THE DEATH KNELL-Chapter 47: FOOTSTEPS IN THE DARK

Alfred stood at the edge of the dimly lit observatory, shaking his head. The storm howled outside, the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs below. He had long since given up on trying to rein in the young mistress. She was a force of nature in her own right—stubborn, driven, and, in his eyes, Gotham's last true hope.

His expression remained calm, though his thoughts were laced with concern. He had seen countless people donning costumes in Gotham over the years—figures who lurked in the shadows, some seeking justice, others reveling in chaos. But apart from Batwoman, the rest were anti-social lunatics, each with their own twisted vision of the city's fate.

They sprouted like weeds, growing from the darkness that consumed Gotham, each with a grand idea—to destroy the city, to break its people, or to challenge Batwoman herself. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was one who stood apart.

A newcomer, appearing only a month ago. He was unlike the rest—not bound by vengeance or obsession, but by something far rarer in Gotham: genuine hope. His sense of justice was unwavering, his demeanor lighthearted, his presence oddly comforting in a city plagued by nightmares. Just by looking at him, Alfred could tell—he wasn't one of the bad ones.

Perhaps, at long last, the young mistress had found a companion. Someone who, in some ways, seemed even more suited to the title of a hero than Batwoman herself.

But his arrival had also brought troubling news. A looming threat, something that extended beyond Gotham's underworld. He spoke of forces moving unseen, of dangers creeping toward their world.

Batwoman had doubted him at first—until she saw the signs with her own eyes. Gotham had always been a city of mystery, but lately, something felt off. The shadows were darker, the streets quieter, and there was a tension in the air that even she couldn't ignore.

For the past month, she had chased answers across the world, searching for any lead that could explain the unseen force creeping closer. But despite her efforts, the answers remained elusive.

Alfred, meanwhile, had remained on the island, keeping their temporary base in order. His role had not changed—he was the ever-reliable guardian, making sure Batwoman had a place to return to, even when she was too restless to stay.

The Hunger of Heroes

Batwoman sighed, pulling off her mask and wiping the sweat from her brow. The sea breeze was thick with salt, and though her speed allowed her to cut through the air without resistance, she still felt the spray of the ocean clinging to her skin.

"The calories provided by bananas are too limited," the cloaked man beside her groaned, his voice carrying a playful frustration. "I swear, I'm going to lose my hair at this rate."

He had devoured the entire batch of bananas Alfred had prepared, yet he still looked unsatisfied. Batwoman smirked slightly.

"Wait until we get back to Wayne Manor," she said, adjusting her gloves. "I'm sure there's something at home."

Alfred, standing nearby, cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "To clarify, miss, if there is any food at home, it's what was left nearly a month ago."

Batwoman exhaled, tilting her head back. "I trust the fridge."

"Eating month-old refrigerated food is unhealthy," Alfred said, his voice firm but laced with the patience of a man who had raised an entire generation of vigilantes. He turned off the stove and began tidying up their temporary shelter.

Batwoman thought for a moment, then muttered, "But that was turkey. I was planning on having a turkey sandwich the next morning..."

She had spent so much time in Gotham that food had become more of an afterthought than a necessity. Whatever was available was good enough.

Alfred, however, was unmoved. He meticulously locked up the observatory, his hands clasped behind his back, his voice steady with an air of refined classicism. "Even if it were Phoenix, it would be inedible by now. We should make a stop at a supermarket."

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Batwoman frowned. "We don't know how much time we have."

The cloaked man clapped his hands together. "Ahem, I don't know if anyone here has noticed, but I am incredibly fast. Problem solved."

---

Return to Wayne Manor

Five minutes later, they arrived at Wayne Manor.

Four of those minutes had been spent on Alfred's detour for groceries.

As they stepped into Gotham's rain-soaked streets, Batwoman immediately noticed the blackout. The city had been plunged into darkness. The streetlights flickered weakly before dying, and the only illumination came from the occasional flash of lightning splitting the sky.

Even she couldn't fix something like this—not with the city knee-deep in floodwaters. The rain hadn't let up for days, and at this rate, Gotham would be drowning before the night was through.

Most stores had shut their doors, unwilling to operate in such conditions. Batwoman had no time for formalities. She picked the lock of a small shop, grabbed the necessities, and left double the payment on the counter. Gotham's economy could afford some honesty.

By the time they reached Wayne Manor, its self-sufficient power system had already kicked in. The underground geothermal generators in the Batcave ensured that, no matter what happened to the rest of the city, the mansion would remain a beacon of stability.

Alfred disappeared into the kitchen, preparing something far more refined than Batwoman had requested. Meanwhile, she slumped onto the couch in the grand reception hall, letting herself relax for the first time in weeks. The fireplace crackled softly, its warm glow casting long shadows across the room.

She pulled out a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for their guest.

"This is the first time you've been here as a guest," she mused, watching the cloaked man curiously.

"In fact, you don't need to wear that giant cape," she added. "No one here knows who you are."

The man grinned sheepishly. "I know. But I wanted to experience the full 'Bat-style' thing."

Batwoman raised an eyebrow as he continued, his excitement bubbling over. "So, does this mean I'm officially part of the Bat-family? Should I come up with a name? Lightning Bat? Bat Fast Guest?"

She simply stared at him.

"...Okay, never mind," he muttered, shrugging in defeat.

In the blink of an eye, his costume vanished, revealing a young man in his twenties, with dark brown hair and a fair complexion. He looked more like a college student than a superhero, his red-and-white STAR Labs T-shirt making him seem almost ordinary—if not for the faint crackle of energy around him.

"Well, I found your guest slippers," he said, glancing at the familiar spot near the staircase. "They're still in the same place as in our world... but I should probably ask first. Can I wear them?"

Batwoman let out a small chuckle, running a hand through her hair. "Go ahead."

In a flash of lightning, he was seated beside her, dark satin slippers on his feet, a wine glass in his hand.

"Thanks. These are comfortable."

She studied him carefully. He wasn't a threat—at least, not right now. There was no madness in his eyes, no danger lurking beneath his grin. That alone made him an anomaly in Gotham.

"You can use the guest room on the second floor," she offered. "Treat it like you would in your world."

Barry—The Flash—scratched his head. "Thing is... I don't get invited to Wayne Manor much. And when I do, I usually don't see the mansion. You get what I mean?"

Batwoman smirked. "Want to compare Batcaves? See whose is better?"

Before he could answer, Alfred entered the room, his expression unreadable.

"Apologies, miss," he said smoothly. "It appears we had an uninvited guest while we were away."

Batwoman's expression darkened.

"Explain."

Alfred clasped his hands. "Our loss? One roast turkey, two kilograms of vegetables, a collection of spices... and, oddly, a full set of dining utensils."

Barry furrowed his brows. "So... someone had a picnic at your house?"

Batwoman's eyes narrowed.

Gotham's shadows stirred once more.