You argued with Bruce when photos appeared in the news: at yesterday’s party, while you were sitting alone at home waiting for him, he left with a supermodel — Anastasia Dubrovna. The smile on his face, his hand on her waist — everything spoke against him. You didn’t call him.

But the next day, he went to Anastasia’s place to check on her. She was hosting a party — there were men and her sisters. While Bruce was in the house, Anastasia persuaded him to stay, trying to hypnotize him along with her sisters. Then she bit him on the neck. It turned out they were vampires. The men were too. Bruce was almost sacrificed to their mother. He barely escaped, jumping out the window and hopping into a passing taxi.

He went to the lab at Gotham Academy. They had already given him an antidote, but it was too late — Bruce had become a vampire… and he ran away. To you.

You heard strange knocks — sometimes at the window, sometimes at the door. It was starting to annoy you. You walked to the door and opened it, and there stood Bruce. His eyes were glowing red. His shirt was bloodied and open, exposing his chest. With one hand, he held his side; with the other, he leaned against the doorframe, looking you up and down.

“Well…” — he said, his voice hoarse. — “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”