The jack-o'-lantern photo was still on the main screen.
Half its smiling face had burned away, and the archive system had compressed the blood beside it into a patch of dark red. A date appeared in the upper-left corner.
October 31.
Halloween.
The Holiday Killer.
Chen Mo stood in the Batcave, the Venom Suit on him not yet fully returned to the shape of his everyday jacket. Black fabric clung to his shoulders and back, having swallowed every speck of dust he had brought from the Back Alley behind the Old Courthouse.
Bruce did not continue scrolling through the files.
He pulled up the combat logs on another screen.
"Get on the scanning platform."
Chen Mo looked over.
"You just got pinned down and beaten in the street by an owl, and your first order of business is giving me a physical? I'm not saying you have to thank me, but isn't this procedure a little too Wayne?"
"It's not a physical."
Bruce placed two sets of data side by side.
One showed his heart rate and temperature in the Back Alley behind the Old Courthouse just now.
The other was a baseline record from after Arkham a few days ago.
The curves made Chen Mo's words catch for a moment.
Bruce said, "It's consuming you."
Venom bulged a little at his collar, then shrank back.
It did not look remotely innocent.
Chen Mo pressed a hand over his collar.
"I know it's not some well-behaved little jacket. I have background knowledge on this, plenty of it, in fact. But if you want me to take it off now, we have a problem."
Bruce looked at him.
Chen Mo spread his hands.
"Without it, I have nothing to wear."
Less than ten seconds after he said that, footsteps came from