Prelude

…

…

A month after Wally West went missing Tim was finally tired of Dick ignoring his calls so Tim could tell him some good news.

No one had heard from him in a week, worrisome but not unusual. Alfred had been growing worried and tension crackled in the air even more so than before. This had happened before in the week after Dick's big fight with Bruce, but Dick had been okay then, safe in his own apartment working on a new identity for himself.

Tim held on to this fact as a precious lifeline as he made his way up to Dick's apartment. His phone signal said he had been in here for a week, never leaving, according to Bruce. Tim had found it surprising that Bruce watched his phone signal. He'd made it such a point to actually give Dick his privacy during this "delicate time of mourning by someone so sensitive to loss". He had to admit, it was a little comforting knowing that Bruce was finally respecting Dick's privacy as an independent adult, a step forward in healing their relationship. (A very broken and tense relationship.)

The elevator doors opened to Dick's floor with a ding. Tim knew he could have easily gotten into the apartment through a window, but he had a fear of interrupting something that shouldn't be interrupted. After all, Dick did have a reputation.

Tim knocked. No answer.

"Dick! It's Tim!"

He knocked again. Not a single sound was heard.

"It's Tim! I got something to tell you! Why are you ignoring my phone calls?" He was getting impatient. No, he was out of patience. Without remorse he picked the lock on the door.

His stomach dropped.

There was blood. There was blood on the couch and blood on the walls and blood on the counter and blood on the floor. The coffee table was on its side, glass shattered a pieces strewn about similar to tsunami debris. A cup was shattered on the floor in the kitchen, little bloody footprints strewn about the pieces as if someone had stepped on the shards.

A fight had happened.

Tim ran throughout the house, looking for his older brother. The rooms were messy, bloody, and disorganized. Dick was nowhere.

Tim was in shock.

Stoic and robotic he made his way through the apartment. This wasn't happening! Dick couldn't have lost…Dick wasn't gone…He had to be-

A buzz. Tim whirled around to see Dick's phone, still charging by his bed.

219 MISSED CALLS

312 MESSAGES

Fear crept into the pit of his stomach. Tim walked back slowly, surveying the room, his detective side taking over. The blood was dried; the window had broken days before as he could see residue from the rain. There was more blood than possible for one person to bleed out. Not all this blood had to be Richard's.

Observing, most of the bloodstains were darker colored. Were they different from the other's? Some humanoid creature possibly? There were plenty those romping in Bludhaven picking innocent victims at random. This had to be random. It had to be. Dick was so careful. Most of League didn't know his identity.

He stopped cold in his steps. There was a handprint on the wall, covered in blood and smudged.

It was smaller than Tim's hand. Definitely not Dick's.

Tim's phone buzzed. The waves of anxiety and fear hitting him turned into screaming alarms.

"Tim! You find Dick

"Wally…"

"Hand over the phone! He'll freak when he sees me! No wait facetime! So he knows for sure!"

Tim's voice cracked. "He's not…."

There was a pregnant silence.

"Tim? Are you okay?"

"Tim gripped the phone so hard he thought it would snap. "Dick's not."

"What? Is he sick?"

"…."

"Tim?"

"….."

"He's gone."

Themes to be super developed in next chapter!

5000 words roundabouts.

Stay tuned. Review.

VampDove (-\/-)