Celestial Death:Hello, I am a lover of Batman and have decided to try my hand at it, though I've never written for it before. This idea has been rattling 'round in my head for a few years and I decided, since the new movie is coming out, I'd post it. I decided to try naming each chapter after a different song that seemed appropriate.

"About Her" by Malcolm McLaren

Disclaimer: I own nothing except all original characters.

Chapter One

About Her

'It's nine o'clock in Gotham City and criminals roam the streets; do you know where your vigilante is?' Bruce Wayne thinks as he weaves through the mingling crowds of Gotham's upper class. Pretending to drink champagne while making small talk isn't his idea of a night well spent. But, he's willing to put off patrolling for an hour or two if it means meeting the elusive novelist S. Blue; prime lead in a series of killings.

Three months after the Joker's capture and Batman's demotion to public enemy number one a string of murders began appearing throughout the US baffling local and federal law enforcement. Unrelated victims of different races, ages, genders, and religions were murdered in different parts of the country at varying intervals of time in a range of people. If not for the unique calling card left behind by the killer the police wouldn't know the murders were related. Like most serial killers there is an element of ritual to the slaying. In this case, a regular bicycle playing card is fit with a steel edge, used to murder the intended victim, then placed on the body. Starting with the ace the killer moves up through the different suits of cards until reaching the king. Then the next suit begins.

Bruce kept tabs on the case as another three months passed until last night, when a woman was murdered in Gotham. The king of spades was found on her body bringing the total number of victims to thirty-nine. Focusing his attention on the new threat in his city something about the murders was irritatingly familiar to Bruce, but he couldn't find any previous cases with a similar M.O. He considered the possibility of another clown inspired copycat since the Joker's arrest six months ago, because of the joker playing card as his signature. After carefully hacking into the FBI database to copy all of the information regarding the case, he knew it wasn't a Joker imitation. Confident in his abilities the killer entered a small clinic, murdering everyone inside, but a security camera managed to get a fuzzy ten second recording before it was destroyed.

"I walk the path of becoming. Taking the steps to ascension I surpass the lesser beings. There the Goddess of Creation gives life to the Suicide King and I shall be reborn," the killer announced in a fervent raspy drawl, just out of sight from the camera. A body hit the floor as he appeared on screen. There's a brief image of his head, but the face is covered by an odd hat made of wrapping paper and bows that comes down below his chin. A scream erupts just as the camera is destroyed.

The name Suicide King sparked with recognition in Bruce's mind earlier that day as he worked in the temporary Batcave beneath a Wayne Enterprises construction site.

"The Goddess of Creation shall give birth to the Suicide King and I shall be transformed," Bruce muttered, starting a search through the case file for any other mention of the name.

"The Suicide King?" Alfred asked, stepping off the elevator. "Isn't that the king of hearts playing card?"

"Yes. It earned the name because the king of hearts is stabbing himself in the head."

"Certainly paints a gruesome image of romance," Alfred said looking at the screen. "Writing a love letter?"

"Not exactly," Bruce chuckled, turning to his companion. "A new killer in Gotham was recorded saying this in Minneapolis. He finished spades last night with the murder of Felicia Talbot and I'm hoping to catch him before he has a chance to start the final suite of cards; hearts."

"I don't suppose it could mean the killer is going to commit suicide with the king once he's finished?"

Bruce gives Alfred a pointed look before turning back to the screen.

"Course not. That would almost make sense," the Englishman mutters, casting a rueful glance at his employer.

"I'm missing something, Alfred, but I don't know what. The Suicide King has to have another meaning."

"Perhaps a break will help clear your head," the butler suggested holding up an envelope, "Bruce Wayne has been invited to a party tonight held in honor of S. Blue's latest novel."

Pushing away from the computer Bruce walked towards the bat suit, hardly listening.

"A break might give me a new perspective. I'll patrol and come back to—" a pause. "Did you say S. Blue?" He asked turning back to Alfred.

"Yes, that fiction author you're fond of who likes to write about…" Alfred trailed off, looking up sharply.

"Serial killers," Bruce finished. "She creates serial killers and one of her most notorious is the Suicide King."

"I'll just RSVP to the party, then."

Stalking back to the computer Bruce began new searches for any information on S. Blue and her novel.

"That's why it was so familiar," he said reading the screen. "The FBI contacted her last week after the recording was made. They questioned her for hours and she voluntarily took a polygraph test. It came back negative, but it's not impossible to beat the machine. They decided she was uninvolved, but haven't crossed her off as a potential suspect. She writes under the penname S. Blue, real name Sophia Cross, never had any problems with the police. Hmm, that's odd."

"What is, Sir?" Alfred asked as he turned to his frowning employer.

"The killer, this would be Suicide King, is obviously obsessed with her work but he's made no effort to contact her. It's possible that she wouldn't receive anything personally because of the variation on her name, but her editor gets fan mail. Why go to such lengths to emulate a character but ignore its creator?"

"You think she's involved?"

A nod. "S. Blue knows the story better than anyone. After watching the tape it's doubtful that she's actually committing the murders, but she could be an accessory. Or she could have orchestrated the entire thing. Once the press gets a copy of that tape this will be an even bigger media frenzy than it already is. It's a good way to create publicity," Bruce replied walking toward the elevator. "Once I meet her I'll be able to get a better read on the situation."

"I take it Miss. Blue is going to be the newest recipient of Bruce Wayne's playboy persona?" Alfred asked falling into step beside the younger man.

"Thought it would be better to start with that rather than Batman. It might seem a little suspicious if he showed up at a party to flirt with the guest of honor."

"Just a bit," Alfred agreed with a smile, the lights shutting off behind them.

Now, hours later, he searches the crowd for the lady in question. Without a photo or physical description of S. Blue he's forced to keep an ear open for any mention of her name, hoping it will lead him to her. Passing a small group, he pauses, the conversation catching his attention.

"I find her insistence of humanizing the villains of her books repugnant morally and intellectually," a middle-aged woman states, voice heavy with condemnation. "Creating sympathetic back story for serial killers and murderers shows how inexperienced with the world the author really is. Goodness! Does she honestly expect us to believe those people are any better than wild animals?"

"I suppose you think they should be put down like wild animals too," a woman interrupts, drawing Bruce's focus. "The author isn't trying to generate a false sense of sympathy for serial killers. In her books she's trying to make, at least, two points. First, that serial killers aren't born that way. They start out screaming and slimy just like everybody else. It seems, more often than not, that something happens, usually a traumatic event, that causes them to become removed from standard society. Secondly, not everyone that murders is evil. The author is trying to show that sometimes murder is justified."

"How can you claim murder is justified?" Bruce demands before he can stop himself.

The woman turns, blue eyes focusing on him as she quirks an eyebrow. "I'm saying some murder is justified. If somebody raped your wife or daughter wouldn't you feel taking that person's life was an act of justice?"

"You can't pick and choose like that," Bruce argues. "It's a matter of right and wrong, and murder is wrong."

"Of course it's wrong, but that isn't the question," she replies, diving into the topic. "It's whether or not murder can be justified. No matter how legitimate a person's justification for killing is, it's still murder. And that person should be held accountable. But, there is a difference between killing an innocent and killing as justice."

"Justification is a state of mind," he counters. "Anyone can form a mentality that rationalizes the act of murder, and hide behind the claim of justice. But that doesn't make it so."

"The world isn't black and white," she says with a smile. "Life is more slippery than that. But, you have a point; people are able to rationalize anything. Humanity's ability to delude themselves is astounding."

"That's not quiet what I meant, but you've got the right idea," Bruce answers returning the smile. Noticing the group migrated during the exchange leaving them alone he holds out a hand saying, "Bruce Wayne."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne," she says shaking his hand, "though I think it's only fair to warn you I'm probably not what you're looking for."

"What I'm looking for?" Bruce echoes, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, your reputation precedes you Mr. Wayne and…" she trails of with a shrug holding up her left hand, revealing a simple garnet wedding ring.

"Oh, I see," he says with a laugh. "How long have you been married?"

Eyes softening she looks down at the ring with affection. "I got married eight years ago."

Bruce notices the sad edge to her voice as she rubs a thumb against the ring. He's curious at the drop in her mood, but doesn't ask. She can't be older than him, probably marrying at a young age with a few regrets. The tinge of disappointment he feels at that thought surprises him. She's attractive, tan skin and dark hair offset by sharp icy blue eyes, but not the most stunning woman he's ever seen. Still, he's here for a reason. Giving himself a mental shake, Bruce pulls his errant thoughts away from the woman before him.

"You seem very familiar with S. Blue's work," Bruce says drawing her attention. "Do you know her?"

She blinks, surprised, before grinning ruefully. "I can't say we've ever been introduced."

"That's a pity," he says scanning the room for any indication of the author, "I was hoping to meet her."

"Oh?" The woman drawls, crossing her arms. "And why's that?"

"What can I say," Bruce tells her with a wink, "my reputation precedes me."

She laughs, a low warm sound that brings a sincere smile to his lips. Tipping her head she stares at Bruce trying to tell if he's serious. He stares back, amused by her scrutiny.

"Did you really come just to meet S. Blue?"

"Yes," he replies, wiggling his eyebrows. His smile widens as a loud surprised laugh escapes her. Eyes wide, she clamps a hand over her mouth muffling her giggles. "Didn't expect me to be honest about it, did you?"

"No, I didn't," she confirms with a grin offering her hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce, please," he says warmly, taking her hand. "And the pleasure was all mine, Mrs.?"

"Kitten, oh my goodness, there you are!" A loud voice interrupts as a man throws an arm around the woman. "I have been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been hiding?"

"I've been talking with Mr. Wayne," she says nodding to him.

"Mr. Wayne?" the man asks turning to Bruce. Eyes widening, a hand flutters between his chest and reaching for Bruce as he gapes. "Sweet Buddha, you're Bruce Wayne."

"Last time I checked," Bruce says, fake smile back in place as he eyes the other man. Thrilled chocolate eyes stare at him from behind rectangular plastic frames while even white teeth gleam against hazel skin as the man laughs.

"I'm sorry, just a little blinded by your fabulousness. I'm Dominic Harper and much as I hate to interrupt whatever it is you kids were talking about, I need to steal her," he says rapidly, grabbing her hand and pulling her away through the crowd.

"Bye," she calls over her shoulder with a wave.

Bruce watches after her for a moment before shaking his head. He's here for a reason. Besides, she's married. With a final lingering look, he steps back into the crowd bumping into someone.

"Excuse me, that was my fault," he says, turning to find a pale pink bow attached to the top of a willowy brunette's head.

"It's fine," she says looking up. Eyes widening in surprise, she grins, "Bruce!"

"Crystal," he says, recognizing the singer from one of his clubs. One of the few friends he'd made since returning to Gotham, her soft-spoken personality belied an amazingly strong singing voice. Though it was the contrast in persona and vocals that originally caught his attention, it was her morbid sense of humor underlying her sweet personality that made them friends.

"I'm surprised to see you here," she says, giving him a hug.

"I could say the same about you. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with Sophie."

"Sophie?" He repeats voice friendly as his mind calculates. "As in S. Blue the author? You know her?"

"Sure," Crystal says with a shrug, "we're best friends"

A mutual friend is a better opening than he could have ever hoped for.

"Would you be willing to introduce us?" Bruce asks. "I'm a real fan of her work."

"Sure, if you want me to but," she says, brow furrowing, "weren't you just talking to her?"

Pausing, Bruce looks behind him scanning for the woman he had been talking with. "That was S. Blue?"

"Yeah. I was on my way over to join her when Dominic, her editor, grabbed her."

Jaw clenching in frustration, Bruce bites back a growl. He'd had her and he didn't even know it! Damn it. After the romantic implications he made it'll be a nightmare trying to get close. The plan will have to be reworked.

"Hey Bruce," Crystal says, drawing his attention, "you didn't have any ulterior motives towards Sophie, did you?"

"Don't worry Crystal," he says brushing off the question, "I don't date married women."

"That's reassuring to know, Bruce, but Sophie isn't married," she replies bemused.

"What do you mean she isn't married?" He asks, focusing on her. "I saw her ring. She's been married for eight years."

"Eight years sounds about right for when she got married, but her husband died five years ago."

"She's a widow," Bruce says, eyes narrowing.

"I thought you knew and that's why you were interested in her," Crystal says frowning.

"I had no idea."

She'd lied about being married, and purposely kept her identity a secret. Sophie Blue certainly wasn't acting like an innocent woman with nothing to hide. Now, where did she go?

"Bruce," Crystal says, once again getting his attention. "I know you're both adults and you're going to do what your going to do, but Sophie isn't like the women that you normally date. If that is the reason for your interest, then your intentions better be noble."

"I understand, but you can relax," he replies, face softening. "I don't have any plans to ask your friend for a date."

'I don't normally date women suspected of murder,' Bruce thinks, watching Crystal. 'Though I've only known her for a year, Crystal isn't a bad judge of character. Is it really possible her best friend could be involved with the Suicide King without her knowing? Most serial killers are adept at hiding the truth from the people that love them.' Eyes taking on a steely glint Bruce turns to the front of the room as Dominic Harper draws the attention of the crowd, Sophie at his side.

"Excuse me; can I have your attention, please?" He calls unsuccessfully. "Ladies and gentlemen could I have your attention."

Face contorting into a scowl he draws a deep breath bellowing harshly, "I'm talking damn it!"

Smoothing a hand down his designer suit, Dominic ignores Sophie shaking with suppressed laughter in the awkward silence, smiling demurely at his audience.

"Hello lovelies, is everyone having a good time? Yes? Wonderful. As you know, we're all here to celebrate the second installment to the lovely S. Blue's assassin trilogy. I'm sure everyone is excited to find out what happens in the will they, won't they love affair of our favorite killer for hire and the wooing of his reluctant lady love! The book will be available in stores everywhere next month, but as a treat, since we love you, everyone is getting a signed copy tonight. We hope you enjoy the book, and if you don't like the book keep it to yourself!" He jokes as the audience laughs.

Bruce chuckles politely eyes never leaving Sophie. During Dominic's speech she smiles brightly, alternating between watching the man beside her and scanning the crowd. Her eyes land on Bruce, startled by the intensity of his stare. His eyes narrow slightly, and she knows that he's learned the truth of her deception and isn't pleased. Chin tipping up slightly in silent defiance, Sophie's ire rises at his obvious disapproval. Eyes sparking in a clash of wills, she almost misses Dominic's announcement.

"And now we'll have a few words from our darling S. Blue," he says drawing the audience's attention to her.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming," she announces smoothly, tearing her eyes from Bruce. A polished mask of polite friendliness appears as she continues. "Hopefully everyone enjoys the book. I really appreciate the support given to me. Thank you all."

As the applause die down Bruce makes his way towards her, hesitating on the edge of the crowd gathered around her. Refusing to fall under the spell of her infectious smile and warm laugh, Bruce maintains a look of bored interest on his face, while inside he watches her every move. Sophie's eyes land on him, brow furrowing for a moment before smoothing out, her attention drifting to another. Every so often her eyes flicker back to Bruce, making sure she keeps the seemingly unconcerned, but ever present man where she can see him.

The rest of the party passes quickly after that. Bruce keeps an eye on Sophie, tracking her about the room, looking for any opportunity to catch her alone. Aware of his presence she keeps to large groups, noticing as she mingles that he always drifts nearby, but makes no attempt to engage her. By eleven o'clock the party is winding down, and it's clear she has no intention of being near him again tonight. He could swoop in and catch her by surprise, but it isn't worth the risk of causing a scene. Better to regroup and try a different tactic when she isn't on guard. Decided, Bruce leaves the party. His time would be better spent patrolling as Batman.

High above the traffic of Gotham a dark figure perches among the stone gargoyles of a large cathedral as old as the city. The sound of voices over the police dispatch he's hacked fade to half noticed background noise as his mind turns over the facts of the Suicide King case, looking for any hint of a lead. He'd read over the book after making the connection between S. Blue's novel and the Suicide King marking every passage involving a murder. So far, the killer has been following the main pattern of the story, matching the character kill for kill. If the pattern remains true to form, then the Suicide King should still be in Gotham City, as he made two kills in the novel. It will be three weeks until the next murder is supposed to take place starting the final suit of hearts. It's a small window of opportunity, but Batman fully intends to find the Suicide King before he has the opportunity to kill his next victim.

"All units, there's a reported homicide at Two-fifteen Calumet Avenue, in the women's bathroom at train platform Seven-ten," the dispatcher's voice crackles in his ear, "a woman has been found with her throat slashed and a playing card on her person. Respond."

Jumping from the ledge, Batman plunges through the cold night, shooting a grappling hook at the building across from him. Gliding through the air, a dark shadow against the buildings, he swings to the train platform a few blocks from the cathedral. Luck on his side, he beats the police, slipping unnoticed past the security guards as they try to keep the crowd of interested pedestrians back. Time against him, the screaming sound of sirens already growing closer, Batman searches the dirty bathroom for clues.

The body of the young brunette lays sprawled in the last stall, legs curled beneath her, one arm stretched across the toilet, head placed gently on the seat as the dark river of her blood spills into the bowl diluting in the water to a wispy pink. A quick search of her person comes up clean, no evidence left behind by the killer except the ace of hearts playing card with the telltale steel rim inserted between her teeth. Carefully prying open her mouth Batman removes the playing card, quickly sweeping it for prints. Nothing. Once again the Suicide King was meticulous in leaving behind a crime scene spotless of any incriminating evidence that could lead back to him.

Saying a silent apology, Batman starts to slip the card back into her mouth, knowing he must leave before the police arrive. A flash of white against the red of her cheek inside her mouth catches his attention and he pulls the card back out, using tweezers to carefully remove the small object wedged between her back molars. The tip of a white latex glove he realizes after a moment, carefully bagging and pocketing the piece of evidence in his utility belt. Returning the card to her mouth, he looks down at the young woman with pity. She had been brave enough to bite her attacker. 'Good girl,' he thinks slipping out of the stall and stealing into the shadows outside of the bathroom just as uniformed police officers break through the security guards perimeter.

Outside racing down the highway on the batpod on his way back to the temporary Batcave, Batman knows several things for certain with this new kill. The tip of a latex glove pulled from the victim combined with the cleanliness of the crime scenes indicates the Suicide King has some experience in forensics or criminal investigation. Sophia Cross, AKA S. Blue, can't be the killer. Rigor mortis has already set into the body, meaning the young woman has been dead for three to four hours, and he'd been watching Sophia at the party during that time. Most worrisome of all, however, is the murder of the young women itself. Up until this point the Suicide King was following the pattern written in Sophia's novel, but now he's strayed from that path. Has the killer entered a new level of his psychotic ritual, or is there another person capitalizing on his M.O.?