employees, Local 1012. Of which I am the current president. And it has come to our attention that, in addition to your usual roustabouts, a good number of Madison Round Garden's regular employees will be helping to set up for your show's opening night. Is that correct?"

She nodded. "That's been the custom ever since my father and grandfather first merged. What of it?"

"Well, that's going to mean a lot of overtime for those employees," replied Zucco. "And, with inflation the way it's been, these last ten years, I'm afraid our union has been forced to increase the time-and-a-half pay rate to… thirty percent."

"Thirty percent?!" she echoed (in undisguised shock). "Why, that- - -that's extortion!"

Zucco grinned. "I prefer to think of it as 'health insurance'. After all, some of your performers do some pretty dangerous things on a daily basis! Which means almost anything could happen. Unpredictably!"

Haley crisscrossed her arms in blatant hatred. "Like, say, a thinly-disguised shake-down by a low-rent thug with delusions of grandeur?"

Zucco scowled as his posture stiffened. His right index finger pointing at her like the business end of a revolver.

"You'd be smart to keep a more civil tongue in your head, lady. Before someone hits you upside it with something a lot more effective than a lawsuit for slander. You catch my drift?"

"Might I suggest a compromise?" a new voice interjected.

Rhino's right hand immediately went beneath the left lapel of his sport jacket, before Zucco halted him with an upraised left hand.

"Who are you?"

The well-dressed man who swung around in the swivel chair from where it had previously been facing in Haley's direction slowly stood up and smiled.

"Bruce Wayne. Chairman of the annual Wayne Foundation/GCPD Christmas Toy Drive for Underprivileged Children. And, for the last thirty years, the Haly & Norton Circus has kicked off our semi-annual fundraising for that cause by donating ten percent of their Gotham Opening Night profits! Of course, paying the thirty percent increase you're asking for would put a serious crimp in that goal. So, I hereby volunteer to pay the difference by making out a personal check, for the specific amount, in your organization's name. If nothing else, it would certainly impress my co-chairman, Commissioner Gordon, when I tell him of your 'civic-mindedness'."

Rhino looked at his boss, and vice-versa, before the latter scowled and nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Wayne. That's… mighty generous of you."

Five minutes later, however, he was of a vastly different opinion as he speed-dialed a certain number on his cellphone from the privacy of his limo's sound-proofed back seat.

"That no-good piece of rich white trash made feel me like a freaking panhandler! Now, that Norton broad probably thinks she's got a permanent free pass from us."

"Relax, Tony," replied the voice on the other end. "If Mr. Wayne belittled you, I'm sure I can find someone willing to return the favor on your behalf. Just don't do anything rash by trying to rectify this, personally."

Zucco abruptly ended the call, right then and there. Effectively making no promises.

THE BAT CAVE (LATER THAT SAME NIGHT).

"Benevolent Amalgamated What?!"

Batman half-smiled. "Relax, Alfred. They're not a legitimate union. Just an eighty-year-old front for a protection racket that specializes in entertainment venues."

"Hmph! I should hope so. The popular misconception that _all_ labor unions are 'mobbed up', is bad enough as it is!"

His righteous indignation was understandable. For, while he might no longer be an active member, Alfred Pennyworth was still a proud financial supporter of the Shakespearian Actors' Guild. Indeed, half of the Dark Knight's mastery of disguise consisted of cosmetic skills and acting techniques that the faithful butler had acquired in his own thespian youth!

"Don't worry. If I can help the police nab Zucco for extortion, they might be able to persuade him to turn states' evidence against his uncle. Thereby heading off any trouble with Rupert Thorne!"

"You still think someone is trying to foment a gang war between them, sir?"

Batman nodded. "Last week, one of Thorne's book-making operations is attacked and its entire crew massacred… by exsanguination. Two days later, the same thing happens to a couple of truck drivers for one of Stromwell's dummy companies while they're hauling furniture loaded with contraband drugs! Now, Stromwell and Thorne might have driven the other three original crime families of Gotham into virtual extinction. But, they're much too pragmatic to try and do that to each other. Let alone, in such a blatantly brutal fashion! No, Alfred, someone else is pulling the strings, here. And I intend to find out who... even if it kills me."

MAHORA GAKUEN,

TOKYO, JAPAN

(APR. 25, 1990)

Evangeline "Yukihime" McDowell made the introductions.

"Professor Joel Goldschmidt V? Mlle. Sherry Belmont… and her friend Brago."

She grinned as she gestured to a slightly shorter male figure. One who resembled, more than anything else, a ventriloquist's dummy dressed like an albino Goth!

"How may we help you, professeur?" asked the young woman to Brago's right.

"The Red Shield needs your help, mademoiselle. We have reason to believe that the American city called Gotham has been invaded by Chiropterans. Normally, we would send our own specialist, Saya Otonashi, to intervene. But, she's only halfway through her latest thirty-year hibernation cycle! So, our only other alternative is the heir to the Belmont family legacy. Including the enchanted bullwhip known as 'Mort Aux Morts-Vivants'. Alias 'The Vampire Killer'!"

tbc

Author's Notes:

Evangeline McDowell: a centuries-old wizardess who was vampirized as an adolescent. Part of the scholastic harem of Prof. Negi Springfield at Mahora Academy in the anime, NEGIMA: MAGISTER NEGI MAGI.

Sherry Belmont and Brago: one of the many Earthling-and-Mamodo partnerships competing against each other in the anime ZATCH BELL.

The Red Shield: a vampire-hunting organization led by the aristocratic Goldschmidt family in the anime BLOOD+.

Mort Aux Morts-Vivant: French for "Death to the Undead."

Vampire Killer: self-explanatory name for the trademark weapon of the vampire-hunting Belmont family in the video game "Castlevania."