Bruce's Room at the Arms, Saturday morning

[willbethenight]

Time had not been kind to Bruce Wayne. From the day his parents were killed during a robbery right in front of his eyes, his life had gone on a dark path, with the worst of it being hidden in the shadows. He was rich, sure, but money didn't buy happiness anymore than it bought his parents' lives. And he was handsome, sure, but you put that with the

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[regretiz4suckas]

International jewel thief-- and one of Lady Dokkaebi's girls when she was on the island-- Kenzi (AKA Mischief Malikov, Toni Soprano, Princess Drusilla Romanoff, and other aliases to long to get into in this parentheses) was dropping by through the Art Deco skylight.

Bruce was often said to have a thing for women on the wrong side of the law, and she should know.

Which was why when she found his body, sprawled out like bearskin rug, she stared for a moment in infinite sadness.

"Aww, Brucie. Why you gotta play like that?" Kenzi heaved a melodramatic sigh. Leaned down and patted his hair. "You may be dead, but you're still pretty."

And now, she had the best idea ever.

...after she finished breaking into the safe.

[fracknotfrak]

Vic Moretti stormed into Bruce's room as soon as the call had come in. An anonymous tip had said that the richest man in Fandom was dead and she had to see it for herself. "Fan out and search the building," Vic ordered the trenchcoat clad troopers. " Check for fingerprints and question all the guests and staff. Leave no stone unturned. We got a killer on the lose and chances are this is only the beginning of the body count if we don't find that killer soon. Make sure you fingerprint that safe."

[heromaniac]

Momoko's heels clicked even faster as she tipped her hat down over her face and fled into the haze and away from the Arms. She was no dumb Dora; the trenchcoats were obviously cops and the last thing she needed was to be picked up on this job, even if she'd had nothing to do with whatever the trenchcoated flatfoots were keen on.

[fracknotfrak]

"Damn it Ralph!" Vic shouted as she looked out the window and rushed for the stairs. "Someone's getting away!"

[heromaniac]

The misty fog rolled in and closed behind Momoko as she fled down the street. If you listened carefully, you could still hear her shoes clicking away.

On the street, if anyone was observant enough, there was something floating in a muddy puddle: a ticket stub for a train to Fandom from California, dated today. It had the slight scent of gun oil to it.