DC Infinity Presents
Batgirl # 17
Streets of Fear Unseen
Part 1
Gotham City 3AM
Mike Cameron pulled his 1986 Chevy Malibu into the alley behind Bob's Eatery. In the past, Mike had eaten at the restaurant, and found the service terrible, music worse and food was at least a misdemeanor. But the boss of the crew he was with loved the place, so he had to suffer through it.
So Mike thought it was a just revenge to dispose of dead weight, evidence to others and James to his older brother, in the alley right next to the diner. With any luck, the police would close the building for the entire, but Mike was satisfied at simply harming their peace of mind. Anything more was just gravy.
He popped the trunk, and hauled what was now just a mass of muscle and bone wrapped in clear plastic out and dumped it against the far wall next to several trash cans. Mike knew he should at least make some efforts to conceal the body, but he just couldn't be bothered.
It hardly looks out of place, Cameron thought to himself, besides who really cares?
Later, Thomas Wayne High School
"Deeee…." Cassandra Cain, not for the first time, felt like an idiot as she molded the letter D out of clay while she sounded out the letter. She did her best to ignore the feeling, and focus on her Special Education teacher, Mrs. Tee who was seemed satisfied with her progress thus far.
"I know it seems silly, Cassandra," Mrs. Tee said, reading the frustration on her face effortlessly, "but this really will help you remember letters easier."
"Feel like little kid," Cassandra muttered.
"Well too bad," Mrs. Tee replied, "you need to get comfortable using exercises to read. I'm sorry, but dyslexia isn't something that is suddenly 'cured'. But you're making strides, trust me."
Cassandra nodded silently. She knew the speech and had heard it, in some variation, at least five times before. And she knew that she'd hear it again, if she objected or otherwise complained.
So instead, teacher and student patient worked their way through the alphabet again, and worked on a few practice sentences. To Cassandra's surprise, the class went by annoyingly quick, and before she was able to finish a third assignment, the bell rang.
"That's good progress for today," Mrs. Tee said, though Cassandra could tell she really meant 'Your progress is simply amazing'. The unspoken compliment buoyed Cass as she gathered up her books and binders, while Mrs. Tee counted her papers (as her student had the oddest habit of stealing papers for study aides), "Have a good lunch, Cassandra."
Cassandra made her way out of the class room, took a quick stop at her locker to pick up the lunch Tatsu prepared for her, made her way towards the cafeteria.
Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra saw her friend Zoe Hampton exiting her biology class. Cass slowed her pace, careful not to make it obvious that she was slowing down to match Zoe's pace. Cassandra quickly learned that Zoe loathed slowing anyone else down, but could also see that if Zoe moved too fast, it would send stabs of pain through her leg. Zoe hid it well, but Cassandra saw the pain as if it were a freshly created wound.
"Hey Zoe," Cassandra said, "up for…food? I mean lunch!"
"Yeah sure, Cass," Zoe adjusted her backpack, and the two young girls made their way to the cafeteria.
"So how's your class today? Making any progress?" Zoe asked casually.
"Some," Cassandra replied, unsure of how proud she should be of her accomplishments. Sure, her teacher was impressed, but then again, Cassandra understood how what she was learning was fairly basic. Uncertain as to whether or not she should take pride in her accomplishments, Cass quickly tried to change the subject, "so uhh…how has your day been?"
"Same as any other," Zoe replied dryly, "sitting, learning and everyone high and mighty because Joker didn't put them here."
Cassandra couldn't think of anything to say, and almost sighed in relief when she realized she didn't have to say something to lift her friend's spirit.
"Hey girlfriends!"
Sarah Gibbs threw her arms over both Cassandra and Zoe and pulled them into a hug. Sarah was an old friend of Zoe's, and somehow that instantly translated into friendship with Cassandra.
At first appearance, the way Zoe scowled and rolled her eyes that Zoe and Sarah weren't close friends, but Cass saw the twitch of Zoe's upper lip and how her shoulders seem to lighten. While part of Zoe Hampton was annoyed by Sarah's very presence, a more important part was relieved.
For Cassandra, Sarah was quickly becoming a close friend for a host of reasons. Part of it was because she was open and honest in everything she did. Sarah didn't have a dishonest bone in her body, and was brimming with positive energy that was expressed in every way possible. Such openness was very, and something Cass treasured.
And her resemblance to Stephanie Brown, with blond hair, blue eyes and roughly the same height, didn't hurt either. Cassandra knew it probably wasn't exactly normal to prefer someone simply because they reminded you of a dead friend, but Cassandra reasoned that she had too few friends to really be choosey about the 'why'.
"Hey Sarah," Zoe tried to slide to the side a little bit, recoiling from Sarah. Cassandra saw how Zoe was uncomfortable with any physical intimacy, and so she moved opposite of Zoe, and like she expected Sarah hung on to her. Cass had her suspicions as to what Sarah was after.
"Math homework?" Cass asked.
"Math homework," Sarah confirmed, "I was having some trouble with questions fifteen through twenty two."
"One second," Cass put her lunch down, and then flipped through her backpack and produced the worksheet.
"You're the best!" Sarah grabbed the sheet and began comparing it to her own.
"Cheater," Zoe coughed under her breath, half seriously.
"Hey, I'm just checking my answers!" Sarah defended, and Cassandra knew she was telling the truth. She knew the difference between helping someone, and someone exploiting her for their own purpose. That body language was as different as night and day, and Sarah was so far on one side that Cassandra would never hesitate to hand over her own work.
Cassandra laid out her lunch, three different sandwiches, a bottle of Gatorade and some cookies. She sighed wistfully, it was a fair sized meal but she was still always hungry afterwards, and didn't feel right about stealing food from her classmates.
"Arrgh!"
Cassandra froze, and her head whipped towards Sarah. In the pit of her stomach, Cassandra was scared that her friend has stumbled onto a mistake she'd made.
"What?" Cass blurted out before she caught herself.
"I went about it all wrong! Arrgh!" Sarah grabbed her head in frustration, pulled out a pencil and began to scribble on her worksheet furiously.
"I might have made a mistake," Cassandra offered weakly.
"Really, what's the lowest score you've gotten?" Sarah asked.
"Ninety five?" Cassandra replied sheepishly.
"So yeah, I think I'll trust you on this one," Sarah replied.
Cassandra went back to her lunch, as Sarah went back to correcting her homework, muttering under her breath the entire time.
"Having another blond moment?"
"Go to hell, Josh," Sarah said good-naturedly, without looking up, "hey Aaron. We're sanitary, I promise."
Josh Clark was a giant of a teenager, a body type Cassandra was more used to seeing in the dark back alleys of Gotham than politely conversing with her. Josh was a largely, friendly and as outgoing as Sarah or Nightwing.
Knowing that, others might have found it odd that he was holding a young Asian teenager by the scruff of his neck.
The teenager's name was Aaron Lee, and though he had a 'condition', he was unique from the majority in that it wasn't caused by any of Gotham's Rogues. His official diagnosis was obsessive compulsive disorder, and Cassandra could see how it expressed itself in Aaron's every movement.
Aaron regarded everything as a threat, even as he fought to be relaxed, calm and centered. He regarded everything with scrutiny and was uncomfortable in situations he wanted to be a part of. From Cassandra's perspective, Aaron was a bundle of tension and shame, wanting to interact with people his own age while at the same time struggling to just deal with the thought.
"Hey," Aaron said sheepishly hid his hands in his pockets, though Cassandra caught a glimpse of how they were bright red.
"You are seriously messing up stereotypes," Josh commented as he sat down. The whole table moved under his weight, "jocks are supposed to push nerds into the bathroom to torment 'em, not pull them out."
"No one's forcing you to break character," Aaron said weakly as he pulled a wet-nap out of his pocket, "not like I even eat lunch here. Do you have any idea how much bacteria is just floating around in just this room?"
"Eh, I bet my stomach could take it," Josh declared proudly as he pulled out the sub he'd made the night before for lunch.
Conversation was light, as the teenagers ate their lunch and discussed whatever came to mind. Aaron, Zoe and Cassandra were not talkative people by nature, but Josh and Sarah pulled them into discussion effortlessly.
For Cassandra, it was something of a new experience. She rarely engaged in any casual conversation, and what little experience she had in it was centered around her life as Batgirl.
Talking to her…friends about music, about the reality shows she liked and how hard some of her classes were, was still a novel experience for Cassandra. And while she at first dreaded what seemed like invasive, intimate discussion (at least that's what it seemed like to Cassandra's limited experience), she found that it was becoming more and more comfortable, even pleasant.
Lunch passed quickly enough, and Cassandra took back her homework, and made her way to her next class. She made a point to walk slowly, because she knew Josh wanted to speak to her about something. She sensed his approach, and slowed down accordingly.
Josh Clark was a quick for his size, but compared to what Cassandra usually dealt with, he wasn't much. Between her anxiety not to be late, and slight annoyance at Josh's lack of speed, Cassandra whipped her head to the side moments before Josh announce his presence.
"Yes?" Cassandra accidently snapped, polite but quick.
Startled, Josh took a step back before saying, "I was just thinkin', the girls basketball team needs more players. Maybe you ought to think about trying out."
Cassandra thought about that for a moment. She rarely watched sports, and almost never considered playing them herself. The opportunity didn't really presented itself when dealing with the likes of Penguin or Two-Face, after all.
"I don't know," Cassandra began, "might not be able…to keep up."
Josh just smiled, and pinched her arms, "Guns like those, I think you can hang with the best of 'em. Just consider it Cass, I think it'd be fun."
Inwardly, Cassandra just rolled her eyes dismissively. Training was fun, practicing her aim was fun. Basketball just seemed pointless running from one end of the room to another, trying to keep a ball away from the opposing team. It just seemed so pointless.
"I know some of the girls on the team, they're pretty nice. And I know they'd love to fill out the roster. Trust me on this, they'd love to have you."
Doubt it, Cassandra thought to herself.
Elsewhere
The call came in just after lunch, and though there were a half dozen detectives on hand, Detective Akins, one of the squad's most junior detectives, found himself saddled with the case. The reasons varied, Peter knew, but were no less offensive. A part of it because of his junior status, another part was because of his relationship with an unpopular Commissioner and finally, most importantly, was sheer indifference. So they dumped it on the rookie, and went about their way working on the 'important cases'.
It all added up to Peter questioning why he wanted to be a detective at the same time he was trying to solve a man's murder. Politics shouldn't interfere with a murder investigation.
But the Detective pushed those thoughts from his mind as he surveyed the crime scene. It was all too familiar, a dirty alley, a rotting corpse that no one noticed until they tripped over it, and a crowd with a morbid interest in someone else's morality.
"So what can you tell me?" asked Peter as he scribbled down notes about the crime scene. He didn't need the Crime Scene techs to tell him that the body had been moved.
"Hard to say until I get him on my table," the ME replied, "but I'd say he's been dead for at least eight hours, maybe more. He's got severe bruising all over his body. Maybe he tried to take someone else's sleeping bag and they showed him what's what. You know how they are."
Detective Akin's lip twitched, "Leave the detective work to the detective. See any track marks?"
"No, why?"
"Because the man's eyes look bloodshot, like he's been crying for a damn week. Not only that, the man's fingers are almost worn down to the bone," Akins observed, "and I really doubt that his fellow homeless killed him and dumped his body here."
"Good point," replied the Medical Examiner with obvious apathy.
Detective Akins looked at the dead man's face, and privately swore that he'd be the exception, that he'd find the bastards who killed him, and bring them to justice just like he'd find any other murderer.
Thomas Wayne High School
As Cassandra watched the Girls Basketball team on the court, she asked herself for the millionth time why she'd bothered to come. A part of her clearly and envied the undertones of friendship and teamwork in their movement. There was a bond between all the girls that was different from friendship, but no less important.
However, Cassandra recognized that at the moment, she was an outsider, and that she would have to replace someone who was well liked (Sarah explained that one of the members had moved away last week. Sarah was good for gossip, sort of like an interesting but useless Oracle).
Taking a deep breath for courage, Cass walked into the gym with as much confident as she could find and walked into the gym, and up to the coach.
"Excuse me…?" Cassandra asked, in a voice that would never have been associated with Batgirl. Coach Harker turned her head, and Cassandra saw instantly that she was being appraised.
"I'm here about…joining the team?"
"Try outs are next week," Coach Harker said flatly.
Though the teacher meant no offense, the statement was like a slap in the face for Cassandra. She could see how little the Coach thought of her simply coming into the gym and asking for a try-out, and Cassandra realized she just made a gigantic social error.
Cassandra was mortified, and she simply stood there for a moment, wishing that she would disappear from the world. Once again, she'd screwed, blundered into a mistake no one else would have made and acted like an idiot.
Within seconds, Cassandra hit rock bottom of her (latest) depression. But quickly, within seconds, a part of her that had grown tired of always making the wrong move socially, of always being the outcast, took hold.
I am Batgirl, Cassandra reminded herself, I have beaten Shiva twice and fought alongside Batman. Joining a basketball team is my right.
"You don't need to wait," Cassandra saidly boldly as she summoned her courage. Coach Harker, who'd practically forgotten about her, gave Cassandra a funny look.
"Is that so?" Coach Harker shook her head. Like the vast majority of the staff, she was hired because she was smart, patient and understanding. As a matter of fact, she cared less about her team winning a game and more about them having fun, exercising and being disciplined as they played.
And when she looked at Cassandra, she saw a young woman either too airheaded or impatient to actually look up the time for try-outs, or simply thought the rules applied to her. Coach Harker didn't know was the case with this young woman, but neither did she care. Rather, she decided to teach the young woman an important life lesson
"Alright girls!" Coach Harker shouted, "that's enough for today. Hit the showers. Jessie, could I see you for a moment?"
A tall, red headed girl broke away from the rest and walked towards the Coach. Cassandra saw how the other girls regarded her with looks of slight contempt, dismissal and pity. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Cassandra that she'd violated some manner of proper decorum.
But Cassandra just pushed down the feelings of insecurity. She knew she was better than any of those girls, and all but had a right to be on the team.
"Got another eager one?" Jessie asked. Cassandra was only slightly relieved to learn she wasn't the first person to make this mistake (though she was far and away the most polite).
"Yeah. Hey…"
"Cassandra!" snapped Cass.
"Cassandra hear wants an early try-out. So why you two play a quick game of twenty one? See how she does."
Cassandra set her books down and walked onto the court. The other girl, Jessie, tossed her a ball, which Cassandra caught with her left hand. She took a moment to size the girl up, and access Coach Harker. Both were watching her with a critical eye, watching for a single mistake that would prove her unworthy.
So Cassandra decided to give them both a show.
"I'll let you start," Jessie tossed Cassandra the ball.
"I'm right handed," said Cassandra casually as she caught the ball with her left, "just so you know."
Cassandra often had trouble with language, and feared she always would. Expressions were especially confusing, because she rarely had a frame of reference. For instance, she didn't know why anyone would ever give a horse as a gift, let alone why someone might check it's teeth.
'Their jaws hit the floor' was another Cassandra didn't understand. Unless a fist had just sent their face rocketing to the floor, it was physically impossible for one's jaw to touch the ground.
But while Cassandra did not understand the expression, she certainly recognized her. Coach Harker's mouth was agape as, inside of four minutes, Cassandra won the game of twenty one while missing only a single basket (it was that, or elbow the other girl in the gut).
"So…how did I do?" Cassandra asked with feigned innocence.
"I…think we've found our newest member," Coach Harker replied, dumbstruck, "let me go get you a permission slip."
"I think you broke her brain," Jessie commented as she wiped away a brow of sweat.
"Oh, I…uh, sorry," Cassandra was genuinely apologetic, even though she was fairly certain the coach's brain was just fine.
"Don't worry about it," the girl smirked. She extended her hand in open friendship, "name's Jessie Thomas, team captain. If you work with others half as well as you played out here, I think everyone's going to love you."
Cassandra strolled into her room with a casual smile on her face. All things considered, today was one of the best days in a long, long while. She was making considerable progress in reading, Tatsu agreed to let her join the Girl's Basketball Team and she had no homework tonight, meaning that nothing stood in the way of patrol.
Cassandra's room was still as close to the definition of Spartan. The bed, desk and dressers were store bought, with didn't have a scratch or hint of personality to them. Everything was neat, clean and orderly, with the single exception of the dirty clothes pile at the front of the closet (Tatsu once heartily explained that she wasn't Alfred and that she wouldn't tolerate a pig sty. Cassandra only had to be told once). Even the towels in her personal bathroom were standard white.
Cassandra put her books up, stripped and then their made a bee-line for the shower. The water was almost scalding for others, but for Cassandra it was just the right temperature to relax her muscles, and truly make her feel clean.
Twenty minutes later, Cassandra finally stepped out. She wrapped a towel around her body, and examined herself in the mirror for a moment.
Over a year ago, Cassandra had been resurrected by a Lazarus Pit. In addition to saving her life, healing otherwise fatal injuries, it had seemingly eliminated all the dozens of scars she'd managed to collect training as a child. Cassandra didn't miss them in the least. She didn't want to be reminded of the time her father shot her in the shoulder to keep alert, or the time a knife expert got lucky and left his mark down her side, and she was literally far more comfortable in her skin now that she didn't have pockets of areas she could barely feel.
But the scars seemed determined to be remembered. Her skin was as red as a lobster after the shower, but where there'd once been scar tissue, there was simply regular, white skin. Something Cassandra knew she would have to be mindful of if and when she showered with the other girls on the team.
"Cassandra!" Tatsu yelled, "hurry up and get dressed! Dinner is almost ready!"
Cassandra dressed quickly, and she'd just pulled her shirt down over her head when she noticed a poster hanging on the wall across from her bed.
It was a picture of four men walking across a street in lock step. Cassandra could tell that it was an older picture, but she had no idea of the era. The only thing she recognized was a white car Robin had said was named a 'Beetle'.
Cassandra examined the top right corner, and saw some writing.
"Ahhh….beee….ro…road," Cassandra sounded out the letters, "Abbey road. Bee…tells. …beetles?"
"Abbey road, Beetles?" Cassandra said aloud, puzzled. She knew that Tatsu had hung the poster, but couldn't think of any conceivable reason why. Tatsu was a very direct person, and if she had a point to make, Cassandra knew she'd just come out and say it.
"Cassandra! Dinner! Here, now!"
Case in point.
Cassandra flew down the stairs, and when she got to the kitchen she was shocked to see that Tatsu wasn't alone.
"Hey Cassandra," Dick Grayson waved, "hope you don't mind, I'm joining you ladies for dinner."
"I don't…care?" Cassandra wracked her brain, trying to think why Nightwing might think that she would object to him eating dinner with them. Nothing came to mind, but Cassandra was painfully aware that she wasn't aware of a lot of social procedure, "don't mind, I mean."
"I only wish Barbara could have joined us," Tatsu remarked.
"She's running down an important lead for Bruce," Dick replied.
"So…why are you here, Nightwing?" asked Cassandra.
"Good company," Dick replied, "and call me Dick, Cassandra."
"Okay…but I know…there's more," Cassandra observed. Nightwing was concealing something from her, Cassandra could tell that with just a glance. Though it wasn't as if Nightwing was even trying to hide it.
"There is, but we can talk about it afterwards," Dick replied, "but just so you know now, I'm joining you for patrol tonight."
Cassandra nodded, and moved to help Tatsu set the table, but Dick intercepted her quickly.
"Let me get it, Cassandra, Gentleman's Duty," Dick offered as he pulled out the chair, "you just take a seat. So Tatsu tells me you made the basketball team?"
"Yes, but not impressive for…us," Cassandra replied sheepishly.
"Doesn't mean it can't be fun though," Dick said, "just go easy on the other girls and don't use too much Bat-fu, alright?"
"I know," Cassandra said, "but Batgirl has been…active a long time. Cassandra Cain, is new. I don't think anyone will…make connection."
"Probably not, but it never hurts to be careful," Dick said, "so tell me about your classes, how have they been going?"
"I uhh…been doing good in math," Cassandra said, hoping Nightwing was impressed. Cassandra then remembered the poster in her room, and turned to Tatsu, "there's something…in my room. Abbeee…road, Beatles?"
"I told you if you didn't decorate your room, I would," Tatsu replied evenly, "my husband was fond of that poster, so I thought I'd hang a copy in your room."
"But I don't even know them!" Cassandra objected.
"Then you really should have tried to personalize your room better," replied Tatsu.
"I'll help you out with that, if you like," Nightwing offered with a wry smile, "so have you made any friends yet?"
Dinner conversation was light, and Cassandra wasn't sure how to feel. She wasn't familiar with this line of discussion, what she should or shouldn't reveal, what exactly was 'polite discussion' and what wasn't. It was…different, talking to Nightwing without discussing some crime or another member of the Bat-clan.
Different, but Cassandra found that she liked it.
Later
"So…why are you…here?" Cassandra asked, as the pair of crimefighters made their way downstairs into Batgirl's private cave.
"You remember how you gave Detective Akins an emergency contact program?" Nightwing asked, "he activated it this afternoon."
"Did he say…why?"
Cassandra saw that Nightwing's equipment was already resting in her cave, placed right by the spare changing area (which held spare equipment for Batman and Robin as well).
"He didn't really say anything," Nightwing saw Cassandra beginning to undress, and made a beeline to his equipment. Even if he wasn't happily married, Cassandra was like a little sister to him, "obviously, he's dealing with a homicide but Babs took a look through his computer, and didn't find anything recent, so it's likely a new case."
"Or trap," Batgirl proposed.
"Or trap," Nightwing agreed, "he gave us a time and place. We still have an hour easy to make sure he's on the level."
Batgirl snapped her arm outwards and clenched her fist, testing the feel of her glove, "That's an hour more than we need."
Gotham City Morgue
Detective Akins chewed on the toothpick as he paced back and forth. He hated how he was now waiting for the same people who undermined his uncle's time as police commissioner, and hated how he was asking for help so early into his career as a detective. It felt as though he was proving right all those people who doubted him, all those who said he couldn't hack it and was only promoted because of his uncle.
But at the same time, Akins knew when he needed help that wasn't department issue. For a case like this, he had no other choice. This won't become habit.
Yeah, Detective Akins thought bitterly, how many times did Gordon tell himself that?
"Detective Akins."
Akins spun around, and saw Batgirl and Nightwing drop down like an Olympian sticking a perfect landing. Batgirl, the crime-fight with whom he had the most experience, stood towards the back while Nightwing casually offered his hand with an easy, disarming but still somehow serious smile
"Nightwing. Batgirl speaks highly of you."
Detective Akins shook Nightwing's hand despite himself, "That's…thank you. I guess you're curious why I asked you here."
"Somewhat You didn't leave any information when you requested contact."
Detective Akins sighed, and tossed aside the toothpick. He swung open the door and waved for them to follow, "I couldn't risk you saying no."
As they followed Akins, Batgirl noticed how the few staff members they came across always seemed to find something else to look at, some interesting spot on the ceiling or some new business, the moment they saw the duo. It was as if they thought that simply by ignoring their presence, somehow she and Nightwing would simply disappear into thin air, as if they'd never been.
Batgirl wasn't offended by their unwillingness to give them their due credit. Batgirl could count on one hand the number of people whose opinion she respected, but she thought the charade was an impressive feat in stupidity. Why was it so hard to just accept their help?
And though she'd never admit it aloud, the attendant's unwillingness to acknowledge their very existence reminded Cassandra of a more uncomfortable period of her life.
When the three of them entered the morgue, Batgirl brushed the thought aside and focused her attention on Detective Akins as he directed their attention to a corpse in the far corner of the room.
It was an older man, with white hair, a long, shaggy beard and body covered in liver-spots. Batgirl and Nightwing took instant notice of the bruises on the man's hands. They recognized the signs of a fight with only a glance.
"His name is Jason Edwards. He's been on the streets some twenty years and counting," Detective Akins explained, "he was found dead in alley this morning. The prevailing theory is that he was rolled over by his fellow homeless who accidently took it too far."
"But you don't believe that," Nightwing countered.
"It's certainly possible. I mean, I'm having a serious discussion with man in a Halloween costume about a homicide," Detective Akins said dryly, "but I don't think it's likely, no. The body was obviously moved. If a homeless person killed him, how the hell would they move the body? Why bother when they can just vamoose themselves?"
"His property," Batgirl said abruptly, "where is it?"
"It's…," The Rookie Detective had barely glanced at a box in the corner before Batgirl strode towards it and tore the lid off, "…over there."
Detective Akins watched the young heroine rummage through the box for a moment, and then gave Nightwing an aside glance. He gave a reassuring nod.
"It wasn't homeless…who killed him," Batgirl stated as she held out the man's tired, beaten shoe. She reached inside, and pulled out a five dollar bill, "they left…too much money behind. And there are others, aren't there?"
"…there might be others," Detective Akins replied hesitantly, "on a hunch, I did a check to see if there were anymore deaths of homeless people. Turns out, in the past three weeks four bodies have shown up."
"And no one thinks they're connected?" Nightwing raised an eyebrow.
"They're the perfect victims. No one notices us…them," Batgirl said, "who would even know…if they disappeared?"
"Exactly," Akins conceded, "this is Gotham, they could be unrelated. But I wouldn't bet my badge on it. But because they're homeless, I can't get a toxicology report for a month, and that's if I'm lucky."
"We have a quicker lab," Nightwing replied, "if you could spare some blood samples?"
Detective Akins reached into his jacket and pulled out a plastic bag with several blood samples.
"Each of the victims had dilated pupils, but only one had needle marks," said Detective Akins, "physical trauma was the cause of death in each case, but the coroner reported that there were signs of massive cardiac stress in each case. Hands were all bruised, like they'd been in a fight recently"
"They certainly sound related to me, Detective," Nightwing took the blood samples, "we'll look into it and keep you in the loop, Detective."
The duo began to leave, but Batgirl lingered in the doorway for a moment, before she turned back towards the Gotham Junior Detective.
"Thank you… for truly caring," Cassandra Cain said, and then left.
Jacob Palmer had been on the streets for some twenty years before today. When his wife and daughter were killed in a car accident, he dived into the bottle like his father before him and never looked back. His life, if it could be called that, was little more than an alcohol fueled haze of alleys and rummaging through garbage cans for scraps.
Though he came close to starving to death dozens of times, Jacob never once feared for his life. The sheer injustice that he saw as his life, the loving family that he dared create for himself killed in a one in a million accident, while the family he'd been born into, the same family that sold him on the street, was still breathing, wasting air. The staggering unfairness had simply broken Jacob.
But the terrifying day Jacob woke up in an iron cage, everything changed. Now, not only did he learn to fear for his life, he feared for his immortal soul.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, I'm so sorry," Jacob rocked himself back and forth in his cell. His eyes were blood shot, and tears refused to come no matter how much guilt bared down on his soul.
He was past tears now.
Laying across from him was Joey Collins, one of only a handful of victims (his victims!) that Jacob recognized.
Jacob remembered the murder in bits and pieces, almost like a dream but terrifyingly real. In the beginning, he tried to tell himself it was all just a terrifying illusion, but now…the blood underneath his fingernails, the taste of flesh in his mouth and broken fingers in his hand spoke to the truth as loud as any memory.
Elsewhere in the same facility, Jacob was observed by the individuals who'd arranged his kidnapping, and were responsible for his agony.
"Looks like our winner needs some new meat," observed the Once Millionaire.
"Not to worry," replied the Researcher, "new subjects are like weeds. You can take a handful, and no one will ever notice, let alone care."
Next Issue: The Hunt Begins. Nightwing and Batgirl try to find who's preying on Gotham's homeless, and it's not an easy task.
Authors note: Dick is Nightwing's name, not his characterization. And that's all I care to say with regards to his relationship with Cass.