When King wilhelm's cat Serafina gets lost in the woods of Lindburg, he finds himself searching for something a little more than his cat, that being love. The love of Preminger. But when Wenlock shows up with his Viking tied beard and creams an ore...
(A/N We'd like to clarify the last chapter, the last chapter was named: "No Beta, we die like Bruce Wayne's parents" This title implied that we did not have beta readers and/or this fanfic was not beta read. Not only is this fanfic beta read but we are three writers, and each other's beta readers.
Please do not cancel us on Twitter for being liars, it takes three to make a cult so...
Sincerely: -WetNapkins -ButterMills -LanaStarkey
P.S we're adding shit to A03 soon so watch your dad ) ————————————————————————
It was dark out, Batman was out trying to find something, anything to help with the case. As he made his way through the forest, he got a whiff of what smelled like... poor people. An ability all rich people have. He traced it back to a run down shed, entering it seeing the horrors. Jonas brother posters and merch everywhere on the walls. He hissed, "someone has shit music taste" he lied to himself. He walked around the shed, finding in the corner a stack of news papers. He assumed it was a poor person toilet or something of the sorts but when he took a closer look. It revealed a lot more.
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"4th Jonas brother?" He asked himself. Suddenly it hit him. "The blood, Jonas brothers blood. It was Allan. He might be hurt, or worse... dead" he felt his y2k hello kitty flip phone vibrate, he quickly answered, it was the authority's, they told him to head north near the ocean, it was urgent.
Bruce wasted no time and began sprinting towards the nearby beach. Once he got there he was greeted by multiple police cars and that was when he saw, at the bottom of the rocky cliffs. There was Allans corpse laying on the rocks, it seemed to not have been there long, freshly killed sometime today or yesterday. At close inspection he saw a clear bullet wound to the head. He watched as the ambulance carried Allans lifeless corpse away. He wouldn't let this go, Bruce would never admit this to anyone one... but he's a bit of a Jonatic. Someone killing a 4th Jonas Brother nobody even knew existed, is a huge crime in his mind.
He looked thoroughly at every inch of the forest, he began finding objects or clues throughout. Such as, empty lipstick tubes, Clam Chowder, a hotel bible and Spanish for dummies non of those clues were any help to Bruce in this case. He began to feel hopeless when he found something of importance, a flask.
In report of the burning castle, it was said that the fire had been started by a flammable liquid. This could be what leads him to solving this. Not only could this potentially be what caused the fire but could potentially lead to the DNA of the perpetrator.
Wilhelm awoke, he felt sick to his stomach. His mouth dry, and full of... sand? He looked at his surroundings, pieces of wood scattered everywhere, Vikings passed out, and they were all wet. He looked to find the ship to see it was completely destroyed and all that was still left of it, was beached. How could this happen, who was driving? Was there someone even driving? He looked over to find the wheel resting in Mingers hands. Minger sleeping soundly in the fetal position. He didn't remember a thing, he ran over to Minger waking him up. Minger stood up quickly looking around confused.
"Where is the boat, it's ruined! I thought you knew how to drive! Don't you have a boat of your own?" Wilhelm asked angered. That's when Riddler came in and answered for him. "He's a lying bastard! That was never his yacht! He stole the damn thing!" The riddler yelled, eyes still swollen from just waking up. He didn't drink as much as the others, he remembers everything. "He drunkenly offered to drive the boat last night even though he never knew how to drive one in the first place" he explained. Wilhelm was shook, he couldn't believe any of it. He looked back to Minger who was just looking at the sand in shame. It was true. Mingers a liar.
