Chapter Text
The room was in complete disarray.
Books, all of which were torn, soiled, or blemished in some shape or form, lay scattered across the floor. A layer of dust comingled with dirt coated the floorboards, some of which were likely to give at any moment if their whines and groans were to be trusted. Toppled furniture lay broken and decaying, shadows taking on a monstrous appearance as the sun slipped further and further from the sky. The stench of rot filled the air, heavy and suffocating, and when combined with the clutter and the filth the room had to offer alongside it, it became the cherry on top of a moldy, disgusting ice cream sundae.
At the edge of the room, sequestered partially from the mess, sat a television with its screen ablaze in static. The crackle filled the air, loud enough only to be rivaled by the squeals of rats living beneath the floorboards. The black and white specks flickered across the screen almost hypnotically, reflecting outwards and onto the walls and making them look almost alive.
All at once, the static is gone, replaced by the image of a young blonde woman sitting at a desk, a coffee mug with the words “Gotham City Daily” sitting decoratively just to her right. Her expression is professional, and her words are impassive as she speaks.
“Good evening, Gotham. I’m Candace Martin, coming to you live from the Gotham City Daily studio with some breaking news. Another victim in the recent string of murders has been discovered by officers, this time in an alleyway just off 5th Avenue.” Candace’s hands clenched together tightly under the guise of being folded on the desk in front of her. “GCPD officers were able to locate the victim after the incident thanks to a tip submitted by an anonymous source. The victim, a female in her late thirties, was found lying in the alleyway behind Bucky’s Pub and Pool Hall, where she had been spending the evening drinking in the company of her friends, according to patrons of the establishment. No witnesses report any strange behavior from the victim or any of those around her.”
The camera cut to the scene of the crime with a very distressed-looking man on screen. His gray hair is unkempt, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his bottom lip is bleeding in one small spot where he has picked the skin off.
“I’d never seen the lady before, but she seemed nice enough. Had a few drinks, performed some karaoke, even talked to a few guys before I seen her walk outta here by herself.”
Behind the camera, a man’s voice rumbled, “Would you happen to remember what time that was, Mr. Barkley?”
Mr. Barkley rubbed the back of his neck as he sucked a breath through his teeth. “Sheesh, I dunno…maybe around 11:00? 11:30? It’s hard to know anymore now that the bar’s a bit more popular an’ we got customers to handle at every given second.”
The image onscreen cuts back to Candace Martin, still sitting prim and proper as if she were only reporting the weather. “The victim, when discovered by GCPD officers, was found to have lacerations covering the entire expanse of her back. When rolled over, the victim was-“
Candace Martin shows a semblance of human emotion for the first time since the grisly report begins. The corners of her lips turn down, and her shoulders visibly tense as she attempts to finish her report without retching. “The victim was found to be torn open from the breastbone to the navel. Multiple organs were found to be missing from the victim, the most notable being both kidneys. The victim’s tongue, in addition, has not yet been located.” Candace falls silent, allowing herself and anyone else watching her report to regain some sense of composure after learning the true extent of the crime. Reaching for her mug, she takes a long, slow drink, knuckles turned white from her deathly grip on the handle. Her grip does not waver even as she lowers her mug.
“Although the individual’s identity is still unknown, our reports show that this is the third female victim in as many weeks to be murdered in such a vicious manner. GCPD’s Commissioner Gordon has refused to comment on the matter other than to reiterate that police are doing everything in their power to stop this serial murderer. But will “everything in their power” be enough? Will the Gotham police force reprimand this elusive culprit, or will the Batman step in to take matters into his own hands? I’m Candace Martin, reporting to you live as details continue to come in.”
The Gotham City Daily logo once again donned the screen of the TV as the program came to a close, its haunting message lingering in the air alongside the stench of rot. The rats had stopped their squealing, almost as if they, like the rest of Gotham, felt haunted, hunted, and watched. As if they were being targeted in the place where they should feel safest.
Picked off one by one.
With the rats quiet, there was no sound in the room apart from the crackling of the TV. Images danced across the screen, reports of other tragedies and crimes and politics, but it was all unimportant. Simply just noise.
It was nothing compared to the debut of a monster.
Content with the report, a clawed hand slunk forward and clicked the TV off.