At six o' clock, night time had already set upon Gotham City. By now, most of the populace was either inside their homes or foolishly out on the streets, unaware of the criminals stalking the evening. On a lone street, away from the skyline of the city, a man sat on the stairs leading up to a house, smoking a cigarette. The glowing spark burned slowly, illuminating the dark. A lone lamp post flickered in and out, barely managing to turn itself on. The man buttoned his trench coat as a cold wind descended upon him. The stars above shined brilliantly despite the pollution that plagued Gotham. Most of the time they were hard to spot, but in a neighborhood as dark as this, they were clear as day to see.
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
The man dug into the deepest parts of his jacket pockets, and after a few attempts was able to grab and glance at his cellphone. He had received a text message.
"Did you do it?" it read, the glare of the cell phone light irritating the man's eyes. His fingers fumbled against the keyboard, trying to craft a response.
"Yeah," he replied, "Everything's done."
He looked down, noticing a splash of blood covered his shoes and the surrounding pavement. The smoke from his cigarette floated above, away from his face, into the air. He stared at the dirtied shoes. The pavement dripping in blood. The lamp post flickering in and out.
BEEP!
Another message. He glanced down once more.
"Are you sure, Mifune?"
A moment passed, a second of hesitation before the final question arrived.
"Are they all dead?"
Mifune stuffed his phone into his pocket and stood up. He adjusted his jacket, and rubbed the blood off from his shoes onto the cold cement of the stairway. Slowly at first, he walked down the steps and onto the side walk. He walked and walked, further on into the inner workings of the city, until he reached a local diner. By now, the moon was already high in the sky, staring at Gotham. Through a window, he could see that in the diner sat a woman with ebony hair and piercing blue eyes. Her skin was pale and shined against the bright lights of the diner. She kept her eyes on her cellphone. Mifune walked inside. A waitress greeted him, but he waved her off.
"Sorry, ma'am," he began, "I'm meeting someone."
"No worries!" the waitress replied, a frozen smile cast upon her face. Mifune sat in front of the woman. Her eyes shifted from her phone.
"So everything is in order?" she started, a look of boredom apparent across her face.
"Yeah," he muttered, the cigarette rolling along the edge of his mouth, "They're all..." Mifune gave a quick look towards the waitress. It would be a great nuisance if she were to hear their conversation...
"Arachne," Mifune started again, "Do you mind if we talk about this on the way back? It'd be pretty foolish to discuss these matters in public..."
"Of course," Arachne agreed, "How idiotic of me. Let's go."
And with that, the pair stepped out of the diner and into the brisk evening air.
Robin had been on the scene of many murder cases with his partner, Batman, but he had never seen one as gruesome as this. The pair stood in the apartment of a family of four, and the two parents were brutally murdered. The father was pinned to a bed, with nearly ten swords sticking out of him. Robin blinked in horror.
"He's practically a pin cushion now," he exclaimed. Batman gave him a scolding glare. Robin raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't trying to be funny," he muttered in annoyance. Batman walked up to the body of the mother, who was pinned to a wall. Like the father, swords were sticking out of her, but above her were words that read, in blood: Thou shalt not kill... Below her, on the wooden floor, seemed to be a continuation of the inscription, as it read: ...One of our own.
"Thou shalt not kill one of our own," Batman said aloud. He turned to an open door. The door hung out lazily, as if it was forced open from its hinges. Robin began to inspect the rest of the house.
"We need to find the kids, right?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. Swiftly, he ran down a staircase and found another door, but this time it was partially covered with a chest. Robin stepped forward, moved the chest, and slowly opened the door. Looking inside, all he found was a spice cabinet and a few tools. He frowned. He walked down another hallway, checking each room until he eventually found what he assumed was a children's bedroom. The lights were off, but moonlight was seeping through a curtain, illuminating a bunk bed. Two children were sleeping, and it was evident they were alive and uninjured.
Why would they kill the parents, but not the kids? Robin thought to himself, If the mafia was trying to send a message, it would make sense to kill the whole family. Not that not killing them is a bad thing, but it is a little weird, I'll admit that.
Quietly, he closed the door, and radioed Batman.
"Batman, the kids are fast asleep."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Are the police on their way?"
"Yes. Gordon will be taking up the case for now. I've already gotten all the samples I need. It's time to go."
Robin placed the radio in his belt pocket, and walked out the front door. By then, Batman was already waiting.
"How'd you guess I'd walk out the front door and not the window?" Robin asked, a smirk on his face.
"You're predictable," Batman replied. Robin frowned as the Batmobile pulled up into the street. The pair hopped into the Batmobile and sped off towards Wayne Manor. Robin rested his head on the plush leather seat of the car, looking out towards the Gotham skyline that lay ahead. His thoughts were centered on the two children and the crime that was just investigated. Just who murdered those parents? And why?
"You're still thinking about it," Batman remarked, making a turn at a fork in the road. Robin shifted uncomfortably.
"How'd you guess?"
"You seem tense."
An awkward silence spread through the air. Batman waited, expecting some sort of answer to a question he never asked. Robin sighed.
"How much longer 'till we're at the cave?" he asked, a bit of annoyance in his voice. Batman made another turn.
"Four minutes," he replied. Robin blinked, coming to a sense of realization.
"Bruce," he started, "I've always wondered this, but how come no one realizes that when we drive back to the cave that we're basically driving back to Wayne Manor?"
Batman was silent for a moment.
"It's because I drive very fast."
Robin glared at Batman.
"That is one of the worst things I have heard in my life. You mean to tell me that we've risked our identities just by driving in this car?"
"Dick, I appreciate your input, but I am going to respectfully ignore it."
Robin crossed his arms. He should have known better than to try talking to the personification of a wall.
Connor was busy trying to flip through television channels when M'Gann nearly set fire to what was supposed to be their dinner. Another click, and he could already hear the distressed Martian lamenting about her nearly perfect Cajun chicken.
"Oh no," she cried, telekinetically placing the flaming pots in a water filled sink, "I could've sworn that the recipe called for the stove to be placed on high!"
"Why not I just order food?" Connor remarked, clicking to find another boring news channel. M'Gann raised an eyebrow.
"Not to be mean, Connor, but I don't think we can just have a pizza guy come knocking on the door. This is a top secret place, after all."
Connor remained silent, trying to think of a solution. M'Gann gave a small gasp.
"Oh, I'm really sorry!" she exclaimed, "That came out way ruder than I expected!"
"It's fine," Connor turned, "You know, you don't have to apologize for everything. It gets a little annoying after a while."
"Oh, sorr-," M'Gann stuttered, but then replied, "I mean, alright. Well, I can microwave something. Or I can try a baked chicken, or even-"
"Why not we go out?" Connor asked, placing the remote on the coffee table as he stood up. M'Gann blushed, her rosy cheeks contrasting her alien green skin.
"Go out?" she said aloud, as if to test if her hearing was functioning correctly. Connor remained stoic.
"Yeah," he said, "Go out. Like, to eat at a restaurant. I've never been to one."
M'Gann smiled nervously.
"Oh, alright," she began, "I thought you meant...Well, never mind! Of course we can go to a restaurant. I just have to, um, change."
"What's wrong with what you're wearing?"
M'Gann pointed to her apron and grease stained shirt.
"Kitchen issues," she laughed as she dashed to her room. Connor stood alone in the living room. He glanced to each of his sides, then sat back on the couch. It had been hard getting used to a "normal" life outside of the test tube he was created in. It had barely been six months since he had joined Young Justice, and he still had trouble adjusting to the regular conversations and mannerisms as his team mates. Not that he necessarily cared about that, considering that he tried his best to avoid being a team player and conforming to his partners ideals and views. For him, he was his own person, albeit a highly disagreeable one.
"All ready!" M'Gann announced, a look of accomplishment on her face. Her skin had transformed from an unsettling green into a light shade of peach. Her freckles shone across her skin, and her bright pink skirt and top only stood to match the all American look she was going for. Resting on her shoulders was a pale pink knit jacket, and she held her cell phone in her hand. Connor's eyes lazily examined her.
"Why're you all dressed up?" he questioned, confused by her concern in fashion sense. M'Gann flushed red.
"Well," she started, scratching her bright orange hair, "I just kinda wanted to appear normal is all. I didn't exactly want anyone guessing I was a, well, a Martian."
"But you changed you're skin color."
"Yeah, but I just wanted to be extra safe. Just in case, you know."
She laughed awkwardly. Connor shrugged.
"So," he began, "Where do you wanna go?"
M'Gann thought for a moment, then a stroke of genius came upon her.
"Hello, Megan!" she exclaimed, patting the top of her head, "You've never had Italian food, have you? We can go to Lorenzo's! It's just down the street."
Connor gave a sigh that meant he agreed with the decision. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"Sure," he said, "I guess that's fine."
M'Gann smiled a wide grin.
"Great! Off we go, then!"
Author's Note: Hi everybody! I'm just getting back into Fanfiction and I really wanted to put more effort into my stories. This kind of came from an older story I had posted(and thankfully deleted) and I just wanted to make it better this time around. As always, reviews are welcome, and criticism is of course accepted.