Chapter 16 - The Chocolate Box District. Gotham City
As he swung away, the part of Batman's mind that wasn't Bruce Wayne, the part that wasn't worrying itself over what might have happened to the boy he looked upon as his son, considered the strange dichotomy of Gotham; On the one hand there were the common crimes, the ordinary everyday crimes that happened in every city on Earth, muggings, robberies, criminal assaults, gang fights and car theft.
On the other hand there were the strange crimes, ranging from the absurd to the unspeakable. These were the ones that the gaudily dressed madmen and criminals revelled in.
At first glance they might seem to be nothing alike, to have no similarities at all, and yet both had elements in common from Batman's perspective: What did the Firefly really hope to gain by his performance tonight? What could a serial killed like the Corinthian gain from his murders?
They were united by an almost complete senselessness.
Robin had once told Alfred that part of Batman's zeal to defeat criminals was because he found their thinking untidy and that was an offence in itself. Alfred had repeated this to Bruce, in an effort to lift his spirits during a frustrating case, but there was more than a grain of truth to it.
If he could understand their thinking, not just try to predict their actions, he would perhaps be more efficient as a crimefighter, but he'd be veering dangerously close to the sort of thinking that gave rise to such crimes in the first place, and that was too much of a risk.
Batman was some distance away from the Chocolate Box district when he heard on his earpiece the call to Despatch of the first police car arriving at Ma Graves. It was followed a few minutes later by a call from an officer, who sounded as if she were in deep shock, for as much backup as could be spared.
On hearing this, Batman moved faster until he reached the house, there was more than one car outside now, as well as an ambulance.
By instinct, when Batman arrived he went straight to the window that he suspected Robin would have used to get into the house, assuming, correctly, that the circuit breaker would still be in place. He slipped in, and into a scene from hell.
The first things he saw were the naked, or near naked, bodies: four teenage males who had clearly died in as grotesque a manner as he could imagine, and who had then been subjected to this... this... obscenity of a display, in death. A small, quiet part of him hoped that they _had_ been dead when this had been done to them because the alternative was beyond thinking about.
He looked at them more closely, automatically searching for a head of black wavy hair, and hating himself for the small sense of relief he felt when he couldn't see one, at least, not one he recognised. The blood made it difficult to see. He felt his blood turn to ice when he saw the mask hanging from the wires, and the gloves dangling from the wrists of two of the boys. Might the Police have cut down a body already? No, there wouldn't have been time for a proper examination, if they had they wouldn't have left the mask like that. But if Robin wasn't here then where...
A chair, like the one from Ma Graves office downstairs, was in the middle of the dangling ring of corpses, and ropes had clearly been cut away from someone who had been tied to it. Could that have been...
Gordon stepped into Batman's sight and, clearly aware of the expression that would be hidden behind Batman's cowl, didn't waste time with even the most perfunctory of greetings; "He's not dead. We found him handcuffed to the stairs out here." He indicated the chair, "_That_ was where we found Graves."
Batman shut his eyes for a second, desperately trying not to show his relief too visibly. But Gordon hadn't said "Robin's alright", just that he wasn't dead, so he could still be...
As he moved determinedly to the door leading out to the hall, being careful not to disturb the crime scene, Batman caught sight of a clearly somewhat shaky Robin coming towards him.
Batman had rarely been so relieved to see that brightly coloured costume, and though he was glad to see that his protégés mask was still in place (it must have been one of his spares that the Corinthian had posed with the bodies), he noted that Robin was not wearing his gloves. He didn't even have time to think about what that might mean in terms of fingerprints.
He heard Robin saying something to a medic who obviously wanted him to stay still.
"....I have to see."
Batman moved fast, blocking his wards path to the room. Part of him knew he should ask after Robin, see how he was, but instead said the first thing that came into his head, "There's nothing that you could have done..."
As soon as he said it he knew it was the wrong thing, it would only make him more determined to SEE what he "couldn't have done". Moving faster than Batman would have though he could in his condition, Robin ducked under his arm and stared into the room.
For a moment he stood there in dumb disbelief, any word he could have thought to say inadequate. Robin, the Boy Wonder, who had seen grief and tragedy and pain in a way that few ever would, was suddenly just a horrified fourteen year old who has just seen far too much.
Batman quickly caught him around the shoulders, and steered him away from the room, just in time as it turned out as Robin proceeded to be violently and wretchedly sick. He clearly hadn't the only one either, judging by the expressions on several of the attending officers. The clinical part of his mind, the part that WAS Batman, noted that at least he hadn't contaminated the immediate crime scene.
Behind Batman, Gordon, who had just realised what must have happened turned on Batman with a fury that few ever really saw, the fury that only the father of a child can summon up.
"Dear God, what are you thinking him letting him see this? Get him away from here NOW!"
Batman glared up at him, but found he had nothing to say.
Gordon hissed quietly, so quietly that only Batman could hear; "Get him out of here, but I'm not finished with you on this matter believe me!"
Without another word, Batman scooped Robin up and moved towards the staircase. The medics and Police Officers cleared a path with alacrity. Some looking with concern at the boy, some with fear at his mentor, a couple angry at anyone who could take a child into a situation like this. Batman couldn't argue with any of those emotions, but he did pause for the second or two he needed to pick up the discarded bat-cuffs and wipe the banister rod where Robin must have been secured. He knew he might be destroying evidence, but didn't care, and in all probability there wouldn't be any prints other than Robin's there to worry about, the Corinthian was far too careful to be that sloppy.
As he stepped over the body of one of Graves guards at the front door, Batman could hear Gordon's comment behind him "Okay, just so we're clear about something. As far as anyone here is concerned, neither of those two people was ever here tonight. They will not appear in any of your reports, records or observations. Have I made myself clear on that?" There was no answer, none was needed, Gotham cops knew the score.
Again the Batman part of his mind was telling him to leave Robin outside somewhere and then come back to help with the examination, there might be all sorts of evidence that would be lost if it was left to the police to do the work.
He hated that part of his mind sometimes, and on this occasion he ignored it. Robin's condition took precedence, the living over the dead.
Since Robin was clearly in no state to use the bat-line, Batman reached for the control on his belt that would summon the Car from it's hidden parking space near Police Headquarters.
In the meantime he carried Robin down towards the nearest dark alleyway, and finding a place to hide them both in the shadows, sat back to wait, holding the boy tightly so he wouldn't collapse, wrapping his much larger cape around him so might warm up enough to stop shivering. He tried to think of something he could say that would make Robin feel better, but couldn't think of a single thing. He hoped Alfred would be able to think of something.
Fifteen feet away in the same alley, clouded from perception again and smoking a cigarette, the Corinthian watched them both, and smiled. He waited until a dark and mysterious (of course) car, it's engine barely purring (and _again_ decorated with that omnipresent bat-motif) had pulled up, and Batman had laid Robin in the passenger seat, carefully buckling him in and laying his own cape over him like a blanket. Batman then climbed into the drivers seat and drove off, a shadow fleeing from the advancing dawn that was starting to light the sky.
The Corinthian stifled a yawn, it had been a long night, but he was pleased with his accomplishments, but there was yet more to do... With that he started to walk back to the hotel, singing quietly to himself as he disappeared into the dark; "Ring-a-ring-a-rosies, a pocket full of posies...."
As he steered the car, and looked over at the crumpled form of Robin in the other seat, Batman thought again about life in Gotham, for a short while he had been able to distract himself from the grim realities of the Corinthian, from the sordid underbelly of Gotham that he'd been dealing with, the Firefly had been an almost amusing, if potentially dangerous diversion. A threat, but was nothing compared to the threat the Corinthian presented. Now the reality of the serial killer had returned to haunt them again.
Robin was half asleep again, muttering something incomprehensible in his sleep. In a flagrant breach of his own rules about such things, Batman pulled his cowl off, and found he did know the right thing to say. He put his hand on his son's clammy forehead, stroked his hair and murmured soothingly.
"It's okay Dick, it's okay son. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise"
As he swung away, the part of Batman's mind that wasn't Bruce Wayne, the part that wasn't worrying itself over what might have happened to the boy he looked upon as his son, considered the strange dichotomy of Gotham; On the one hand there were the common crimes, the ordinary everyday crimes that happened in every city on Earth, muggings, robberies, criminal assaults, gang fights and car theft.
On the other hand there were the strange crimes, ranging from the absurd to the unspeakable. These were the ones that the gaudily dressed madmen and criminals revelled in.
At first glance they might seem to be nothing alike, to have no similarities at all, and yet both had elements in common from Batman's perspective: What did the Firefly really hope to gain by his performance tonight? What could a serial killed like the Corinthian gain from his murders?
They were united by an almost complete senselessness.
Robin had once told Alfred that part of Batman's zeal to defeat criminals was because he found their thinking untidy and that was an offence in itself. Alfred had repeated this to Bruce, in an effort to lift his spirits during a frustrating case, but there was more than a grain of truth to it.
If he could understand their thinking, not just try to predict their actions, he would perhaps be more efficient as a crimefighter, but he'd be veering dangerously close to the sort of thinking that gave rise to such crimes in the first place, and that was too much of a risk.
Batman was some distance away from the Chocolate Box district when he heard on his earpiece the call to Despatch of the first police car arriving at Ma Graves. It was followed a few minutes later by a call from an officer, who sounded as if she were in deep shock, for as much backup as could be spared.
On hearing this, Batman moved faster until he reached the house, there was more than one car outside now, as well as an ambulance.
By instinct, when Batman arrived he went straight to the window that he suspected Robin would have used to get into the house, assuming, correctly, that the circuit breaker would still be in place. He slipped in, and into a scene from hell.
The first things he saw were the naked, or near naked, bodies: four teenage males who had clearly died in as grotesque a manner as he could imagine, and who had then been subjected to this... this... obscenity of a display, in death. A small, quiet part of him hoped that they _had_ been dead when this had been done to them because the alternative was beyond thinking about.
He looked at them more closely, automatically searching for a head of black wavy hair, and hating himself for the small sense of relief he felt when he couldn't see one, at least, not one he recognised. The blood made it difficult to see. He felt his blood turn to ice when he saw the mask hanging from the wires, and the gloves dangling from the wrists of two of the boys. Might the Police have cut down a body already? No, there wouldn't have been time for a proper examination, if they had they wouldn't have left the mask like that. But if Robin wasn't here then where...
A chair, like the one from Ma Graves office downstairs, was in the middle of the dangling ring of corpses, and ropes had clearly been cut away from someone who had been tied to it. Could that have been...
Gordon stepped into Batman's sight and, clearly aware of the expression that would be hidden behind Batman's cowl, didn't waste time with even the most perfunctory of greetings; "He's not dead. We found him handcuffed to the stairs out here." He indicated the chair, "_That_ was where we found Graves."
Batman shut his eyes for a second, desperately trying not to show his relief too visibly. But Gordon hadn't said "Robin's alright", just that he wasn't dead, so he could still be...
As he moved determinedly to the door leading out to the hall, being careful not to disturb the crime scene, Batman caught sight of a clearly somewhat shaky Robin coming towards him.
Batman had rarely been so relieved to see that brightly coloured costume, and though he was glad to see that his protégés mask was still in place (it must have been one of his spares that the Corinthian had posed with the bodies), he noted that Robin was not wearing his gloves. He didn't even have time to think about what that might mean in terms of fingerprints.
He heard Robin saying something to a medic who obviously wanted him to stay still.
"....I have to see."
Batman moved fast, blocking his wards path to the room. Part of him knew he should ask after Robin, see how he was, but instead said the first thing that came into his head, "There's nothing that you could have done..."
As soon as he said it he knew it was the wrong thing, it would only make him more determined to SEE what he "couldn't have done". Moving faster than Batman would have though he could in his condition, Robin ducked under his arm and stared into the room.
For a moment he stood there in dumb disbelief, any word he could have thought to say inadequate. Robin, the Boy Wonder, who had seen grief and tragedy and pain in a way that few ever would, was suddenly just a horrified fourteen year old who has just seen far too much.
Batman quickly caught him around the shoulders, and steered him away from the room, just in time as it turned out as Robin proceeded to be violently and wretchedly sick. He clearly hadn't the only one either, judging by the expressions on several of the attending officers. The clinical part of his mind, the part that WAS Batman, noted that at least he hadn't contaminated the immediate crime scene.
Behind Batman, Gordon, who had just realised what must have happened turned on Batman with a fury that few ever really saw, the fury that only the father of a child can summon up.
"Dear God, what are you thinking him letting him see this? Get him away from here NOW!"
Batman glared up at him, but found he had nothing to say.
Gordon hissed quietly, so quietly that only Batman could hear; "Get him out of here, but I'm not finished with you on this matter believe me!"
Without another word, Batman scooped Robin up and moved towards the staircase. The medics and Police Officers cleared a path with alacrity. Some looking with concern at the boy, some with fear at his mentor, a couple angry at anyone who could take a child into a situation like this. Batman couldn't argue with any of those emotions, but he did pause for the second or two he needed to pick up the discarded bat-cuffs and wipe the banister rod where Robin must have been secured. He knew he might be destroying evidence, but didn't care, and in all probability there wouldn't be any prints other than Robin's there to worry about, the Corinthian was far too careful to be that sloppy.
As he stepped over the body of one of Graves guards at the front door, Batman could hear Gordon's comment behind him "Okay, just so we're clear about something. As far as anyone here is concerned, neither of those two people was ever here tonight. They will not appear in any of your reports, records or observations. Have I made myself clear on that?" There was no answer, none was needed, Gotham cops knew the score.
Again the Batman part of his mind was telling him to leave Robin outside somewhere and then come back to help with the examination, there might be all sorts of evidence that would be lost if it was left to the police to do the work.
He hated that part of his mind sometimes, and on this occasion he ignored it. Robin's condition took precedence, the living over the dead.
Since Robin was clearly in no state to use the bat-line, Batman reached for the control on his belt that would summon the Car from it's hidden parking space near Police Headquarters.
In the meantime he carried Robin down towards the nearest dark alleyway, and finding a place to hide them both in the shadows, sat back to wait, holding the boy tightly so he wouldn't collapse, wrapping his much larger cape around him so might warm up enough to stop shivering. He tried to think of something he could say that would make Robin feel better, but couldn't think of a single thing. He hoped Alfred would be able to think of something.
Fifteen feet away in the same alley, clouded from perception again and smoking a cigarette, the Corinthian watched them both, and smiled. He waited until a dark and mysterious (of course) car, it's engine barely purring (and _again_ decorated with that omnipresent bat-motif) had pulled up, and Batman had laid Robin in the passenger seat, carefully buckling him in and laying his own cape over him like a blanket. Batman then climbed into the drivers seat and drove off, a shadow fleeing from the advancing dawn that was starting to light the sky.
The Corinthian stifled a yawn, it had been a long night, but he was pleased with his accomplishments, but there was yet more to do... With that he started to walk back to the hotel, singing quietly to himself as he disappeared into the dark; "Ring-a-ring-a-rosies, a pocket full of posies...."
As he steered the car, and looked over at the crumpled form of Robin in the other seat, Batman thought again about life in Gotham, for a short while he had been able to distract himself from the grim realities of the Corinthian, from the sordid underbelly of Gotham that he'd been dealing with, the Firefly had been an almost amusing, if potentially dangerous diversion. A threat, but was nothing compared to the threat the Corinthian presented. Now the reality of the serial killer had returned to haunt them again.
Robin was half asleep again, muttering something incomprehensible in his sleep. In a flagrant breach of his own rules about such things, Batman pulled his cowl off, and found he did know the right thing to say. He put his hand on his son's clammy forehead, stroked his hair and murmured soothingly.
"It's okay Dick, it's okay son. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise"