The Collector

Chapter Two

The scent of sweat, the dark room with the bright constantly moving strobe lights, the music that pumped so loud you could feel it in your chest. Add to the equation a room full of bodies, the unmissable odour of alcohol and cigarette smoke and what was created was Dick's worst nightmare. He had only been inside the club for forty-five minutes, but he had already clocked three individuals selling various narcotics from their inner coat pockets. Three months, twelve days and four hours. Counting the time since his last fix had become a habit in its own right, an annoying habit that didn't help with the itch he was determined not to scratch. Not right now anyway. He was working.

Slade was somewhere in the building; Dick had no doubt his mentor had his eyes on him. In a busy environment like this, Dick had an extra job to do, draw the target away from the crowds. This task had been harder in the beginning of his career, when he had been unsure of himself, and people hadn't taken him seriously. But in the last three years, word had gotten around. To those he targeted, he had become a bit like an omen of death. Once they realised it was them, he was closing in on, they always ran. Unfortunately for them, that was the point. Once they were away from the crowds, Slade would jump in and finish the job. Dick tried not to think about the fact he was basically leading a lamb to slaughter. It was a job; it was what he needed to do to survive.

He had entered the club through a window on the second floor, in order to blend in until the time was right, he had forgone his usual mask, keeping it in his pocket. As the smell of the party became more pungent, the urge to place it over his face grew stronger. But he resisted, if the target made him too early, he might get away. If that happened, he doubted Slade would pat him on the back and say, "better luck next time". No, if he caused Slade to miss his target, at best he would be back on the streets and at worst...well, it was best not to dwell.

The vibration in his breast pocket came as a relief. He knew what the message was before he even glanced at it. Only one person had the number, so it was no mystery. He still checked it, none the less, just in case Slade was calling off the mission. But the message was as he expected. They were on. He took a quick glance over to the fat man with the scar, making sure he was still within sight. Keeping him within range, Dick ducked into the dark crowd momentarily to retrieve his mask from his pocket. He donned the mask across his mouth and nose and re-emerge into the spaces between the different groups of people. With the number of substances in their system, the people dancing were to intoxicated to pay much attention to the masked man, who was making his way calmly through them.

The target was in the VIP area. Dick tried not to learn their names, it wouldn't change anything one way or the other; it just helped him sleep a little easier at night. He had spent the last few days rattling the man's cage. Following him, allowing himself to be seen by him briefly, just long enough for him to get a basic idea of who was following him. Not enough to be able to identify him but enough that his presence here tonight would get the reaction he was looking for. Fear.

As predicted, the fear spread over the man's face, as soon as his eyes settled on the masked being, standing in the crowd in front of him. And as predicted, the man did what they always do; he ran. Dick didn't bother chasing him, he wasn't supposed to catch him. He calmly walked in the direction the target had headed, making sure that their little lamb didn't turn back and head in the wrong direction. There were not many people outside the main room of the rave, and there was no one in the small corridor leading to the fire escape. He heard the muffled shot, as he reached the fire escape door. He sighed; it was all too easy. Pushing the door open, he walked out into the cool night air and down the fire escape leading to the club's garbage area. He avoided the growing puddle of blood as he came to stand beside his mentor and waited. After thirty or so seconds of silence, Slade handed him a few polaroid photos, a wallet, phone and watch.

'Get going with the photos and dispose of his effects properly.' Slade pocketed something small into his jacket pocket. Dick suspected it was whatever concoction the target had on his person; he appreciated the man's tact of not including it with the other items.

'Holy crap!' Both men looked up at the fire escape to see two girls in sparkly mini dresses and high heels staring down at them in horror. Then they started screaming.

'Go.' Slade said firmly. Dick nodded, turned on his heel and headed towards the fence that separated the club's garbage hold from the alley that led to the street. In one fluid motion he pulled himself onto the bins and then jumped over the fence landing in a crouch on the other side. He could hear more screaming now. Word was getting around about the body in the courtyard. People were starting to spill out of the club, pouring out onto the street. Dick straightened his suit, sticking to the shadows as he made his way out onto the sidewalk. He looked back quickly to make sure that no one had followed him from the crime scene, as he faced forward again, he collided with something solid.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Jason reached out on reflex to steady the guy who had just walked into him. The words of apology died on his lips however, when he saw the masked face that was before him. There were a few things he had gained from working with the Batman: a great amount of muscle and a sixth sense for trouble. They had exited the rave when people had started screaming that someone had been killed. This guy had come out of nowhere, wearing a mask and as his eyes shifted between Jason and Tim, he looked like a cornered animal. Their interaction took less than twenty seconds, before the masked man pushed past them. But Jason was sure he was up to no good. He looked to his brother; Tim's expression told him they were thinking the same thing.

They started after the man, winding their way through the sea of people who were now congregating in the street. They followed him about half a block before he turned into another alley. But when they ducked after him, he was gone. Jason pulled his phone from his pocket.

'Hey B, we're fine. Look, I'll explain later but Tim and I are following a guy who we think just killed someone at The Mews. I'm turning on my location.' He hung up, switched his phones location on and turned to his brother. 'Let's go.'

With a quick check to make sure no one was around, they both pulled domino masks from their pockets and placed them over their eyes, then pulled up their shirts to uncover their utility belts, unfolding their grapples and firing them up to the roof top. They pulled themselves up to the top, landing quietly on the balls of their feet before unhooking their grapples and starting after the shadow that was already making its way over to the next building.

'Damn this guy is fast,' said Tim.

'Stay on him,' Jason panted. Tim was right, the masked man was fast, but so were they. They used their grapples to swing over to the next building and then the next, until they ran out of rooftop. They came to a stop.

'Where did he go?' Jason growled. They circled the roof, there was no way he could have gotten down and out of sight before they had arrived. But there was no sign of the masked man. 'Damn it!'

A dark shadow landed on the roof, but it was not the shadow they had been chasing. Batman approached them; his face more stony than usual.

'Talk,' he said.