Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Batman
AN: I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I decided to post it. Enjoy!
AN2: I've re-edited the first 9 chapters of the story for basic grammatical errors. There isn't anything new. If you've already read this, it isn't necessary to read this again (but you can if you want)
"Everyone has their obsession
Consuming thoughts, consuming time
They hold high their prized possession
That defines the meaning of their lives"
You Are Mine – Mute Math
The rain was coming down in torrents as Jim Gordon drove through Gotham Heights. It had been a week since the body of Miranda Johnson had been discovered. So far, the Department had questioned the majority of the student's friends at length, as well as a few party goers that had been in attendance at the frat party she was last seen at. The girl had never arrived home after she had left the party. Her friends never reported it because it was normal for her to stay with other people.
Gordon turned onto the narrow drive that forged a path through the forest. Although no longer a suspect, Alex Harper remained a witness, and he had put off questioning the boy for as long as he could. He hadn't really wanted to add to the boy's grief. As the opulent white colonial mansion came into view, Gordon parked his car and threw the hood of his GCPD rain slicker up, lamenting the fact that he had left his umbrella in his office. He jogged up to the massive white door and pressed the button for the doorbell. So far there had been no indication of life inside the house and he thought about pressing it once more just as he heard the stomp of shoes on the hardwood floor that lay beyond the door.
The door opened to reveal a stranger to Gordon. The handsome man with curly blonde locks and brilliant blue eyes that were hidden behind narrow glasses smiled in greeting. He couldn't remember Alex's father, Roger, having blonde hair.
"I'm Commissioner Jim Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department," he stated as he showed his badge. "Is Alex Harper here?"
The stranger's eyes flashed with recognition and his face was written with concern.
"He is. Come in, I'll go get him," the man said as he opened the door wider, signaling that Gordon was to follow.
He led Gordon down the massive hallway into a formal sitting room that screamed a theme of sunny spring, contrasting with the stormy weather out. The man indicated to Gordon to sit on one of the white couches, which he did, while the man walked up the stairs in haste.
Moments later, the man returned without Alex in tow. "Alex will be just a moment, I had to wake him up-- he's been exhausted lately. Mostly grief I think."
"That's quite alright Mr.-"
"Day. Julian Day. My apologies for not introducing myself earlier," the blonde haired man smiled an almost perfect grin. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you need to question Alex? I didn't think he was a suspect."
"He's not. Just routine Mr. Day, nothing to worry about," Gordon reassured then paused for a moment. "So how do you know Alex Harper, Mr. Day? If you don't mind my asking that is," Gordon smiled as he recited Mr. Day's words.
"He's my godson. Roger and I went to Brentwood together and have remained the best of friends."
Gordon nodded as Alex Harper treaded barefoot into the sitting room, looking worse for wear as black circles surrounded his eyes.
"Julian, dad called after you woke me up and he's on his way home. He said you can go whenever you want and to tell you thanks for staying with me."
Julian nodded. "Alright, I think I'll go ahead and leave if that's okay with you Alex—I have some work to catch up on."
Alex nodded his confirmation.
"Alex, I'll see you later kiddo. Commissioner Gordon, it was a pleasure to meet you," Julian crooned before grabbing his umbrella and walking out the door.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about Commissioner?"
"Take a seat Alex. I need you to tell me about the night of the party."
Alex nodded and began his tale.
The Bat Pod roared through the shadows and rain slicked streets, only visible in the night when the lightning deemed it important to illuminate it. It was a familiar drive, one that he had taken many times in the past year, to the southern part of the city. He leaned in as he turned the bike and parked it in the shadows where it would remain hidden. The illusive shadow crept silently through the night, remaining unseen in the dismal suburbs near the ship yards. He lifted himself onto the roof of the small shed, avoiding the sliver of light that emerged from the back porch of the small house where Jim Gordon sat drinking his glass iced water to stave off the heat of the night.
Batman watched him silently, observing the older man. He had initially come to Gordon because he was a good man—he cared about the well being of this city and its inhabitants. He remembered the days long ago when Gordon had comforted him and had vowed to bring the man that murdered his family to justice. Bruce gave a small half smile, amused by the irony. Almost twenty years later, it was he that was helping Gordon, vowing to bring justice to the men that eluded the Commissioner.
Gordon stood up and walked out into the small yard, looking for, but not seeing the Batman. Just as Gordon was going to give up waiting on him, a flash of lightning illuminated the dark figure to the left of where he had been staring.
"What's the matter with you!? Are you trying to give me a heart attack," Gordon cried as he walked toward the shadows.
Batman rose and met him on the ground. "What do you have for me?"
Gordon handed him the file he had been carrying. "Miranda's autopsy reports came back. Most of the injuries happened prior to death. There's a vast list of them but they include broken ribs, a cracked wrist, broken jaw, and internal injuries to the abdomen. There were consistent injuries in the vaginal area that indicate she was more than likely raped. No DNA evidence was found on her body. If there was any, it was washed away in the ocean. He was careful with the rape, more than likely wore a condom. The toxicology also came back. There was evidence of GHB—just like the last few victims."
"Everything points to him," Batman simply growled.
"Yes, but there was something new this time. What do you know about pancuronium?"
Bruce thought. "It's used in anesthesia."
"Right. It's used as muscle relaxant, or, should I say a paralyzer."
"Did she have any defensive wounds?"
Gordon sighed. "The best we could tell, no, but she was in the water a long time."
"So he's keeping them from fighting back," the Batman stated rather than asked.
"It seems so. I questioned her friends along with Alex Harper. It seems she had a little too much to drink but drank only from beer bottles that hadn't been opened prior. Alex seems to not have a reason to hurt her and is pretty torn up. But, her friend Bethany suspects there was another guy. Apparently Miranda had been studying with one Brian Marquis—for longer than required."
"Any relation to Jean Marquis," came the coarse voice.
Gordon nodded at the reference to one of Gotham's most prominent businessmen. "He's his son."
"Did Harper know?"
"No. He swears that Miranda would never cheat on him and he never cheated on her either."
"I'll look into it."
Gordon nodded. Another flash of lightning lit up the night sky, showing Gordon that the Batman was gone.
Bruce raced down the back roads away from the city as the storm raged on. He was thankful for his suit as little chunks of hail began to rain down from the sky. It seemed the weather was mirroring his mood tonight, he thought wryly. The killer was definitely escalating and showing no mercy with his victims. It's almost as if his rage against the victims worsened. He was showing no fear when it came to selection. Sure, it had started with a prostitute, but his reign had killed a rising model, a professional cheerleader that moved in the elite circles of Gotham, and a popular student. There was practically no connection to the victims so far and that irritated him even more. The next holiday, Father's Day, was this Sunday and for all he knew, another girl could have been taken.
He suddenly veered the vehicle to the left, entering the rough terrain that was hidden by the trees. After nearly a mile of bumping and sliding on the rocky landscape, lightning struck nearby, illuminating the waterfall directly ahead. He gunned the engine and the bike roared as it soared through the water, landing with a thud and skidding to a stop in the dimly lit cave.
Bruce climbed off of the massive bike as his eyes adjusted to the light in the cave. He strode to a nearby table and removed gloves followed by his cowl, wiping the water off his face as he did so. He continued removing the armored suit until he stood in his wet clothing. The suit may have helped protect him from the rain, but it wasn't exactly waterproof.
Leaving his suit on the table to dry, he walked to the cabinet that he kept spare clothing in. Opening it, he took out a plain black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and a pair of boxers. Casting the wet clothing to the floor, Bruce slid the shirt over his head before donning the underwear and pants. At least this was more comfortable than the Batsuit.
Running a hand through is damp hair, he picked up the file and walked to the massive screens that adorned the corner of the cave. Pressing a button, the screens roared to life as he sat down in the black chair. He typed the required password and the computer greeted him by saying "Hello."
Opening the folder, Bruce looked at the new name on his list, Brian Marquis. He entered it into the query box and waited for it to search the local, state, and national databases for information. As he waited, he picked his brain for whatever he could about the young man. Bruce knew his father, Jean, a man of about 60 years of age. Jean was a rival businessman and one of Gotham's elite. They had been travelling in the same circles for years. At one time, Jean had sought a way to buy out Wayne Enterprises, to no avail.
Brian seemed to be the opposite of his father. The young man was always sullen and irritable whenever he had seen him. He also had heard about his indiscretions, particularly the one that supposedly required his father to pay off the family of a girl he had supposedly sexually assaulted.
A ding emanated from the computer, indicating the search was done. It seemed Brian Marquis had a record. Bruce examined it; he had convictions for petty theft, vandalism, possession of an illegal substance and assault. However, the charges had been dropped in the sexual assault case.
Doing more research on the blonde haired, blue eyed man, the results showed that he was a student at Gotham University, a pre-med major, shared a biology class with Miranda, and in a rival fraternity than that of Alex Harper. Could a pre-med get the pancuronium so easily? He needed to question Marquis and he had a good indication of where to find him if the most recent rumors he'd heard were correct.
"Good evening, sir, you're home early," Alfred stated as his voice echoed throughout the cave.
"Not for long, Alfred."
"Did you find anything?"
"Maybe. Tell me, Alfred, have you ever heard of pancuronium?"
"It's used in certain anesthetics, I believe."
Bruce turned in his chair and stood. "Could you research it while I'm gone and find out where to get it and what it would take to get it?"
"Of course, going back out on a night like this?"
"I have to; we're running out of time."
"Do be sure not to catch cold, if you do I'll make you take care of your own bloody self this time," Alfred quipped.
"And what would the fun in that be Alfred," Bruce shot, smirking as he pieced his suit together.
Alfred shook his head and grumbled, sitting in the black seat as Bruce walked to the Bat Pod. It roared to life and turned suddenly, lurching forward and disappearing under the cascade of water.
"Drive's like he's in a bloody circus show, he does," Alfred's lone voice stated, echoing through the deserted cave as he started his research.
Mirage was a swanky club on the outskirts of Downtown Gotham, rumored for supplying its patrons with more than just alcohol. Brian Marquis sat in the VIP room, snorting a line of coke with his friends. Taking in the feel, he listened to the pulsating music from downstairs in the nearly empty room. It was, after all, nearly closing time on a Tuesday evening. Hearing the door behind him that led to the roof slam open, the fair haired boy turned around.
"Hey, it's the Bat-Freak! Come to join our party?" Brian arrogantly shouted and turned back around, not caring in his daze that a man dressed as a giant bat was stomping toward him. Suddenly, he was jerked from behind and pinned to the wall, a gloved hand around his throat.
"Yo, Brian! I don't think he liked being called a freak, man," his companion joked until the Batman gave him a dark look, effectively shutting him up and causing him to cower in his spot.
"Miranda Robinson. What do you know," he growled menacingly.
"I don't know anything man!"
"How about that girl you raped? How did you get out of that?"
"I don't know what you're tal-"
"Don't lie to me," Batman roared, shaking the boy violently.
"My-my dad! He-he paid the girl off. She dropped the charges," the boy quivered.
"Miranda. What do you know?"
"She was seeing that Harper kid. I was getting some on the side, but she came over after his party and broke it off. She said she wanted to be with him. I didn't do anything to her I swear. I liked her. I wouldn't have hurt her," he said in earnest, beginning to cry.
"Where did she go?"
"She said she was going back to her dorm. It was a five minute walk from mine. She wasn't in class the next day, I figured she was hung-over or something—she skipped a lot."
Batman released him and he fell to the floor with a thud, rubbing his neck.
"You should really find a new hobby," he growled, looking at the drugs on the table, before disappearing through the door from whence he came.
It was a twisted hunting game that he played. Find the prey. Stalk the pray. Then strike. Once you had them, punish them appropriately for their misdeeds. He was currently sitting in the smoky corner of the club, watching the fake blonde gyrate away on the dance floor. His past two victims had quelled the beast inside, the one that hungered for blood, but they hadn't been his typical choice of victim. No, they had been different and had hurt others that he loved as well as himself. But now it was time to get back on track and to find a victim that deserved his personal touch; one that the world would be glad to be rid of.
He had seen the buxom pseudo blonde day after day at the coffee shop, twisting her hair around her finger as she entertained the previous night's conquest. He'd followed her to work a few times, some towering building in the financial district. He'd listened in on her conversations and had found out her nightly plans. This girl was quite the partier as it turned out and he had ventured out night after night following her. He was amazed that people could be so unaware of their surroundings—not that he was complaining, it made his job a lot easier.
Currently, the woman was getting ready to leave, this time with a new gentleman. That was alright though; he was only here to observe tonight. He had already overheard her plans for the approaching weekend.
A few more days and the hunter would have his prey.