Sitting at his chair in front of the master computer of the Batcave,
Bruce Wayne looked over a copy of the autopsy report from the S. S. Ceres crew
that drifted into Gotham harbour last night. Not one thing about it made any
sense, not one. For one, the bodies were completely drained of blood, so much
so that their flesh was practically flaking off their bones like paper. But what
was strange was there were no puncher wounds of any kind to be found on their
remains, not even the slightest mark of a syringe. It was almost like their
blood simply… disappeared. Even stranger was the position the bodies were found;
three were still playing cards on deck, another was found cleaning, even the
captain was still at the wheel. Dropping the file onto the desk, Bruce pulled
open another. This one of the double homicide in the alley way just south of
the narrows. They too were completely drained of blood, but their bodies were
still fresh, and they possessed wounds on their necks consistent with an animal
attack, but strangely no splatter was found on the ground or walls, and despite
being armed both victims showed no sign of a fight apart from a single bullet
missing in the chamber of one of their pistols.
“It’s the same M.O… but the methods are different and the two died
on the opposite side of the city.” Dropping the file next to the other, Bruce
leaned back in his seat. “Even though they’re slightly different, the
coincidence is too hard to ignore.” For now, he didn’t have any leads, not
until something new happened. He hated that, waiting for a crime to occur just
to solve them both. It just meant more victims he couldn’t save. Rubbing the
bridge of his nose, Bruce stood up and straightened his suit, it was time he
got ready for the opening of the manor’s party, and Bruce Wayne was required
for attendance.
*
Stepping
out of the grandfather clock of his study and locking the secret panel that lead
to the Batcave, Bruce straightened his tie and stepped out into the banquet
hall of his mansion. Soft music played in the background by troupe of
violinists with a cello, additional help serve champagne and finger food on
silver plates while Alfred navigated their actions from the background. Gotham’s
elite were in full attendance; the wealthy, the profitable, the well off… And
the opportunistic. At one end Bruce could see Roman Sionis with two women at
his sides pretending to laugh when he told a bad joke, one made at the expense
of the now deceased Joker. On the other he could make out Vicki Vale with a
small tape recorder in her hand trying to ask questions to Commissioner Gordon who
was invited with his wife as guests, Barbara was trying all her best to pull
Jim away from the inquisitive woman, so she could get at the punch bowl. Near
the fireplace, he could make out Professor Hugo Strange, sitting with some of
the older guests and trading stories from previous work from the asylum and
hospital. Other notable families were also in attendance, but Bruce found that
one couple he invited hadn’t shown up. Patrick Holt and his fiancé Vivian, both
ran a notable contracting company that he had hoped to set up a new project for
city restructuring. He knew Patrick was overseas, but he had hoped that Vivian
would have shown up for an unofficial meeting.
Plucking
a glass of Champaign off the plate of one of the waiters moving about the hall,
Bruce took a sip and moved about. Shaking hands with some of his guests and
wishing them well and to enjoy the party when he noticed a large crowd at the
far corner of the hall, moving his way over he heard everyone enraptured and
laughing lightly to a tale being spoken by a young man in what sounded like a
Romanian accent.
“…Can
you just picture the look on the doctor’s face when his patient asked for a pet
cat to eat his pet birds? Who ate his pet spiders whom ate his pet flies? Its
no wonder the mad can’t have pets anymore.”
A
gentle laugh came off the crowd until one of the ladies noticed Bruce and
pulled him closer to meet the newcomer. “Bruce, there’s someone you absolutely
MUST meet, uhm… what was your name again?” With an inviting smile and a
curtseyed bow, the well-dressed gentleman stood back tall and poised, his one
hand behind his back while the other made a flourished gesture with his fingers.
“Ah, the owner of the estate, my name is Varcolac, Count Bolg Varcolac.” Giving
the Count a look over, Bruce stood before a man that seemed in his early
thirties, tall and thin, he wore an elegant green suit that looked over a
hundred years old yet well kept. Appearing almost Victorian in style with frilled
cuffs, cumber bun and a matching frilled scarf. A dried white rose poked out of
his breast pocket along with a small silk handkerchief that matched the light
green silk accents of his cloths.
Shaking
Bruce’s hand, the young man seemed distracted, his eyes focusing more on what
was around Bruce Wayne before focusing back on the billionaire’s face. “I’ve
just recently arrived in Gotham in the hopes of acquiring some local property,
I was told that the party held at your estate would lead to some PROSPEROUS ventures.”
Taken back slightly Bruce smiled to keep up a show for the crowd around him. “I’m
curious, I didn’t write an invitation for…” Waving his hands defensively with a
roguish smile, the Count made a simple flick of his fingers and produced a card
with gold trim. “My apologies, I met with the young lady Miss… Holt was it? I
met with her yesterday during a… Meeting and she gave me her invitation.”
Taking the card from his hand, Bruce looked it over, immediately recognizing Vivian’s
name on the front. “Well then, I hope you enjoy the party and welcome to
Gotham.” Stepping away, Bruce remained in the grasp of the woman that pulled
him into the crowd, chatting with him over the latest gossip. Giving the man a
slight bow as he walked away, the Count returned to entertaining the crowd he was
surrounded with.
*
Dracula
smirked back at the owner of the estate, the handsome idiot continued to banter
with the rich locals after his introduction. Quite a few of the more notable
guests at the party seemed to have a darker reputation about them he noticed,
even though they didn’t speak of such things openly, the ghosts haunting their
presence certainly did. The elderly man sitting by the fire with the other
intellectuals had three ghosts hovering over his head, bound in straight jackets
and screaming silently down at the bespectacled man with the chin curtain beard.
The boorish man at the far end of the party wringing the coat of a waiter that
hesitated in filling his drink practically had a storm swirling around him,
dozens of ghosts flitted and circled him, becoming even more agitated after he shoved
the waiter away. Men, women… Even the ghosts of children haunted the Sionis
fellow, but what caught Dracula’s attention was the owner of the Wayne estate
himself.
He
too had ghosts haunt his presence, but unlike the others whose spirits cried
and screamed and demanded from their hosts, the pair that floated near Mr.
Wayne kept their attention on HIM! A man and woman of middle age, they kept
their hands on his shoulders almost defensively, eyeing the vampire fearfully. Curious,
he looked around the banquette hall and noticed the panting that hung above the
fireplace, framing the picture of a young boy standing between his parents in
the same stance as the ghosts that floated over Bruce Wayne. “Even in death you
watch over your son, admirable… But an empty endeavour.” He whispered, too low
to be heard by the people around him. “I KNOW he is the one I seek, and mark my
words, I WILL end him, and when you see why… You’ll BEG me to do it.”
“What
was that?” Asked the woman who had been trying to talk with him the entire
time. “Hmm? My apologies M’lady, I was distracted, please continue…”