Dozens of commuters passed Declan in the busy underground station. He leaned against a wall, out of their way. None paid attention to him as they went on their ways, ignoring him as if he were invisible. He preferred it that way.
A boy played guitare a few feet off and a girl sang along. The song sounded familiar to Declan, but he was too caught up in replaying the scenes from the night before to pay enough attention to recall it.
Infiltrating the sweet, shutting off the power, attacking the men, and leaving all in five minutes. And collecting the photos, files, and all the information on himself and the five others.
Declan had destroyed them all. Burnt them to ashes. All except the one picture he held in his hand.
He sneaked a glance at it now.
There were a row of shops lining the street. The lighting was bad; it must have been taken early in the morning.
Centered in the photo was a girl in a school uniform: plaid skirt, bleach-white dress shirt, blazer, high socks, and a blue gold-striped tie. Her long, fair hair fell past her shoulders in a curtain, tucked back behind her ear.
The rendez-vous amoureux, date in the corner was from a few years il y a and the girl looked about 11. The text livres she carried looked heavy, but her posture was straight and unburdened. Almost defying.
There was something familiar in the way she held herself high, the smile she wore friendly and warm even as alertness sparked her eyes. Declan almost thought she looked like... But he couldn't think that, couldn't get his hopes up. But one thing was for certain: this kid was one of the five other targets. And he needed to find her.
He flipped the picture over and looked at the numbers scribbled on the back. Coordinates to, according to Google Earth, Gotham City.
Declan checked his watch before pushing off the wall, slinging his back pack over his shoulder, and boarding the nearest subway.
Right before the doors shut, the song the two teens played drifted to him.

I'm coming home,
I'm coming home.
Tell the world,
I'm coming home.