"And you're sure it's him?"
"Positive." Commissioner Gordon replied. "The witness got banged up pretty bad, she's on her way to Gotham General right now, but she said it: man with scars, hoodie... even said he was superhuman like."
Bruce listened to Gordon tick off the criteria, his eyes focused on the counter where a cage sat.
"That's a really big mouse," he commented.
The mouse was too big for its wheel. Every time the rodent tried to run, the wheel rocked violently, forcing him off.
The mouse was about the size of an obese rat or fairly small chihuahua. Much too big for such a tiny cage. Bruce assumed maybe lab mice who had been shot up with God knows what hormones, were simply much larger than the everyday mouse.
Gordon looked at the man, dubious. "Yes. It is big rat. Now, we're waiting for the professor who runs the lab to come, so he can let us know what chemicals were stolen."
"Not a rat."
"What?"
"It's not a rat. Look at the ears." And then, just because he could see Gordon's irritation growing. "Pretty weird to steal chemicals from a biology lab, don't you think?"
Gordon shrugged. "It's not a biology lab, but yes, it is pretty weird."
Bruce pursed his lips. None of this made the slightest of sense.
To rob wealthy families and banks, Bruce understood, but why steal files from a hospital, and why steal chemicals from some lowly, probably not really well funded university lab?
Whatever motivation this man and his goons had, Bruce could not decipher, and it was a growing frustration.
"Any luck with the hospital?"
Gordon shook his head. "Nothing useful. We've got a city-wide police alert for men with scars, but it's not like we're going to find him shopping at a mall or something."
Fair enough.
A shrill squeak caused both men's eyes to fly to the cage.
The mouse lay on his back, paws in the air, twitching, eyes wide with fear.
"It's a lab mouse," Gordon said, quietly, as if that made the creature's demise any less tragic.
When he turned to look at the Batman, to gauge the hero's reaction, the man was gone.
***
Anya relished her days off.
For most residents, days off were few and far between, and she was no exception.
While she spent many days off volunteering, today had been a special day: a true day off- one with no agenda.
Following her night shift, she'd slept in, an achievement in itself, then spent all afternoon cleaning, before going downtown for an early dinner, feasting on Mexican foods that made her miss her mother dearly.
Finally, she was back home, arms filled with brown paper bags stuffed with this week's groceries..
She walked in, closed the door, then turned the light switch on.
She turned back, ready to walk into her kitchen.
"Jesus Christ!" She shrieked, grocery bags tumbling to the floor. "Can you stop doing that? Please? Why can't you just knock on my door like a normal person?"
The Batman sat, once more, in her recliner. "Sorry."
He didn't sound sorry.
Anya glared at the man.
"How did you even get in here?" She stepped over her fallen groceries.
"You should replace your window latches." The Batman responded, simply.
Her glare intensified. "What do you want?"
He pointed at his eyes then ear.
Anya walked down her apartment hallway, into her bedroom, then got on all fours to look underneath her bed. Nestled next to a pair of tennis shoes was a box.
She opened the box, pulling out the case and earpiece.
"Here," she said, returning to the living room.
He took them, nodding his acknowledgement.
For once, Anya hovered over him.
"Know anything about the lab student at Gotham General?"
Anya shrugged. "She got there when I was leaving at around five-ish. Not my area of expertise: she didn't need surgery."
"I was hoping you'd know her."
"I doubt it. I went to med school, not graduate. Also, I really can't talk about patients' histories, even to vigilantes."
"What was your undergraduate?" He ignored the second part of her statement.
"Biomedical science."
The Batman shook his head. "She's a biology major."
"One of Professor Remy's candidates probably."
A silence followed.
The Batman stood, and once again, he was dwarfing Anya, much to her own disappointment.
"You know, if you want to talk to me so bad, you don't need to commit a crime to see me. You could just knock. I'll let you in."
He made a noise that could only be described as a snort. "A crime?"
"Breaking and entering is a crime. You of all people know that."
"Entering? Yes. Breaking? Like I said, you need to replace those window latches." He leaned down a bit. "Are you gonna call Gotham P.D.?"
"I might," She challenged, straightening her posture. "I bet they'd just love to get their hands on you."
Anya's eyes were narrowed, but the Batman was as unphased as ever.
"Here." He finally said, breaking the stare off. He reached into his utility belt. He handed Anya a small device.
"A pager?"
He shrugged. "Just in case."
Anya didn't ask "just in case what?"
She made plans to tuck it away in the box under her bed for safe keeping.
She doubted she'd ever need it anyway.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: More chapters coming soon.