Faye Feng → Dick Grayson ✔

Number One

Even through the drowsiness of lidded eyes and the fuzzy remnants of sleep, it only took one look at Bruce's expression for Dick to know that it had begun.

If someone had asked exactly how he knew, Dick wouldn't have been able to answer. It was a faraway look that Bruce wore, one that was haunted yet alert at the same time. That seemed like a juxtaposition, but that was as accurately as Dick could describe it. Something he was certain of, though, was why Bruce was wearing that foggy-sharp gaze.

His father was reminded of all the lives he'd failed to save, of all the people who'd never been avenged. And no matter how many times Dick tried to tell Bruce and himself that it wasn't their fault, and how more lives would have been lost if they hadn't done their best to save the city riddled with crime, he had never managed to convince either of them.

So Dick sat down wordlessly at the table. His breakfast was already prepared for him, but he had no appetite.

Bruce handed him the paper, equally silent. Alfred walked away from the table, pretending to adjust a painting on the wall – having raised his two masters for over three decades, he had also come to recognize when father and son needed time of their own.

The headline read:

GOTHAM ELITE MURDERED IN HIS OWN BEDROOM!

When Jane Torrance awoke to the screams of one of her newly-hired chambermaids echoing through the Torrance house, she had half a mind to fire her immediately. However, when she turned over to propose the idea to her husband, her own screams joined the poor girl's as she saw that Lance Torrance's throat had been cut ear to ear.

Lance Torrance was a bank investor, who had joined us for an interview only last week (which you can read in the coming Friday's section of 'Finance and Fears: Advice from the Experts'). Renowned for being able to read the stock market like a children's book, he raked in more than 20 million last year from his shares, which he's recently splurged on a new house in Gotham Heights.

We've yet to hear from the GCPD, who were called to the scene by a hysterical Mrs. Torrance, and a coroner's report is expected by 8 p.m. tonight. Mrs. Torrance has no comment at this moment in time.

"Did we know him?" Dick asked, staring at the grim face of Lance Torrance, who stared right back at him with shrewd eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses.

"If I remember correctly, he came to one of your galas last year, sir," Alfred answered quietly from the other end of the room.

Mr. Torrance didn't look very exceptional, and Dick had shaken hands with so many people that they all blew past him like leaves in a gust of wind, but he still felt a tinge of guilt at forgetting the man's acquaintance.

"Are we going to see Gordon tonight?"

"I am," Bruce answered stoically. "You're going to stay here and find out if Faye knows anything about this."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then she's lying."

Dick scowled. "You don't know that."

"Definitively, no, but I think that we have enough to draw that conclusion."

"What, a bunch of graphs and coincidences that Barbara found?"

Bruce clenched his jaw in irritation. "Dick, if you're going to continue ignoring your training and intuition, I'm pulling you out of the mission."

"I'm just saying it's a possibility," Dick grumbled. "I'm not saying that I know for a fact that she has nothing to do with it – she just might not, okay?"