Title: Underground

Author: Silver Queen

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Not all stories have happy endings. A story from Gotham's underground.

Disclaimer: I don't own the DC universe, nor the rights to any type of drug used in this story. MDT, as far as I'm aware, is not an actual drug. Apologies if it is.

The first thing Gordon noticed was the smell. He had been commissioner, and an officer before that, long enough to know what that smell was. Blood had a very distinctive smell, and this time it was almost strong enough to taste.

The second thing Gordon noticed was the new paint job on the wall. Or rather what he wished was a paint job. It was, in fact, the cause of the smell that had caused some of his men to empty their stomachs outside.

"Sir," one of the uniforms said as he caught sight of the commissioner. Gordon nodded to the man and looked around. The medical pathologist was finishing, and the body was ready to be carted off to the morgue for a complete autopsy.

All that was to be expected, of course, as well as the apparent lack of Batman. It was, however, the body itself that interested him.

"It looks like someone launched a goddamn missile into the poor bugger," the uniform summed up his thoughts. The corpse's guts were hanging out of a hole in his stomach and it's back was completely destroyed.

"Up close," the commissioner agreed. The splatter patterns told him that, though what could do such damage at close range didn't immediately come to mind. A softnosed bullet might, but it was doubtable; the entry hole was too big.

"Any idea who he is?" Gordon asked, without much hope.

"No. But we actually have a witness." The uniform seemed pleased; a messy case like this was starting to look like it could be resolved.

"Oh?" The commissioner raised an eyebrow. "Have you questioned him yet?"

"Just the preliminaries. We're taking him back to the station house for a proper interview."

"Probably a good idea," Gordon huffed as he pulled his coat tighter. It was winter and winter in Gotham was never pleasant.

The commissioner stayed a little longer and watched as the body was bagged, then he left. He didn't go very far, only to a nearby alley way that was unpopulated. Or had been.

"Vic's name is Theo Blight. No known address. Main suspect is his girlfriend, Jenny Thompson," Batman's gravelly voice carried out of the shadows.

Gordon lit his cigarette. He had been trying to quit but the stress just kept driving him back to his packet of Camels. In the brief flicker of light from his lighter he saw the Batman in the shadows, though the light could never penetrate his darkness far enough to show him well.

"So what's the catch?" Gordon asked. It seemed a simple case, messy, but simple; rookies work. Which raised the question of why Batman was involved.

"Thompson's part of a drug ring I'm tracking." Thompson was only a little fish though, a user but not a dealer and as much as he detested it he couldn't alert them to his presence before he had found the supplier or they'd just pack up and move.

"Really? What are they selling? LSD?" Gordon took another drag of his cigarette and felt the dirty smoke settle in his lungs.

"No." There was a pause and the shadows became darker. "Something new."

Gordon couldn't help the shiver he felt. For all that the Batman was his colleague the commissioner wasn't stupid enough to not be afraid, and the menace in those two words was very real.

"Oh. So…" he trailed off when he noticed that the Batman was already gone.

"Oracle," Batman said as he perched atop a building, looking for all the world like one of the stone gargoyles that lined the edge.

"Batman," she replied over the comm-link. "I've run the search you asked for; no results as of yet but the police just got in an interesting tip over south side. I'll play it for you."

There was a moment of silence before the recording started. Batman was already on the move.

"Emergency Dispatch, how may I help you?"

"Oh, god, oh god. You've got to get the police, you've got to get the police."

"Stay calm, ma'am. Tell me what happened."

"She killed him, I think she killed him, oh god."

"Where are you, miss?"

"Albion street. Near the club. Oh god."

"Now ma'am. Will you tell me what happened?"

"A… a drug deal, I think. Maybe it was just an argument. But she killed him, he's not moving. Oh god, a person shouldn't move like that."

"Like what, miss? Can you explain?"

"Like, like, oh god. She was, god, her eyes were red. Oh god."

"Transcript ends there." Oracle's voice filled his ears. "She hung up, but the symptom matches what you've told me; it's a long shot but I thought you'd like to know."

"On it, Oracle," he responded gruffly. The club that had been mentioned was almost directly below him by now. The place was swarming with cops and somehow he knew they were the normal clienteles.

From where he perched he could tell that the victim had a broken neck; nothing else could make a head face that way.

Moving quietly through the shadows he listened in on what the police knew so far.

"Vic's a banker down at 31st. Records clean, no drugs, no nothing. No drugs on him either."

"Dead approx. 1:30, give or take and hour."

"The head's been twisted right around, that'll take a pretty strong guy. Tall too, by the looks of things. Either that, or our guy was sitting down and that don't match the fall pattern."

"A couple a guys are checking out the club but they say they didn't see anything. When do they ever?"

The pieces of conversation filtered into him over the still, cold air. The discrepancies over what the witness had called in and what the police were saying immediately tagged this as by one of the drug ring he was tracking. The advanced strength fit with the drug.

"Oracle," he began once he was back on the rooftop.

"All ready on it." Came the reply. "Vincent Melrose, 36, banker at 31st. No police records, school records are clean – though it does seem he was a bit of a bully – his bank statement was clean, no debts, and there were no problems at work."

"Could be a high school friend with a grudge," he said though he didn't think so. The death was too clean, impersonal. Someone with a grudge would be all for more pain. "Run a few checks on his acquaintances."

"On it, boss."

And, as Batman dropped down to intercept a mugging, the murder was shelved along with all his other problems.

Please, don't forget to review and tell me what you think!