The Universe's Mixer

"What do you mean by 'Jack Napier is dead', Alfred?" Bruce had come home after finishing his date with Aeon to all kinds of bizarre and interesting news, not to mention news of murders happening all over the city. But this took the cake.

"I mean, sir, that he's dead. He was the first victim in this rash of new murders." Alfred stood, watching Bruce, an eyebrow lifted. Curious to see what would happen next.

"So he draws a giant penis on my building and then gets killed." Bruce couldn't help but feel like it was some natural retribution for everything The Joker had done to him over the years, including his time here. The Joker here was, quite regrettably, much more violent. He had his moments back home, yes, but something about the City had brought out the worst in him.

"Well." Bruce wasn't sure what to say.

"There's something else, sir."

"Something like what?"

"On my routine today I discovered there are things in Master Tim's room again."

"What kind of things?"

"Stuff, sir. Like things belonging to him."

Bruce stopped thinking about everything else. He looked directly at Alfred. His old friend would never joke about anything like that. Even so, the look on his face solidified it.

"Is it..."

"The same Tim? I can't tell, sir. None of the things are age restrictive."

"Is he..."

"Actually here? Not that I've seen, sir. There's been no show of him on the property at all from what I've seen on the cameras. But he's here somewhere, sir."

Dexter had two people on his list.

Two people who he knew it could be. Three, if he included himself, and he couldn't really take himself off that list yet, because of the recent dealings with that fucking knife. There was no way he could be absolutely sure that he wasn't blacking out and doing these things, except for the fact that this wasn't really his style, and according to his timecard, he'd been at work for at least one of the killings.

That, and he'd never harm an animal.

One of the dead was a cat.

One of the people was in the hospital, impossible to get to. Dexter wouldn't be able to get his hands on Hannibal Lecter until the kid walked outside. In the mean time, he was going to have a conversation with the other.

He'd met her only once. But he'd known then what she was. Mostly because she'd told him. These murders needed to stop, one way or the other.

Dexter stalked her through the streets, half sure that she knew he was there. It didn't matter though, if she did or not. She would slip up eventually, and that's when he'd be there, ready.

Of course, it took her quite a while to slip. To become too comfortable with her surroundings. To let her guard down. It happened inside of an apartment. She stopped being Super Spy Girl and started acting like she belonged where she was. Which meant this was likely her home. Or the home of somebody she knew very well. He climbed in through a back window and moved through the space with absolutely no sound. He was hunting.

She passed by and it was perfection. She was in his arms, a twitch and pressure would stop her ability to breathe and blood flow to her brain. He had his own arm caught with his hand, and was limber enough to have a needle just barely breaking the skin at the same time.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low, close to her ear. After he said it, he realized he might not have been entirely clear in his meaning.

River did not knock.

She did not wait for her brother to look up from what he was doing, in this office. She did not smile, and she did not say hello. She simply grabbed the file folder out of her brother's hands and flung it across the room, papers flying everywhere.

Her eyes were cold and held nothing but contempt for her brother. Her slight frame didn't move... but it was that same tension that a snake had before striking. And now she glared.

She couldn't speak. She just stood there, almost shaking with anger, before arching an eyebrow and calling her brother an unrepentant blighter, in Mandarin.

It had been a nice day.

I watched as the little one sat by the fountain enjoying her day.
I watched as she spotted a rabbit and chased through the grass.
I watched as she almost knocked another out and then they talked.

So easy it would be to take both but it was only one this time. So I waited.

Waited and watched.

And when then darker hair girl did leave, I did not approach. I simply raised the gun from where I was hidden, cocked it and with a steady hand and eye, took aim.

And took the shot.

And I watched.