Inside the House of Bruce Wayne

Dracula did not attract much attention in this city as he walked through the bustling streets of Gotham. There was light and life around him everywhere. Already during his last visit in the modern World of London over a hundred years ago he had found it astonishing how mankind had developed, but this had surpassed his most daring dreams, especially how little people had developed themselves. What fascinated him most was the gigantic moving pictures hanging on some windows. He couldn't explain the witchcraft behind it. It was probably part of this science that Helsing had already used against him at the time. The awakening in his fortress had already disturbed him. When he was on board the huge metal ship, his unbelief had even grown. The city of the Turks had become a strange parody of its ancient times, but this Gotham was something completely different. It was just too fascinating for him. A place where the boundaries of the living and dead worlds were closer than anywhere else. Even around his fortress there were not as many tormented places as here. He could see them almost everywhere. Tormented souls wandering around the Otherworld. But also vengeful spirits who used every chance to spoil others. He was no longer surprised that a new Lycan had awakened here. As much as he hated to admit it, the Lycian’s were once a proud and rational race that guarded the gates of the spirit world. But that was long gone. Since the people had existed, they had respected the spirits until sometime a breach had formed. He didn't care much to be honest, but the werewolves were no longer guardians but brutal beasts and the only ones who could seriously hurt him. So he had to stop them before they could rebel against him again.

As he walked through the city, a small window caught his attention. Behind the glass, he could see some vampire teeth and skulls. Surely this had to be a gypsy shop that made its money with occult objects. Even though Dracula loathed that the teeth of some of his species were so exposed, he did not reproach the gypsy. They were a folk who knew the ancient myths and they were as valuable as they could be dangerous. Anyway, they'd help him find his way around here. An ancient pact assured him of the help of the traveling people. As he entered the shop, he saw many strange things. Goblets of skulls, colorful vampire dolls and similar things stood on the shelves and wide, cheap-looking capes hung right next to them.

The shopkeeper was a very heavy tattooed young man, even for gypsies, who only looked at him bored and then devoted himself to the little magic box that so many people on the streets had. That the gypsy didn't recognize him as Dracula was not surprising for him. After all, the last time he had walked during his great-great-grandfather's time. But then he suddenly saw something that made his good mood disappear.

Hastily he hurried to a shelf and grabbed a small box, no bigger than a paperback novel. On it was a Nosferatu with long claws and bald head. It was above that.

The secrets of Dracula.

Angry, he drove around and growled at the gypsy,

How dare you. What's this about? A charade?

Hey, man. It's not my fault that the movie sucks. It's a classic with Christopher Lee. Personally, I'm more into the new Blade but hey. These guys love it.

Explain yourself worm. I demand a good explanation for breaking the Treaty of Alaheim.

Ala what? Hey, dude. If you want to buy the film just go ahead. But there are some really good streaks over there. Dracula versus King Kong or how about the **** of Dracula. And if you're more of the horny guy, how about Dracula fucking the Nuns? When you buy a film, you also get a Dracula Wobble figure.

With these words, the bored man pointed to a small figure with a much too big head that wobbled happily back and forth. Dracula, however, didn't find it funny at all. This whole shop was dedicated to him and this man was certainly not a gypsy. Every gypsy would have recognized the contract immediately and replied accordingly. And this mortal worm actually dared to make a fool of him. Not even Helsing had been so stupid as to mock the Count. The anger rose slowly in his soul and even though he did not feel thirsty, his sight slowly disappeared and a bloody veil lay over his gaze. From the corner of his eye, he could see how the movements outside the shop continued to slow as he pumped the blood into his muscles. The blood not only served him as a source of eternal life but was also the source of all his powers.

With an elegant movement he walked through the small chamber while the salesman was still talking to him, but his words were slowed down beyond recognition. Dracula smiled when he realized that the man was trying to pronounce his name. What seemed reasonable to him that he would die with the name of his killer on his lips. Slowly his right hand closed around the neck of this worm and closed. With a **** that was the multiple of a human deception, he attacked and exerted pressure. Dracula could feel how a small part of his blood flowed into his right arm and his muscles were strained to the point of tearing. Even though he did not develop the full potential of his power, he could feel bones, flesh and veins in the throat being crushed. Then he shifted his power from power to speed and raised his arm. The eyes of the salesman grew wider as he understood what was happening, but as he pronounced the last syllable of the word Dracula, his head was torn from his shoulders. The blood syringe for Dracula in slow motion from the veins and even as he saw the sight of the ever-growing blood Fontaine he heard the heartbeat. The heart had finally gotten the impulse from the brain to beat faster. Unfortunately, it was now too late. But Dracula had long since lost interest in this process and threw his head to the side directly at the feet of a young woman who looked at him horrified. Without the slightest need to be merciful twice a day, he looked at them and growled.

It's cold. Set fire. Burn everything. This will warm you up.

Confused, she shook herself and went into the back room to get some flammable liquids. Dracula was perhaps a hundred yards away when a huge jet of flame shot out of the window behind him.

Maybe I should find someone who understands this world. Someone with influence and power. But none of the too many people took notice of the dark executor who was the only one not surprised by the sudden explosion. As he wandered through the streets of Gotham, he saw a small shop where newspapers seemingly lay. A lot of different ones. The times when young boys stood on the streets and praised their newspapers was probably over. However, he was surprised that so many people were able to read. Apparently, the simple mob was a dying species. Unfortunately, this also meant that the average person was now much more dangerous than in his day. Ignorance and superstition have always been the best weapons in Dracula's arsenal.

"Heda... Speak good man. Is the name Wayne known to you? „He asked the friendly looking old man behind the counter.

"Of course it is! Everyone in Gotham knows the Wayne family. Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the city and one of the biggest Playboys! If you want to know more, I have a newspaper here about tomorrow's celebration. It's Wayne House's annual charity party. But if you want to know more, at least give me a dollar. Must be worth it for me. The rents are expensive, „laughed the old man and Dracula could see a pure benevolent soul in the man.

Dracula grabbed his pocket and handed the man a sum many times greater than the amount demanded. "Thank you very much, good man. The rest is for you. You're the first kind soul I've seen here. A blessing for me."

"Oh, thank you very much! Thank you very much! So here you definitely have a newspaper, good man! Here! And this is an issue from last week. Have a nice evening, sir."

Dracula went on a short time later and started looking for accommodation. He might go and see this Mr. Wayne. He seemed to be young and stupidly conceited guy who was worth something only by the fortune of his parents. He must have been a weakling.