Chapter 2
The Batcave - Later that night
The computer in the Batcave was one of the most powerful on the face of the earth. It's vast processing power was further boosted by the fact it was linked surreptitiously, and illegally, to the databases of every major police force and investigative authority on the face of the Earth, and a few organisations that were so Black Ops that most Black Ops teams didn't suspect they even existed.
In reality most of the computer was housed in a specially modified cavern on the level below, climate controlled and with triple redundancy back up generators, but the main console was imposing enough. Larger than it really needed to be, but with scope for expansion in the future.
Sitting in front of the main keyboard Batman ensured all these links were in place, before starting to program in the search parameters he was interested in. He could theoretically have accessed this information from the car, but he was always more comfortable when the computer was in front of him.
Though he was more than half convinced as to the identity of the killer, Batman was meticulous about his search, inputting the name of his suspect would skew the results, and there remained the slight possibility that there was a suspect that he had never heard of. He wasn't arrogant enough to assume he knew everything.
The search parameters were depressingly simple and grotesque "serial killer, juvenile male, ocular trauma, eyeball eating".
Not as depressing, however, as the number of hits that came back. Batman muttered an oath under his breath. There must be dozens listed, more than he had imagined. Then the thought struck him, he hadn't specified a date parameter, so he might be looking at a longer history than he would have otherwise expected.
He started scrolled through the details on the screen, growing more and more appalled as he read on.
"So, what's going on Bruce?" Dick Grayson was coming down the flight of steps into the cave, still rubbing his eyes having caught an hour or so of sleep after coming home from school and finishing his homework (There was no way Alfred would have allowed the boy into the cave until he had checked every assignment to his own satisfaction). He was wearing his Robin costume, though he hadn't put his mask or cape on yet and was just checking the utility belt. He went across to the weapons supply unit, and began filling assorted pouches.
The figure in front of the computer just looked at him.
Dick realised his mistake and rolled his eyes "Sorry, I mean 'What's going on 'Batman''". He'd broken one of the cardinal rules of the Batcave; Cowl down, it was "Bruce", cowl up it was "Batman", and never the twain shall meet.
Batman briefly thought about clearing the screen before Dick could see it, but decided not to. He'd tried blocking Dick completely out of investigations before and all that usually happened was that he got involved anyway, whether by accident or design. And, unorthodox childhood or no, he was still a typical teenager in many ways, forbid him to do something and it just becomes more of a challenge. It was probably unavoidable in this case, but he had to try the straightforward approach first.
"There's been a murder."
"In Gotham? That's hardly a major surprise."
"It is when the murder is like this. It was a singularly vicious one. A young boy was tortured and murdered."
Dick looked suitably disturbed, "Geez..The Joker?"
Batman shook his head "No, most of our usual rogues are in Arkham or Blackgate, I checked personally, and this isn't their style, any of them."
"So, any suspects then?"
"There has been a series of murders like this all across the country. I've been collating the data."
"So our guy gets around a lot."
"Yes, indeed he does. Unfortunately the murders in question also took place over the past eighty years or so."
"What? You mean it's like a family business?"
"Unlikely in the case of a serial killer. They usually aren't able to form close emotional bonds with family members, it's beyond their understanding."
Looking at his mentor, Dick seemed to be about to say something, but then changed his mind. He busied himself putting on his cape and mask, becoming Robin rather than simply Dick Grayson.
The mask was one of the new ones he'd asked Bruce to make. He'd been happy enough with his old style mask, basically a bandanna with eye-holes, but following a recent incident with an assault victim - who had, in a panic, sprayed mace in his eyes when he'd gone to check on her after decking the attacker - he'd decided he wanted a bit more protection. Bruce said nothing of course, but Dick knew he'd always found the old mask wasn't entirely practical, and probably had his doubts about other aspects of the Robin costume, though that was his problem, not Dick's. The new mask was the end result, a domino mask with fitted lenses that was secured with something like spirit gum, except it didn't irritate the skin the way he knew spirit gum could. (It had always been fun hanging around the clown tent back at the circus, they tended to let rip with a few of their more creative curses when they took their fake hairpieces off after a show… This was back in the days when he'd still found clowns funny of course).
At the suggestion of Alfred (ever the former actor and disguise expert) Bruce had even taken the opportunity to add contours to the mask so as to subtly alter the appearance of Dick's nose and eyebrows, a small but useful contribution to help keep his identity a secret.
"No, this isn't a supervillain in the usual sense. This is a singularly bad example of the sort of killer that is out there more and more these days. Not flamboyant, or an egomaniac in the normal sense. The people he kills are people that no one cares about much and we don't know why he does it."
Batman indicated the data on the screen in front of him and Robin started to read over his shoulder.
"He eats their EYES!" Robin felt suddenly nauseous. He'd met many varieties of monster in his short career as a crimefighter, from the mindless violence of Blockbuster to the twisted genius of the Joker, but this was in a whole obscene league of it's own.
Batman didn't answer, the evidence was on the screen in front of him, Robin didn't need him to confirm the obvious, at least that's what he told himself. It was nothing to do with the discomfort he felt discussing this with the boy.
"Back in the Forties, there was a murderer that the Presse dubbed 'The Dark Angel', then in the rather more literal Sixties came someone they called 'The Eyeball Eater'. There have also been references throughout to a killer known as "The Corinthian" who has, or had, an identical MO to both of these people. I believe they are the work of one person, whom we might as well call the Corinithian."
"Cornithian? So they know he was Greek?"
"No one has _any_ clues as to his ID, Robin. Don't let the name distract you though - "Corinthian" is an old term for anyone who was degenerate or depraved."
"Some one, surely there must be SOME clue as to who he is. Hairs left behind or something."
Batman shook his head, though Robin's outburst matched his own first reaction too, "This person has never left a fingerprint, or a hair sample, or any other forensic trace anywhere there has been a body found. He simply appears, starts killing and then disappears, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months, sometimes for a couple of years, but he always comes back.."
"I don't think anyone has put together the whole pattern of his crimes before. The Batcomputer collates more data than any single organisation even the FBI, so we might be the first to join all the dots to make up this big a picture. Besides, the idea of anyone living that long is a lot easier to accept these days than it might have been in the days before so many metahumans were known."
"But if he didn't leave any clues at ANY of the crimes, it doesn't help us that much more anyway, does it?"
"Any information might prove useful to working out a pattern, Robin. That's what I'm going to be working on when we get back from patrol."
Robin was reading the screen again, using one of the keyboards to call up data about the victims, rather than just about the crimes. Names and dates flashed up on the screen.
"Good grief, nearly ALL the victims appear to be kids, any other pattern as to who he picks?"
"Some are people who just got in his way, but the rest? Street kids mostly, usually boys who…" Batman found that, despite his legendary detachment, he had a hard time actually using the term in front of the boy he considered to be his son. "..sell their bodies to adults on the street."
Robin's eyes widened, he wasn't naïve, but there were some things he'd rather not dwell on. He dealt with crime as Robin, and since you couldn't pick and choose what crimes were the "nice"" ones to deal with, that sometimes meant deeply unpleasant subjects would crop up. Bottling up emotions about them wouldn't do anyone any good, especially the next victim, so he pressed on. "You never really seem to bother with that sort of crime, petty vice and the like."
Batman's look would have frozen hell itself, "This isn't a petty vice. What an adult chooses to do with his or her own body is their own business, provided it hurts no one else I have no quarrel with them. A child is a different matter altogether and from the outset, most of those in Gotham who have such…. 'tastes' have known I take a singularly dim view of their activities. Those who didn't know, soon learn, and learn that I don't bluff either.
Robin shuddered slightly. He knew that Batman wasn't trying to scare him specifically, but he was just so damn good at "The Voice". He'd spent long hours with Alfred trying to get a "Voice" of his own, but he had a feeling it would probably work better once his voice had, well, broken properly for starters.
Batman continued, sounding suddenly tired "It still happens of course, there are always those who are prepared to take risks to get twisted thrills, and young people who are desperate enough to offer them, but I do what I can."
Robin tried, as usual, to brighten the mood before Bruce went all moody again. "So when are we going after this creep."
It wasn't always easy sounding so eager, but he reckoned it was part of the job of being Robin, keeping Batman from being consumed by his own seriousness.
As usual, the effort had no visible success. "_We_ are not, I am."
"We're not going to have another one of those 'You're not old enough for this.. ' discussions are we?"
"No we are not. You are old enough to understand a direct order. This case is out of bounds for you."
"Why? Because he's picking on kids my age?"
"Robin… Dick…" Batman stood and faced him (Robin decided not to mention his mentors breach in 'mask etiquette'), looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not sure I trust myself on this case. It touches on matters that are almost mundane, but are as warped as anything Arkham has ever thrown at us. I can't ask you to get involved with that, so I'm not going to. You'll patrol as usual, but on matters relating to this case, you will not get involved."
"If you're dealing with kids my age, wouldn't it be better to have me along? I could probably relate better to them than you could."
"No, no debate, no discussion. I have to know I can trust you to obey me. Now I want to see you do five laps around the cave before patrol. You have two minutes, then I want you to run the pre-patrol diagnostics on the car."
Robin sighed and started jogging towards the edge of the Cave.
Batman's voice echoed behind him "Excuse me, I didn't say anything about using the floor."
Despite himself Robin smiled, THIS was the sort of challenge he enjoyed. He reached into his belt for his grapnel launcher whilst scanning the stalactites of the cave for the best place to start. As he launched himself into the air he thought to himself
"But if you think this is going to distract me Bruce, you don't know me as well as you think you do."
Down below, Batman sighed to himself. He knew exactly what Robin was thinking, but he'd laid down the rules as clearly as he could, that was as good a starting point as he could hope for. He turned to start checking his equipment for their forthcoming patrol.
The Batcave - Later that night
The computer in the Batcave was one of the most powerful on the face of the earth. It's vast processing power was further boosted by the fact it was linked surreptitiously, and illegally, to the databases of every major police force and investigative authority on the face of the Earth, and a few organisations that were so Black Ops that most Black Ops teams didn't suspect they even existed.
In reality most of the computer was housed in a specially modified cavern on the level below, climate controlled and with triple redundancy back up generators, but the main console was imposing enough. Larger than it really needed to be, but with scope for expansion in the future.
Sitting in front of the main keyboard Batman ensured all these links were in place, before starting to program in the search parameters he was interested in. He could theoretically have accessed this information from the car, but he was always more comfortable when the computer was in front of him.
Though he was more than half convinced as to the identity of the killer, Batman was meticulous about his search, inputting the name of his suspect would skew the results, and there remained the slight possibility that there was a suspect that he had never heard of. He wasn't arrogant enough to assume he knew everything.
The search parameters were depressingly simple and grotesque "serial killer, juvenile male, ocular trauma, eyeball eating".
Not as depressing, however, as the number of hits that came back. Batman muttered an oath under his breath. There must be dozens listed, more than he had imagined. Then the thought struck him, he hadn't specified a date parameter, so he might be looking at a longer history than he would have otherwise expected.
He started scrolled through the details on the screen, growing more and more appalled as he read on.
"So, what's going on Bruce?" Dick Grayson was coming down the flight of steps into the cave, still rubbing his eyes having caught an hour or so of sleep after coming home from school and finishing his homework (There was no way Alfred would have allowed the boy into the cave until he had checked every assignment to his own satisfaction). He was wearing his Robin costume, though he hadn't put his mask or cape on yet and was just checking the utility belt. He went across to the weapons supply unit, and began filling assorted pouches.
The figure in front of the computer just looked at him.
Dick realised his mistake and rolled his eyes "Sorry, I mean 'What's going on 'Batman''". He'd broken one of the cardinal rules of the Batcave; Cowl down, it was "Bruce", cowl up it was "Batman", and never the twain shall meet.
Batman briefly thought about clearing the screen before Dick could see it, but decided not to. He'd tried blocking Dick completely out of investigations before and all that usually happened was that he got involved anyway, whether by accident or design. And, unorthodox childhood or no, he was still a typical teenager in many ways, forbid him to do something and it just becomes more of a challenge. It was probably unavoidable in this case, but he had to try the straightforward approach first.
"There's been a murder."
"In Gotham? That's hardly a major surprise."
"It is when the murder is like this. It was a singularly vicious one. A young boy was tortured and murdered."
Dick looked suitably disturbed, "Geez..The Joker?"
Batman shook his head "No, most of our usual rogues are in Arkham or Blackgate, I checked personally, and this isn't their style, any of them."
"So, any suspects then?"
"There has been a series of murders like this all across the country. I've been collating the data."
"So our guy gets around a lot."
"Yes, indeed he does. Unfortunately the murders in question also took place over the past eighty years or so."
"What? You mean it's like a family business?"
"Unlikely in the case of a serial killer. They usually aren't able to form close emotional bonds with family members, it's beyond their understanding."
Looking at his mentor, Dick seemed to be about to say something, but then changed his mind. He busied himself putting on his cape and mask, becoming Robin rather than simply Dick Grayson.
The mask was one of the new ones he'd asked Bruce to make. He'd been happy enough with his old style mask, basically a bandanna with eye-holes, but following a recent incident with an assault victim - who had, in a panic, sprayed mace in his eyes when he'd gone to check on her after decking the attacker - he'd decided he wanted a bit more protection. Bruce said nothing of course, but Dick knew he'd always found the old mask wasn't entirely practical, and probably had his doubts about other aspects of the Robin costume, though that was his problem, not Dick's. The new mask was the end result, a domino mask with fitted lenses that was secured with something like spirit gum, except it didn't irritate the skin the way he knew spirit gum could. (It had always been fun hanging around the clown tent back at the circus, they tended to let rip with a few of their more creative curses when they took their fake hairpieces off after a show… This was back in the days when he'd still found clowns funny of course).
At the suggestion of Alfred (ever the former actor and disguise expert) Bruce had even taken the opportunity to add contours to the mask so as to subtly alter the appearance of Dick's nose and eyebrows, a small but useful contribution to help keep his identity a secret.
"No, this isn't a supervillain in the usual sense. This is a singularly bad example of the sort of killer that is out there more and more these days. Not flamboyant, or an egomaniac in the normal sense. The people he kills are people that no one cares about much and we don't know why he does it."
Batman indicated the data on the screen in front of him and Robin started to read over his shoulder.
"He eats their EYES!" Robin felt suddenly nauseous. He'd met many varieties of monster in his short career as a crimefighter, from the mindless violence of Blockbuster to the twisted genius of the Joker, but this was in a whole obscene league of it's own.
Batman didn't answer, the evidence was on the screen in front of him, Robin didn't need him to confirm the obvious, at least that's what he told himself. It was nothing to do with the discomfort he felt discussing this with the boy.
"Back in the Forties, there was a murderer that the Presse dubbed 'The Dark Angel', then in the rather more literal Sixties came someone they called 'The Eyeball Eater'. There have also been references throughout to a killer known as "The Corinthian" who has, or had, an identical MO to both of these people. I believe they are the work of one person, whom we might as well call the Corinithian."
"Cornithian? So they know he was Greek?"
"No one has _any_ clues as to his ID, Robin. Don't let the name distract you though - "Corinthian" is an old term for anyone who was degenerate or depraved."
"Some one, surely there must be SOME clue as to who he is. Hairs left behind or something."
Batman shook his head, though Robin's outburst matched his own first reaction too, "This person has never left a fingerprint, or a hair sample, or any other forensic trace anywhere there has been a body found. He simply appears, starts killing and then disappears, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months, sometimes for a couple of years, but he always comes back.."
"I don't think anyone has put together the whole pattern of his crimes before. The Batcomputer collates more data than any single organisation even the FBI, so we might be the first to join all the dots to make up this big a picture. Besides, the idea of anyone living that long is a lot easier to accept these days than it might have been in the days before so many metahumans were known."
"But if he didn't leave any clues at ANY of the crimes, it doesn't help us that much more anyway, does it?"
"Any information might prove useful to working out a pattern, Robin. That's what I'm going to be working on when we get back from patrol."
Robin was reading the screen again, using one of the keyboards to call up data about the victims, rather than just about the crimes. Names and dates flashed up on the screen.
"Good grief, nearly ALL the victims appear to be kids, any other pattern as to who he picks?"
"Some are people who just got in his way, but the rest? Street kids mostly, usually boys who…" Batman found that, despite his legendary detachment, he had a hard time actually using the term in front of the boy he considered to be his son. "..sell their bodies to adults on the street."
Robin's eyes widened, he wasn't naïve, but there were some things he'd rather not dwell on. He dealt with crime as Robin, and since you couldn't pick and choose what crimes were the "nice"" ones to deal with, that sometimes meant deeply unpleasant subjects would crop up. Bottling up emotions about them wouldn't do anyone any good, especially the next victim, so he pressed on. "You never really seem to bother with that sort of crime, petty vice and the like."
Batman's look would have frozen hell itself, "This isn't a petty vice. What an adult chooses to do with his or her own body is their own business, provided it hurts no one else I have no quarrel with them. A child is a different matter altogether and from the outset, most of those in Gotham who have such…. 'tastes' have known I take a singularly dim view of their activities. Those who didn't know, soon learn, and learn that I don't bluff either.
Robin shuddered slightly. He knew that Batman wasn't trying to scare him specifically, but he was just so damn good at "The Voice". He'd spent long hours with Alfred trying to get a "Voice" of his own, but he had a feeling it would probably work better once his voice had, well, broken properly for starters.
Batman continued, sounding suddenly tired "It still happens of course, there are always those who are prepared to take risks to get twisted thrills, and young people who are desperate enough to offer them, but I do what I can."
Robin tried, as usual, to brighten the mood before Bruce went all moody again. "So when are we going after this creep."
It wasn't always easy sounding so eager, but he reckoned it was part of the job of being Robin, keeping Batman from being consumed by his own seriousness.
As usual, the effort had no visible success. "_We_ are not, I am."
"We're not going to have another one of those 'You're not old enough for this.. ' discussions are we?"
"No we are not. You are old enough to understand a direct order. This case is out of bounds for you."
"Why? Because he's picking on kids my age?"
"Robin… Dick…" Batman stood and faced him (Robin decided not to mention his mentors breach in 'mask etiquette'), looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not sure I trust myself on this case. It touches on matters that are almost mundane, but are as warped as anything Arkham has ever thrown at us. I can't ask you to get involved with that, so I'm not going to. You'll patrol as usual, but on matters relating to this case, you will not get involved."
"If you're dealing with kids my age, wouldn't it be better to have me along? I could probably relate better to them than you could."
"No, no debate, no discussion. I have to know I can trust you to obey me. Now I want to see you do five laps around the cave before patrol. You have two minutes, then I want you to run the pre-patrol diagnostics on the car."
Robin sighed and started jogging towards the edge of the Cave.
Batman's voice echoed behind him "Excuse me, I didn't say anything about using the floor."
Despite himself Robin smiled, THIS was the sort of challenge he enjoyed. He reached into his belt for his grapnel launcher whilst scanning the stalactites of the cave for the best place to start. As he launched himself into the air he thought to himself
"But if you think this is going to distract me Bruce, you don't know me as well as you think you do."
Down below, Batman sighed to himself. He knew exactly what Robin was thinking, but he'd laid down the rules as clearly as he could, that was as good a starting point as he could hope for. He turned to start checking his equipment for their forthcoming patrol.