AN: First off, I'm incredibly sorry that this chapter's taken so long - I've had a load of college work to contend with, and my muse ran away temporarily. Secondly, massive thanks to CreamyChocolatez, Chaseha-Wing, Kailyssa, DeathXByXSelf, teenagejustice, Rina, VampirePrinssess, and LittleEvilAngel for reviewing: crikey, there's a lot of you guys, and you're all great :) Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it...


The Sincerest Form

Sudden animosity is never a good thing, especially when it comes from people who owe you a debt of gratitude. I have a horrible feeling I've missed something very important – why else would I suddenly be the object of such harsh looks from the girls who work the streets around the docks. I wouldn't mind so much if it weren't for the fact they look afraid, as well as unfriendly: I'm going to have to work twice as damned hard to find someone who'll tell me what the fuck's going on.

I make for the old warehouse where the majority of them congregate around here – it's not exactly a warehouse anymore; more a sort of cheap, communal living-space for those streetwalkers that either can't afford proper flats or are too young to live alone without people getting nosy about it. I'll say one thing for Gotham's prostitutes: they look out for one another. Only way to get by in a city like this.

As usual, the place is pretty busy, but the distance they keep away from me is definitely not normal. I glance around in an attempt to catch sight of one of the 'big sisters' who're in charge of this place. They're an odd lot, but they're far more likely to talk to me than anybody else here. Ah, there's Susie. No mistaking the dyed-red hair and angular build. I walk towards the ex-kick-boxer, careful not to take her by surprise – she's not nice when you sneak up on her.

"Hood." She doesn't look up, but the tone of her voice is cold enough to let me know she's not happy I'm here. Great.

"Look, will somebody please explain to me what the fuck is happening? Since when am I public enemy number one?" I'm really getting frustrated here.

"You mean it wasn't you that killed Helen?" Everybody seems to be staring at me in shock.

"Helen's dead?" The ditzy fifteen-year-old who never stopped asking questions is dead? Fuck.

"They pulled her out of the dock last night. Killed the way you used to kill your targets, apparently." Ah. This…could be awkward…

"Does Batman know?" Because I'm going to have to be a hell of a lot more discreet in my investigations if he does.

"How the hell should I know?" And now I've put Susie's back up. Wonderful.

"Look, Suse, work with me on this one, okay? Batman isn't going to accept that I don't know a damn thing about this, so I need to find out what's going on before he decides to lock me up on the off-chance that I had something to do with it. Now, does he know about it, or doesn't he?" Finally, she lifts her gaze to look at me.

"They lit the signal earlier this evening. Watch your back." She drops the eye contact, and I count myself dismissed.

Why do I always get caught up in these things? I mean, it's not like you see Dick or Tim getting randomly accused of murder. Admittedly, they don't have quite my track-record, but still… I frown behind my helmet and hit the rooftops. If Bruce only found out about this earlier tonight, I probably have an hour or two at most before he locates me, and I'm not really looking forward to what might happen if I haven't got at least some evidence of my innocence by then. First things first – find the crime scene. Shouldn't be too hard. After all, there are only so many places you could take a body to the docks from easily. Of course, the murderer could be based further afield, but if they deliberately tried to set me up to take the fall for them (call me paranoid, but I have to consider it), that's unlikely – I'm a Gotham boy through and through; so are most people who know my style.


So far, I have a size 10 boot print and a set of tire-tracks with very little in the way of distinguishing features – they're the most common tread for mid-sized cars in this neck of the woods, and seem fairly evenly-worn; not run ragged and not brand-new. I think I've currently narrowed the vehicle search down by about 30%. On the plus side, I don't have size 10 feet. Admittedly, it's not conclusive evidence, but it is at least a start to my list of 'reasons why I couldn't have done it' to give to Brucie when he decides I've gone loco. Because he will think I'm a suspect. And, if he thinks I'm a suspect, he'll put me on what amounts to house-arrest at the manor, just in case I try anything stupid. Of course, if he finds much evidence that I did do it, (which I sincerely hope he doesn't, because proving my innocence will be enough of a nightmare as it is) he may finally have an excuse to use that cell at the back of the Batcave. Won't that be just peachy?

I scan the alleyway one last time, just in case, and am rewarded with a few tiny flecks of what looks like blood on the wall, just below a fire-escape. That could be an interesting line of inquiry… I scrape a tiny sample from one of the flecks – it isn't much, but blood-typing could give me something a little more solid to go on than boot-prints. Or, of course, I might just end up inadvertently incriminating myself. Let's hope that doesn't happen. Now then, I wonder whether it's worth checking the rooftops: I mean, I know there was a car here, and that would explain how the body got to the docks, but the placing of that bloodstain could be important. No harm in looking, anyway. I swing myself up onto the fire-escape and make short work of the climb to the rooftops.


It's probably a bad thing that it looks like this was the crime-scene. Who the heck takes a girl up onto the roof to kill her? I mean, why go to the trouble of persuading her to go up there with you, only to carry the body down again and dump it in the docks? Talk about inefficiency… Then again, I can sort of see the attraction, if you happen to be a murdering nutter – nobody around to witness anything; and it's not as if the GCPD would pick it as the most obvious place to look for clues. I shouldn't be able to relate to that. I really, really shouldn't. How the fuck am I supposed to explain this as a theory that doesn't make it look like I did it?