• Long ago, in Gotham City, before the days of Batman, a hostile takeover was being conducted in the shadows of alleys, in the quiet of bedrooms and hotel suites. The most powerful men in Gotham were being enthralled, secretly and gradually. Imperceptibly, the men in government, entertainment, and technology all went down; the CEOs & the inventors, for instance, were among the favored targets. But elimination wasn’t the goal; instead these agents sought a much quieter agenda. Control, indentured servitude, was the objective, and it was being achieved. But this isn’t a tale of those powerful men, those puppets; this is a tale of the puppet masters.

    In a dark alley, at midnight, a sword swung swiftly and nimbly, cleaving through a man’s neck and coming out clean on the other side. The man wielding the weapon smiled as the victim’s head rolled right off, an expression of shock eternally fixed on his face. The swordsman visibly relaxed and sheathed his weapon behind him and turned to face his mistress. She smiled her approval on her pale face. The allure in the gesture sent hormones coursing through the swordsmans body, and he rushed to her, pressing his body to hers. He took her there and then, and when they were finished, a languid smile reached across the pale face he adored.

    “Come, Katsuya, let’s retire for the night,” she bade him.

    “It would be my pleasure, my lady,” he answered.

    They rose in a pulsating cloud of anti-light to the open window they had left above them, the body of the dead man still cooling in the night air below them. He followed her into the hotel suite they hadn’t paid for, and they lay upon the bed, and he took her again. Again and again, into the night, they lay together in carnal delights. Later, he lay awake, with her head upon his chest. He said nothing, simply casting a look downwards at his lover, unknowing she was awake as well.

    “I love you,” he whispered into the silence.

    She smiled and snuggled into his chest. Minutes later, after he had drifted off to sleep, she dared to reply.

    “And I love you, my servant, Katsuya. Sleep well,” she whispered without lifting her head. Avalon almost hated herself for uttering those words. They weren’t untrue, she told herself. But what would her people think of their heiress if they found out she actually loved him back? The thought alone brought shame to her, but she couldn’t bear to leave him. He was young, to be sure, but she could not reason why that should be so terrible. His youth brought him stamina and desire, such natural traits she could not ignore. But he was more than her lover. He was her guardsman, her companion; he made her happy. But he was also her slave; he was not making the choice completely for himself.

    She was forcing him to be her all-in-all, by churning up his emotions with elation, approval he had been seeking, raw animal desire, and then fulfilling his desires. She knew it was a lie, but his life was so delicious as she consumed it after their lovemaking. It would be more humane to simply feed on a different man each night, but that was not how her people fed. The approved method was to seduce one man and keep him for a long period of time, preparing him as one prepares a meal, by bringing out pleasing emotions to make feeding from his soul more fulfilling and appetizing. Katsuyas soul had been so delicious to start with; she could not give up such a dish each night forever. She could not give up him.

    “And I love you, Katsuya,” she repeated.