Title: Do Unto Others… : Luck Run Out
Author: DC Luder
Summary: Gotham City's protectors must defend it against a new predator.
Rating: M for language, violence and adult themes
Author's Note: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.
A/N 2: This chapter has been modified from its original version.
^V^
First National Bank, June 17th, 8:31 a.m.
When Pete had woken to the sound of a car driving by, he had instantly known that he had overslept. What he hadn't known was that he had overslept by nearly two hours.
To any normal person, it would have been an opportune time to curse and then quickly try to fit all the morning rituals into less than fifteen minutes. But he wasn't a normal person. He hadn't slept in since he was a child, and that had only been a result of the sedatives the doctors gave him after his mother died…
If Pete had woken up on time, he would have been able to go through the motions of his morning routine. The long run would have settled his triggered nerves, letting him maintain a calm façade for the day with ease. He would have been able to sit and relax after showering and getting dressed, treating himself to breakfast and the newspaper as the weather and traffic played over the radio. The ride into the city would have been busy, as always, but he would have made it fifteen minutes early and be one of the first to clock in. A quiet, typical morning made it possible for him to start the day on a balanced foot, not having to juggle or worry or grow anxious over all of the things that haunted him.
But hadn't woken on time. He had no time for a run or a meal, barely enough for a shower and a shave. Pete had driven in blind on a traffic accident on the parkway, the estimated time on the overhead board declaring that getting into the city would take up to nearly two hours. Before leaving the house, he had already phoned the bank to make them aware of his tardiness, but his estimated time of arrival had become a joke. They would stare at him, they would whisper and wonder…
And during the two hours he spent amidst hundreds of other taillights, Pete gripped the steering wheel, tightening and loosening his hold as if he were slowly choking it. Futile horn honks echoed in his ear, the exhaust of tailpipes filtered into the Jeep and a headache quickly began throbbing in his temples.
He knew if he allowed himself to lose his temper, his already marred day would be entirely ruined. Instead, he apologized for his behavior to the silence of his car. He apologized to himself for his lack of self control. He apologized to his mother for being weak, for not being a better man.
With his focus elsewhere, whenever the traffic inched forward, he would remain idle and it would take a few horn honks to bring him back.
Just before the turnoff for downtown, he was held back by an officer who had the regrettable task of overseeing the scene of a three care motor vehicle accident. While rescue and cleanup crews worked behind the marked off area, the officer was enforcing everyone who had not yet merged left to do so in an orderly fashion. Although Pewte had already done so, he was motioned to stop to let another car in head of him From behind him, drivers unaware of the situation blared their horns angrily and shouted out their windows. It wasn't Pete's fault. He had to remind himself that it wasn't his fault and they didn't understand and...
He glanced in the rear view mirror to see a woman behind him in a red sedan as she pounded on her horn, her face furious and shouting something.
She didn't understand, it wasn't his fault the officer told him to…
"Move, ass hole!" she finally called out her window, even though the officer was in plain sight.
In conjunction with his oversleeping, lowered control and tardiness for work, he leaned out his window and called back, "I can't, you stupid whore!"
Her face waned in shock momentarily, then returned to its previous scowl as she flipped him off.
Pete drew in oxygen hungrily before undoing his seatbelt and opening his car door, growling lowly to himself. It was only as his foot touched the pavement that he realized his poor choice of action, a direct result to everything that had gone wrong for him that morning. That month. His entire life.
"Sir, get back in your vehicle!" the officer shouted.
He glanced back to him, immediately apologizing, although this time to a real person. Although his headache had already been pulsing, his blood coursing through his veins suddenly joined it, matching the tempo. Back in his vehicle, he belted himself in and put his hands back on the steering wheel as the officer glared at him from his post. A moment later, he directed his attention to stopping the right lane of traffic before encouraging Pete forward.
As he passed by, the officer watched scornfully as he ordered, "It's a bad day for everyone, sir. Watch yourself."
Pete nodded as he inched by, "Yes, sir, I'm sorry."
When he stepped through the employee entrance at the bank, exactly ninety-one minutes late for work, he had yet to regain his normal and balanced state of mind. After clocking in and seeking out his manager to inform him of he had arrived, Pete was still unable to relax, or at least get his heart rate to. He was never comfortable in overtly social settings, but he had learned to adjust to his work environment, finding no threats in any of the other people. There were no women that were like her, there was no one that teased him or would hurt him…
Unlike when he was a child, when he had to fight with every fiber of his being to maintain control in order to ignore the harassment of his peers in order to survive the school day.
Pete diligently fulfilled his obligations for the day, watching over the bank lobby, taking down notes of his activities as well as the mid-month peer review for when employees had to make comments on each other. It was supposed to be confidential but it wasn't hard to differentiate handwriting or the complaints.
As he sat for a brief lunch break, he felt an uneasy sensation in his gut, similar to one he had been fighting with for months. It was different than a stomach ache or the growl of hunger or even dread. It was a feeling that he first felt as a child, one that stirred when he had heard the Whore's voice for the first time. For years and years it had laid dormant but over the course of the last few months, it had kept surfacing, gnawing at him from the inside out. Taking them had temporarily sated it but recently it had flared up nearly every day and nothing seemed to quench it.
Setting his turkey sandwich down on its wax paper wrapper, he realized something was wrong.
There was a reason he had slept in, why he had been aggravated by the woman in traffic and why he was being physically and emotionally.
It was his mother's way of telling him that something was wrong.
Was he not fulfilling the promise he had made her? Was he not meeting her expectations? Things had been going so well for so long, why would she change her mind…
Was it not what she wanted?
He knew what he did to them was illegal and morally wrong, but their punishment was a reflection of what they were since blood thirsty predators didn't deserve a peaceful end.
No… that wasn't it.
She must have been upset because he was enjoying the actual task instead of being fulfilled by simply keeping his promise. When he took control of one of them, it felt so right, so gratifying. So justified. It was his duty to make sure no one had their lives ruined as his had been. His mother had never told him how but they way she had encouraged him over the last few months had lead him to believe he was doing the right thing.
"Peter," a whisper registered in his mind, "Look what she did to me…"
He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of his own pulse jumping instead of the voice of his dead mother.
"Peter…"
Pete was doing the right thing. They brought it on themselves. They would do horrible things if he had let them.
He felt a hand on his broad shoulder before hearing a soft voice, ""Hey Pete, you okay?"
Looking up, Pete blinked hard and found Christine taking a seat at the break room table, dressed in a dark skirt and coat with a soft smile and concerned eyes.
"Just… a headache."
"Bummer… Is that why you were late? I missed you this morning."
Pete shook his head, "No, I… It was the traffic. The accident."
"Right, I saw that on the news this morning, crazy wasn't it?"
He nodded as he felt his throat tighten, thinking of that vile woman that had screamed at him.
Pete suddenly was aware that Christine had been waiting for his response, which he quickly forged, "Yes, it was… Figured… I had a late start to begin with."
She nodded, "Me, too, it's always hard for me to get moving on a Wednesday morning. Didn't even get to eat breakfast."
"Me either," he said while looking at his uneaten sandwich. He had put it down when his stomach had turned on him, but it seemed to be ebbing.
Christine was not one of them, he told himself.
She dressed appropriately, acted like a decent human being.
She would never do the things they would…
She was an exception to the rule.
^V^
Wayne Enterprises, June 17th, 6:21 p.m.
"I take it you are done for the night?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Lucius entering my office, a sad smile on his face.
I, on the other hand, was lying on the leather couch in the rear of my office with anything but a smile gracing my lips. I had shed my coat and shoes over an hour earlier and loosened my tie substantially. After a vigorous night of patrols followed by an equally taxing day or portraying CEO Bruce Wayne, I was beyond spent. Driving to Bristol after work would have led me to the Cave, not my bedroom, thus the impromptu nap in my dark office.
Forcing myself to sit up, I nodded, "I was done a long time ago."
"Well, I'm leaving. Daughter's sixteenth birthday dinner."
That forced a smile to my face, "Well for once, you've got more planned for the night than I do."
"Is that so?" he asked as he stepped forward, "No dinner at the Ritz? No binge drinking on State Street? No private fashion show?"
"If only, Lucius…" I rose to my feet, wishing his daughter well, "I should have remembered, or at least gotten her something."
He unearthed a key ring from his pocket and nodded, "Don't worry, you did."
"Hey, what can I say, I'm a nice guy," I joked.
Lucius nodded before he stepping back into the hall, "Goodnight Bruce."
"Night," I replied softly.
After drawing in a deep breath, I stretched my back and rolled my neck, forcing myself to gather my belongings to make the trek to the Manor. In less than an hour, I would be right back in the city, although wearing my other mask and tackling far more important things than where the shareholder retreat should be. I had found with each passing day, I was loosing my grasp on the predator I was hunting instead of moving in on him. Elusive and proficient as he was, it shouldn't have been that difficult to track him and bring him down.
Lately, I had begun to wonder if the distractions in my life were carrying over into my work. Regrettably, all that had changed in recent months was my relationship with Selina and felt as if that wasn't to blame in its entirety. I had started to wonder if opening myself up as an open and honest man had somehow altered my former way of thinking. If letting myself be vulnerable, however minute, had negatively affected me and my ability to tackle such a dark subject.
Interviews conducted at the bar of the last murder had yielded little, that there had been no unusual behavior and only regular patrons had visited that night. Detectives in charge of the case were already going through the motions of contacting and interviewing the bar patrons, hoping for anything to lead them in the right direction. It seemed unlikely that the killer sat at the bar, watching her and leaving himself an obvious connection to the victim and the scene of the crime.
But with the bodies piling up, nothing was out of the question.
Before leaving, I stepped into my private bathroom and stood before the bathroom sink. As I splashed water on my face, I heard footsteps making their way into my office
"Please, Lucius, I don't need a pity invitation…" I called out as I dried my face off.
There was no response, instantly making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. When I emerged from the bathroom, I did not see my second in command. Instead, I saw Selina leaning against the desk and staring out the floor to ceiling windows as night took hold of the city. The dress she wore was a dark shade of violet and shimmered in the overhead light, reflecting off of the glass surface of the desk. As I closed the distance between us, her perfume met me halfway.
I paused in front of her, obstructing her view. She glanced over me and her expression changed for just a moment, briefly taking on a look as if she was going to disembowel me.
Arching her brow, she stated, "You forgot."
While I quickly scanned my mental agenda, I realized that she had planned an evening out on the town, an attempt to pretend that every thing was normal and we were happy. Leaning against the desk beside her, I exhaled before replying, "No, I didn't forget. I was just distracted."
"No, you forgot… because you were distracted," she said. Selina took a moment to look up at me, trying her best to hide her disappointment with an understanding smile.
From the beginning of our committed relationship, we had agreed that we couldn't let the standards of normal people direct its course. We each led unique and complicated lives and combining them would naturally result in conflict, both of schedule and interest. In recent months, it had become significantly more complicated with all of my attention and energy focusing on work instead of play. Although she had tolerated it to date, I could tell it was growing on her.
Selina leaned into my arm briefly before sitting upright, "Don't. Don't beat yourself up. It was no big deal, anyway. Hundred year old impressionism pieces… overcooked calamari… Not important in the grand scheme of things."
I shook my head, "It was to you."
"Bruce, please, finding out who keeps killing these girls comes before me… and I'm thankful for that," she responded as she moved to stand in front of me, resting her hands on my chest. "Besides, you look like shit… I don't know if I want to even be seen in public with you."
Smirking, I nodded, "I understand."
Selina smiled as well, a true one gracing her lips. After setting a palm against my rough cheek, she suggested, "Well, I guess the our only real option is to go somewhere private…" she stood up on her toes in order to kiss my other cheek, "…no prying eyes…"
"Sounds good to me," I replied, without any hint of enthusiasm.
I felt as her fingers encircled my wrists, leading me to the door, "Hey, you know what I just realized?" She leaned into me as we walked side by side, "Don't you have a hundred old painting in your bedroom?"
After I cleared my throat, I said "It's only eighty-six years old."
Her lips grazed my ear lobe before saying, "Close enough."
^V^
Right Start Fitness Center, June 17th, 10:59 p.m.
Although they closed promptly at eleven, Mandy's cousin, David, worked nights at the front desk and had agreed to hold off on locking up until she was ready to go home. After getting off of work twenty minutes late, she had to rush through errands and her online course work before making it to the gym. She was working hard at maintaining a regular gym schedule, but had missed the two previous days trying to catch up with summer classes. Rather than hit the vacant weight room, Mandy had gone straight to the cardio wing, torturing herself on the elliptical for forty minutes before cooling off on the incline treadmill for another twenty.
Usually, she showered at home but given how sweaty she was, Mandy had braved it out in the locker room showers. Thankfully, she was the only one left and had full use of the private shower and all of the hot water to herself. As she hummed and lathered shampoo into her hair, she thought back to the nice looking guy who had worked on the treadmill next to her. She had been able to tell that he had started out long before her as his gray tee-shirt was matted to his flat torso with sweat. He had not worn any earbuds and had appeared to ignore the mounted flat screen televisions, simply motivating himself to run on sheer will.
She had taken a treadmill for to cool down with just as he began to slow his speed. When she had raised her incline, the grip bar on the side of hers had brushed against his towel, causing it to fall. Although she had made a reach for it, he was the first to grab it. She had apologized but he had only nodded in response.
Cute, but nor very social.
It had been that moment that one of the gym regulars, Kevin, had snuck up behind her, hitting her in the rear with his towel. Mandy had been quick to laugh at him and his antics. He was just as cute but ten times more social. He had even been quick to invite her to the Yogurt Café for a post-gym smoothie but she declined, still having a paper to finish and submit before midnight.
Kevin had pouted but Mandy had been adamant, "Face it, that's the only chance you'll have at tapping my ass tonight."
He had been quick to laugh before asking, "What about tomorrow night? We're all going to the new place across the street, Rage… Don't make me be the only guy there without a girl…"
"We'll see," she had flirted back. When she had looked to the man next to her to gage his reaction, she had been surprised to see he was gone. After scanning the room, she had admitted to herself that he obviously wasn't as interested in her as Kevin was. After she wrapped up her walk on the treadmill, Mandy wiped down the handle bars and made her way to the locker room.
After a long, much needed shower, Mandy shut the water off, drawing an eerie silence over the empty locker room. Not keen on using the provided ones, Mandy always kept two towels in her locker. Once she wrapped one around her body, she used the second to put her long brown hair up. Her flip flops echoed in the open space as she made her way across the tiled floor to her open locker and bag, carefully putting her shampoo and soap back in beside her sneakers. The smaller ones were free with membership but her cousin had upgraded her to the full-sized locker, no charge.
Packing her gym bag with dirty clothes and socks, Mandy finally let her hair down, tussling it with the towel until it was nearly dry. Hairbrush in hand, she walked over the sinks in order to tame it to being somewhat presentable.
She had her mother's thick wavy hair. When they had been little. David and Mandy had always been mixed up for twins out in public since his mother had always kept his hair a bit longer than necessary. The first day after high school graduation, he and Mandy had gotten drunk at a friend's house and they had buzzed his hair to the scalp. Since then, he had always kept it short but it was still just as dark and thick as ever.
David was like a brother to her, more so than her actual sibling. They had gone to high school together, to GSU together and lived not fifteen blocks away from one another. When she had asked to stay a bit late to wash up, he had rolled his eyes, picking on her for always taking so long to get ready. He had then promised to giver her a ride home, but only if she went to grab some late dinner with him at the grill and bar next door.
"Great, burn eight hundred calories and then you're going to make me eat it all back…"
He had shrugged, "Fine, you can watch me eat a steak, I don't mind."
"Ass," she had said after swiping her gym card through the reader.
Her mother had never liked her living in the city, but with Dave so close, she had learned to accept that her daughter was safe.
As she texted Dave to tell him to call ahead for a table, he locker room door opened and she called out, "I'm almost done."
The door closed and she quickly retreated to the locker again, donning her underwear while still wearing the towel.
Once she was dressed in the capris and black tank top she had worn to the gym, Mandy went back to the sink once more to dress her lips with a pink gloss and cover her eyes lids with a hint of shadow. Who knew, maybe there would be some cute guys at the bar.
Mandy bent at the waist and flipped her hair over, running her fingers through it once more to get out the remaining tangles. Although she was successful, she failed to stand upright in time to see the man from the treadmill approaching her from behind. If she had, she would have been able to scream or call for David or at the very least try to run away.
Instead, she went head first into the porcelain sink.
The only sound she made was the thud as her body hit the tiled floor.
^V^
Wayne Manor, June 17th, 11:36 p.m.
I patrolled directly by Right Start Fitness Center every night just before eleven. It wasn't an elaborate facility, more geared to young working adults and lower-middle classed residents of the city. The building itself was practically a perfect cube at just four stories tall. The apartment buildings that acted as towering neighbors shadowing the Center at night, making its rooftop a perfectly secluded spot to meet others at or if needed, to take a break.
I should have been there.
Leaving Wayne Tower, I had gone to the Manor with Selina for an abbreviated night together. On the way, Barbara had called my cell phone, asking if I was still heading out early. When I told her that I wasn't, Barbara had paused before replying, "Okay… well, Dick called, he said he had to do a prisoner transport to Blackgate… he offered to help out while he was in the city."
"He has his own to take care of," I had growled back.
Never one to tolerate my sour disposition, she had retorted, "I will be sure to tell him."
Click.
When we had arrived, Alfred had already been hard at work in the kitchen and was delighted to see he would be serving two instead of one. Since it had been a beautiful night, we had decided to share a plate of chicken Alfredo on the terrace off of the master bedroom. Alfred had also provided us with a bottle of Pinot Noir and a carafe of ice water but I had stuck with the latter. Selina had two glasses of wine before trying to lure me to bed but my mind was elsewhere. Again, she had been disappointed but hid it well.
When I rose to leave, I had kissed her brow, "You can stay if you want."
She had shrugged, "Maybe."
Without another word, I had left her sitting alone on the terrace.
Even after rushing through a warm-up and racing to suit up, I had been late in starting patrols. As a direct result, I didn't make it to that particular part of Glenville until eleven-fifteen. Barbara had called me the second it came over the scanner, but I had already been making my way down Bradley, the gym already blocked off by a score of police cars. There had even been an ambulance for the never to be twenty-three year old body inside.
I had already contacted Gordon on his cell phone, telling him I wanted the scene left untouched. Before I had hung up on him, he had sighed, "Give me ten minutes."
While waiting, I had then brought up Barbara on the comm. link, not to apologize but to get locations on the others. She replied in an even tone that Batgirl was in the Bowery and Robin was busy in the theatre district. I asked about Nightwing, she had disconnected the line. The last few months had been trying on all of us, but seeing it break her armor was unnerving. I thought for a moment that I shouldn't have been so cold to her but paused at the sound of approaching footsteps.
After using a fraction of my power of deduction, I greeted, "Nightwing."
"Sorry, am I cramping your style?"
Although I turned to face him, I ignored his remark, "Gordon's clearing the scene. Should be ready in five minutes."
"Think it's him?" he asked, a solemn look crossing his face as he stared down at the flashing lights.
"I hope it isn't."
"Why's that"
"Location wise, his isn't likeany of the others."
"What about the bar… or Robinson Park?"
I was quick to respond, "He stalked her from the club, lured her into the park to kill her. This is different. She was here, right out in the open. If it was him… he chose her, waited until she was alone and took her. Never making the attempt to hide his work."
Nightwing hesitated before offering, "A copycat would be just as worse."
I shook my head, "No… Copycats are sloppy, irrational. They don't have the drive or the precision as the original… We can catch a copycat."
"We can catch the original, too," he said without pause.
Always the optimist, something he had learned that from Alfred.
We silently waited out the remaining five minutes, moving only when a door slamming sounded from the side alley. I glanced down below to see Gordon lighting a cigarette while barking orders into a hand held radio. When I tuned into the scanner and was unable to find the correct frequency, I nearly smirked thinking that he was faking the angry dispute.
Setting a foot on the edge of the roof, I looked back to Nightwing, "Coming?"
"I don't know… I've got my own city and all…" he smiled at me.
Despite the fact that I had taken flight before him, Nightwing had landed on the filthy pavement first. I had used my cape for a controlled descent while he had opted for the faster route of jumping down the levels of the fire escape, miraculously in silence. When I landed a moment later, Nightwing had already announced our presence, drawing the commissioner's attention towards us.
"Been a long damn time sine I've see you in this city," he remarked, snubbing the spent butt with the toe of his shoe.
Nightwing shrugged before replying, "Figured I would make myself useful."
Gordon looked to me, "No one's been in there save for the first responders, a pair of patrolmen and the medics. Forensics is having a fit that I won't let them in, so we don't have much time."
I nodded curtly, letting him lead the way back into the building, Nightwing trailing me by two feet. Gordon immediately began briefing me, repeating details that I had already picked up from listening to the scanner in addition to those which had been kept quiet.
"He came at her from behind, stunned her by hitting her head against the sink… body was found in the showers, no sign of her being dragged, only visible blood is on the sink…"
I said softly, "He's too careful, he would have carried her."
Nightwing instinctively began looking over the locker bay that had the only open door and personal belongings on the bench. Gordon watched carefully as I scanned the room intently, not immediately heading for the showers. He had said earlier that body had been found propped up on a bench in a handicap shower stall, with icy water raining down on her and washing away any hope for fingerprints as well as her own blood. There was no rush to see her, or what was left of her.
As I studied the clean tile floor, looking for the faintest outlines of footprints, Gordon offered, "I have an officer with the employee out front, getting a list of clients as they signed in and signed out, also any new members or guests… faculty. He's the only one that has been here since just before eleven, everyone else clocked out."
"Last person to see the victim alive," I said quietly.
"They are cousins actually. She got here late, he let her take her time after working out instead of rushing her out so he could close up. Clean record save for some parking tickets. He's kind of a wreck, came in and found her when she never came back up front." He paused to clear his throat, "They were supposed to go out to get a late dinner."
I didn't say anything as I crouched down, carefully taking a scarping from a small droplet of blood that had happened to land on a black tile.
He continued, "Primary witness said he would come down to be interviewed, he just needed to get a hold of her parents…"
Rising again, I finally walked into the shower bay, divided in half with the left acting as an open area and the right divided into four stalls. He had chosen to leave her in the far left corner for all to see, aiming the showerheads directly at her. The water had been turned off, but they dripped in near tandem, their droplets hitting her bare shoulders.
It was him.
Same deeply penetrating stab wounds to the side, same slashes careening her torso, the only thing different was that instead of bruises around her throat from being strangled, she bore a mottled hematoma on her forehead. Faster, more violent and ultimately more efficient manner of disarming and stunning his victim. Making it easier to finish the job, or was he aware of the risk of taking one in public and how little time he had to-.
"I want to talk to the witness," I said before looking over my shoulder at Gordon.
As he quickly departed, Nightwing approached, "Nothing seems out of order with victim's personal belongings. Her last call made with her cell was to her mother and her last text was to a man named David about him calling ahead to get a table. Might be the cousin and their dinner."
"We'll see."
He went silent as he looked over the body sitting before us before replying, "In some way… I think this is worse than anything Zsasz … He's unpredictable and sporadic. This guy… he knows what he's after."
"Jesus…" we heard a sharp exhale from behind us and turned simultaneously. Gordon, along with a five-five tall dark haired man stepped into the locker room. Although the man was physically fit, he was fairly slight, more bicyclist than body builder. Our target was tall and strong, and the first word of his mouth upon seeing masked vigilantes would have been anything but that of a messiah.
Gordon ushered him over, "This is David-."
The young man suddenly bolted away, not because he was evading us but to race to the nearest toilet stall in order to throw up. While Gordon performed his civic duty, the man began sobbing about Mandy and how he was supposed to keep her safe in the city and how her mother would never forgive him. If he was a homicidal psychopath, he was also one of the greatest actors of all time.
Walking away, I told Nightwing, "Get the security tapes. Take them to Oracle"
He nodded and quickly made his way out of the locker room.
Gordon approached me alone, "I'm going to hand him over to the medics. Get him cleaned up. If you want to talk to him still-."
I shook my head, my eyes finding themselves aimed at the body once more.
The image of her pale skin, clean of blood that had already been washed down the drain, stuck with me for the remainder of the night, providing all the inspiration I needed to attack the city without mercy. Working alone, I toured every corner I knew to be overrun with scum and promptly cleaned it up. Oracle would need some time to work through the tapes, using a face recognition program to match those on film with the lists provided by Gordon. Knowing the killer, he would be on neither.
^V^
