He watched in morbid fascination. So beautiful. Colours. So bright and vibrant and happy. So innocent. It reminded him of a happier time, a happier place. A time filled with children's laughter and glee, where he could fly and be himself surrounded by those who cared about him. A place with talented freaks who were glorified and loved for their queerness…only to be condemned and ridiculed by the ones that idolised them, later that night. He felt the heat simmer beneath his skin. Long felt pain and anger. He didn't like it when people were mean to those he cared about – those he staked claim over. His breathing became laboured, as he refocused on the spectacle before him.

He watched, heady, as the larger vehicle barrelled into another smaller car. He watched as the young couple were crushed, bodies caving in and bursting open simultaneously, on impact. He watched as the young man threw himself in front of the female in a sorry attempt to save her, trying to take the brunt of the force. He watched as their life slowly bled from bodies, eyes growing dimmer as they were cradled in each other's arms. He watched as a dark figure stepped out of the offending car and bash the glass windows, the glint of silver the only thing seen under pale, sickly moonlight. He watched as the figure drove off, business finished, towards the dark outline of spires and shadows.

For the first time in a long while he felt guilt, as he walked towards the car. He could have stopped it. It would have been easy. A quick snap of the neck and bash to the skull, here and there. He slowly held a pasty palm over the wreck, before leaving walking down the road. He never heard the wails of a newly made orphan protected by the couple's bodies. The child crying for a family that would never hold him again.

Jason lunged at Damian aiming for his head before being cut off by a sharp punch to his chest. He hit the floor, wind knocked out him as he let out a ragged gasp. Jason recovered quickly, kicking at Damian legs in an attempt to knock him off his feet only to be shut down by Damian wrapping his arm around his neck from behind and flipping him over his back. Jason landed harshly as his back met the training mat. He could already feel the bruises forming. Damian stepped on Jason chest, smirking victoriously down at his younger brother.

"Do you yield?"

Jason glared angrily at the male standing above him trying to push the offending leg off him. Jason couldn't help the low growl as he spat out his next words at the older male. "I yield! Now get the fuck of me!"

Terry stood next to the ever-silent Cassandra as they both watched the fight trying not to laugh – or in Cassandra's case a small, subtle grin. Terry walked to the middle of the Batcave where his brothers were fighting, shaking his head in amusement at both his brother's antics.

"Jason, what have we said about swearing," Terry said condescendingly at his little brother who had finally managed to get Damian off him, "It makes you sound like you're trying too hard."

Jason eyes widened as he looked indignantly at older siblings who were trying to hide their silent, shaking, looking like disappointed parents. They were ganging up on him. Cassandra sensing Jason rising annoyance she raised an eyebrow at her oldest brother, "Terry you always swear."

Terry grinned smugly at her, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Damian, not even trying to hide his amusement, was about to make a smart-ass remark when a rough, deep voice echoed around the large space.

"Suit up and be here in 10 minutes for debriefing."

Batman, who had just entered the cave, walked away from sobering young adults towards the Bat computer. He gazed around the cave, paranoid as always. Eyes wandered over the life-size T-Rex and giant penny, the different vehicles, before stopping on the glass case. A glass case containing torn, wrecked suit stained just a crimson shade darker than the rest of material used. His features darkened as he grew more stoic turning away from his biggest failure.

"What's going on Bruce?"

Bruce shook of his emotions turning to the younger caped crusaders standing before him. He took in the happier disposition of Nightwing who had spoken who stood comfortably next to the silent Black Bat.

"Yes father, you seem rather…high strung."

Bruce turned towards the apathetic voice, facing Renegade who was walking alongside the young man in a red helmet, Red Hood. Bruce looked calculating at the four vigilantes who stood before him, soldiers awaiting his orders. He turned back to the screen staring at the pictures of mutilated bodies, zooming in on the red lines that crisscrossed over their skin.

"You all know about the killer who has been going around carving X's on their victims faces." Bruce did not wait for their response staring at the screen solemnly.

"Whoever they are, they're here in Gotham. There have been 3 bodies found in the Gotham's vicinity bearing signs of the killer's ammo. Two middle-aged Anglo Saxon males have been found dead in the Bowery, while a couple has been found on the outskirts of the city limit. The couple seem to have been involved in a car crash, died on impact, while one of the men had been found with a slit throat, the other died by a gunshot to the head."

Cassandra interrupted Bruce's spiel stepping closer to the bat computer before looking closer at the young couple's file. Cassandra's frown, although not seen, was evident in the blunt, passive aggressive tone of voice. Bruce looked at the blank, darkness of her mask, body tensing at her words.

"They had a child."

Immediately all the vigilantes tensed, heated rage welled up quickly, breaking through the usually penetrating cold that hung around the Batcave. Bruce nodded, confirming their unanswered question. They take cases concerning orphans quite personally.

Jason cold voice broke through festering anger that filled the atmosphere like static in a storm. "Lets get this asshole."

They ended up splitting into groups to cover more ground, although Bruce doubted that the killer would strike again so soon. Damian and Jason ended up grouping together, both being ruthless and cutthroat in their fighting. Plus Jason's use of guns often caused disagreements and animosity with Terry and Bruce. Bruce flew off by himself his cape trailing behind him leaving without a word or glance in their direction. Bruce had become more solitary after he died.

"Well, it's just you and me."

Terry turned to Cassandra who stood near the edge of roof looking solemnly out at Gotham. Terry could image what was going through her head. Skyscrapers and gothic spires burst from the ground, cantering around the edges of street. Smoke and fog bled out onto the paths and hung off citizen's like an extra layer of skin doing nothing to protect them from the bitter cold. Crumbling gargoyles waited on building, silent spectators listening to the happenings of rushing residents.

Terry should have hated the dark, claustrophobic hellhole he called home. However, Gotham always held a certain beauty, like that of an old whore. Once you looked past her weathered face and broken eyes, you could see grace and elegance in which the city held its self. She had a way of calling people back; no matter how hard they try to leave.

Terry was shaken out of his mulling by Cassandra's soft, understanding voice.

"It's time to go."

Terry and Cassandra spent the time fighting small time crooks and thieves; none of the Gotham's big players were out today.

"Head's up."

Cassandra ducked as Terry kicked the mugger, who was trying to sneak up behind her, in the face knocking him out cold. Cassandra knelt down next to the scruffy, weather-beaten man zip tying his wrists together, as he snored face down on the ground.

Terry stretched his arms above his head, bored, muscles rippling under his skin-tight, black and blue suit. "These guys were to easy I-" Terry let out a yawn, "didn't even have to exert myself."

Cassandra smiled under the mask as she finished securing the criminal, about to advise Terry that they should cut patrol short, when a scream broke through. It was a high-pitched scream of despair and fear. Whoever it was, was clearly in distress. Terry and Cassandra looked at each other before braking off into a sprint towards the source of the sound. Another ragged howl broke again, drawing goose bumps on their flesh. The wail kept going on and on and on…before it was abruptly cut short.

They skidded to a stop staring at the ashen brick walls, an eerie silence befalling the area. They didn't know what they were expecting to find, while they looked in the alleyway where the screams originated. There was body crumpled on the ground, scarlet splattering the walls like a grotesque Jackson Pollock painting. The unforgettable metallic tang of blood assaulted their noses as they watched a figure wrapped in shadows bend over the corpse of a young woman, surrounded by pool red.

Terry started towards the crouching figure, "what the hell are-"

The figure went still and turned around in jerky movements, like puppet pulled by stings, to face them. Moonlight hit the mysterious character's face making pale feature discernible. The assailant's body was obviously tensed and anxious, ready to spring away at the first sign of conflict.

Both Terry and Cassandra's throats locked as they forgot to breathe for a split second as they gazed upon the figure, their eyes widening under the lenses of their masks.

"Dick?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I just want to say thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favourite and followed this story, it really means a lot :) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The story is still a bit slow, but it should be getting faster soon, after I finish with the exposition stuff. Until next time…