The Collector

Chapter Three

Dick lay motionless in the air vent. He had barely managed to hide himself before the two had caught up with him. Whoever they were, they were quick and very skilled. He stared up at the top of the vent and waited.

'Damn it!' One of them growled and Dick knew he was safe. He quietly glanced down at his watch. This was taking too long; he still had to do the collection and dispose of the targets belonging before he could go home. He heard them circling the roof, neither considering the vent a viable hiding option. But they remained out there. Dick had to hand it to them, whoever they were, they were persistent. As he waited in the dark, he became aware a new presence had joined the other two.

'Talk.' Dick's heart jumped in his chest. He knew that voice, he remembered that voice from the worst night of his life. His hand shook as he slowly turned himself over, so he was able to glance through the grate on the vent. Sure enough, even with the limited line of sight and the darkness, he could make out the looming figure of Batman. Batman, the man who had failed to save his parents, that night when he was eight.

He listened as the two who had chased him, recounted the incident. It was as they were talking that Dick realised the two must be Red Hood and Robin. Of all the people he could have walked into, it was just his luck that it had been them.

'Why do you think he had something to do with the dead man?' Batman asked.

'You should have seen this guy bats, he was definitely trouble. I feel it in my gut.' Said the taller one, Red Hood, Dick estimated.

'Plus, he came from the exact direction they found the body,' Robin said. Batman seemed to take this in.

'Do you think he killed him?'

'Probably!' Red Hood through his hands up. 'Guy was shifty.'

Dick frowned, he was many things, but he wasn't a murderer...although he accepted the shifty comment. He clenched his hands to try to stop them shaking. He'd found being back in Gotham these past few weeks hard but being so close to the man who had been there that night, it was triggering panic to build in his chest. The panic bubbled and threatened to consume as the Batman confirmed with his sidekicks that he was now on the top of their list of interest. They were going to hunt him down. To contain the wave of hysteria, Dick closed his eyes and placed his head down on the cool metal of the vent. He took slow steady breaths, counting each one. In and out, in and out until he had reached one hundred. He paused and listened. There was silence. He waited a few more minutes before removing himself from the vent.

Cautiously, he descended the side of the building till he reached the window of the apartment he was aiming for. One of the perks of working with Slade (aside from the roof, bed and food) were the gadgets he got to take with him on the job. He pulled what appeared to the untrained eye as a credit card or key card, but as he swiped it under the edge of the window, it deactivated not only the windows locking mechanism, but the alarm trigger it was attached too. Silently he stole into the window and into the darkness of what looked like the bedroom. He took a final deep breath, slipping into the persona of The Collector, before leaving the bedroom and creeping into the main part of the apartment.

The interior was as Dick had come to expect; lavish. Every item in sight cost more money than Dick had ever seen in his lifetime, let alone hope to own. Down the corridor with million-dollar artwork framing the walls, Dick found himself in a large living area with a fireplace already lit. The lights were low, and the glow from the fire left shadows dancing along the walls, which would work in Dick's favour. He leant against the wall, careful to avoid any of the artwork and waited.

He wasn't left hanging too long. The man was already in the apartment, although Dick was slightly disturbed to discover he had been in the bath. The man strode into the room wearing nothing but a towel. Although it startled Dick for a moment, he brushed it off quickly; he was here for money, not pleasantries.