My friends call me Robin, acquaintances call me Rob and my enemies call me Canis Panther; or K-9 for short. I grew up in a regular neighborhood, right outside of Gotham City; bunch of kids and a lot of crime. The youngest of six, the only one left alive and an outcast from the family; that is what I am now days. All five of my other siblings died from various crimes, in the wrong place at the wrong time: drive-bys, robberies, hostage situations…my family never was good on luck. I watched my parents grieve and fret over which child would go next, constantly worrying until I was the last one left; their only hope to continue on the family line. As a child I was confused, the deaths happened and I didn't understand the loss but I began to hate it. So when I was old enough, I ran away from home and set out into the field of criminal justice as a detective; if I couldn't kill them and be right, I would put them where they belonged. Behind bars. My family shunned me, if I was determined to get myself killed then they would rather not have another child to lose; I am now alone.
I did desk work, slowly rising through the ranks, until I was finally put out on the streets; that first outing changed my life forever. Never would I show my face again, never would I hold a lover, never would I be human…again.
The first killing was thought to have been a random occurrence, the body had been oddly placed but of course bodies sometimes show up in the weirdest of places. The location of the body had been in the middle of the Gotham museum, propped up in the Egyptian Exhibit; leaning up against the Anubis statue. There was no sign of a struggle, just a single bullet wound; straight through the heart. The victim was a young female of mixed heritage, so much so that it was impossible to discern the race. Her face was composed into one full of shock, she had been taken by surprise; most likely by a stranger. But the big question was, why here and was there a purpose behind the killing.
Batman was first on the scene; his keen eyes took in every detail while nervous CSI scurried about their duties. Not a muscle twitched without Batman telling it to, he was detached from emotion; the body before him was just that, a body. Camera flashes and the low murmur of voices, cataloguing every inch of the scene was the backdrop to Batman's whirling thoughts. Every villain, petty criminal and murderer he could think of were being matched to various evidence; yet none was matching up.
A rather exaggerated sigh drew Batman out of his thoughts, he turned his masked face to look the intruder upon his mind; eye to eye. The Flash stood with his arms crossed, fingers clutched stiffly about the upper portion of each arm. A forced smile offset his usually perky attitude; Batman noticed at once that the scarlet clad hero's eyes did not once turn to look at the deceased woman. "So bats," the Flash began the strain evident to the silent detective, "you on to anything? Or are you just going to be standing around all day?"
"Was that supposed to be a joke." To some the Dark Knight's sentence would seem a question, but Wally knew that was not the case.
"Sorry bats," Wally (AKA: The Flash) hugged himself tighter as he shivered from a nonexistent chill. Batman could see the onset of shock in the younger hero, Flash was more used to the physical fight; not the aftermath of a slaughter. Wally let his eyes move over the scene, obviously skipping the body, "I don't do well with these types of circumstances."
"I can tell," Batman's authoritive voice was low as he stooped gracefully to examine part of a floor tile. A dark gloved hand traced the edge of the tile before stopping short of a half formed footprint,
"To answer your question Flash." With that batman extracted a small camera and took a few quick shots of the footprint before he waved over a CSI for official documentation. Batman turned and made his way quietly out of the museum but stopped and looked over his shoulder. "We're done here," Batman's quiet words seemed to shake Wally out of his stupor, a smile of gratitude smoothed over Wally's face as he hurriedly joined his dark companion.
By the time the second then third murder showed up, the police decided that they needed more help than the justice league could provide.
The second murder scene was found at the Gotham Zoo, the victim was gutted; alive. The entrails were neatly categorized, some missing; undoubtedly sold on the black market for extra cash. Several bullets were found, almost like someone had left in a hurry, dumping part of a carton of bullets in their rush. For this scene Batman was joined by the Question, the detective with no face; the one who sees conspiracies around every corner and will follow a lead to the ends of the earth. This man was unable to find evidence but he did tell of a few conspiracies he thought might be involved, Batman stayed silent.
The third was located at a dog pound; the pitiful cries of the abandoned animals played the correct music for the scene. The body was so horribly disfigured that a person could barely tell that the bloody pile before them was human. As Batman and The Question were leaving the scene they were joined by Commissioner Gordon.
"Batman, Question," the commissioner greeted both with a polite nod, "we need to find the one responsible." He put up his hand before either heroes could speak, "I am sad to say it but just you is not enough, we need to bring in someone else." "I might have the person you need," The commissioner sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "but the person in question is both secretive and elusive."
"They will only help if they think the case is worthy and if we really need their help," the commissioner took a hard look at the two detectives, "that means you two have to play nice."
The Question's blank face was unreadable as always as he shrugged, "for every question there are a multitude of answers that are waiting to be found."
"Let's just get this over with," Batman's scowl resulted in a low chuckle from the commissioner as he led to two men over to a cheap fold-out table with a laptop perched firmly upon the fake wood surface.
"We were able to get in touch with our mysterious detective a few days ago," The commissioner tapped a few keys before stepping back, "they agreed via e-mail to a live conference with you two, so they could judge the case." The dark screen slowly lightened, a bright halo outlined a black figure. There was no definite shape to the figure in front of them, yet the longer Batman and The Question looked the more details of the shape could be picked out. First things they noticed where shoulders, upturned coat collar and a hat; all to dark to see further detail and no flesh showing.
"If you are quite done staring," the voice was distorted, no doubt by some sort of voice changing device, "could we get down to business?" The figure seemed to be moving, the sound of shuffling and several pictures fell onto a lighted table in front of the dark shape. Upon closer inspection each photo
was of a different crime scene. "Go over every detail, every piece of evidence and don't hide a thing; I want sights, smells, noise," the oddly distorted voice hardened with concentration.
The question glanced over at Batman, searching with his blank face for a clue to the cloaked man's opinion.
Batman didn't have to look at the Question to know that he was looking for approval, something the Question didn't often do. The Dark Knight did not answer the Question's silent consent; instead he dove right into a detailed description of the evidence found.
At the first crime scene he described the footprint, large, most likely male. The brand was usually worn by outdoor enthusiasts, hikers, hunters, wild life photographers…ect. The second crime scene he went on to describe the bullet, large caliber; used to hunt big game such as lions, jaguars. Mostly used by poachers. The third crime scene he confided that there was no particular evidence, except that the victim had been gutted like an animal; but left like there someone had been in the middle of what they were doing.
For several minutes after Batman's evaluation of the evidence and crime scenes, the detective spoke. "I might know who we are dealing with," the garbled words were carefully chosen, "It will take some time before I am sure, there will be no reason for you to contact me." Batman and the Question waited in silence as the shadowed detective continued to speak, "when I deem the time acceptable I will contact you." The dark figure shifted and the screen went dark.
The two Justice Leaguers stood in silence, pondering this new development. "I told you not to get your hopes up," Commissioner Gordon chuckled dryly, "but at least you got the detective to give you a rough estimate."
Batman stood a moment longer before turning away and walking back the way he had come, the Question in tow. How long before this figure would give them help, who was this mysterious detective and why must they hide so thoroughly…
The dark detective in question set quietly in front of the dark computer screen, not moments before had stood the first human contact in a long time. The detective stood, dark trench coat sliding silently into place; the cloaked figure moved swiftly to the phone. In the dark light it would have been impossible by human standards to see but the detective confidently took the phone from the hook, not looking at the mutated limb that was once called an arm and dialed a lost phone number.
The phone rang three times before a cheery voice answered, "Swift residence, Kathy Swift speaking."
The detective enjoyed the bliss of that voice before the growl of its own ruined it, "its Rob."
A sharp gasp and a muffled sob were followed by the clattering of the phone to the hard linoleum. "Whats the matter honey?" the faint voice was like a gunshot to Rob's sensitive ears, it grew stronger; no doubt the person in question picked up the phone. "This is Luke Swift, who are you?"
"Hey Dad," Rob's voice was one of defeat, the first sign of home sickness in 5 years, "Its Robin, I just wanted you two to know that I am doing fine." Robin took a deep breath before continuing, "You might not hear from me for a while, I found an important lead in a personal investigation. So if you don't hear from me for a while, that's why."
"I don't know anyone by the name of Robin," the words from Robin's father were familiar, whenever Rob's life was in danger it would be off the call the parents so at least they would be able to hear the voice of their last child before that disappeared as well. "We ask that you never call again, you are distressing my wife," the phone line went dead. But not before Robin heard the screams and sobs of the woman she had once called mother.
"Love you to Dad," the soft gravelly voice was full of suppressed emotion as Robin gently put the phone back on the receiver.