“Primum non nocere?” asked Oracle.

“Right,” I said. “That’s what was carved on the victim’s chest. Think you can tell me what it means?”

“Give me a minute to put it into a translator,” said Oracle.

I sat in the apartment right above the one I occupied as Dick Grayson. This spare apartment was rented under an assumed name, someone Clancy had never met. And would never meet, actually.

One of Bruce’s rules of crimefighting was have somewhere you could get away. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a sprawling mansion which was fortunately above a large cavern. So I had to settle for a second apartment in my building. But it got the job done and I was able to easily access it.

Right now, I was on a direct line with Oracle, trying to get some information about this murder victim the police found. I stumbled upon the investigation while on patrol.

“Okay, got it,” she said. “It’s Latin. Means ‘first, do no harm.’”

“Kind of an odd thing to carve into a guy who you’ve just killed,” I said.

“Maybe the guy did something to piss off the killer.”

“Could be. It’s all I’ve got right now. Can you see about getting me info on the victim?”

“Sure can. What’s the name?”

“Charles Whitman.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“You’re the best, Babs,” I said. “And while you’re here, I should probably tell you about what else happened.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You’ll never believe who’s in Blüdhaven.”

“Who?”

“The Huntress.”

“WHAT? Are you serious?”

“’Fraid so,” I said. “Even worse, I ran into her when Clancy and I were on a date.”

“Can we say ‘awkward’?”

“Tell me about it. And she’s still doing the vigilante thing. She was with me when I stumbled on the investigation.”

“You just have all the luck with women, don’t you?”

“It’s always the crazy ones who keep coming back,” I said.

“You think she’s gonna be trouble?”

“I don’t know. You can never tell what’s going through Helena’s mind. But I will say this—she does look good.”

“Oh lord…”

“You should’ve seen the new costume she’s wearing, Babs.”

“Okay… too much information. How’s your girlfriend?”

“I know… you’re right. I should get off Helena.”

“What?!”

“I mean get myself off—I mean my thoughts! You know what I mean!”

Babs laughed. “I sure do. Men—you’re all the same. Just takes a woman in a skimpy outfit for you to start thinking with the wrong head.”

“Look, just… give me a ring once you’ve gotten the information,” I said. “Meanwhile, I need a cold shower.”

	A Knight in Blüdhaven... "HUSH" Part Two
Nightwing #11 - January, Year Five	by Dino Pollard

The sound of a doorbell interrupted Jessica Metzer’s shower. At first, she thought she would simply ignore it, but her visitor wouldn’t cease in efforts to get her attention. She grunted in annoyance and washed the shampoo from her brown hair before turning off the water.

Jessica draped her robe around her body and tied it tightly as she walked to the front door of her house. She opened the door in a huff as she said, “what is it?”

The man who stood on her front porch was wearing an old trench coat and he had on a pair of black leather gloves. His head was completely covered with bandages. Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise but her body was paralyzed with fear.

The intruder charged forward, covering her mouth and slamming her against the wall of her foyer. His foot kicked the door shut and he flipped her body around, pressing her front against the wall while he restrained her hands behind her back.

Those leather-clad hands pushed her onto the hardwood floor of her living room with a loud thud. She immediately tried to back away from him, sliding along the floor, but he reached down and gripped her hair tightly between his fingers and them slammed her head forcefully down on the ground.

“Please…” she pleaded, tears in her eyes. “Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me…”

“Take whatever I want?” he asked. There was a tone in his voice that sounded almost disgusted with that notion. “Since monetary value is all that’s important to you, obviously you would think the same applies to me.”

Each foot was on either side of her body and he knelt down, resting on her stomach. He bent his head so his face was inches from hers.

“I have no interest in your ill-gotten gains,” he said. “The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking. Do you know who said that?”

Jessica shook her head.

“Of course you don’t,” he said.

“Please… just tell me what you wa—“

He covered her lips with his hand. “Hush.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, very thin container. When he opened it, Jessica could see a needle and black thread. It was a portable sewing kit.

“Do you know what primum non nocere means, Miss Metzer?” he asked.

She shook her head, afraid to speak again.

“It’s Latin for first, do no harm. A principle precept for all medical students.”

Slowly, he drew the needle from the container and carefully put the thread through the eye.

“Those in the medical profession have dedicated their lives to helping people. And then, there are people like you who come along. Trying to steal their money, ruin their credibility and destroy their lives.”

He gradually leans forward and presses the needle under Jessica’s bottom lip. She started to quiver. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. He pushed the needle beneath her lip with a lethargic motion.

“Are you afraid?”

She mumbled something.

“Good,” he said. “Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.”

I moved through the Blüdhaven Police Department quickly. Unfortunately, Dick Grayson wasn’t assigned to this case. Guess they decided to give me and Amy a break after the Brutale case.

But I still needed information. And I figured the best place to go was to the source. I walked up to an office door with DET. JASON BARRETT printed on the glass. I knocked once and the voice inside said, “come in.”

Once I stepped inside his office, Barrett looked up at me. “Something you need, Grayson?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you had any details on the Whitman murder,” I said.

Barrett raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want details on the Whitman murder?”

I shrugged. “Curiosity.”

He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “Uh huh. Sure you’re not trying to horn in on my case?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I just wanted to know more, that’s it.”

Barrett kept his eyes locked on mine. He didn’t trust me and I honestly couldn’t say I blamed him. Many of the cops in the department harbored a huge distrust for one another. It always made me realize how lucky I was to be partnered with Amy. Barrett knew next to nothing about me, so he had no reason to believe I wasn’t trying to play him.

“I don’t think so, Grayson,” he said.

I sighed. There was one move I had, but it was a gamble. Hopefully I could play it off and it’d work to my benefit. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to speak to Soames.”

Barrett seemed intrigued by this. “Soames?” he asked as he leaned forward.

“Yeah,” I said. “Y’know, how he’s doing all this work with I.A. lately.”

“I.A.?”

“Yeah, I.A.,” I said. “See, Soames asked me to keep him posted if I hear or see anything.”

Barrett’s eyes nervously twitched. “And you have?”

“Ohh yeah,” I said. “I tell ya, the stuff I’m going to give to those guys should make for a very interesting investigation. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Barrett gave a hesitant laugh. “Wh-why would I?”

I just gave a brief snicker and opened the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around Barre—“

“Hey Grayson, wait!” he said, almost jumping from his chair.

I looked at him. “What is it?” I asked.

“Maybe I was a bit rude… why don’t you hang around for a minute?”

I closed the door. “Sure.”

“Okay… good,” he said. He sat back down in his chair and dug through the papers on his desk. “Where did I put that…”

I walked behind the desk and leaned against the wall. The gambit had paid off. Truth be told, I had no idea if Barrett was deserving of an I.A. investigation. But knowing the way the ‘Haven operates, it was a pretty good guess to assume that he, like most of the cops in the department, was crooked. Turns out I was right.

“Aha!” He held up a folder and opened it. There were crime scene photographs and an autopsy report. He handed me the photographs and I started to flip through them.

“His mouth was sewn shut?” I asked.

“Yup,” said Barrett. “Throat was cut and the words primum non nocere were carved into his chest.”

“Murder weapon?”

“None found at the scene.”

“Suspects?” I asked.

“Nothing yet,” said Barrett. “But since he was a lawyer, chances are very good he had a lot of enemies.”

“Lawyer, huh?” I asked.

Barrett nodded. He was about to say something else when the phone rang on his desk. He quickly answered it. “Barret here… Are you kidding? Where? Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up the phone and stood from his chair.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He took his jacket off the back of his chair and put it on. “Another body was found, same M.O.”

“Where?” I asked.

“In a dumpster. Woman by the name of Jessica Metzer.”

I dropped the photographs on Barrett’s desk. “Thanks for the info,” I said and left his office. Another victim, which means I might be looking at a serial killer here. Just perfect, that’s the last thing I need at this point.

Special Agent Cisco Blane stood alone in the park. A cigarette was held between his lips and he ignited it with a small Bic lighter. He looked down at his watch and was getting rather impatient waiting. He had already been here for twenty minutes and it was twenty minutes longer than he wanted to be.

“Those things will kill you.”

Blane slowly turned to face the man he came to meet. “I see you finally decided to show up. And here I thought your new friend would encourage you to be more punctual.”

“You would think,” said the man. “But I guess you’d be wrong.”

“Mind if we cut the small talk?” asked Blane. “I’ve been standing out here for twenty minutes and I’d like to get home at something resembling a decent hour.”

“Fair enough.”

“What’s the status?” asked Blane.

“I’m almost ready to close in on Desmond. But there’s one more x-factor I need eliminated.”

“Nightwing?” asked Blane.

The man chuckled. “No, he’s actually proving to be quite beneficial. The problem is getting to Desmond directly.”

“Bodyguards?”

“Just one, but he’s tough.”

Blane sighed before taking a drag on the cigarette. He knew exactly where this was going. “Who do you need?”

“Prometheus.”

Blane’s head shot up. “Are you out of your mind?”

The man smiled. “Some might say so.”

“No way,” said Blane. “No chance in hell. That guy’s far too dangerous to let loose on the streets. Even a town like this.”

“Blane…”

“I’ll never get my superiors to approve this. It’s completely crazy.”

“Blane…”

“What happens if Prometheus decides he’s not gonna play ball? Or that Desmond’s offer is more appealing to him? Or that—“

“Blane!”

The agent silenced himself and took another drag. He shook his head while muttering curses under his breath.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I can handle Prometheus. I just need him to take out Shrike.”

“And what kind of offer am I supposed to make a nutjob like Prometheus?” asked Blane.

“Let me worry about that. Just bring him to me, okay?”

Blane nodded. “You better not make me regret this.”

“Have you regretted anything since we started working together?”

“Shut up,” said Blane. He dropped the cigarette and stomped on it. “I’m going home.”

“Have a pleasant evening, Agent Blane,” said the man with a chuckle.