His mind erupted in theories.
What could possibly cause Anya to send such a message, especially when she'd made it clear she had no intention of talking at the moment.
He'd taken the motorcycle.
Alfred had demanded to know what was happening, and Bruce simply responded, "Anya."
He was speeding down the streets of Gotham.
It wasn't late enough for the streets to be empty, so he skirted through the traffic jams, ignoring the honking and cursing.
He parked in the alleyway outside of Anya's apartment.
He pulled the grappling hook gun from his utility belt and aimed it at the fire escape railing. He jolted upward and onto the escape, landing with a loud thud that reverberated through the silent night.
The window was open, curtains flowing in the breeze.
He dropped himself into the apartment.
The door was closed. The lights were on.
Nothing seemed out of place.
Bruce pulled the pager from its pouch.
He sent a message.
He could hear the distant sound of ringing. He followed the noise into the hallway.
Anya's bedroom door was off its hinges.
He sped up.
The room was painted a soft yellow. Her bed was neatly made. A lamp on the bedside table dimly illuminated the room.
It seemed normal until his eyes scanned a particularly menacing part of the drywall.
There was a dent, perfectly shaped for someone's head, no doubt, and his heart jumped into his throat.
The beeping was continuous.
He followed the sound below her bed.
The device lay, discarded.
Its screen was cracked.
***
"Hello?"
"Alfred, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, Master Wayne."
***
Bruce paced the living room.
When he heard the knock, he opened the door immediately.
Commissioner Gordon stood outside surrounded by three other officers.
"Commissioner," Bruce took the man's hand and shook it. "I'm Bruce Wayne."
Gordon gave him a look, as if to say, 'Yeah, no shit.'
"Commissioner Gordon. What seems to be the problem?"
"My fiancée, Anya." Alfred had said he should call Anya this. Before Bruce could protest, Alfred reminded him that it would be best to exaggerate the relationship for the sole purpose of filing a missing person's report. It would be easier to file if he said he was her fiancé, not friend.... or friend with benefits.... or 'it's complicated.' "I came over to check on her tonight, but she wasn't home. I'm worried."
"You're engaged?" One of the officers asked, and Gordon shot him a glare.
"We've been private about it," Bruce replied.
"Saw an article about it in the Gotham Gazette the other week," Another officer said. "Not too private." Commissioner Gordon shot him a glare as well.
He turned back to Bruce. "Do you have any enemies? Anyone that might want to hurt you?"
"Lots of people, apparently, given last year's events."
Gordon nodded. "We're going to ask you a few questions about Anya while the officers take a look around, alright? We're gonna do our best to find her. Alright?"
Bruce nodded.
The feeling in his stomach, the giddy of having Anya to himself, finally, was replaced with something: dread.
YOU ARE READING
Scars & Hearts: The Batman Fanfiction
Fanfiction"Things were never normal in Gotham. Anya Flores knew this, but finding a masked vigilante knocked out on your fire escape had to be one of the more peculiar things." Anya Flores is a doctor at Gotham General. Growing up in the mean streets of Goth...
