Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin, Zsasz, Tony Bressi or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob

Batman – Murderer – Chapter Six

Robin awoke to a nightmare. Zsasz had caught him unawares so completely he had knocked him out in seconds. Blood coated the side of his head. His own plastic handcuffs bound his hands and he had tied them to a fire escape. He tried to move his legs. They were also cuffed. Damn. He was trussed like a Christmas turkey. He didn't like the analogy. He couldn't remember much of the kidnap but it was obvious from the sounds that Zsasz had carried him to a roof in the club district. Below him he could hear the sounds of people drinking, dancing and having fun. He was not having fun.

Zsasz was standing on the edge of the roof looking down at the crowds. "So many people. So many throats to slit. So little time." He turned to face Robin, still in his Batman suit. "Robin has woken. I thought I would save you for later. I like to space my hits."

He had his sleeve rolled up and fresh blood from two more scratches was trickling down his arm. He closed his eyes and licked his arm. A shudder seemed to erupt within him and a deep sigh left his lips.

"You know self harm is a classic sign of depression." No reply. "If you want to kill yourself I don't mind helping?" Still silence. "What's this for? This rage against society? Your Pa didn't hug you? You didn't win the school sack race? You've run out of cookies at home?"

"Stop your cod psychology, boy, less I rip out your tongue."

"Woo! Hit a nerve there did I Zee? I think you are in desperate need of some group thug therapy." Robin was shaking but he was trying to sound more confident than he was. Zsasz walked up to him smiling and holding the knife in his hand. He could smell the sweat on Zsasz. He could see Zsasz's eyes. Like a sharks they were. The black portals of death. With an exquisitely slow movement he stared into Robin's eyes and brought the knife between them. Robin could see his own face reflected in the blade. The blood down the side of his face, the rivulets of sweat through the dirt, the fear in his eyes.

"I will only take one eye boy, so you can me see skin you alive."

"Your all heart. Still the girls love a scarred hero."

"You know I only cut myself when I have killed?"

Despite himself he nodded. He looked at his scarred arm and Zsasz cut a nick on it next to the other two. "Oh dear. I am one out. I had better even the score…"

The wind was whistling past Batman, the buildings around him were a blur. He let go of one of his cables and aimed another grappling hook at the only possible moment. His eyes were forever scanning the roofs around him and taking in the streets below him. He landed on a low level block of flats. He turned around and retrieved his last grappling hook. Calm down. There is no evidence that Robin is dead. There was not enough blood for a fatal wound. Unless the blade had cut straight to his heart and killed him instantly. He hated his analytical mind.

"Batman, this is Gordon."

Batman had given Gordon, Robin's communicator.

"Yes?"

"We have got several alarms going off over the city."

"Where?"

"Six banks, two post offices and one at the city museum."

"There is an Egyptian burial goods display at the museum."

"Zsasz has no history of theft," Gordon's voice crackled through the communicator.

"Someone broke him out of Arkham. Someone prepared him. Someone is trying to make the police and me look elsewhere. They'll be at the museum. Gather your men."

Batman ran to the side of the building and launched himself into space.

Zsasz grinned at Robin. "This little nick is not for you boy. I'm going to kill Tony Bressi tonight. He owes me a blood debt. I arranged to meet him on the hospital roof twenty minutes ago and instead there was a Police swat team and Batman. He will pay for that. He will pay for that in blood. If your master gets in my way I will kill him as well. I have thought about his death often in Arkham. When I kill him I will carve a Bat into my chest."

The boy was terrified. He was not going anywhere. He walked to the edge of the roof. Below him he could see a van parked outside the museum. Bressi. He was starting to sweat again. The shakes were starting. He needed another hit. He needed another kill. He turned back to Robin. It would be so easy. Just cut his throat. That would make him feel better.

No. He would save him for later. He would enjoy his death. The Joker had said he had killed a Robin before. The Joker held a special place in Batman's vengeance. If he got Batman angry he might make a mistake. If he made a mistake with Zsasz, he would kill him.

He turned back to Robin. "I'll be back for you later boy. I need to think some more on the manner of your death."

He took a cable from his belt. Tied it to a fire escape ladder and launched himself into the air. At the last second he pressed a button on his belt and his descent slowed down. His boots touched the tarmac. He released the cable and raced towards the museum entrance.

The crowd opened up in front of him.

"Hooray it's Batman!" Said a voice.

"Another one? I've lost count now. What is it some sort of fancy dress party?"

"It's probably advertising a new musical."

"What? Bats. By Andrew Lloyd Webber?"

"Yeah. Sequel to Cats you know."

"I think this one is the real one."

"No the last one had to be the real one. The last one swung through the doors on one of his lines. This one just ran."

"Oh behave. That one who swung through the door couldn't even be bothered to get the costume right? Unless he was making a fashion statement Batman's costume has two sleeves?"

"What sort of statement is that?"

"I dunno, can't afford the cloth? Find's sleeves restricting? It is artistically right? Caught a thread on the door?"

"Don't think it'll catch on."

Oh so Batman had already arrived? This promised to get bloody! Zsasz drew a knife from his belt and ran through the entrance of the museum, his cloak billowing behind him. He hadn't killed for over ten minutes. He had a lot of catching up to do.

Robin was still shaking. Think. Think, how to get out of this. He looked down and could see the "R" of his Robin costume. He leaned down and picked it up in his mouth. Ouch. It was sharp. He forced the handcuffs from his hands down and started sawing through them. Come on move. Ignore the pain. If I don't do this… He didn't want to think of what would happen if he were here when Zsasz came back. Yes! Freedom. His hands were tingling as the blood rushed back into his veins. He quickly sawed through the rest of his bonds.

Right now what? He looked over to where Zsasz had been looking. There was a van parked outside the museum and smoke was still billowing from where the doors had been blown. Zsasz had left his cable hanging down the side of the building. Robin grabbed hold of it with one hand and launched himself into space. Ten feet from the bottom he grabbed the cable with his other hand and slowed it down by passing the cable behind him. He landed light as a feather and ran towards the entrance. The crowd opened in front of him and gave an ironic cheer.

"Hooray! It's the first Robin of spring!"

"That's Swallow you dork!"

"Wrong costume. It's a Batman only do I'm afraid. Have you got an invite?"

Robin ignored them. What was he talking about? The class of crowd in Gotham was getting distinctly sarcastic of late. He ran up the steps and through the smoke of the doors and into the foyer. In front of him were two security guards. They had been knocked out and tied up but someone, he had to assume Zsasz, had cut their throats, presumably afterwards. Without a thought he rubbed his hand over his throat. So was Batman here as well? There was a shape on the floor. He recognised the dark scalloped cloak and the cowl. Batman? He cautiously crept up to him and looked down. No it wasn't Batman, but he was certainly dressed as Batman. He was groaning and holding his stomach.

"Who did this to you?" Said Robin.

"This old woman, beat me up with her stick she did," he said groaning. "She said philistines like me shouldn't be allowed in museums." Robin punched him on the jaw, knocking him out.

"She was right."

He got one of his few remaining cuffs from his belt and secured him. If he didn't know better he would say that Aunt Celia was in the museum as well? Well judging by her treatment of this thug, she was certainly a Wayne.

Aunt Celia was stomping down the corridor. She was annoyed. That very rude man dressed like he should be on the ghost train in a carnival had tried to stop her. Well she certainly showed him.

This museum was certainly dark. Her shoes clattered through the museum breaking the silence. She could see lights on up ahead and carried on walking. It was actually quite spooky here? It reminded her of her Uncles old house in the wilds of Sussex. He had a vast collection of old Middle Ages armour. All around her were dark shadows of knights passed. She walked past a re-enactment of an old fight. She stopped to look.

Had she just heard something? Like a rustling sound? There were several waxworks fighting with swords. One of them just had a knife? He wouldn't last long in such a fight. It was difficult to make him out in the dark. Was he moving? She could smell sweat and leather. Very authentic, just like it must have been in the Middle Ages. She peered through the gloom. She wished she had brought a torch.

She turned her back to it and carried on walking through the exhibition. There was that rustling noise again? The shadow for one of the knights looked somehow fuller than it should be? It hadn't been there before, had it? Hmmph. Didn't win the war by getting jumpy.

What was that noise up ahead? Better check that out. She walked up to a double door and opened it. There was about ten or eleven more of those people! All dressed the same. Were they the staff? Was it fancy dress day? They were busy putting all the gold from the Egyptian wing of the museum into a pallet.

That can't be right. This exhibition should be staying in Gotham for at least another two weeks. That is according to the sign outside. These people are ruffians. Malcontents. Villains. Scoundrels. Crooks. Rogues. Rascals. Well whatever they are she knew what else they should be. Locked up.

She walked into the room, held her stick like a sword and said in a clear voice. "I'm putting all you gentlemen under a citizens arrest. Please accompany me to the police station."

She felt a draught and looked behind her. There was another one of those people behind her. This one was covered in blood like a butcher and was carrying a big carving knife.