Summary: Cordelia has another vision; there's another murder; and the BPD investigates.
Author's Note: To avoid confusion, all times given are Eastern Standard Time.
Disclaimer: Nightwing is owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; Angel and company are owned by Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Constructive feedback is welcome!
Copyright January 2002
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Nightwing/Angel: Shadow Dancing
By Syl Francis
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Bludhaven: The Haven Heights Motor Hotel, along Hwy. 61
[Friday 0130hrs EST]
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"Not exactly the Ritz."
Cordelia's eyes snapped awake. She let out a slight gasp of fear, and just as quickly covered it up with bravado.
"I know karate!" she exclaimed. "My hands are registered with the Los Angeles police as deadly weapons."
"That's fascinating," a disembodied voice growled from the shadows. "Tell me more." A dark figure immerged into the dim glow cast by the newly risen moon.
Cordelia made a disgusted noise in her throat.
"Nightwing," she muttered, throwing off her covers and grabbing a bathrobe. "Y'know, some people actually knock before they enter a lady's room."
"Sorry. Where's Angel?" he asked, getting immediately down to business. Cordelia rolled her eyes and flipped on the light switch.
"It's nice to see you, too, Nightwing," she returned. "And before you ask again, Angel isn't here."
Nightwing waited expectantly. Cordelia sighed in exasperation.
"And he's not coming, so don't bother getting all 'dark and brooding' on me," she added sharply. "God knows I get enough of that from Angel."
"Go home, then," Nightwing said. "I don't want you here. It's too dangerous."
"Hey, just a minute there, buster!" Cordelia stomped up to him and jammed her finger into his chest. "Oww!" She shook her hand at the sudden, sharp pain and inspected her fingernails closely. "Boy, you're lucky! I paid a small fortune for this manicure."
Cocking her head sideways, she reached across and lightly touched Nightwing's winged emblem. Unmindful of the incongruity of her actions, Cordelia next knocked on his chest.
"What's this stuff made out of anyway?" she asked, momentarily distracted. "Armor plating?"
Nonplussed by her bold behavior and ability to change a subject without warning, Nightwing was about to respond, when Cordelia started on him again with increased vehemence.
"And I go where I want to go! And stay where I want to stay! And it's just too bad that this isn't the Ritz! I just lost my job!" She closed her eyes, and shaking her head in exasperation, quickly corrected herself. "Quit! I quit my job!"
Nightwing opened his mouth, but Cordelia again overrode his protests.
"And it just so happens that I want to stay here!" she said angrily. "And you, Mister Superhero, have no say in the matter!"
"This is my town--!" he began, but she cut in, furious.
"This is a free country, buster, and I for one--!" She stopped, gasping at the sudden pain. She fell on Nightwing, grabbing him for support.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice urgent.
"It's happening again!" she screamed, fighting him off, stumbling over the cheap motel furnishings.
"Where?" Nightwing asked urgently, again reaching for her, but she waved him off.
"The Moonlight Club!" she gasped. "Go!"
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Bludhaven: The Moonlight Club
[Friday 0200hrs EST]
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"I'm too late."
"I'm sorry, Dick. You did everything humanly possible." Oracle's quiet voice did little to soothe his inner turmoil.
"Thanks, Babs," he said. "Unfortunately, I'm not dealing with anything human."
Nightwing stood on the rooftop of the Moonlight Club overlooking the rear alley. The nightclub was in one of Bludhaven's tonier sections, Avalon Heights. The place was usually frequented by the city's well-heeled, upwardly mobile twenty- and thirty-somethings.
He watched as uniformed police tried to hold back the news media. His mouth grimaced in disgust as journalists vied with each other for better positions.
"Sharks," he growled.
"If it bleeds, it leads." Oracle's voice dripped irony.
Nightwing zoomed in on plainclothes detectives and uniformed officers as they meticulously canvassed the area for clues and questioned potential witnesses. The BPD at least looked like they knew what they were doing, Nightwing thought cynically. There was little for him to do here.
About to turn away, he noticed a decided change in the crowd's attitude--a sense of anticipation. Eyes narrowing, he immediately saw the reason. An unmarked car, single blue light flashing, wended its way slowly through the throng of cameras, microphones, and flashbulbs. Uniformed officers cleared a wide berth for it, at times having to physically grab and remove an eager reporter who managed to break the thin blue line.
A tall, distinguished African-American stepped out. Nightwing zoomed his Starlite scopes on the newcomer.
"Captain Phillip Addad," he said. "Chief of Homicide."
"And the only real cop in the BPD," Oracle added.
"Gee, thanks."
"You're welcome," Oracle quipped.
"Shhh--! I'm trying to listen here!" he growled. He smiled inwardly at Oracle's answering soft laughter. He increased the volume on his earpiece sound amplifier. Addad was speaking to one of his plainclothes detectives.
"What do you have, Jennings?"
"Dead male, Captain," Jennings replied. He read from a small spiral notebook. "Ron Williams. Twenty-seven years old. Black hair. Brown eyes. Two puncture wounds to the neck, surrounded by definite bite marks. Looks like the same M.O. as the previous victim."
"Neck broken?" Addad asked.
Jennings shook his head. "Medical Examiner said no. This one doesn't have a broken neck."
"Blood drained?"
"M.E. says most, but not all. Enough was left to register lividity--where the blood's settled, there's a definite purplish coloring." Jennings spoke in bored, flat tones. He might as well have been commenting on the cold weather they'd been having lately.
Addad nodded and asked, "Time of death?"
"Thirty minutes to an hour."
"You mentioned bite marks," Addad said. "Have 'em run through Quantico. Maybe we can get a dental match."
"Gotcha, Cap'n," Jennings said, noting it in his spiral.
On the roof, Nightwing nodded in admiration. Of course, he'd already run a check of the lower jaw bite marks left on the previous victim, but he'd come up empty so far. Oracle was still running a check on the national dental database.
So far, no bites. Nightwing grinned at his own bad pun.
Jennings and Addad stood watching as a team from the Medical Examiner's office finished with the body, zipped him up inside a body bag, and readied him for transport. The M.E.'s van backed into the alley, and the body was loaded onto it.
"Any eyewitnesses?" Addad asked.
Jennings nodded and waved a young, attractive couple over. "Thomas Reed and Stephanie Merrill. They're friends of the deceased. Met him here for drinks."
Addad turned his attention to them. The girl was visibly upset and showed signs of recent crying. The young man held her comfortingly.
"I'm sorry about your friend," Addad began quietly. "Can you tell us anything? Anything at all?"
"We met for drinks," Thomas explained. "We work for the same company--MediTech--and we'd just finished brokering a major deal with LexCorp. We'd worked on it for several weeks, and when we finally got the other guys to sign on the dotted line, it was almost midnight. We agreed to meet here at the Moonlight for just a short celebration."
On the roof, Nightwing drew in a sharp breath. "LexCorp?" he muttered. "Think Luthor might have something to do with this?"
"You mean, President Luthor?" Oracle teased back. At his cold silence, she quickly added, "I'm on it, former Boy Wonder. Sheesh...take away the short pants and he loses his sense of humor. Hmm...maybe I'd better check the first victim's background--"
"Shhhh--!" Nightwing hissed sharply. "I can't hear Addad!"
Oracle instantly cut her transmission in a huff. Nightwing closed his eyes momentarily in self-recrimination. It looked like he'd have to send flowers again.
Still, Batman didn't trust the new President and neither did Nightwing, especially since Luthor tried to buy up Gotham City after the devastating earthquake that resulted in the city being turned into a No Man's Land. And while President Luthor's civic policies seemed humanitarian on the surface, Nightwing instinctively knew that there was something clandestine immediately underneath the President's smooth veneer.
No, Nightwing didn't trust his new President, but Luthor had been elected legally and fairly. There was little that either Nightwing or his former mentor could do about the situation.
Coming back to the present, Nightwing tried to remember what Barbara said about the first victim. Noticing that Addad was questioning the witnesses again, he turned his attention back to the conversation below.
"So what happened?" Addad was asking.
"We don't know," Stephanie said. "We ordered drinks, but before they arrived, Ron excused himself to the men's room. He never came back."
"Could he have left with someone?" Addad asked. "Met someone, maybe?"
Both Stephanie and Thomas vehemently shook their heads. "Ron wasn't like that, Captain," Stephanie insisted. "He was engaged to be married. I've never known him to cheat. He's not--he wasn't--that kind of guy."
Addad looked at Thomas for confirmation. Thomas gave an emphatic nod.
"What Steph's saying is true, Captain," he said. "I've known Ron for almost three years and in all that time, I've never known him to be anything but a real straight-shooter. He'd never cheat on his fiancee."
"Captain?" Jennings had another young woman and a large, muscular man in tow.
On closer inspection, Addad could see that the woman was much older than she'd appeared at first glance. She was heavily made up, wearing stiletto heels, and--Addad's eyebrows shot up involuntarily--almost nothing underneath her heavy overcoat. Hooker, he concluded.
"Exotic dancer," she said, as if reading his thoughts. She glared at him, her chin held high. Addad gave her a slight smile and a silent nod of acknowledgement. He then looked over at the big bruiser who'd accompanied her.
"Bouncer," Jennings explained succinctly, nodding at the tattooed giant.
Addad turned back to the woman. "What do have for us, Miss--?"
"Bon-Bon," she said. "Sugar Bon-Bon." At his look of open disbelief, she quickly added, "It's on my driver's license."
Addad looked at Jennings. The detective nodded at the truth of her statement, his eyes filled with mirth.
"Sugar Bon-Bon," Jennings intoned dryly, reading from his ever-present spiral notebook. "The former Mildred Hortenspa Chudzik--"
"Which is why I had my name changed!" she interrupted. "All legal-like!"
Addad rolled his eyes. Why did weird murders also have to come with weird eyewitnesses?
"Very well, Miss...um...Bon-Bon--"
"Oh, please! Call me, Sugar!" she insisted with a high giggle. Addad nodded and then started again.
"Very well, Sugar. What do you have for us?"
Immediately, Sugar's giddy expression changed. Her eyes became frightened. She looked visibly shaken.
"I-I ain't sure--" she said, hesitantly. "I was in the Lady's Room--Powdering my nose, y'know? When I bumped into...her!" The last word came out in a terrified whisper.
"Who?" Addad asked.
"I don't know. I ain't never seen her before. Believe me, I know all the regulars. But she was a new one. Well, I smiled and said, 'Hi! How are you? You new 'round here?'" Sugar paused, shivering inside her heavy coat.
"And--? What did she say?" Addad prompted, patiently.
"Nothing. She didn't say nothing!" Sugar looked like she wanted to run and hide. "But the look she gave me! She turned on me, like an animal almost. Her face--I've never seen anything like it in my whole life! And her teeth--l-like sharp fangs!" She stood, staring into space, her hand covering her mouth. The memory of what she'd seen keeping her frozen in place.
"What happened?" Addad asked. Sugar blinked rapidly, returning to the present.
"Another girl walked in at that moment. A really tall blonde. I'd never seen her before, either. She like got between me and monster-girl. The next thing I know, the monster-girl was gone! I turned to ask the other girl if she'd seen what I'd seen, but she was gone, too." Sugar shook her head in exasperation.
"I was gonna report it, but who'd'a believed me? And what did I see? Maybe a girl wearing a mask, pretending to growl like an animal, and wearing fake teeth? Pulling a prank, y'know? Anyway, I'd'a been laughed outta the place."
Sugar caught the others' stares and slowly turned to face Addad and Jennings.
"I guess you think I'm crazy, huh?"
Addad took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, Sugar. I don't think you're crazy. I think you're very brave. Thank you."
Sugar gave him a beaming smile, but then the frightened look came back.
"What is it?" Addad asked immediately.
"Y-You promise you don't think I'm crazy?" she asked tremulously. Addad shook his head, reassuringly. Sugar swallowed a couple of times, looked around the alleyway entrance as if expecting the 'monster girl' to jump out any second, then finally turned back to Addad.
"I-I know that this is hard to believe...but--" she stopped. "You know how I said that I bumped into her?"
Addad nodded, his patience wearing thin.
"Well...the reason I bumped into her is because I didn't see her at first." The others looked at her oddly. "Don't you get it? I was powdering my nose--I mean really powdering my nose. The Lady's Room has a really nice large mirror with plenty of lights." The frightened look came back. "Captain--she wasn't in the mirror. I mean, her reflection--she didn't have one!"
Addad and Jennings exchanged unreadable looks. Turning back to Sugar, Addad asked, "Can you describe the other girl?"
"Yeah, like I said. Tall. At least six feet--maybe taller. Blonde--really long. Tied in a single braid. She was wearing dark glasses, so I couldn't see her eyes. Funny, it was almost midnight, and she was wearing dark glasses. Black leather--almost, you know, a dominatrix-type."
Addad and Jennings both nodded, noting the additional information she'd given them.
Listening from the roof, Nightwing wondered if this second woman might be somehow involved. He made a rueful face. How many blonde, leather-wearing, six-foot tall, dominatrix-type women were running around Bludhaven anyway? He shrugged, concentrating on Addad's continuing interrogation of the witnesses.
The Homicide detective had just turned to the bouncer. "And your name?"
"Larry Talbot," the bouncer said. "But my friends all call me Wolfman. Get it?" he asked eagerly. "Larry Talbot--the Wolfman? Like in the old movies. With Lon Chaney, Jr."
Addad sighed inwardly. Jennings looked down quickly and pretended to be writing something in his notebook.
"I get it, Mr. Talbot. What do you have for us?" Addad asked.
"I saw the guy leave the club a little after one with a dame. He wasn't a regular, but I've seen him before, at least a couple of times, with a pretty redhead--"
"Jenny," Stephanie said. At Addad's look, she explained, "Ron's fiancee is a redhead."
"Go on, Mr. Talbot," Addad said.
"Anyway, this time I saw him arrive alone. It was a little before one. A few minutes later, he was joined by these two!" Talbot pointed at Stephanie and Thomas with his chin. "Then not ten minutes later, I saw him leaving with a blonde. A real looker. Never seen her before, though."
"Can you describe her?"
"Young. Early twenties maybe. Blonde, like I said. About five-eight or so. They looked real lovey-dovey, if you know what I mean?" He looked expectantly at the homicide captain.
"Are you sure it was the victim?" Addad pressed. Talbot nodded with firm assurance. Addad looked at the victim's friends. They looked at each other and then back at him. Stephanie shook her head sadly.
"What'll we tell Jenny?" she asked no one in particular. No one said anything.
Finally looking back at the clearly terrified eyewitnesses, Addad again spoke reassuringly with them for a few more minutes, and then left them to Jennings.
The homicide captain slowly walked through the dark shadows of the rear alley, stopping in the center. He was alone.
Looking up at the opposite rooftop, he spoke. "I know you're here. Why don't you come down and talk to me?"
"I'm here."
Addad jumped at the low voice immediately behind him. He whirled around, reaching for his police special in his overcoat. And stopped, disgusted with himself.
"I guess now I know how Commissioner Gordon feels," he muttered. He glared at the young vigilante who stood, leaning against the outer wall of the Moonlight Club, a wide smirk stamped on his handsome features.
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End of Part 3