Cats Eat Birds - Damian Wayne/OC

66 | BEGINNING OF THE END

GOTHAM CITY; ARKHAM ISLAND | 3:28 AM | CRISTEN

"YOU'RE SURE IT was here?"

Cristen gave Red Robin a look. She didn't mean to be grouchy with him, but she'd never been to a morgue before, nor had she ever examined a dead body in person—both of which were things she and Tim had done in the last hour. Even if they'd moved on to the crime scene part of the investigation, Cristen still couldn't shake the gross emptiness of a human body without a soul inside. Even if the body belonged to their mysteriously murdered sniper, and even if that sniper had tried to kill Nightwing.

"Dead certain," Stray replied.

Automatically, Tim propped open the device on his wrist and activated his palm-scanner. The red light swept the alcove, and while he worked Cristen stepped back and breathed.

They were on a rooftop off the harbor. Looking out across the way, Cristen could clearly see the broken remains of the bridge crumbled before Arkham Island, which breathed in the water with a suspicious quietness. Just looking at it made Cristen remember all the vile things Joker had said to her, and before she'd even realized it she'd drawn her claws on one hand. Strange, how that had just been a few hours ago.

"You okay?" Tim asked at the sound. "I'm not getting anything here but residue."

"Fine," Cristen lied. She moved behind him to look at the results on his wrist computer. "We might only get that. When those shots went off, this was right where the sniper was," Stray pointed down the series of buildings which were tucked against the water, "when he saw me coming, he took off down that way."

The look on Tim's cowl didn't change, but Cristen got the impression he was furrowing his brow along with the hand he put on his chin. She tried to focus on listening to what he said; Cristen could learn a lot from Red Robin. This had to be the first time she hadn't silently fan-girled over what meeting him meant, but now she was numbed by the circumstances of the night.

"What was he wearing, again?" Tim asked.

"All-black combat armor. No patches or identifying marks. Nothing changed from what he was wearing when he was shot in the transport vehicle, too." Cristen said.

Tim huffed through his nose. "Alright. Makes sense if he's just some mercenary the Joker hired for a distraction, but I feel like Joker would dress him up a bit more if he was on his payroll."

"Make it into a show," Cristen agreed. "His MO is more... spectacular. That's what's confusing me here, too. When the shots went off, I heard Joker say, That's what you get for taking so long to pay me my sidekick... My cowl-cam can confirm it. So he was working with someone else?"

"That's looking pretty plausible right now." Red Robin sighed. He seemed to roll through ideas in his head. "But if that's the case, we're in trouble. Joker rarely works with others, and he never works for anyone else. Too unpredictable, and hard to buy up in the first place. Money isn't always going to win him over..."

Stray's eyes brightened with recognition. "But a sidekick could, just as he said. Remember the attack on Gotham Academy?"

Quickly, Cristen honed in her insight, trying to recall what he'd said that day. The weather had been cool but muggy. Her powers had developed so much in the past year that thinking back to September felt more like thinking back to first grade, when the only difference between anger and fear was pain and more pain. Then, Damian had been the annoying rich boy in her history class who was somehow Robin, too. She hadn't thought it was real until she'd seen Robin shielding Joker's hostages in the cafeteria. She hadn't truly understood the monster Joker was until Charlie Vinovich was stumbling toward her, black blood slipping from his peeling skin...