X-Vash00
Star
- Joined
- Mar 19, 2012
The darkness of the streets of Gotham is illuminated by the bright lights of the police vehicles. The officers and medical personnel stand in a shady alleyway, observing a body lying lifeless on the concrete; the once flowing pools of blood now dried. They whisper amongst one another, contemplating how they would break the news to the family…if the victim had a family. Commissioner Barbara Gordon sighs and waves her fingers in the air indicating for the body to loaded up and taken in for further analysis. She walked on to the street and took a deep breath. She had seen a lot of things in her years as Batgirl and finally commissioner…but this one took the cake. The elderly woman shook her head wearily. Where these sickos got their bright ideas from, she just couldn't figure out. Immediately her eyes became drawn to a black shadow flying across the sky and disappearing into the second floor window of the building next to the crime scene. Barbara shifts her gaze about, making sure no one else noticed and orders, "Alright boys and girls. Let's start packing it up. The sooner I get those DNA results, the better." She then turned to walk into the building.
"Commissioner, sir," an officer asked, "where are you going?"
The woman smiled as the other officers smirked. They had become accustomed to their boss vanishing into the darkness for further "business". They didn't ask; there was no use in doing so since she would only give a riddling answer. "I got a private call to make. Is that a problem for you, kid?"
"No sir!" The officer saluted and departed to help with the body, curious as to why his comrades laughed at him.
Barbara Gordon shakes her head and chuckles, entering the building and going up the stairs. Rookies. She turns into an open door and walks to the center of the room, the dark being pushed back by the light of the moon and a few specks of police light. With her hand in her pockets and her eyes closed she asks, "How are you doing tonight, McGinnis?"
"Pretty good Barbara. How about yourself?" A young muscular figure wearing an all black suit with a red insignia of a bat on his chest arose from the shadows as he disarms his cloaking device and stood near the window.
"I've had better days," Barbara replies. "Bruce listening in?" She turns to face her part-time ally. The fact that Bruce had found new blood to wear the suit and carry on the vigilante legacy was still a task for her to accept. For one thing, she couldn't understand why he would pick someone so young and reckless: A KID! Surely he could've done better. Hell, Barbara was still shaken up that Bruce had even handed the job down in the first place! He was generally a stubborn old kook and full of pride. The second thing was because of her job. She was Commissioner and was supposed to be extremely objective to vigilantism. It was funny. She had once been a vigilante, and now she had a problem with it! Gordon couldn't complain too much to the newfound assistance however. With Batman patrolling the streets crime was going down and dangerous villains were kept off of the street. But it seemed like where there was a Batman, there were complete wackos. The number may be small, but the damage they could inflict was enormous. It was a win-lose situation.
"Yep. He sends his greetings…so what have you got for me?"
Barbara coughed in her hand. If she didn't think she would need his help, she wouldn't be telling him a damn thing! But this was serious, and something told her that this was one of those cases that she couldn't solve and if someone couldn't stop this, more people would get hurt… or worse, dead. "Murder. And this one's a doozey. It's our tenth case this week, and it's only Wednesday. The victims we've uncovered so far have all apparently been spliced."
"Spliced?" Batman asked, raising his eyes in confusion.
"That's what I said."
"Any suspects?"
"If you mean in the sense of evidence and witnesses, no. But I do have my suspicions," Barbara stated as she sat down in a raggedy looking wooden chair. It had better not break! "The disposal of the bodies is sloppy. Just tossed on the ground in the alley; they don't even have the sense to drop it in a dumpster or something. Not buried or attempted to be burned…just sloppy! The only guys I can think of to do something like this are -"
"—the Jokerz," Batman interrupted. It made perfect sense. The Jokerz were ruthless and crazy enough to do something completely obvious. They were the type of gang that wanted everyone to know what they did. Completely attention starved idiots was a perfect description of the Jokerz.
Barbara nods her head and grew frustrated at the thought of the notorious gang. They knew absolutely nothing of the real Joker. They'd shit their pants just at the sound of his maniacally insane laugh. She shutters. That was one sound she could never get out of her head. "Problem is," she continues, "The whole murder within itself makes no sense if you label the Jokerz as our guys. They aren't this crafty…at least not alone."
"So all the victims you've found so far... how'd they-?"
"Die?" Commissioner Gordon interprets. "All our victims died pretty much the same way: gun wounds. A majority of the cause of death was by a bullet to either one of two places." Barbara makes a gun sign with her fingers and places it to her chest: "The heart," she lifts it to her head, "or the head. Most of the kills are pretty clean, but others are a bit messier."
Batman raises his fingers to the side of his head and speaks into his comlink, "You getting all of this Wayne?"
A deep, elderly voice replied calmly, "Getting it. Ask about age, Terry."
Batman looked at Barbara and asked, "Age?"
Barbara looked appalled at first. Did he want to know how old she was? "Hmm?"
"Has there been a certain age group within the victims?" Batman elaborates, feeling entertained by her confusion.
"No. Our oldest victim was 57, and the youngest was 12." Batman leaps from the desk in complete awe. He can hear Bruce take a deep gasp. Barbara states, "Sick, I know. Apparently the kid was the child of a 34 year old woman. They were both found together and DNA, along with missing persons reports, matched. My guess is that when the mom got snatched, the kid was there and the murderer decided to do away with him as well. It's terrible, and it makes my job all the more difficult. I just don't understand why the victims are being spliced," Barbara ponders aloud.
"One last question: Do you have a charted area of where the bodies were found? I want to start looking around."
"Here," Barbara says, tossing a spherical object at him. "It's a map. The red dots are where we found the victims." Barbara then turns and walks to the door. "Good luck kid." She already knew he was gone…some things never changed. But she smiles. The kid was rusty. The whole point of vanishing was so that the person couldn't know when you disappeared. Maybe her expectations were a bit high or maybe she was so acute to the ways of batman, but of one thing she was sure: the kid still had a lot to learn.
………………………
Terry McGinnis, a now senior at Hamilton Hill High, walked down the hallway tired and frustrated. He hated the first week of a new school year with a passion. The fact that he had been up until four in the morning looking for a lead on the murder case made him all the more cranky. The drawn expression on his face made the fellow kids aware that he was not in a good mood. Terry was severely sleep deprived. It took every bit of energy he had not to drop off right on the floor. He sighed out, rubbing his hand around his sore neck in exasperation and finally fanning himself. Of all the times to have a heat wave, why did it have to be now? Terry left his brown jacket back at his best friend's place and simply wore his obvious black short-sleeve shirt and grey pants. McGinnis leaned against his locker, starting to worry about his test in a few hours. He never did the summer reading but knew that he had to at least pull a "C" on the test. He couldn't afford a call to his already worrying mother. Call equaled grounded, and restrictions was the last thing the young Batman needed; especially with a spliced-crazy serial killer on the loose.
"Commissioner, sir," an officer asked, "where are you going?"
The woman smiled as the other officers smirked. They had become accustomed to their boss vanishing into the darkness for further "business". They didn't ask; there was no use in doing so since she would only give a riddling answer. "I got a private call to make. Is that a problem for you, kid?"
"No sir!" The officer saluted and departed to help with the body, curious as to why his comrades laughed at him.
Barbara Gordon shakes her head and chuckles, entering the building and going up the stairs. Rookies. She turns into an open door and walks to the center of the room, the dark being pushed back by the light of the moon and a few specks of police light. With her hand in her pockets and her eyes closed she asks, "How are you doing tonight, McGinnis?"
"Pretty good Barbara. How about yourself?" A young muscular figure wearing an all black suit with a red insignia of a bat on his chest arose from the shadows as he disarms his cloaking device and stood near the window.
"I've had better days," Barbara replies. "Bruce listening in?" She turns to face her part-time ally. The fact that Bruce had found new blood to wear the suit and carry on the vigilante legacy was still a task for her to accept. For one thing, she couldn't understand why he would pick someone so young and reckless: A KID! Surely he could've done better. Hell, Barbara was still shaken up that Bruce had even handed the job down in the first place! He was generally a stubborn old kook and full of pride. The second thing was because of her job. She was Commissioner and was supposed to be extremely objective to vigilantism. It was funny. She had once been a vigilante, and now she had a problem with it! Gordon couldn't complain too much to the newfound assistance however. With Batman patrolling the streets crime was going down and dangerous villains were kept off of the street. But it seemed like where there was a Batman, there were complete wackos. The number may be small, but the damage they could inflict was enormous. It was a win-lose situation.
"Yep. He sends his greetings…so what have you got for me?"
Barbara coughed in her hand. If she didn't think she would need his help, she wouldn't be telling him a damn thing! But this was serious, and something told her that this was one of those cases that she couldn't solve and if someone couldn't stop this, more people would get hurt… or worse, dead. "Murder. And this one's a doozey. It's our tenth case this week, and it's only Wednesday. The victims we've uncovered so far have all apparently been spliced."
"Spliced?" Batman asked, raising his eyes in confusion.
"That's what I said."
"Any suspects?"
"If you mean in the sense of evidence and witnesses, no. But I do have my suspicions," Barbara stated as she sat down in a raggedy looking wooden chair. It had better not break! "The disposal of the bodies is sloppy. Just tossed on the ground in the alley; they don't even have the sense to drop it in a dumpster or something. Not buried or attempted to be burned…just sloppy! The only guys I can think of to do something like this are -"
"—the Jokerz," Batman interrupted. It made perfect sense. The Jokerz were ruthless and crazy enough to do something completely obvious. They were the type of gang that wanted everyone to know what they did. Completely attention starved idiots was a perfect description of the Jokerz.
Barbara nods her head and grew frustrated at the thought of the notorious gang. They knew absolutely nothing of the real Joker. They'd shit their pants just at the sound of his maniacally insane laugh. She shutters. That was one sound she could never get out of her head. "Problem is," she continues, "The whole murder within itself makes no sense if you label the Jokerz as our guys. They aren't this crafty…at least not alone."
"So all the victims you've found so far... how'd they-?"
"Die?" Commissioner Gordon interprets. "All our victims died pretty much the same way: gun wounds. A majority of the cause of death was by a bullet to either one of two places." Barbara makes a gun sign with her fingers and places it to her chest: "The heart," she lifts it to her head, "or the head. Most of the kills are pretty clean, but others are a bit messier."
Batman raises his fingers to the side of his head and speaks into his comlink, "You getting all of this Wayne?"
A deep, elderly voice replied calmly, "Getting it. Ask about age, Terry."
Batman looked at Barbara and asked, "Age?"
Barbara looked appalled at first. Did he want to know how old she was? "Hmm?"
"Has there been a certain age group within the victims?" Batman elaborates, feeling entertained by her confusion.
"No. Our oldest victim was 57, and the youngest was 12." Batman leaps from the desk in complete awe. He can hear Bruce take a deep gasp. Barbara states, "Sick, I know. Apparently the kid was the child of a 34 year old woman. They were both found together and DNA, along with missing persons reports, matched. My guess is that when the mom got snatched, the kid was there and the murderer decided to do away with him as well. It's terrible, and it makes my job all the more difficult. I just don't understand why the victims are being spliced," Barbara ponders aloud.
"One last question: Do you have a charted area of where the bodies were found? I want to start looking around."
"Here," Barbara says, tossing a spherical object at him. "It's a map. The red dots are where we found the victims." Barbara then turns and walks to the door. "Good luck kid." She already knew he was gone…some things never changed. But she smiles. The kid was rusty. The whole point of vanishing was so that the person couldn't know when you disappeared. Maybe her expectations were a bit high or maybe she was so acute to the ways of batman, but of one thing she was sure: the kid still had a lot to learn.
………………………
Terry McGinnis, a now senior at Hamilton Hill High, walked down the hallway tired and frustrated. He hated the first week of a new school year with a passion. The fact that he had been up until four in the morning looking for a lead on the murder case made him all the more cranky. The drawn expression on his face made the fellow kids aware that he was not in a good mood. Terry was severely sleep deprived. It took every bit of energy he had not to drop off right on the floor. He sighed out, rubbing his hand around his sore neck in exasperation and finally fanning himself. Of all the times to have a heat wave, why did it have to be now? Terry left his brown jacket back at his best friend's place and simply wore his obvious black short-sleeve shirt and grey pants. McGinnis leaned against his locker, starting to worry about his test in a few hours. He never did the summer reading but knew that he had to at least pull a "C" on the test. He couldn't afford a call to his already worrying mother. Call equaled grounded, and restrictions was the last thing the young Batman needed; especially with a spliced-crazy serial killer on the loose.