Everyone had a gun in their hand. Some kept the weapon out of sight, while others didn't seem to care. Call it a show of force, an unwelcoming party, or being overly cautious, every officer waited for the second the doors to the precinct opened and a certain clown was ushered in.
The waiting was always the longest and hardest part, and whether it took too long, or was not long enough, the doors that led to Booking did open.
"Why I haven't been here in a dog's age! My, what's with all the long faces? Aren't you all glad to see me? Eh heh, where's all the smiles? The cheers? The celebration? You caught me, boys! Fair and square? I'd swear you all just came from a funeral...too soon?
So many heavily armed SWAT team members surrounded the chained and shackled Joker, fingers on the triggers to their assault weapons, and somehow that didn't make anyone feel any safer.
Leg irons were restricting how fast the apprehended mass murderer could go, practically moving at a waddle while that big, toothy smile practically gleamed in the artificial lighting. Hands were restrained behind the back, but there were at least three SWAT watching them like hawks.
Standing close to the booking counter, Gordon waited and watched, an arm kept out of sight where he gripped the handle of his own firearm. How much he wished to use it. However, they were law officers and had to handle this by the book. So long as not one hair was put out of place, there would be little that this bastard's dream team of lawyers could get riled about. Sure, something could be said about all the guns that were visible, but the Commissioner would fire back that it wasn't to intimidate this monster but to protect everyone from him.
The sunken eyes spotted him and Gordon had known they would at some point. "Jim! Jimmy! Jimbo! Now what has little ol' me done to get such an important person like yourself to come on down from on high? Did you miss me so much that you had to come? Why, I'll let you in on a little secret. I always leave a little room in my date book just for you. I mean, sure, Batman gets priority, but sometimes a guy has to put the setting on easy mode, if you get what I mean. Heh heh!"
Gordon did his best to give nothing away and he felt he succeeded. However, this was the Joker, and the Joker tended to pick up on cues you didn't know you were giving. Being stoic and unresponsive could be a waste of time with his twisted mind. Instead, he glanced to one of the SWATs guiding the bastard and asked, "Has he been Mirandized?
"Once when we cuffed him. Twice when we got him into transport. You want to do it a third time?" the designated team leader reported.
Gordon didn't hesitate. "To make sure his lawyers have nothing to complain about, we'll do a third during the interview. First, let's get him booked then put him in the most isolated cell we have. We need to make sure our interview room is secure and safe."
There was a sharp nod from the team leader and the escort moved up to the counter.
"Gasp! Are you ignoring me? For shame, Jimmy! You break a poor man's heart! And here I thought I was being nice and not killing anybody, but if this is the reception I get, then buster, you have made a powerful enemy this day! I'll make sure it's incredible and unforgettable. Now let's see, what to do? It's gotta be special since it's not just for anyone. A going away cake? One with a one way ticket to Chattahoochee? Definitely on Air Nitro. Definitely—ooh, what's going on back there? Are you taking off those cuffs? Because they are starting to chafe my skin and I bruise like a banana—hey, hey, watch the good! I'm keeping my eye on you—what did I say about bruising?"
The Commissioner had taken a step away, watching as SWAT uncuffed one of the clown's arms so that could get the booking process under way. Just because one hand was free didn't mean chances were being taken as one of the SWATs held onto the freed arm and forced it out and in front of the captive. All the while, Joker would not stop talking, making commentary on the whole process.
To be honest, it was meaningless since they had his prints—or lack thereof—on file. It would be just black smudges because years worth of working with acid had destroyed the clown's prints. At least, that was the assumption they were going on and that was what Joker had claimed the first time they had printed him.
He didn't like this. His gut was telling him this was all wrong. It hadn't been this clear in months, maybe a year, but he could only agree, yet not act on the feeling. This felt too...easy. Nothing with Joker was ever easy. Simply giving himself up, no tricks, no deaths, no anything. What was he waiting for? What was the con? There was always a reason the Joker had for whatever he did.
It was too bad those reasons only made sense to the madman.
The feeling of wrongness wasn't just to the apprehension, though. Even restrained, something was very...off. Off about Joker, and that was in a general sense. Gordon couldn't point out anything specific, at least not yet. Just another gut feeling, but why he felt this way, the aging Commissioner did not know.
He should be making sure that the upcoming interrogation was ready and secure. Instead, he remained at Booking, watching every single step of the process and hearing every rambling word from the pale-skinned lunatic.
The feeling of wrongness never went away.
Fries hadn't taken long getting back to old habits. Batman heard the 911 dispatch call, sending ambulances to the heart of downtown. It went against type for the frozen man as he seemed to prefer dilapidated dwellings to hide out in, or at least he had once upon a time. That was where he kept his refrigerated bases.
Then again, they had only ever found the one and that was because an arsonist had made the mistake of fleeing into it, becoming Fries' first victim. A city-wide search for any other hideouts had been done twice—once after Fries' arrest and another after the Talon Attacks—and everyone had come up empty-handed. Even the vigilante had given it a go and hadn't found anything.
Following the maintenance tunnel, Batman couldn't help but realize where he was going. An underground parking garage had been the entry point and several cars with ties to the Mob had been found there, along with Blackgate's missing transportation truck. Taking into account all of the surrounding streets and buildings, not to mention just how far he had walked, the dark-clad man was starting to get a sinking feeling in his gut as to where he was going.
He found the ice first. There were chunks of slowly melting ice littered on the floor, pushed to the sides of the corridor. When first responders had arrived, they had swept the ice out of the way so that they could get stretchers in. According to first reports, the entrance had been partially frozen over, a large hole the only way in or out.
Considering Fries wasn't found at the scene, it was believed and assumed he was the one to make the hole.
Passing through it, Batman entered a room with ice covering random places along the walls and floor. This had clearly been a Fries attack, no question. The first responders had worked quickly to get the mobsters out of there and loaded into ambulances. Currently the victims were at Gotham's various hospitals attempting to save whomever they could. The only ones left behind were frozen solid, their fates already sealed.
What was worse, according to the reports he had intercepted, Fries hadn't completely frozen everyone. That went against his history as the former Iceman made it a point to leave his victims frozen solid. Yet, only arms and legs, and in some very unfortunate cases, torsos and heads were covered. Those were the ones that were being worked on even now.
Walking by one of the doomed men, Batman gazed at the figure as he appeared to be in mid-turn. He had been trying to get out of the way of the freeze gun and hadn't succeeded. The glare of light off of the ice's surfaces made it a little difficult to get a look at the man's face, but that mattered little. As long as he got a good visual, he could remove the glare back at the Cave so he could run an ID program.
The vigilante did the same thing with the other frozen men, though one gave him pause. If he wasn't mistaken, this was "Bruiser" Long, a former enforcer for Sal Maroni. Obviously he had picked up with another crew if he was here, but he had stayed relatively off the police's radar for years now.
Chances were, these men were all mob, just as the first responders had indicated. Turning his attention away, Batman then focused on the mobile refrigeration unit from Blackgate. It had been damaged during the fight, bullets having left impressions in its back, one side covered in ice. White tape outlines next to the unit indicated where the Blackgate guards had died.
That sense of wrongness came back full force to the vigilante. It was clear these men had brought Fries here, but they weren't hostages. Fries would have had to be locked in the refrigeration unit in order to make the trip from Blackgate to here. That cut off access to the outside world. Any thoughts of him threatening the guards into doing what he wanted were unrealistic.
These guards had purposefully brought Fries here. They were actively helping him. Then the mob had caught up with them and killed them in a hailstorm of bullets. Batman clenched his fists tightly. He needed to get back to Blackgate; there were a couple men there that hadn't told him the full story.
Finally, he turned to face a metal door, one that was wide open thanks to the first responders. Cold air poured out of it, but that didn't sway the dark-clad man as he passed through the doorway. Inside was clearly a hideout for Fries, an open case where yet another Freeze suit had been stored. There was even a place for a Freeze Gun, that obviously was empty. There were some cases, partially opened. Walking up to one, Batman opened it and found spare parts and other materials needed for keeping Fries' gear maintained.
Batman couldn't help but glance up to the ceiling. Mentally, he plotted out his location and couldn't help the growl that worked its way up his throat. If he wasn't mistaken, they were just beneath Wayne Tower, his company's headquarters. All this time, Fries had a hideout literally beneath his nose. While he knew of the maintenance tunnel, only maintenance staff were allowed down here, and they clearly only saw this place as part of the layout.
To add to his growing list of needs, the Dark Knight was going to need to factor in the latest details of Fries' hideout so that he could potentially find his other ones—the man had admitted he had several, but never specified where they were.
Turning away, Batman left the refrigerated unit, fully intent on leaving this place. He had collected as much evidence as he could, even if the evidence was merely the presence of the people killed here. Now came the interrogation part and he had two people in mind. While he didn't think they could lead him to Fries' location, at the very least they would shore up weaknesses in Blackgate's infrastructure, and right now the vigilante felt those weaknesses were the people that operated it.
Interview Room 2 was right now one of the most secure rooms in Gotham. It was also considered to be the most dangerous right now.
"You sure you want to do this?" Bullock asked, the detective's eyes trained on the one-way glass, never leaving the figure that was the Joker. The clown was chained to a rail that was bolted to the table. Legs were cuffed to chair legs. A grinning mouth wouldn't shut as it made observations about the room and my, what had they done with the décor?
Gordon straightened his spine, also watching the madman. When it was time to begin, the Commissioner had "volunteered" himself to be the interviewer. His reasoning was that he was not going to risk anyone's lives going into a room alone with that maniac. He had questions and there would be answers, but the only person who would be risking their necks would be him.
Everyone else had taken risks this night. Some would not be going home today—or ever.
"If you're wondering if I've forgotten how to do an interrogation, I am not as rusty as you think," the Commissioner commented.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Bullock replied. "You haven't been as sharp as you used to be. If you're going in there, you need to be sharper than any knife if you want to cut through that bastard's bullshit."
Gordon was able to hide the wince he felt jerk his face. Was it that obvious? Nevertheless, his decision was still made.
"Commissioner, I think we'd all appreciate it if you let someone else handle this." That was Sawyer, adding her two cents for a one-two hit on him.
"I'm not going to risk anyone else tonight," Gordon stated. "Everyone else has done enough. I will handle this. Your concern is noted. Be on the other side of the door and be ready to rush in. Make sure you have a gas mask, or air filter on you, just in case."
"Com'mish, you're sticking you neck out when you shouldn't."
"Harvey, we both know what's going on, and how much longer I may have. It's all a moot point. I will handle the interrogation. You will watch, or be ready to intervene if necessary."
Not waiting for any more arguments, Gordon stepped away from the window and began the short trek to Interview Room 2's door. He waited to be buzzed in, and once he was, opened the door and put himself at the mercy of the most dangerous man in Gotham.
"Golly gee willikers! If it isn't the big cheese himself! Oh! Too informal. Let me try this again. Ahem. Good evening...Commissioner… Hmm, sounds a bit serious for me. Come, come, don't just stand there! Take a seat, put up your feet, and let's get this game of good cop, bad cop started! So which one are you? No, no, don't tell me! I have to guess, otherwise, where's the fun?"
The door to Interview Room 2 closed behind him with finality. Gordon was locked in now. He could feel the weight of his side arm in its holster and he tried to feel comforted by the presence. It took only three steps to reach the table the clown was restrained to and an arm reached out to pull out the opposite chair.
Every move felt deliberate, even the simple action of sitting down. The sunken eyes merrily watched him without leaving for an instant.
"Hmm, you haven't said anything yet? We both know you're not the strong and silent time, Jimbo. Are you trying to be the bad cop this time?" the clown remarked.
His jaw was clenched, facial muscles were getting tired from keeping up the strain. He was aware of everything, from the temperature in the room, his heart beat as blood pounded through his body, and anything in his gut came to a crawl. His throat was getting dry and he swallowed before getting this under way.
"You have the right to remain silent—"
"This song and dance is boring. Throw out the Miranda and get me to the Lector."
"—anything you say can and will be used against you—"
"Yawn, yawn, yawn. Snorefest!"
"—in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—"
A very loud and obnoxious snore was passed through both mouth and nasal cavities.
"—if you can't afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have given them?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. You are being so boring right now—"
"What's your game?"
Thin lips pulled back, stretching a pale face. "Depends on what game you're talking about," came the cheeky answer. "Are we talking board games? Card games? Charades?"
A deep breath was taken. "We both know you do nothing without a reason. Even if you would like me to think you do, we both know better. What are you up to? Why did you target the waste treatment plant?"
Joker pulled back, arching his lower back while his arms elongated. Wrists chafed against the handcuffs. "Can't a guy go for a walk in the seediest part of Gotham and not be asked questions? Honestly, the fumes were very heady tonight and I thought I might partake."
"You had a crew. Heavy hitters, all of them. Why'd you bring them if you were just going for a walk?"
Sunken eyes rolled. "Gotham, Jimmy boy. You can't be too careful with all those weirdos running around. You need protection, my man. The very best! And who better to fight off weirdos than other weirdos! And they work for peanuts! Literal peanuts!"
Gordon was balling a hand into a fist. He wanted to pound it on the table, but he held back. Giving into anger, especially with someone like this, was the worst thing anyone could do. Knowing the Joker, that's what he wanted. To give in was to lose and Gordon could not lose here.
"There are other seedy places in Gotham that you could have strolled in. You chose the treatment plant. Why?"
"Because my side piece wanted to go on a date and no one is ever going to forget the sewage system anytime soon. Jim, Jimmy, you're asking the softball questions, and I prefer my pitches harder—and faster. So either drop being bad cop, or stop pretending to be good cop with an existential crisis. Say, you look tired, my dear Commissioner. Not getting enough sleep? Not enough 'medication?' You really look like you could use a pick-me-up."
"What was at the plant? What was so important that you broke into it?" Because there was a reason, there had to be a reason. What was it?
"You should know already. Your boys were running around in it all night. Say, you might want to get the health board to check on it. Boy is there a lot of crap down there."
"You're giving me enough of it here. Knock it off and come clean. What is it you're planning?" It was a miracle he hadn't shouted any of it, but he was getting close.
Joker learned forward, his shoulders hunching. "Now, now, Jim. Have I ever given away the punchline to a joke I haven't told yet? Asking me what it is before I even tell it? No self-respecting entertainer would ever explain their material ahead of time. No shock value, no enlightenment, no entertainment. I'd be a poor actor if I kept giving spoilers about the movie before anyone saw it. No, Jimmy, you're just going to have to be like everyone in the audience and wait for the show stopping musical number to hit. Until there, sit on the edge of your seat, bites your nails if you have any, or self-medicate."
"I know you don't care about the value of human's lives, so I'm not going to appeal to something that doesn't exist," Gordon stated. "But even a good actor can hype their audience up. I heard about a comedian who gave away a punchline to a joke before he told it, and still got the audience to laugh at it. So give me hype. Brag. You know you want to. What harm will it do? Especially since we haven't been able to stop you before."
An admittance of weakness, sure, but there was always something to working up a person's ego. Psychopaths tended to eat up that tactic.
"Do you sweet talk your wife with that mouth?" Joker grinned. "'Cause—"
Everything went red for a second. His fist was striking that mouth. The Commissioner hadn't even been aware that he had even stood up from his seat. He didn't stop there as he grabbed the lapels of that purple suit jacket and hauled the bastard over the table, all the better to keep punching him.
How dare he. How dare he! He had no right! No right to bring up Sarah, that motherfucking piece of—!
Then his arms were grabbed and someone was pulling him away. There was shouting and Joker was becoming smaller until he was blocked off by the bodies of various officers. Gordon struggled, because he wasn't done yet, wasn't done hitting…
The door to Interview Room 2 slammed shut. Harvey's voice yelled into his ear.
"—Jim! Keep it together! Calm the fuck down! Jesus Christ, Jim!"
There was a slap and the sharp pain on his face finally stalled his rage. Gordon stared straight ahead, then slowly turned his head to the hand that had struck him, then to the owner of said hand.
"You need to leave, Commissioner," Sawyer said. "We'll take it from here."
He was breathing heavily and he wasn't sure when he had begun doing so. He could feel a large body pressing up behind him, arms going under his to restrain him. Bullock, perhaps? He was heaving now, his anger still giving him energy, and he didn't feel like taking a break, or leaving, or…
"...okay," he said hoarsely.
He was bodily turned away from Interview Room 2 and only then did the arms holding him release him. Hands were on his shoulders, pushing and leading him away, and he allowed it.
Gordon could only stare ahead, and once he was out into a hallway, only then did his energy leave him, his shoulders slumping and he felt so tired. He still held up his fist, looking at his knuckles, at the weapon used to assault that...that…
How hard was he hitting the clown? Maybe not hard enough. He couldn't see any damage to his knuckles, which was a shame. A bit of blood, his or the Joker's, that might had brought some kind of satisfaction.
But now...now he was feeling the emptiness. It hurt to feel so empty.
"Let's get you some fresh air. Clear your head." Definitely Bullock. Without the pounding of blood in his ears, he was beginning to pick up on...well, everything else. "Get some good coffee into you—my treat. And, I want to add, what you did back there, even though it'll give those vultures a field day, you did what every man and gal in their department has wanted to do for years."
With no damage to his knuckles to boot. Fine, he'd go along. In the meantime, let someone else handle the maniac.
They couldn't screw it up more than he had.
Russel Hammond laid on a bed, the same with Jacob Clark. Both were the guards present at Fries' escape, the two that had been left behind in the loading bay. Hammond was missing his hand, the very one Batman had found at the dock.
Both were resting. Neither would be for very long.
Looming over Hammond, Batman reached a hand out and placed it on Hammond's stump. He then squeezed it tightly, the pain it caused immediately causing Hammond to scream himself awake. His upper body flew up from the bed as he reached out to his fresh amputation to attempt to remove the dark-clad man's grip.
Immediately, the vigilante shot his other hand out and wrapped his fingers around the man's throat, forcing him back down to the mattress. "We have a lot to talk about, Hammond," Batman growled. The guard's pain-stricken eyes were wide with fear, gagged moans leaking through his lips.
"How long have you been working with Fries?" he then demanded, relaxing his grip on the man's throat.
"I...I don't know what you're talking about, man," Hammond gasped. "Didn't you see what he—"
He cut himself off as he hissed, Batman squeezing on the fresh stump again. "I found your fellow guards, Garza and Jenkins. Both are dead from a shootout with some mobsters. Thing is, they were found right next to your missing mobile fridge unit."
It took a moment for Hammond to register those words. "Those...those guys are dead?"
Batman ignored the man's shock. "The only way for Fries to get as far as he did was for those two men to help. There weren't any hostages here, were there?"
"Are you saying we helped that maniac?! Look at my arm, man! The bastard froze it off!"
That was an interesting use of a pronoun: we. Not they, we. "I've noticed. So tell me again how it went down. Fries threatened all of you to do as he wanted, correct?"
"That's right! He threatened us and we had to do what he wanted! Said he'd go after our families!"
"And how exactly could he do that being locked in a mobile refrigeration unit made specifically to keep him locked in it during use? The moment he was in there, he couldn't harm a fly," Batman pointed out. "You didn't have to do anything once he was in there."
That gave Hammond pause. The Dark Knight leaned forward, looming over the guard. "You purposefully helped him—that's the only way he got as far as he did. The question is why you did it."
Hammond sputtered, trying to find his words. "It...it was the other guys! Yeah! They were the ones that threatened me! They actually supported the Iceman when he was wrecking shit. They even told him that when he was here. So when Fries wanted out, they were ready to help him out. I just got caught in the crossfire."
"By them, you mean Garza, Jenkins, and Clark?" Batman questioned.
"Yeah, that's right."
That caused his eyes to narrow. Though not as severe as the injuries Hammond sustained, Clark had been injured as well, his presence in the next bed proving that. "So why did Fries harm Clark if he was helping him?"
"Uhhh," Hammond stuttered.
"Want me to tell you what I think? Alright, I think Fries injured you and Clark to hide the fact the four of you were helping him. Who would ever think the very men he hurt would be his accomplices, right?"
"Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? It didn't go that—"
Again, Hammond was cut off as Batman squeezed down on his stump. "Don't lie to me," he growled.
"Alright. Alright! We helped him out! Just let go of my arm, man!" Hammond cried out.
"Did you get all of that?" Batman asked as he leaned back, letting go of the guard's arm. Standing several steps away was Zorbatos, her one eye blazing with anger. "I'll leave the rest of it in your hands."
"How kind of you," the warden replied sarcastically. "I'll be taking it from here more so than you leaving it behind. Now get out of here. I have some disciplinary matters to attend to."
Batman took the offered cue and left Blackgate's infirmary. Hammond and Clark would be arrested and tried for their roles in Fries' escape, Zorbatos would see to that. Now he just needed to find where Fries went after his fight with those mobsters. IDing the frozen men would give him an idea of which family was involved and he could press them for what they knew. There were still some grudges being held and it was more than likely gangsters from Falcone and Moxon's old crews would be looking for some payback.
There wasn't much more he could do for now. It was time to head back to the Cave.
"So why are we at Kane Industries?"
Batgirl had to come to a stop. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bluebird and Spoiler looking at her expectantly. The one who asked the question—uhhh, she wasn't sure actually since it had at least been asked quietly, making it difficult to discern who had actually asked. She was gonna have to learn a bit more of these two if she was going to work with them more frequently.
The big reason why she had brought these two was because she wanted additional pairs of eyes. She understood that Bluebird had some knowledge in electronics, so she would be a good bet to know what had been stolen could be used for.
It had gone under the radar of most people thanks to the craziness that was infecting the city right now. There had been a theft here that was currently being investigated by the police, but there hadn't been much progress. Because tech thefts had the potential to make larger problems later on, Batgirl wanted to get to the bottom of it before whatever had been stolen could cause that kind of trouble.
"Wait and I'll explain everything," she told the other two girls before she began creeping down the hallway. She had been here earlier in the night, so she had a good idea on where they were going.
Reaching the end of the hall, she peered around a corner. There she spotted a doorway at the end of a shorter hallway, one that was partially blocked by yellow police tape. There weren't any guards present, but that didn't mean they weren't close by.
"Hurry," she ordered before darting towards the police tape. She heard the other two girls following after her, their footsteps soft, but to her sounded like an elephant stampede. Reaching the tape, she grabbed one and pushed it up, stepping out of the way so that Bluebird and Spoiler could pass through, followed by her.
Once they were at the crime scene, Batgirl took charge. "Last night there was a theft here," she told the other two teens. "It largely went unnoticed, but I want to make certain this isn't going to cause a problem for us down the road."
"Don't you mean you want to catch the person that did it?" Spoiler pointed out. "I thought that was...the point of doing this...this thing," she slowly trailed off.
Ultimately, yeah. "There is that," Batgirl agreed, "and that would be the primary focus if what was currently going on didn't happen. This could have been a theft by the Joker, or Strange, which can only make things worse. I rather it be some corporate espionage so that the threat level is less."
"Heh, who ever thought we'd be wishing for some mundane crime," Bluebird joked. "Alright, I'm game. What exactly happened?"
"Perps unknown—they knocked out the building's security system before entering," the black-dressed girl reported. "Unknown number of thieves entered, went right for here, and gained entry. This is Kane's R&D department, so access is restricted."
"You think they hacked their way in here?" Spoiler asked.
"Or bypass the security measures with an illegal card reader," Bluebird supplied as well.
Batgirl shook her head to either suggestion. "Last logs indicated one of Kane's employees gaining access through company protocols. That employee is currently in custody, though they currently claim that they have no idea what is going on."
"Why is it all of these punks act like they had no idea what they did is wrong?" the blue-haired girl grumbled. "It's always the same story and you know they know what they did isn't legal."
"I have an idea on what was taken," Batgirl continued, ignoring the gripping. "But I'm not certain what each item stolen could be used for."
"So that's where we come in."
"More like where you come in," Spoiler grumbled to Bluebird. "You're the tech expert."
"Spoiler, stand guard so that way we're not interrupted," Batgirl ordered. "We shouldn't be long."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll stand guard." The other two girls began venturing further into the room, though neither missed, "I only just helped solve the Riddler crisis not too long ago."
It was pretty obvious what was stolen by where the police had placed numbered placards throughout the room. Each was numbered, though the numbers didn't go past seven. There weren't any chalk outlines, so no one was killed during the theft—always a good thing. Skipping the first placard, they went for the second one, mostly because one was a handprint revealed by powder. It had already been IDed by the GCPD belonging to the employee in custody.
The second placard was where one of the pieces of tech had been taken. It was here Batgirl stepped back and allowed Bluebird to look at it. It was a large case with a glass door, one left partially opened. "Looks like someone took several circuit boards," Bluebird surmised. That was probably obvious since a few were left in the slots within the cabinet.
They moved to placard three then. Bluebird stared at it and said, "I'm not sure what I'm looking at."
It looked like some piece of machinery, but what it was and what it did escaped both girls apparently. Just like the cabinet with the circuit boards, a portion of the machine had been opened and its insides raided. There was really no telling what had been stolen.
And as it turned out, each subsequent placard drew the same conclusion: someone had taken parts of machines and left the rest to be pondered over. Without knowing what the machines did, there was no telling what parts were taken and what their uses would be.
"I'm sorry I'm not much help here," Bluebird said after awhile. "All I can say is that someone might be trying to sell the various parts."
"What makes you think that?" Batgirl asked.
"It's the only thing I can think of," she shrugged.
"What about building something with them?"
"That's possible, I suppose, but building it into what? Without knowing exactly what parts were taken, it could be anything. The only thing I can say for certain is those circuit boards could be programmed for whatever it would be."
Well, this was pointless and turning into a waste of time. Batgirl hadn't moved the investigation anywhere past square one. That was rather frustrating.
"Hey, guys?"
The two teens turned to look towards Spoiler, who was staring at them expectantly. "Is someone coming?" Bluebird was quick to ask.
"No, no one yet," the lavender-dressed girl was quick to answer. "I just thought you should see this."
Spoiler then walked off, leaving Batgirl and Bluebird to share a look before following. The other girl led them to a spot completely separate from where most of the police's investigation had occurred. There was a desk with a computer on it, its screen lit up with all sorts of text on it.
"While you guys were playing Nancy Drew, I saw this computer and thought maybe someone had used it, so I looked up the history."
"Seriously? You checked the search history?" Bluebird asked incredulously.
Batgirl felt as if Spoiler were rolling her eyes at the remark. "No, not the internet history, the computer's. Someone used it I think. Take a look."
Doing as told, Batgirl saw a window open, a list of...of something on it. There were words that didn't make much sense to her, but she did see time stamps on each item and they were at the approximate time of the theft.
"Not gonna lie," Bluebird spoke up," I don't know half of these words, but I do see neuro in there. That's like brain stuff, right?"
That caused Batgirl to narrow her eyes. Was it possible the technology stolen had something to do with the neuro system? It would be hard to tell, but it was definitely something to look into. Pulling out a flashdrive, she inserted it into a USB port and made certain to have that search report copied and loaded into the drive.
"Can we look up inventory in here?" she asked then, looking to Spoiler.
"As long as this computer was used for it, I think so," she answered her.
"Then let's see what else we can find here. Perhaps it'll shed some light on what these people want with the tech."
