In the Notion of Fear

Part 1

December 13th

"Symptoms:

Vomiting/nausea, Excess Perspiration, Increased Blood Pressure, Increased levels of Adrenaline, Increased levels of Cortisol, Impaired speech, Hallucinations, Psychosis"

"We mark it?"

"Yep, another unlucky bastard"

He gets back to "cave" as Alfred so lovingly calls it. The contacts leave his eyes dry after long use and he rubs them causing even more irritation. He sucks his teeth, he might look into making them more comfortable. He just had to make sure the results for the autopsy matched up. He glances around the room on his monitor looking for anything out of place. It was always the same. No clues, hints or traces. Not even by mistake.

Unlike the past, this killer didn't want to be found.

They were meticulous and he didn't know whether to be relieved or not because of it. Maybe they didn't have a deep motive like the last one. But based on the accumulation of bodies over the past 5 months and the descriptions that seem to add up with uncanny similarities, he's going to have to work overtime again.

The first victim was on August 23rd. A drophead. There was a new body found every week, with the same chemical traces found in their blood. A new drug that was being sold underground the police thought, but he knew better. They always die on a Tuesday. Once a week and with at least one witness present.

The witness never has any correlation to the murder. He figured that out after the third week. They pass by places they frequently walk by, places no one would turn to. Then the screaming would start. He suspects the killer watches them and plans where to place his victims so that they are seen. But why does he want them to be found?

He was expecting something big to happen on Halloween. He was prepared for it. The whole city was anxious. Halloween was on a Monday. He was disappointed, he hoped to gain some clarity. How could he forget the schedule?

By December he was on edge. Especially since the victims moved on to "regular civilians" much to the inconvenience of the police who just now felt a need to actually do something now. According to them, no one would bat an eye when a drophead was found dead, which was sadly true for the general public. It was then when the killer expanded their horizons that the gothamites really started paying attention.

The week of December 20th was going to be a busy one. Alfred, for the past year, has made him attend certain events. A Christmas Eve party, mostly for charity, the more conniving use it as a front to make deals within their circles.

He wasn't interested in them, he was more focused on the way the age group of the victims have lowered. They were going for college students now. Those around that age. Around 22-25. The youngest life they've taken was on the cusp of 20, it was only one incident. He likes to think they might have felt regret for that or that they didn't know how old their victim was, but then again how would he know?

...

Tuesday was uneventful. Or maybe it was eventful because of the unpredictable return to normal? No body was found, at least one that was related to the string of cases. Gordon didn't share the relief his peers did.

And Bruce? Oh he couldn't help his sense of anticipation. His morbid excitement.

He didn't bother finding a suit in his exact size. He didn't care about his appearance, he knew he looked like he hadn't slept or seen the outside world in years. Looking into the mirror he could see the paleness of his skin, the stubble on his chin. Guess the moon doesn't give tans.