A single monitor glows in the darkness of the trailer. A young man has been sitting at work for almost twelve hours. He rubs his eyelids, driving away thoughts of sleep and cool palms that would easily heal his sore eyes. Always did.
A short beep announces a guest. Rose enters the trailer as silently as always. Damian, for a moment, regrets giving her the access code. And then he dismisses that thought too: he agreed to have a partner himself.
"Right," Damian answers indifferently, although this morning he was on the verge of personally cutting this piece of sh*t with a katana.
He hated organ traffickers and hated those who sold children's organs even more. His father made him swear an oath, and then forced Richard, and even Raven to make Damian promise that the maniac would be brought to justice. And not perish in pieces in the nearest swamp.
And only Kyle stood in the shadows, scowling as she demanded that this creature be destroyed. It was Catwoman who brought his father this file, a folder with photos of alcoholics, prostitutes, difficult street children. All with missing organs, most often the heart.
Damian remembered how Kyle... Selina, fighting back angry tears, demanded that Batman find the bastard who did this to defenseless people. With children, even if they were all over thirteen.
The first victims had their chests roughly cut open. Each subsequent one was done more carefully. As if the maniac was learning to use his powers on those who would definitely not be looked for.
It was easy for Drake to create a "contract" for Robin. Todd, Kyle, and even Poison Ivy and Quinn rounded up all sorts of rabble on a private island.
Damian also came there, trying to act like a spineless idiot from the first day.
"You did well," Rose said, peering at the screen.
"I hope you're talking about the investigation, and not my... role."
"Don't grumble, I enjoyed it. Too bad I didn't have time to film your snotty moans."
The computer found another match - microscopic scraps of muscle fibers from the jacket matched the victim's materials. This is the fifteenth.
"Our maniac is clearly not a fan of cleanliness"
"Loves the smell of blood in the morning. Typical for people with manic psychosis and schizophrenia"
Damian winces, remembering how he identified the maniac. Like a bloodhound, by smell! The black and white clothes reeked of a corpse. Disgusting...
"What do you think is going on in her sick head?" Rose nods at the screen, where a monochrome parody of Harley Quinn is twitching under the influence of the gas.
"I don't know," Damian answers indifferently.
"Judging by her smile, something pleasant. Perhaps she is dreaming that she fulfilled the "contract", defeated Robin, ripped out his heart... And sailed off into the sunset on a luxury yacht." Rose grins.
"Whatever. The helicopter is picking us up in an hour. Be ready."
"Can't wait to get back to the Tower, lover boy?"
Yes, Damian wants to go back. To a normal life, at least for him, to his team. And to soft, cool palms that can heal his tired eyes.
