Five women dead in less than a month. The killer mocking him on the street in broad daylight, mocking Bruce Wayne, who seemed helpless to the onslaught.
But now day had fallen into night and it was time to get to work.
"Oracle, give me everything on a Dante Russo."
"Who's that?"
"Just get me the info now."
"Give me a minute."
Bruce got up and started a stretching routine to invigorate his muscles and open his mind. He'd had to endure the board meeting, even knowing the trail was getting cold, knowing he'd been so close to the man that was trying to ruin him, who hated him, who was killing innocent women in his name. He had to listen to them tell him how the image looked for the company, how his behavior reflected on its good name. He had to nod in agreement and all the while he only wanted to be out, out in the city he loved and find this animal, bring him down, stop him. Priorities, they said. Where were his priorities?
Five women dead and more to come unless he put an end to this psychopath's obsession.
How was he choosing them? Not alphabetically. Not chronologically. No pattern in location. It seemed completely random. He had to anticipate him, be there before he struck next.
"Here we go," Oracle said. "Came from a good middle class family. Two older sisters. Father, Marco, was head foreman for a top construction company. Mother, Marisole, worked part-time as an assistant curator at the Gotham Museum of Natural History. Everything was going great until Marisole disappeared eight years ago. There was a suspected history of spousal abuse so the police brought Marco in for questioning," she paused. "He reportedly said that she ran off with a wealthy, powerful man she'd met through her work. Refused to provide a name because he feared retribution."
"So she could have run away alone to escape him."
"Her family didn't think so, not without contacting them or taking the kids. They're convinced she's dead. But no body has ever been found."
"Marco worked in construction. Easy enough to dispose of a body."
"Right," Oracle agreed. "The lead investigator thought so too, unfortunately he couldn't convince a judge, so no warrant was issued. It was left as a case of abandonment. As far as Dante goes, he was an excellent student, very smart, genius-level according to some of his teachers. But, about a year after she vanished, when he's sixteen, he assaults and rapes a fellow classmate. Was sent to juvenile detention until his eighteenth birthday, when he was released and the records were completely sealed, which is why I couldn't get a hit on that print. Been clean every since, not so much as a jaywalking ticket."
"Current whereabouts? Family?"
"Whereabouts unknown. Marco died last year from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Both sisters had fled home as soon as they could gather bus fare out of Gotham and haven't been back since, not even for the funeral. Dante sold the house for cash and hasn't been heard from. No job, no major purchases, nothing. He could be hiding anywhere in the city. Here's a pretty good picture of him."
There was a click-whir and the computer spit out an 8"X10" photograph taken of Dante Russo before being taken to detention. Dark hair and skin, deep blue eyes. An attractive boy that would become the very handsome man he'd met earlier on the street.
He sat the picture aside and returned his attention to the two lists of names, the victims and the potential victims. If only he could figure out whom Dante would target next.
Five women with nothing in common but the ill fortune to have been touched by him. He knew their looks, the way they sounded, many of the details of their lives, just as he knew the floor plans of the Gotham National Bank or the train schedule, but did he know them as people at all? They were dying because of him and he'd only utilized them as he would any other element of a disguise, a tool of his trade.
Five women.
He frowned. No, six women. He added Rebecca's name to the top of the list. Not dead, but still his first victim. He pictured each of them in turn. Rebecca, Brandy, Sylvie…redhead, brunette, blonde.
His eyebrows closed together as his brain clicked over something, like a car over a speed bump. He looked at the next three names: Aleecia, Nancy, Erin…redhead, brunette, blonde.
Such a small, utterly random detail. Could it be possible Dante was choosing them based upon hair color? As unlikely as it was, his instinct told him not to ignore the pattern. Bruce glanced at the master list quickly picking out the known redheads that would be the next targets if the pattern were being followed. His eyes stopped three-quarters of the way down the page – Barbara Gordon. His frown deepened as he pondered why he'd added her name. Then he remembered that there had been several occasions when she had escorted Bruce Wayne before her accident, usually in an undercover capacity or because he simply had no one else.
Suddenly Oracle's voice interrupted his thoughts by saying, "Be right back. My pizza's here." There was a soft click.
"Wait! Oracle, come in!" he shouted. "Oracle, answer me, are you there?" He stood up and leaned against the console "Barbara!" No response, she had turned down the comm to answer the door. He changed the frequency. "Nightwing, what's your status?" he barked.
A bored voice responded, "Watching out for one of your lady loves, where do you think?"
"Get over to the Clock Tower ASAP!"
"Why?"
"I can't reach Barbara and I believe she may be his intended next victim."
"What?! You two never dated."
"We've been seen in public together. Consider the others – all high profile names, the more damaging to my image the better. What's more high profile than the daughter of the police commissioner?"
"But, it's not like anyone could just waltz in there. It's locked up tighter than Fort Knox."
"Unless she invites him in because she thinks he's a pizza delivery man," Bruce gritted impatiently.
"Damn!" Nightwing swore softly and then cried in horror, "The flowers!" Without wasting time on the pleasantries of a proper sign-off, the younger vigilante was gone.
Bruce dressed in record breaking time, and defied the laws of physics as he gunned the Batmobile towards Gotham, all the while keeping the mantra in his head, "Stay with me Barbara, I know you can do it, just hold out for a little while longer."