Nightwing: Heartache

Part 8: Murdered

June 13, 3:46am
Chicago

Nightwing's team had dealt a huge blow to meta-teen trafficking in Markovia by taking down Bedlam but that hadn't stopped the industry. Kids were still being taken and shipped to who knows where to become intergalactic, super-powered slaves. So while Artemis, M'gann, Connor, and Jefferson were playing house with the strays collected from the Markovia op, Nightwing was finding and taking down the stray meta-teen trafficking sites.

Barbara had found intel on a hub in Chicago, where Nightwing was now. But something wasn't right. Nightwing had sat, perched on this rooftop, watching the building below for over ten minutes and there was no activity. No loud noises, no one going in or out. It was weird for a criminal operation. Only one way to find out, he thought to himself as he jumped to the neighboring roof, rolling when he hit the concrete.

He quietly pushed open the skylight. Still no noise. He dropped down, landing silently, sticking to the shadows, listening and watching for any and all threats. But there was nothing. And once Nightwing peered around a giant crate probably holding hostages, he saw why.

In the middle of the concrete floor lay six bodies, all men, all bloodied. Nightwing approached cautiously, making sure they were all dead. Murdered. Brutally. Blood spilled over the floor. One man had a stab wound from his chest, another's throat was sliced, and one even had his head severed from his body.

Nightwing bent down, careful not to touch or to get blood on his uniform, but to get a better look at the injuries. Maybe one of the meta-teens fought back? No, that didn't make sense. These kills were clean. Messy, maybe more painful than necessary, but clean. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.

He pushed himself up and quickly freed the hostages, but he was still thinking about the murdered traffickers. There was no need to kill them, if someone had the skill to pick off six men, they had the skill to just knock them out. Whoever did this was skilled, cold-blooded, cold-blooded enough to murder but not too cold-blooded to also kill the hostages. An odd pairing of traits.

He took pictures of the crime scene and sent them over to Oracle. Maybe she would find something. There was something familiar about the whole thing, but he couldn't put his finger on it.