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A Gotham Tale: Harvey Bullock	By : Driftwood Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 4464 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The Streets of Gotham
The streets of Gotham were littered with late night revellers, or should that have been early morning revellers. Small groups lingered here and there, people laughing and in some cases singing beneath the towering dark buildings of the Gotham skyline, some street corners showed the seedier side of Gotham, a prostitute worked her block, flashing her torn fish net stockings at any car that slowed down, smiling as best she could to hide her mangled teeth.
Two squad cars sat near an all-night coffee house, their lights pulsing blue and red lit up the buildings around them as well as a few gawkers who watched three officers drag a dealer to the ground as another officer lazily recited the perps rights as the other officer’s screamed and the dealer screamed back swears to each officer.
The roads themselves were quiet with taxis and a dashing ambulance here and there being the worst of the traffic that the limousine and the van behind it had to contend with. A few people stopped and watched the limousine, wondering which famous person sat in the back, the van a sludge brown in colour received not even a cursory glance, not even from the police officers as they dragged the still swearing and screaming dealer into the back of one squad car.
Miss Lansing felt nervous, it was an unusual sensation for her, but the last few weeks had been full of little surprises like this. Apprehension was another new sensation that had reared its head, apprehension at the Six of Gotham, apprehension of feelings towards Elizabeth and apprehension that she was close to displeasing Mr LaVey enough that she would find herself on an altar in a short space of time.
She tapped her long cigarette holder on the arm of her seat in the limousine the long grey ash fluttering downwards joining a slow growing pile of discarded, burnt out cigarette remains on the floor of the car. She knew the van was behind them, a car length or two further back yet her head kept going to turn, just to check, to be on the safe side. Nervous, yes she was, nervous of the detective and what he could potentially do. Nervousness gave way to a sudden unwavering sense of fear, something she had not felt since the caves of the hellfire club back in England. Was she scared of Harvey Bullock?
Miss Lansing touched the small button on the car door, “Can we speed it up a little?” it was a question that was answered a few seconds later by the sound of the engine rising and the slight feel of being pulled back in her seat.

Harvey’s head swam, it was that same old feeling he got after a night of drinking cheap liquor. He tried to open his eyes next, after a few attempts they finally relinquished and pulled back from his eyeballs. He could the road, tires on tarmac, the odd bump of a pothole or manhole cover, he was lying down on his back, the cool metal of the floor was the next sensation. Had Gotham PD picked him up outside a bar again? How much had he drunk?
‘That’s not right Bullock’ he told himself, he did not have the taste in his mouth. That stale taste of alcohol and bile, something that you would want to wash away as soon as possible, something that made you reach for the bottle again. His throat was dry, his tongue a little fat and stuck to the roof of his mouth. ‘Not a drop, not in the last few months Bullock, this is something else.’
Harvey’s brain began to come to life, flashes of memory starting to coalesce into something that made little sense but somehow made a lot of sense. Rosa’s apartment, the man, the killing…then the power. That strange sense of being overwhelmed by something new and different, then moving flying towards the answers.
Harvey forced himself to sit up, his hands went to his head pressing firmly against his skull, he closed his eyes the blackness provided a screen for his fractured memories. He saw a house, big and old ‘Chatham Manor’ his inner voice helpfully chimed in. He was inside now, lots of people, a woman stood before him naked, large breasts on display, she laughed sweetly but with an undertone of menace, she led him away…to a room…a blonde girl…
“Drugged me.” Harvey said quietly the words feeling thick in his dry throat and mouth, he opened his eyes again, seeing the inside of the van this was no drunk paddy wagon. Civilian van, bare metal interior. Through the rear windows Harvey could see the street lights of Gotham, the rising edifices of buildings receding away.
Harvey moved his attention back to himself. His coat was gone his hands jerked to his side and felt only his belt and trousers where his service revolver should have been, instinct drove him to his left foot, the small snub nosed pistol he always kept there also removed.
Harvey kicked at the air, annoyed and pissed off that he had been taken so easily. He began to look around the inside of the van, trying to find anything that could be used as a weapon, something near the front of the van moved out of a shadow, a man half-dressed and old crawled forward his hands and feet chained together, Warren Vandergilt had seen better days.
Warren Vandergilt looked old and haggard, his sleek grey hair was a dishevelled mess and his torso looked painfully thin, small burn marks covered him from belly button to neck. His eyes were rimmed in red, the man had been crying. “Harvey I am so sorry,”
Harvey went to lunge at the man but his own body was still weak from whatever they had used to knock him out, “You’re under arrest,” he said instead falling back on his backside, the words coming out of him in a gust of air.
Warren gave the faintest smile as he dropped onto his own backside, “If it were that simple Harvey,” The man ran one hand through his hair, the other hand yanked up by the chain and almost slapping himself in the face, “I am afraid we are well past that point.”
“So what point are we at now then?”
Warren’s sad eyes became focused, “the point where I ask you to kill me.”
Harvey smirked as he looked at the man he once called a friend, his eyes narrowed as the old man kept his focus. “What’s going on Warren?”
Warren unloaded without hesitation, the discovery that his family had a secret, a secret that had been hidden from one generation to the next only the worthy was told of the society, of the world awaiting them beyond this one. Warren had become part of the Six, his families standing had instantly brought him to the forefront and given him the title of One.
“Elizabeth should have had the title, her family is far older than mine, but the Vandergilt fortune outweighed everything else,” Warren said, he was not disappointed at being named One, only saddened that a more obvious and ready candidate such as Elizabeth was cast aside.
Warren went on how one day a woman with jet black hair had approached them, told them all of her standing in their society and what she was there to offer them. A few rejected her straight away, but when Mr LaVey had arrived, a man many had only met once at their start in the Six they knew the woman was truly one of them.
“What did she offer you all?” Harvey asked, he had met this woman unprepared had he known only this small amount he would have shot her where she stood, bodyguards or no bodyguards.
“Unlimited knowledge, power and immortality,” Warren said with a sigh, “what we all craved and had spent years of our life’s chanting for.”
Miss Lansing had bedded Warren that first night, she had let him have his nervous, over excited ways with her, pawing at her breasts as he shoved himself into her sex. After that night she had told him what she wanted and that he could never say no. The other six followed suit, one after the other Miss Lansing had bedded them male and female, they all became her willing subjects.
“How does Laura Beth tie into all this?” Harvey asked feeling the van start to speed up, someone it seemed was in a hurry.
“She had a gift,” Warren’s eyes began to water, “she was to be the one to open the portal to open the great door between the worlds at the coming of the storm.” He buried his head into his hands and gave a great sob. Harvey waited a moment, the man’s head remained buried just as he went to prompt him Warren’s head raised up. “I got cold feet, it was my daughter how could I let anyone kill her?” Warren had been told time and time again it was a sacrifice, one that Laura Beth was willing to give herself to.
Harvey was piecing it together now as his brain began to clear, “You called me in to find her before it was too late.”
Warren nodded, “They found out, they knew I had given up and they killed her as punishment.” He bit his lip holding back another sob that threatened to be his undoing, “I had to act as if nothing had happened, if I even said anything they would have killed me and everyone connected to me.” Warren laughed and shook his head, “now here I am about to be killed anyway and others will be killed because of how weak I am.”
Warren knew where they were heading. The ground was secluded, walled in the chances of being discovered or interrupted were slim. He was no longer One, he was now an offering, the last of the Vandergilt line was to become something inhuman and in doing so he would be put to service in the murder of all those that witnessed the transformation.
Harvey had been given a lot of information, the gift he had to know what this was as well as the portal. With so much information there was still pockets of silence, missing information that he needed to form the whole picture.
Harvey went to speak but Warren leaned in close as they felt the van slow down and begin to turn right. “End game old friend, you have to be the one who does it. No one else there will be strong enough to stop me, but you have the gift too.”
Harvey shook his head, “Warren I am way over my head here, cults and monsters are not my thing.”
“I have never seen Mr LaVey scared of anyone or anything but you make him nervous, he sees something in you. I brought you into this mess by accident, now it seems you were always meant to be part of this.”
The van slowed down even more, there were voices beyond the confines of the van now. Harvey was different now, something had changed inside him. This was the gift ‘a lousy one at that’ he thought to himself. He saw the man in the yellow suit melting beneath him, an invisible power that had radiated from Harvey. “I can’t control it.”
“You have to Harvey, for the worlds sake, you have to.”

Boone Arboretum,
Gotham City was born and raised around death and destruction, as time went on the buildings grew and the killing grounds became hidden beneath their lengthening shadows. History wrote them out of its books where possible, raking them over with fresh soil in the shape of new history. But some remained in the core of Gotham, in its DNA their significance growing but their knowledge becoming ever more secretive as the city grew from a trading town.
Boone Arboretum sat on top of such ground and not by sheer chance. Kincaid Boone had been enamoured by Mister LaVey even as the mob families of Gotham began circling him like hungry sharks, Kincaid’s debts acting like blood in the water to them he had gone ahead and built the Arboretum.
The high walled back area had been the fertile ground of many sacrifices to Mister LaVey’s elder God and he had the wall erected to maintain the ground and also to allow future use without too much worry of interruptions. But Boone fled and later died the Arboretum closed and fell into disrepair and Mister LaVey had moved on again.
But something strange had happened over the course of a few years, the six had risen again amongst Gotham’s high flyers, their voice was quiet at first. A ripple of activity hardly noticeable amongst the tide, a single rain drop lost amongst the millions that were falling.
As the years passed, as the generations died and the young took up the mantle their voice growing louder as well as their conviction. Others across the land became extinguished with the onset of time and newer Gods of distraction that only made Gotham’s voice louder. Until the time came that Mister LaVey and Miss Lansing knew they had a six worthy for the great sacrifice…how odd that two such groups would become apparent Mister LaVey mused one day.
Miss Lansing strode through the crowd of acolytes, numbering thirty in total all deemed unworthy by Mr LaVey to continue the journey. She walked through the crowd smiling and nodding at many, offering a hand to the head of the few who lowered theirs in respect. She could see them all clearly now, she had led herself down this path, she was their leader, she had craved power and attention and because of it she had lost sight.
Miss Lansing had sort out the Acolytes, she had created her own hellfire club within the crumbling ruins of Chatham manor without realising it. Somewhere down the line she had become Francis Dashwood using her power and her abilities to consume the flesh of others around her, offering them all the chance to see the other side to see their ‘angels’.
She had difficulty not laughing when she heard that term, the other was far more funnier ‘higher beings’ or aliens, she had locked herself in a room once just so she could finally let out all the tragic laughter she had been storing up. The Acolytes were foolish yes, but they were devoted. Devoted to Miss Lansing…and that had been her mistake. Mr LaVey was disappointed in her it was all so clear now, they only needed the six but the group had grown and once Miss Lansing had arrived the ranks had swollen even further.
She approached the altar, it sat on a pentagonal stone dais that rose above the ground, two stone steps led to the top. Miss Lansing found it strange that such a clear object of worship and sacrifice had not been noted in the building of the arboretum, she imagined families and lovers strolling by, perhaps consuming food as they sat on the altar, so close to a new world beyond their own yet oblivious to it all.
She took the two steps up to the top and walked around the altar one hand trailing on the oddly warm stonework, it was smooth and blemish free even after all these years, the weather had not eroded it and the untended plants had avoided it. The small amount of street light that penetrated the heavy overgrowth of nature run riot reflected dully in the stone surface, it made the stone seem to glow with unnatural life.
Miss Lansing cast her eye over the group, at her mistakes and missteps she had no feelings of sadness for them, of the loss some of their families may feel…they would not be feeling them for long anyway, not once the door opens and Ereshkizu walked the plain of man again. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, centring herself feeling the power that this killing ground gave off, only a handful would ever feel the deep throb and hear the hum of souls forever trapped her. Her eyes landed on her two bodyguards, she gave an almost imperceptible nod and they turned and strode off.
Harvey remembered the two big men from Chatham manor, to anyone else they were scary big men but Harvey knew that there was more to them beneath the surface, something that would drive a sane man crazy with one simple glimpse of their true selves. They had pulled open the rear doors of the van and with little ceremony one had dragged Warren out of the van dumping him on the ground.
“Out,” The other said at Harvey.
Harvey narrowed his eyes, “Why don’t you come get me big boy?”   The big man did not react he stood stock still staring as far as Harvey could tell through the sunglasses directly at Harvey. “I don’t bite.”
Something happened to the big man then, the air filled with the sound of ripping material, the black suit jacket once pulled taunt around the big man’s frame became loose at the front. Harvey’s mouth slackened as two long black insectile legs unfolded from the man’s back.
The legs glistened in the light, sticky ichor across the smooth black surface. They stretched high into the air behind the man then bent forward over his shoulder. Harvey went to push himself backwards as the legs reached into the van but found he had been struck dumb and motionless by the sudden unreality of the situation.
The legs had pincers at the end and they bit into Harvey’s arms holding him in place then dragged him from the van. The big man smirked as all this was happening as he brought Harvey out the van he pulled him close to his face.
Harvey could see his reflection in the glasses, his face looked haggard, his scars more prominent than he thought possible and his eyes were wide with fear. “I bite.” Said the man thing leaning in, his voice a deep whisper, he smiled revealing a row of sharp pointy teeth, dark with age and rot.
The ripple of disquiet passed through the crowd as they watched Harvey being carried in by the huge man thing, the inhuman legs holding Harvey firmly. A few of the robed figures turned to run but were stayed by steady hands of others. Harvey could see the look of terror on many faces, none it seemed were truly aware of who they worked or prayed to. The other big man carried Warren like a baby folded up in his arms. Harvey was carried to one side of the altar and dumped with little ceremony.
“Welcome Detective Bullock, this is your wake up call.” The voice he recognised and as he found his feet and stood up he looked over at Miss Lansing, “Not many people will ever see what you are about to witness,” he knew she wanted to say more her mouth opened to continue and then she caught herself and simple gave him a smile.

‘Though that will change soon enough’ is how she wanted to finish that little jibe at the detective, but the acolytes may over hear and wonder. Now that one of her bodyguards had revealed himself she could already feel the steady rise of unease in the crowd. So many had called their saviour’s angels, fallen or otherwise their tragic misconception of beauty and saviour blinding them to the truth.
Warren lay on the altar, eyes closed body shivering with nerves rather than cold. Miss Lansing placed a hand over his heart and the body tensed up beneath her touch. “You wanted your immortality Warren, survive this and you will have it.”
Miss Lansing stood up straight, her naked body cool in the night air. Her nipples were erect sore points and her sex was moist with expectation and excitement. Her earlier worries had slipped from her the moment she had taken her place on the altar, Miss Lansing stood before her followers for the last time and she commanded them with absolute control.
She began the ceremony, the words older than the Babylonian text that had first recorded them, words that had come from another realm. The acolytes replied the best they could, over half had fallen back, close to the exit of the gardens and into the arboretum they could feel how wrong everything had suddenly become. As the words flowed from her mouth, she could feel her body transforming with the utterances of power.
Miss Lansing’s tattoo had become animated, it grew from above her sex, spreading outwards like the branches of an elm, the twisted shapes melting together as they thickened, new tendrils reaching out further, crossing her shoulders, down her arms, up her neck their trails thickening obliterating the pale white skin of Miss Lansing and turning it black as it spread further out.
One acolyte stepped forward and walked around the altar, when he reappeared he held the intestines of Laura Beth Vandergilt, he stepped up and draped them over Warren’s chest. The acolyte gave a moan, his mouth opened as he tried to draw a breath that would never come and dropped to the ground, his lifeless body rolling down the two steps.
The Acolytes near the back turned to run their misguided adoration, their trust in a world beyond this one becoming a nightmare as they watched their compatriots steadily walk forward and take rotten flesh to drape over the man on the altar, a moment later their bodies dropping to the ground. Two managed to make it to the broken glass doors, the dark interior of the arboretums disused restaurant now the brightest and safest place to be. One acolyte got a cold hand to the rusted handle before two insect like legs ripped through their stomachs and lifted them into the air.

It took twenty minutes before Warren Vandergilt was covered in the reeking and rotting organs of his daughter, he had begun to cry soon after the intestines had been draped over him. The pleading followed soon after, his words falling on deaf ears. Miss Lansing was lost in the enchantment, her body now the colour of a bad bruise.   His pleading and crying, the shear terror that was flooding his system gave way to exhausted unconsciousness, his mental state and emotional state draining him totally.
Now close to the end Miss Lansing’s tattoo had enveloped every inch of her skin, her body was pure black she continued the ceremony even as two acolytes were killed, her pace did not slow. Her bodyguards corralled the remaining acolytes bringing them in close, their terrible insect legs stretching like a monstrous barrier stopping anyone from fleeing. The altar was surrounded in corpses now, willing participants who had given their life and essence to making Warren Vandergilt something more.
Harvey felt the shift in the pressure when his ears popped. He smelt the ionised air before he heard the crackling of electricity, his first fleeting glimpse of it was near the base of the altar a sudden spit of white hot light that died instantly. Another followed a few seconds later then more, each building up on top of the other gaining power and intensity.
The ground seemed to bow inwards at the point where the electrical charge seemed to be emanating, it stretched and warped as a heat haze began to spread outwards a purplish light beginning to grow from a pin prick of light to a large oval on the ground.
Harvey had the good sense to run, but his feet remained planted firmly on the ground, his eyes wide as they drank in the site of a portal opening. The scared remaining acolytes also forgot their own distress watching in awe as something impossible began to form before them, many stumbled forward for a better look.
A wispy form climbed from the hole of purple light, Harvey could make out a deformed head, long spindly arms that lifted it from the hole, it appeared and disappeared flickering like an old zoetrope image. ‘It cannot exist here,’ Harvey’s brain whispered.
The form floated upwards, its head rising over the altar as Miss Lansing finished the final words her smile could not be hidden, her teeth striking against the deep unnatural black of her skin. She was holding her breath as the demon stroked and petted at the unconscious form of Warren Vandergilt. The demon was talking, most likely to itself or to Warren but the sound of it was in Miss Lansing’s head, a whine and buzzing sound, she chanced a look at Harvey and could see the man’s face pinched at the sound he could hear too.
With little ceremony the demon lifted itself up and pushed forward over Warren. Warren’s mouth opened as the demon entered, his jaw stretching wider as more of the unnatural being pushed inwards, his jaw bone cracked as it reached its furthest point then continued further still as the demon elongated and finally disappeared into Warren Vandergilt.

The portal closed with less ceremony than had greeted its arrival. A slight flickering then the purplish light shrunk within the blink of an eye the ground returning to normal the air still clung to the odour of ionised air but even that was quickly dissipating. Miss Lansing watched as the body of Warren began to tremor, ever so slightly at first then picking up pace. It looked as if Warren was having a fit or a seizure his body arching and collapsing, head whipping this way and that as his arms and legs spasmed.
When the body became still it was only then that anyone realised just how violent the takeover had been. Miss Lansing’s skin tones had begun to return, the tattoo retreating growing smaller as it reduced and travelled back to her sex. Warren’s mouth opened a clicking noise issued forth building in momentum then slowing down. “Rise,” Miss Lansing said her own voice surprising her with how much it trembled.
Warren Vandergilt sat up, his brow furrowed in confusion, the rotten innards that were dotted about his body slipped off, leaving dark traces of muck and blood behind. Miss Lansing was stepping down from the altar slowly walking away a dark smile on her lips. The Acolytes attention were firmly on Warren, her passing went unnoticed. She stopped next to one of her bodyguards, perhaps she pondered for the last time, she hoped not. “None of them leave alive.” She said and went on her way.
“Ah!” Warren said loudly his back arching impossibly far back almost bending the man double, “Ahhh!” the sound was long and low, the sound of popping and tearing could be heard from within the fragile shell of Warren’s body. A gasp from the crowd as Warren’s fingers began to stretch the skin splitting in places as they did.
Warren coughed and sputtered a shower of blood exploding from his mouth along with teeth as his body snapped back to sitting up. His skull bulged in one spot, sank in another as a chittering sound now escaped his mouth. The closest acolyte let out a scream finally, noticing what was before them was no angel.
Once-Warren moved quickly at the scream, its body tumbling in a somersault as it shifted off the altar, the screaming girl fell silent instantly as Once-Warren’s long fingers tore through her mouth and burst out the back of her head, showering those behind in blood, skull and brain. The sudden extreme act of violence was like a starting pistol to the crowd.
The Once-Warren tore through the closest acolyte, robe and blood flying in both directions as its elongated fingers tore at him as if he were a paper man.   The crowd was frantic, people stumbled over each other or their own feet in an attempt to flee from the monstrosity that had risen from the stone alter. The few at the back, counted themselves as lucky until the two giant men forced them backwards, lifting them bodily and tossing them back to the monstrous things killing ground.
Harvey looked around for Miss Lansing cursing himself for not paying more attention, he had watched with horrified curiosity as Warren transformed, he only noted Miss Lansing walking away his mind focusing its attention onto Warren. Harvey backed up and felt his back push up against a wall “Shit!” he uttered out his brain stuttering to keep up with the carnage in front of him.
Another acolyte had started a good sprint, pushing anyone in front of him to the ground, Harvey watched as the Once-Warren leapt in a single bound clearing ten feet of ground and landed with a nails on chalkboard screech onto the man’s back. Once-Warren’s head darted down at an angle and shook once, the man dropped to his knee’s once-Warren tumbling over him onto the ground before righting itself and rushing at the closest victim.
Harvey looked at his hands, Warren had told him to stop it before it was too late, but how? The first time he had used the gift it had been by accident, the man thing dying without Harvey never really knowing how he had done it. Once-Warren had now gutted another Acolyte only a handful remained and then it would only be Harvey and it. The insect men would no doubt watch and if Harvey somehow managed to survive they would finish the job.
“Fuck it!” Harvey spat out and rushed forward wishing his fire arm was in one hand atleast. He slipped on blooded grass falling to one knee even as he tried to right himself, he stumbled as he lifted himself up and fell face first into the ground. Harvey rolled and dug his heels in spinning again and finding purchase beneath the soles of his shoes, he looked up just as Once-Warren pounced forward.
It was like being hit by a bag of snakes, the body that hit Harvey was hot and squirming as if every muscle in the body was spasming at the same time. The smell of its breath was rank, century’s worth of rotten meat, Harvey had no time to feel sick he was too busy pulling Once-Warren’s head away from his jugular. Once-Warren’s jaw hung inhumanly low, once human teeth had fallen out, two rows of sharp teeth had taken their place, with each chomping motion more of its lips were removed.
Harvey found purchase on the things abdomen, a thick layer of loose skin that he took hold of and with a primordial scream he threw Once-Warren to the side. The thing went flying landing on the altar rolling over it and falling off the other end.
Harvey smacked his hands together, “Now would be a really good time,” he said through gritted teeth, he could feel blood on his lips, he had no idea whose it was and just the notion of it being that things made him shudder.
Once-Warren leapt onto the altar, one arm hung long and distended from its shoulder joint the other held out in front of it grabbing at the air its long fingers caked in mud, blood and gore. Its jump was staggering, leaving an after image on Harvey’s eyes as it sprung forward with lethal ferocity.
Harvey felt it this time, the moment everything in him aligned, time did not freeze but momentarily slowed down. Harvey tried to catch a breath but failed, as all the air in him was ripped free. The wave came out in a circle spreading three hundred and sixty degrees.
Once-Warren crumpled in the air, flesh was pulverised, its skull caving in as its body was torn backwards in the wave. It remained attached to its body parts for almost half a second before everything became separate entities that lasted a split Nano second before turning to liquid.
Acolytes caught in the blast had the same yet quicker demise, none saw it coming as their bodies evaporated. Any who were running were sped on their way as their flesh liquidised and carried on ahead of them. A few who prayed on the ground never had chance to look up even as they felt the pressure wave a second before the full psychic blast rolled over them.
The two huge men had felt it in the air, they had been around enough altered people to know when an extreme event was to happen, but they too were too late. They spun on their heels, insect legs darting upwards finding purchase on a gantry above, lifting them from the ground just as the psychic wave slammed into them ripping them from the gantry and folding them like origami swans before their bodies gave up and melted away.
Harvey fell to his knees his mouth wide open as he gulped in air, his face blood red and streaming in sweat. He closed his eyes tight, trying his best to control his frantic shallow breathing willing his lungs to open up, praying or his heart to start beating again, his ears throbbed with a horrible pulsing sound that he wished would stop. He took a long deep breath arching his back as he did so, the taste of the air electrifying, his heart jack hammered to life at the same time and his body pumped with a sudden adrenaline surge. He must have been close to blacking out, his vision was dark, he could hardly see in front of himself, it took him a moment to realise that it was in fact dark the city lights had gone out, the strange pulsing sound was the warbling noise of car alarms and business alarms going off.
Harvey tried to get to his feet, slipped and fell back to his knee’s his sudden adrenaline surge already dissipating and leaving him feeling nauseous, he leaned forward and vomited violently, his sick mixing with the blooded ground around his knees. “Blacking out for sure.” Harvey said as he fell forward his arms barely holding him up for a moment before unconsciousness took over and he fell face first to the ground.
The motion of being moved made Harvey feel sick, whoever was moving him was strong enough not to have to pause much. He felt his collar lifting up then the hard jerk as he moved a foot or two, then a slight pause before the motion was repeated. “Harvey! Wake up,” the voice was authoritative, gruff, and familiar. Harvey forced his eyelids to pull back, tears spilled free as they did, blurring his already blurry vision even more. “I cannot drag you the whole way so wake up!” The voice came again from over his head.
Harvey watched his feet being dragged through grass and muck (the muck is blood and guts Harvey old boy!) He braced his legs and stuck his heels down, his collar pulled tight around his neck for a moment then slackened as whoever held it let go. Harvey sat up, his hands sinking into the soft ground as he did so. His stomach lurched and he made no motion to stop what was rapidly rising up from his stomach, he vomited between his legs a thick stream of bile and stomach lining that burnt his throat.
“Can you walk?” the voice asked after Harvey had remained vomit free for a moment or two.
Harvey worked his legs, they felt a little numb but he had control of them, “I think so,” he said and began to pick himself up. As he started to rise he felt arms under his own helping him to stand up. “You in a rush?” Harvey asked his voice thick and dry from tiredness and from the vomit.
Batman stepped round finally coming into view, “my priority is to get you out of this slaughter house. We can stay and look at the rare plants though if you like.” Batman’s head scanned slowly left to right. Harvey could see a little of the brutal scene in the low light that the half-moon. “What happened here?”
Harvey swallowed hard the answer was easy enough and only two words long. “I did.” Batman turned to face him, even though he could not see his eyes Harvey could feel them boring into him all the same. No doubt Batman thought it was some sort of twisted joke, or a punch line to a joke no one asked, “Don’t ask me to explain it, because right now I am not too sure how I did all this,” Harvey spread his arms and dropped them to his side. “But I did and I need to finish this.”
Batman stepped closer in, his movement and body language almost threatening and Harvey tensed up ready for a fight. “This looks bad Harvey, a lot of people are dead here, innocents as far as I know.”
“Trust me, everyone here was tied to the murder of Laura Beth Vandergilt, and more recently the death of Warren Vandergilt.” Harvey had watched the man change, becoming something that shared some similarities with Warren Vandergilt but as whole, was something worse. Warren Vandergilt had died on the altar, what Harvey Bullock had ripped apart was not of this world.
Batman relaxed, his stance was still close, if Harvey even went to scratch his nose he knew that Batman would break his arm before he got it past his waist. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Yeah? Well so do you. How did you find me here?” Harvey asked.
The lack of street lights and the continuous blare of car alarms, though diminished from the earlier cacophony led credence to what Batman replied, “There was a massive surge of power, wiped out a few city blocks worth of power. I triangulated the surge and pinpointed here as the most likely source.” Batman turned his head scanning the area once more, “I have a history with this place, I did not think I would be back here in a hurry.”
Harvey smiled grimly, the city and Batman had a lot of history some of it even included Harvey Bullock, it seemed another chapter was being written as both men stood there. “If you give me a ride somewhere I can tell you my side of this story.”

Chatham Manor
The night was clear enough that the billowing black smoke was easy enough for both men to see as they Batmobile sped through the night time roads accelerating away from the dark heart of Gotham City. Harvey re-counted everything from his first meeting with Warren Vandergilt to the crazy slaughter at the arboretum, His re-telling was hindered by his cries of “look out,” and “Christ!” as Batman had careened through the partly empty roads of Gotham, the Batmobile rumbling never quietening, the beast of a machine had led Harvey on enough merry chases it was odd to now be in the belly of the beast.
Batman parked undercover, down a small side track that had not seen traffic in sometime. They could both smell the fire now as they walked at a pace the rest of the way to the Manor. They could hear the flames as they walked up the drive, the sound of roaring, splitting wood, window panes shattering under intense heat. Another sound made both men run, a woman screaming, hardly audible beneath the cacophony of noise that was a raging fire. Harvey got to the front of the manor to find himself alone, Batman had sped off at an incredible pace leaving the unhealthy detective to run, panting like an old dog behind.
Another scream peeled out, a plea for help right behind it, Harvey took a step forward, hesitating unsure of what to do, the flames made his scar tissue sting. The scream came again, Harvey caught his breath, had he heard that? He waited and it came again, “Harvey! Please!” it was Rosa.
One top window exploded outwards, the flames a mix of yellow, orange and an odd green ‘accelerant of some kind’ Harvey’s detective mind chirped in, seeing the manor as a crime scene already. He wasted no time and ran forward, clearing the steps two at a time, he dove through the open door right into the heart of the fire.
Chaos, in every direction Harvey looked it raged supreme. The grand stairwell was somehow still standing though the intricate bannister had collapsed onto the ground beneath, hungry flames ate at it and the floor beneath. Harvey turned heading to the ball room, he took a few steps forward before there was a large WHUMP! And wooden beam crashed down in front of him. Harvey dove to the ground batting at his trouser leg as flames began to consume them.
Harvey spun round, the front door was now engulfed in flames, and any chance of escaping that way was long gone. “Harvey!” the call again and Harvey frantically looked around, his hands in his hair pressing at his skull, feeling a horrible throb that made his whole brain ache. ‘Reach out,’ he told himself, half remembering the apartment.
The flames, he blamed it on the flames and the heat he felt himself leaving his body, Rosa’s name firmly in the forefront yet he always returned. “Scared too,” Harvey had to admit out loud. Something moved at the top of the stairs, if it were Batman he would be able to help locate Rosa, maybe he had already found him.
Rosa stood at the top of the stairway, her naked body bruised in places and streaked black with dirt and soot, her eyes were wide as she held her arms out to him, “Harvey Please save me.” She begged, sobbing as she said the words.
Harvey dashed forward, “Coming, I’m coming.” He said over and over as he began to climb the steps, one foot fell through a step that had turned to tinder, he felt heat as his foot landed in fire though he spared no more thought as he ripped it free and continued further up. He reached the top step and found Rosa had gone. “Rosa!” He called out coughing as he began to choke on the smoke, he could smell something in the air too, and along with the burning manor and its parts he could smell something meaty. There were bodies here, many of them, those who were not at the arboretum, whoever Miss Lansing was, she was cleaning house.
“Rosa!” he bellowed again, his voice raspy with the burning smoke. He saw her then near the end of the landing, she stood cowering in a door way. He rushed forward again, blindly unaware of how insane the whole notion was, Rosa was dead he had come to terms with it only a short time ago. His feet jolted beneath him and he stopped, Rosa was gone again. “Rosa?” his voice now nothing more than a scratching sound, he dropped to his knees as his vision began to grey at the edges. The fire licked at his shoes, at his trousers, his shirt caught quickly the flames eating at the dirty fabric and soon at the flesh beneath.

Miss Lansing had made the limousine stop so she could see the burning manor, the remaining Six were all in the car too. Sitting silently, they understood why Warren had to go and that he was indeed weak. Elizabeth had brought them all together, her strength and conviction was staggering without her they would have fled, gone to the police broken the whole thing wide open and in doing so signing their own death warrants.
Miss Lansing left them in the limousine she stood in the cool night air, a hint of pink already on the horizon, it had been a long night and her last in Gotham City. She had felt the attack on the Arboretum and knew Bullock had survived yet again. She reached out to him, there was a chance he would know she was there but she was surprised to find the man defenceless. It was easy to trick him, he had already heard someone still alive in the house that had even surprised Miss Lansing.
Once he was in, his weakness was easy, love always brought the strongest men to their knees. Rosa, sweet Rosa, Miss Lansing had met her once, by accident she was inconsequential at that time, but now she had a part to play, a small minor role in the downfall of her lover.
Miss Lansing could not hide her smile as the detective stampeded through the burning house, chasing a ghost. “Too late Detective Bullock.” She sighed as she felt the man’s thoughts click into place, the sinking sensation of the horrifying truth that what he chased did not exist.
She took great pleasure watching the man collapse, coughing and sputtering, too late to do anything about his demise at his own stupidity. Something shifted then, her own satisfaction at winning did not just ebb but was ripped from her. A form, huge and black against the wicked flames approached grabbing Harvey Bullock and lifting him, “NO!” Miss Lansing screamed, her fury startling the passengers and herself, she had never been cheated like this before.
She took deep breaths calming the rage inside, calming the notion of turning around and finishing Harvey bullock and whoever his friend was, a slow lingering death for both now. She shook her head, shaking the idea away, she had been given a job a duty that had to be fulfilled. Mister LaVey had been right, if Harvey bullock survived they would all revisit him once the dawning of the new age had begun.

The last remaining upper window exploded outwards flames reaching forward at the sudden gust of fuel even as a black shape hurtled through it all. Batman rolled along the lawn, the flames on his cloak sputtering then finally dying. He unfurled there, dropping Harvey onto the grass, the big man coughed and sputtered clearing his lungs as Batman’s voice cut through the roaring inferno. “Oracle I need fire crews at Chatman Manor,” Harvey looked up at the man in the black body armour, unsure who he was talking to. Batman shook his head “Detective Harvey Bullock is on the scene, I won’t be here when they turn up.”

Harvey pulled himself up resting his hands on his knees as he bent double coughing up more of the smoke that had found its way into his lungs. “Too hot, my suit only gives me so much protection,” Harvey could see how red the man’s cheeks were below the cowl, a blister had formed on one cheek and Harvey felt his own scars on his cheek. “Some sort of accelerant, whatever is in there, whoever is in there…”
Both men stood silent watching the green tinged flames eat the grand house around it, there were no more screams, just the dying sounds of the house now. “What is your report going to say?” Batman asked.
Harvey shrugged, “Fucked if I know.” What the hell was he going to report? Psychic powers, inter dimensional monsters and an English witch in control of it all…West would have him struck off permanently and locked away in Arkham. As he watched the flames a more appropriate report began to form. “Warren Vandergilt and unknown associates were part of a cult, presided over by Warren Vandergilt. He murdered his daughter and used her organs as an offering to his God. Upon my discovery of the cult, Warren and his little buddies, began to destroy evidence unfortunately in doing so a fire started, burning down Chatham manor, trapping many inside.”
Batman nodded slowly, “What about Boone Arboretum?”
Harvey smiled ever so faintly, “The remaining cultists led by Warren Vandergilt committed mass suicide in hopes of joining their false God.”
“Do you think Captain West and Commissioner Gordon will go with that?”
Harvey shook his head and actually laughed, “If they do it will be a miracle, but what else have I got, the truth? Batman the truth scares even me, you heard my story it’s the ramblings of a mad man. This case is closed.” The final word was punctuated by the growing sounds of sirens, Harvey looked behind them in the distance he could see a stream of blue and red lights heading their way.
“Harvey I think you’ve only scratched the surface of this.” Batman said, his own gaze measuring the distance between them and the approaching fire engines, ambulances and police cars.
Somewhere in the house, a canister of some type exploded with a deep boom that made Harvey instinctively crouch down, when he stood back up the lawn and his crumpled suit were being splashed with blue and red light from the Fire Engine that was barreling down on him and Batman had disappeared. “Case closed Batman, this thing is going to be buried deep if I have anything to do with it.”
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A Gotham Tale: Harvey Bullock