"Evening, Barbara," Officer Bard greeted as he opened the door for her. "Need a ride?"

"Hello." She climbed in, barely glancing over at him.

"What's wrong? You sound upset." He frowned.

Trying to keep herself calm and collected, Barbara took a deep breath. "Just drive. I'll tell you what's wrong while on the way to the house." She glanced out the window.

"Okay." He shrugged, steering the car back onto the road.

"I feel as if I am going insane. Nothing feels real or makes sense," she explained. "It all began with these murders around Gotham. Since then, everything has been this puzzle."

Officer Bard shot her a confused glance. "I'm not too sure what you mean."

"I met this boy named Richard Grayson. He was part of the acrobat troupe The Flying Graysons, the one that was apparently killed twenty years ago. Not only shouldn't he be alive, but he should be in his thirties. But he is only seventeen." Barbara's voice wavered, losing all its previous composure.

"Maybe he lied to you? Like either about his age or his true history." Officer Bard suggested.

"I don't know." Barbara gave a nervous chuckle. "That isn't the only thing not adding up. I am convinced that the person who saved me when I was attacked in the East End was Pamela Isley. She denies it though."

"Why would she?"

"That is my exact question. All of this- All of them are strange," the girl whispered.

"Them? Who is them?" Officer Bard furrowed his eyebrows.

"Richard. Pamela. Bruce. All of them have these overwhelming smells attached to them. They all have skin so pale and yet so perfect. Their skin is free of any blemishes as if it were carved and bleached. They have these eyes that are so- so radiant and intense. Like nothing I have ever seen before!" She paused, struggling to catch her breath.

"We are here." Officer Bard parked the car beside the curb.

"I know detectives are not supposed to go on instinct alone, but my instinct tells me they are somehow connected to the murders and disappearances. Please, Officer Bard. Interview them. Especially Pamela," Barbara pleaded. "It can't be a coincidence that all these things start happening after she moves to Gotham."

"Wait, didn't you say she saved you? Why would you want her to be a suspect?" He turned to her with an incredulous look on his face.

"She did and I am grateful for that. But that doesn't make her any less of a murderer if that turns out to be the case." She rose out of the car, giving the officer one last glance before walking away.

She had just walked inside when she heard her dad call out from the living room. "Barbara, come here. I need to talk to you."

"Yes, what is it?" She practically groaned.

"I have been worried about you lately. You have not been acting yourself. The most I have had to worry about was you being unsociable. But now." James walked over to her. "Going out at night, sneaking around, lying, and withdrawing from me? You even look sickly. Barbara, you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm your father and I love you."

"What do you think is going on?" Barbara folded her arms over her chest.

James sighed. "I think you might be involved in criminal activity like a gang or drugs. Maybe even using alcohol."

She let her arms fall to her sides. "Oh my God! No! It's none of that!"

"Then what is it?!" He demanded.

"I will show you!" Barbara stormed off to her room. Once there, she knelt down beside her bed and yanked out a box. After furiously tearing it open and pulling out the dress, she marched back downstairs.

"Do you recognize the fabric?" She handed him the dress. "Yes, this was the dress I wore to the Halloween gala. It is also the same one Richard Grayson bought for me."

"So you have been seeing a boy this whole time?" James muttered.

"Yes. It was fun while it lasted, but with a creep of a father- Well, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree!" Barbara scowled at the dress in her father's hands. "So there. You know the truth now. But never again will that happen! So there's no need to worry any longer!"

"I hope you didn't do anything reckless with this boy-"

Barbara interrupted her father with a low groan. "I am going to bed." Ignoring her father's protests, she continued up the stairs and into her room. It was no sooner than she turned the doorknob did a soft rapping sound echo through the pitch-black room. The girl gave a sharp gasp as she saw a pale hand tapping against the glass with its elongated fingers. Shuffling across the room towards the window, Barbara was about to peer out when a familiar face popped out on the other side.

"Richard!" Her voice wavered somewhere between a scream and whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." He grinned, resting his palm against the glass. "Thought I could surprise you."

"What? You can't just show up at my house. Especially when my dad is here!" Barbara hissed, shifting her glare between him and downstairs.

"Oh, I didn't realize he was here. I'm sorry." Richard removed his pasty hand from the window.

"It's fine." Barbara rolled her eyes, glancing towards her desk. Lying there, partially illuminated by the streetlight outside, was a yellow newspaper. "Actually, I'm glad you stopped by. There's something I've been wanting to ask you." She unlocked the window before snatching the paper up and thrusting it into his hands. "What the hell is this, Richard?! Do you care to explain yourself?!"

Richard glanced at the paper's headline, muttering something under his breath. To Barbara, it sounded like he had said, "I thought Bruce had gotten rid of all of these."

But that couldn't be right. She must have misheard. "What did you say?"

"It's probably a misprint. Or just a weird coincidence. Whoever that is in the picture isn't me or my parents. And how could it be, if I am here? Me being here should be more concrete than this outdated paper." Richard started to crease the paper together. "Where did you even get this?"

Barbara scoffed. "I got it from the library. And it's not a misprint or a coincidence like you claim. The librarian was there that day and she remembers everything. So just give me back the newspaper."

"No, I am going to keep it. I'm sorry-"

She lurched at him for it, but he was too quick for her. With the shove of his arm, Barbara lost her balance and fell back against the floor.

He climbed inside and rushed over to her. "Are you okay? I didn't want to do that."

"Don't ever come near me again. Do you understand? I don't want to see you anymore. I want nothing to do with you," Barbara spat as she raised herself up. "Now, leave. Before I start screaming."

Richard winced, taking a step backward. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to decide against it at the last minute and quickly left the room through the open window.

Thinking there was no way he could have jumped, Barbara hurried over to the window and looked down out into the alleyway below. But the slick, gritty pavement was as empty as ever.

"But then, how could he have climbed up here?" She glanced down, seeing there was no staircase to support him- only a blank, brick wall.