Nostalgic Murderer
On a cloudy Gotham night, an unknown assailant stalked his prey much like a predator in wild does his innocent victim. His butcher knife glinted in the moonlight with an ominous flash of light, eager and waiting to taste flesh. The victim was rather ordinary looking, but such appearances weren't meant to deter; rather, the woman walking home that night would be the first of many, the twisted Eve of forthcoming deaths. A sudden gust of wind picked up, forcing the pedestrian to pick up a brisk pace to avoid the chill of the night air. During a brief period of silence, she could hear someone breathing heavily behind her, not in exhaustion but in anticipation. Startled, the woman turned around to try and pinpoint the source, only to be met with a thick fog and the telltale hoot of an owl. This distraction proved to be a fatal mistake, as the mysterious figure suddenly crept up behind her with the grace of a skilled criminal. Upon turning back around, steel met flesh as a blood curdling scream resounded off the concrete jungle walls, only to fall into dead silence a moment later.
The body slumped to the ground with a thump. The killer wiped off the blood of the woman on the leggings of his jumpsuit and then proceeded to pick her up and carry her into a nearby alleyway where he dumped her body in a garbage bin, only stopping to make sure to inflict her body with bruises so as to throw off suspicion and make it appear as though she were an unfortunate attraction for sexual assault. Satisfied, he walked away at a consistently methodical pace, as if he had no care in the world.
Come morning, the woman's body was discovered by the local authorities and taken for an autopsy as soon as the preliminary details were taken care of. James Gordon also happened to be on the scene of the crime, and was thoroughly surprised that no one had heard or seen this poor woman being molested, at least, that's what it looked like to him. But he knew better than to trust in first impressions, he learned from the best, after all.
"Hey, Comish! I've got that autopsy you's was asking for." Gordon was brought out of his musings when Harvey Bullock barged in his office, eating a donut. 'As usual', thought James, and waving around the report like it was the most important thing in the world. Gordon sighed, and scrubbed his mustache with his finger, all the while gazing at his second in command with a degree of both annoyance and relief. He waved for Harvey to close the door to his office.
"Close the door Bullock, what I'm about to say can't leave this room and I trust you to be discreet. Is that understood, detective?"
The rotund man swallowed the last piece of his donut and licked his fingers clean before fixing the Commissioner with a look of keen attention, "Go ahead Comish, I'm all ears. Just don't start saying we need to bring in the Bat on this one. I think we can handle it without his interference." James raised a brow at Harvey, clearly astonished that the sarcastic man would even think to suggest that that was what he wanted to say. He even told him so, which elicited an embarrassed laugh from the usually tough and suave cop.
The Commissioner shook his head in disbelief, "Bullock, I'll make myself clear on something, first and foremost. The Batman is a trusted ally, and the sooner we admit that he is better suited to most situations than we are, the sooner we can clean the streets of Gotham." Harvey Bullock bore a scowl on his face; he had never liked the pointy-eared freak and had always assumed him to be the real reason they had such wackos in Gotham to begin with, but the Comish's word was law, and as an underling, he was inclined to listen.
Slowly, he nodded and grabbed a chair to sit down; this was going to be a long night.
Elsewhere, the screeches of bats could be heard as a man dressed like fear itself sat rigidly at a supercomputer only known as the "Batcomputer" to all those who had the privilege of ever working with the Batman. He was diligently filling out reports, and cross references, meanwhile, emotionally berating himself. 'If I had been patrolling an hour longer…' his fingers stilled, as his nostrils flared and his countenance suddenly erupted into intense silence. 'She shouldn't have died, she didn't need to die, I'm sorry… Mother and Father, the very thing I fought to prevent over the years has come to pass without my vigil, I'm a failure…' Someone cleared their throat whilst he had been brooding; he glanced upward to look into the steely eyes of his butler, advisor, confidant and surrogate father figure, Alfred Pennyworth.
"Alfred," he simply said, as if it was all that was needed to be addressed, the latter man nodded, accepting that his charge didn't feel like making small talk; nevertheless, there was a matter that needed to be addressed.
"Sir, if I may be so bold, I am neither a superhero nor a soldier, so I am hardly qualified to judge your criticism on that account." Bruce's lips thinned in quiet contemplation, the glow of the computer's screen cast his face in both darkness and light, shrouding his face in shadows.
"I failed last night, Alfred. I could have saved her, but I didn't." Simple and to the point as he always was, it was a marvel that the butler had the patience to put up with the man who dressed up like a bat.
The former British intelligence officer clasped his hands behind his back in a formal but professional stance as he stared back at the young man, "Master Bruce, I'll have you know, you're only one man." True as it were, Bruce Wayne's thoughts went far deeper than that, he teetered on the abyss, which gave birth to the Bat, but also took so much from him. Unpredictably, before either man could continue the discussion, an incoming voice call sounded on the supercomputer. Not expecting the abrupt interruption, he didn't react quickly enough to answer the call. So it was up to Alfred to accept the incoming transmission, "Ah, Miss Barbra, what a pleasant surprise." The original Batgirl gave off a small chuckle when she recognized that the older man had been giving her mentor another talk.
"Alfred, is Bruce in the right state of mind to talk right now?" Quickly glancing at his employer, who had quickly stopped moping around and now permeated focus, Alfred affirmed that he was all right. Taking over with practiced ease, Bruce put the cowl back over his head and activated the video feed, "Batman here. What's your status, Oracle?"
On Barbra's end of the video feed, only her face was visible, as everything else was out of sight, she sighed heavily before launching straight into reporting her status, "So far, the GCPD has confirmed the time of death, and cause of death, but it's weird. She was found with bruises on her body as if she had been assaulted. Police are stumped."
Resting his fist on his chin, Bruce took in all the information while his analytical mind broke down the facts and recompiled them into logical scenarios. "She wasn't molested. I think our perpetrator inflicted those bruises on her after he killed her." Now it was starting to make sense to her, but she had to ask, "Why would he do that? She was already dead. It doesn't make any sense."
Her father had called her soon after they had discovered the body and told her not to go out at night alone. She asked him why, and he told her, '"Barb honey, she was young. Not much older than you. What if it was you there, and not her?"' She tried to reassure him that she could take care of herself, but he was adamant about keeping her safe. She was brought out of her thoughts just in time to hear Bruce's explanation, "It was just a diversion, something to throw people off. The real cause of death occurred much before the bruising. Has Commissioner Gordon said anything yet?" This was when she remembered her father mentioning how this particular case reminded him of another one; back when he was still a street cop. "He hasn't said anything publicly, but he did bring it up at dinner. Says it reminded him of another murder case back in 1978."
Scratching his chin, Bruce turned to Alfred temporarily and questioned him with his eyes; the butler shook his head, to signify that he didn't know of such a case. How could he? He was still in England at the time. Feeling somewhat discouraged, he turned his attention back to Barbara, and said, "I'll have to ask Jim for more details, then. Thank you, Oracle." He disconnected the call soon after that and stood up from his chair, stretching his back muscles as he did so.
By the time the time the clock struck midnight, Batman was prowling the streets of Gotham; keeping a vigilant eye on every citizen he could set his eyes on, and making sure to scan every alley and rooftop with his cowl's augmented visionary tracker. He stopped to perch himself on top of a gargoyle, one of Gotham's many unusual architectural wonders, to survey his surroundings. 'Just peachy, right when I'm around, he isn't. Where did he go? Perhaps I should head back to the source… and scan for any heat signatures within the last 24 hours.' With that thought in mind, Batman fired his grapnel and took off into the air, leaving a trail of swooshing wind in his wake.
The crime scene looked almost menacing when he arrived at the alley where her body was found. Tapping into detective mode, he calibrated the cowl to only pick up heat signatures within the last 24 hours, only to find that nothing happened. Frowning, he elected to do it the old fashioned way, while looking through the garbage bin, there in his peripheral vision, he noticed a piece of cloth. It was so small he almost could have missed it if it wasn't for his keen eyesight and so walking over, he examined the evidence. It came from a blouse, he could still smell a faint trace of perfume. 'Good, I can analyze this back at the Bat Cave and create a list of possible retailers who may sell this brand.' It was a start, and the World's greatest detective considered this a victory over many to come. Unexpectedly, he felt as if his personal barrier had been broken; someone was watching him, but he didn't see anyone, he opted to activate his detective mode to try and locate his sudden stalker. Unbeknownst to him, this was the murderer, and he had been watching the Batman's every move since he had started patrolling the streets of Gotham. A blot of color appeared in his midst, and the caped crusader took off sprinting in the direction he saw the heat signature. The killer by this point saw the masked vigilante coming his way, and took off at a brisk pace, but never broke out into a run. 'Surely he can't be serious, he'll never outmaneuver me at the speed he's going.' With a quick burst of speed, the 210-pound man tackled the killer. Quickly turning the other man around, he wasn't prepared for the sight that would greet him. His eyes widened, making the white lenses of his cowl expand in a comical way, and his grip slackened. The killer was sporting a white mask, it looked almost evil in Bruce's eyes, and if it wasn't for all the villains he had had to deal with up until this point, he almost could have been afraid, almost but not quite. Unfortunately, while he had been distracted, the killer quickly took the opportunity to stab Batman in his side, causing the former man to grasp his side in sudden pain and to grit his teeth, however, his Kevlar armor took most of the trauma. Seizing the chance, the man in the white mask rose to his feet systematically and attempted to finish the job. Years of training and physical and mental discipline were what saved Bruce's life in that split second. He blocked the knife attack with his gauntlets and punched the murderer in the face, causing an indentation in the mask. Acting fast, Batman stunned him with a spinning cape sweep, followed by a direct discombobulating that left the killer in a frenzy of confusion, he swung around madly with his butcher knife, creating arcs of sound. Batman dodged all of them with little to no effort. When the killer's senses finally began to clear up again, Batman performed a spinning roundhouse kick, knocking the wind out of the other man. Once on the ground, all it took was a quick takedown, one punch aimed to the head and the perpetrator was out cold.
James Gordon was tiredly looking over case files, and signing papers, the usual work of a Police Commissioner, when he sensed a presence in the room. Not seeing anyone, Jim called out, "Even after all these years, I still don't know how you can just materialize like that."
Stepping out of the shadows of the room, Batman strolled over to Gordon's desk, "Evening Commissioner." He chose the vague approach tonight, after leaving the killer handcuffed to a police cruiser in front of the GCPD, Batman had notified the nearest officer, who happened to be Harvey Bullock. Leaving the cop to deal with the delivery, Batman made his way into James' office while said man was too distracted to notice his door opening.
"Batman," the Commissioner acknowledged, "It's a good thing you're here. There's something I want to show you." Batman trailed behind Gordon as the older man crossed to his filing cabinet and started searching through files, finally, he pulled one free; it was dated the year 1978. His interest piqued, he watched as Gordon walked back over to his desk and sat back down again. "You weren't old enough, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Four gruesome killings, which took place in Haddonfield, Illinois. Escaped patient Michael Myers was behind it all. Tragic really. Did you know he killed his own sister, Judith Myers, when he was six?" This was certainly an interesting development, but why did Gordon bring up an old murder case? "You think the killings bear a resemblance to the killing that took place last night?" Batman usually fitted together a connection very quickly, but he just couldn't see how Gordon pieced this together. "It's not the killing itself that strikes me as odd, it's the motive. It's unlike anything I've ever seen, even by Gotham standards."
Batman nodded, accepting the Commissioner's explanation, there was definitely something off here. Most of Gotham's notorious serial killers didn't hide their identities, and they especially weren't captured so easily. "Jim, I've managed to incapacitate our killer, right now he's in Harvey Bullock's care. Finalize the preliminary details and have him transferred to Arkham, Blackgate Penitentiary isn't secure enough."
He turned to leave, trusting Gordon to do his part but before he could make his famous disappearing act, "Batman wait. There's something else."
Turning back around to give the police Commissioner his undue attention, "What is it Jim?" If Gordon wanted him to do something, he would do it. No other cop showed as much compassion as James Gordon did on the night of his parents' murder. This made the Commissioner a valued friend and Bruce would do anything to repay his kindness even if he had trouble expressing it in words. Jim extended the case file to Batman, which documented everything that was legally required of a murder case, along with a psychological profiling, "Take this with you, I want you to look into it. I realize I could be wrong on this one, so you should try and see if you can't find a connection between the homicides. I'll sleep easier tonight; trust m—" when the seasoned detective looked up, the caped crusader had disappeared. "…And I'm talking to myself again. One of these days I'm going to nail his cape to the floor."