Chapter 1
It was the third murder that night. Homicide in Gotham City was nothing particularly out of the ordinary, but there had been a rash of deaths with nothing in common except the cause of death itself: a puncture wound on the back of the neck and a drainage of the deceased's spinal fluid.
Ryan had asked Mary what possible use someone could possibly have for spinal fluid, but even the resident doctor didn't know. The only known person who even came close to operating in that manner was Nocturna. However, while under the auspices of visiting her father in Blackgate, Mary found out Nocturna was still in Arkham Asylum. So in between beating down muggers and drug dealers, Ryan and Luke were trying to find out who was murdering all the people of Gotham.
"Yep. A circular puncture at the base of the neck, just like all the others," Luke noted as he scanned the victim before they would call it in. "That makes fifteen people this week. I get that it's Gotham and we have serial killers coming out of the woodwork, but this is an unusually prolific one."
"And whoever it is, they're really talented," Ryan said sarcastically as she looked around the dark alley. "A wound this big with no blood spilled? I didn't even know it was possible."
The radio in Ryan's ear crackled to life as yet another member of the Bat Team joined the conversation. "Batwoman, there's an active situation two blocks South from you. The cops are about five minutes out, but the woman who called it in said that they would need a whole damn SWAT team."
Grumbling, Ryan acknowledged what Sophie had said and told Luke to call in the body as soon as he was done examining it.
Without even waiting for him to nod, she used her grappling gun to reach the nearest fire escape. It took only seconds for Ryan to reach the roof. She began running the direction Sophie had given, hoping she was fast enough to deal with whatever was happening down there. At least being Batwoman was an excellent workout plan.
When she finally reached her destination, Ryan was almost sure that Sophie had sent her in the wrong direction. The street was dead quiet outside of normal traffic. Leaning over the edge of the roof she was currently perched upon, Ryan scanned the alleys and saw nothing.
"There's nothing here, Soph," Ryan told the other woman. "And I do mean nothing. Not even a body. Are you sure it was two blocks South? Because all I can see is a bodega and some overturned trash cans. Not exactly SWAT level stuff."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I even used the Wayne Enterprises satellite to ping the cell phone used to make the call. It's maybe thirty feet from you. You have three minutes before the cops get there."
With an annoyed sigh, Ryan jumped down, using her cape to slow her descent. When she reached the street, she immediately began looking for a sign of a struggle. There had to be a mugging or something. She peered down the nearest alley and saw something reflecting the closest streetlight. Quickly, Ryan ran to the object and saw it was a cellphone. The screen was cracked, likely from hitting the ground, and it was locked. Guessing that it belonged to whomever called the cops, Ryan kept ahold of it as she scanned the rest of the alley.
In a darkened corner she had been unable to see from the roof, Ryan found a woman's high heel shoe. Switching her helmet to night vision, Ryan walked even further into the darkness. A chill rose up her spine and she instinctively looked up at the rooftops. There was nothing. Resuming her hasty search, Ryan eventually found what she had been hoping she wouldn't.
The body was that of a Hispanic woman. It was still warm. Ryan knelt down next to her and checked the back of her neck. It was the same circular injury as the victim she had just left.
"Are you seeing this?" Ryan asked Sophie.
It took a few seconds for Sophie to reply. "Yeah. Damn. Another one. Do you see anything that could give us a clue as to who is doing this?"
"I found a cell phone. Might be the victim's. We just have to hope that there's something on it that can help us." Ryan heard sirens in the distance and reached for her grappling gun. She looked down at the victim, silently apologized for not being faster, and squeezed the trigger.
DoB
Lena Luthor wasn't unaccustomed to being denied, but she never learned to tolerate it. The sound of high heels clicking accompanied her every footstep. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, Ms. Luthor. But that doesn't change the fact that you are a civilian and this is a police matter." The officer then waved his hand in Lena's face in an act of dismissal. "I don't know how things go in National City, but here in Gotham we don't let corporate CEOs examine crime scenes."
Huffing, Lena looked past him and got a glimpse of another officer zipping up the bodybag. There was no way the civil servant was going to let her pass and examine the victim. It wasn't as though it would be difficult to determine a cause of death. It had been on the news even in National City that there was a new serial killer in Gotham. And as a favour to her best friend Kara, Lena had agreed to look into the murders. She didn't know why Kara cared so much about Gotham but wasn't willing to come herself.
"Fine. Fool." Lena turned on her heel and stormed off in the direction of her limo. She grumbled to her driver to go to her hotel. She'd have to call and tell Kara she was being stonewalled by the incompetent locals. It wasn't in Lena to give up, though. In the morning, she planned to pay a visit to the city morgue. It would be a lot easier to bribe a lowly coroner to let her do an exam.
As the vehicle made its way through the horrendous traffic, Lena reached into her purse and retrieved her phone. Calling Kara would wait until she was at the hotel. What Lena needed at that moment was access to the records the coroner already had. It was a good thing Gotham was as corrupt as it was incompetent, because she easily bypassed the city's firewalls using backdoors that had obviously been put in place to benefit the mafia and other assorted ne'er-do-wells.
Looking through the documents, Lena knew she was only getting the jist of things. She'd need to use her laptop to get a better view of the pictures in the records. The things she was seeing definitely confirmed it to be a serial killer. It was the same method of death each time, even if nothing else was the same. The bodies were always in back alleys or crack houses: always signs of struggle, including bruising and broken bones, but never any bloodshed. Just a puncture mark on the back of the neck and a draining of spinal fluid.
The arrival at the hotel happened sooner than Lena had been expecting. After her driver opened her door, she relieved him of duty for the night and proceeded into the lobby. The doorman and concierge both greeted her by name, but Lena ignored them as she mentally sorted through every alien species she had come to know. None of them quite fit what was happening.
Before she even reached the door to her hotel room, Lena could sense something was off. Whether it was her budding magic or her natural born instincts was impossible to decipher. Regardless of the possibility of danger, Lena swiped her keycard and pushed the door open. It was dark, but when she flipped on the light she was unsurprised to see an intimidating figure standing by the window to her room.
He radiated darkness despite wearing a white bodysuit that covered him from his feet to his neck. The only part of the man that wasn't covered was his face and fair, both dark and clean. Lena briefly wondered if he was another Martian, as they tended to look like black people when in human form, but as soon as the idea popped into her head she dismissed it. On one thigh was a bejeweled gold band, and in the middle of his otherwise white chest was a large red gem. His hands and forearms were covered in black gloves, the same colour as the exterior of the cloak tied at his throat. Or perhaps it was a cape. The interior of the cloak/cape was as red as the stone affixed to his chest.
"What do you want?" Lena asked, closing the door and doing her best not to let herself look caught off guard. "I can snap my fingers and have Supergirl here before you can blink."
"I mean you no harm," the man said. The cliche of it all didn't stop his cold and gravelly voice from sending shivers down Lena's spine. "I've come to you precisely because you know Supergirl. My name is long forgotten, but you may call me Bloodwynd."
Holding back a snort, Lena held her hand up. "That is a ridiculous name. I can't take you seriously."
"Taking me serious is not the issue at hand. It is of the utmost importance that you contact Supergirl and any other hero you may know." The man who called himself Bloodwynd, clutched at his cloak and stared into Lena's eyes. She wanted to scream, but he cut her off with his continued speaking. "It's starting in Gotham City, but they won't stop here. They'll feed until they are full, and then they will breed. We must act quickly to save the Earth."
Lena steeled herself even as her flesh began to metaphorically crawl all over her body. She would not let this man, if he was a man, see her sweat. "I won't call anyone until you tell me what is happening. As far as I know, you're just a lunatic in a white costume."
Pulling his cloak around his body, Bloodwynd let out a sigh. "I have seen these creatures before. They were in my universe before the great Crisis. They attacked my Earth. And now they have come to yours."
Unable to stop herself, Lena gasped. Nobody was supposed to know about Crisis. Only those from the Justice League had known about it. She narrowed her eyes and gave the strange man another once over. "What are you?"
"I am a survivor. Much like many others, I suppose. But I do not wish to see these creatures wreak the havoc on this world that they did on my own. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky there are no Newbloods."
Lena almost asked what a Newblood was, but instead she found herself pulling out her phone. She half-wondered if it was a subtle form of mind control making her call Kara before she'd finished her interrogation of the stranger. But when she looked up from her phone, he was gone.
DoB
"You know, if I had known time prisons sucked this bad, I probably would never have saved you," Sara Lance said to Alun Thomas, who was in the cell across the hall from her. The cells weren't uncomfortable: Sara likened it to a one room efficiency apartment. The problem was that the bathroom and shower offered no privacy. Time prisons really did suck.
"Did I ask you to save me?" Alun replied. "Although, you know, I am grateful to not be dead. I hear that's not pleasant."
"Been there and done that twice. Do not recommend." Sara sighed and resisted the urge to kick at the invisible barrier separating her from freedom. Sure, it looked like she could just walk out, but after the first five or so attempts at doing Sara decided she didn't like being violently thrown into the kitchenette's counters.
"When you all saved me, you left me with the impression that you were heroes. But if you're the good guys, why were we all arrested by time police?" Alun asked Sara. He did every day and she had long since given up on resisting the questioning.
"We're the good guys, but we're not the law. Sometimes we... Fudge things along the way," Sara repeated for what could have been the seventh or seven hundredth time. "Apparently, altering a fixed point in time is really bad. Even if it is to save a life."
"But what is it about my life that was so important? Why was my death a fixed a fixed point?"
Sighing, Sara recited her rationale from memory. "Your beloved Gwyn invented time travel after you died. Which is great and all, but it seems your death was what led to the invention of time travel and saving you made things extra bad because he would have lost that motivation. Or something. I don't know. Nate was the egghead."
Sara was waiting for Alun's inevitable reply when the power blinked. It was impossible to know how long she had been in time prison, but she had never seen that before. Looking over at Alun, she saw his equally puzzled face and knew she hadn't imagined it. She was about to say something to him when the power went down completely.
Tentatively, Sara approached the edge of the invisible fence. She screwed up her courage and reached out, bracing herself for the feedback. Nothing happened. Her outstretched hand curled into a fist and dropped to her side. Sara stepped into the hallway and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Are we free?" Alun asked as he joined Sara in the hallway. There were no guards. They never saw guards. There was also no light except for a strip of red light that ran the length of the ceiling.
"Yes, but it's probably not a good thing. Let's try to find the others," Sara said as she began to briskly walk to the nearest door.