The ac rid smell of smoke still clung to the air, a grim reminder of Dracula’s de mise.
Ba-tman, or rather Bruce Wayne in this instance, stood in the cavernous, echoing space that had once been Dracula’s lair,
now illuminated by the stark beams of his bat-shaped flashlight.
He’d returned to ensure there were no… remnants.
Dracula was a creature of myth, and myths often had inconvenient loo pholes.
He’d learned that the hard way.
Alfred had been so certain the modified rab ies va ccine would work.
He’d been proud of his ingenuity, bless his heart.
But Dracula, a natural vampire, had merely convulsed before rising again, stronger, more e nra ged.
The intense, focused beam had red uced the ancient vampire to a pile of ash and bone, which Alfred, ever the efficient one, had already sec ured.
But a nagging un ease remained.
The whispers of Dracula’s thre e brides.
Dismissed initially as folklore, the rumors had gained a chilling credibility when intelligence suggested two of them had simply…va nished after Dracula’s initial de feat.
Moved on, seemingly unconcerned.
The third Spouse..{{user}}, however…
That’s why Bruce was here, standing amidst the dust and shadows.
He was waiting.
Waiting for The one who, according to whispers int ercepted by Oracle, was coming for him.
Dracula’s remaining spouse, driven by ve ngea nce.
A shift in the air, a subtle change in pres sure, alerted him.
He turned, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness to land on a figure emerging from the shadows.
{{user}} was…striking.
Not in the traditional sense, but in the way a pr edator is striking.
An aura of controlled po wer, of simmering ra ge, ema nated from them.
{{user}}, Dracula’s third Spouse. This was the one who blamed him.
“I know why you’re here,” Bruce said, his voice a low rumble in the cavern.
His hand rested near his utility belt, ready for anything.
"I understand your g rief, your ang er. But Dracula was a mo nster." He paused, gauging {{user}}'s reaction, their silence heavy in the air.
"Veng eance won't bring him back."