Two more days passed, and Rowan decided that Cecil had had enough time to dig up something.

Just like before, he jumped unnoticed onto his balcony and found that Cecil had left the door ajar. He'd better work on his security, or his flat could become a thief's paradise in the blink of an eye. Not that Rowan was going to tell him that.

The television was playing loudly, and the light from it was illuminating the whole living room. Cecil was sitting on the couch, a cold beer on the table in front of him, intently watching some soap opera where people were shouting at each other too much. Same scenario as last time.

Revenger assumed his habits had something to do with his age and the fact that he lived alone in his flat. Not that he would feel sorry for him. 

He approached him from behind with soft footsteps, and instead of grabbing him by the neck like last time, he rested his elbows on the back of the couch next to his head. The bald man registered movement beside him and turned his head in alarm. "Jesus Christ, you scared me!" Startled, he jumped out of his seat and clutched his chest. 

Revenger raised an eyebrow, though it was barely visible through his mask, and waited for the older man before him to calm down. 

"You could have come through the door, you know," Cecil told him, looking less shaken by his presence than last time.

"I did," said Revenger, "You forgot to close the balcony door again." Though he claimed he didn't want to point it out to him, he couldn't help it.

"It's the second floor!" Cecil protested, finally removing his hand from his still rapidly rising chest. His eyes scanned the place where he had sat a moment ago as if considering whether it was safe to return, but in the end, he seemed to change his mind and stayed where he was.

Revenger just rolled his eyes at his theatrics and straightened up to his full height, looking even more terrifying in the darkened apartment. 

"Do you want a beer?" Cecil suddenly offered, and Revenger looked at him as if he had gone mad. Where did this sudden hospitality come from?

When the masked villain didn't answer after a while, Cecil nodded to himself and muttered something under his breath. Whatever it was, Revenger was sure it was nothing important and decided that enough stalling had been done. But before he could get to the bald man, he walked past him with a brisk step and headed for the kitchen. Revenger had no choice but to obediently follow.

"I have something for you," Cecil's tone showed that he was excited and obviously proud to help the masked villain. The part where Revenger held him by the throat for this information had apparently been forgotten. 

When Revenger didn't answer, Cecil simply decided to continue: "I met my friend Marie. A dreadful woman, let me tell you. She talks about her grandchildren all the time and brags about their achievements, and they don't even like her.” He rambled on, and Revenger's patience was wearing thin, but he didn't interrupt, hoping that at least the final information would be indeed promising.

"That woman is vile, but she has a really good memory." Revenger perked up again, sensing that his favourite part was finally coming. "I asked her about the names you gave me, but she had no idea who they were either. But when I showed her the pictures..."

"Can you get to the point?" Revenger was anything but patient. The horns on his mask alone said something about his character, and it certainly wasn't moderation and patience. 

Cecil looked startled for a moment at his raised tone, but as quickly as his fright had appeared, it was gone.

"Of course," he replied and waved his hand as if he hadn't just slandered his former colleague before continuing, "Marie and I didn't know those names because they've never been used at our bank. Apparently, the man doesn't even have an account with us. The woman, on the other hand... Her name is Amanda Smith, and she has her own safe deposit box in the bank vault.” 

Amanda Smith. 

Finally, Revenger had the last piece of the puzzle he needed.

"What's in it?" he asked, remembering his other words. 

At Revenger's question, however, Cecil's shoulders slumped, and his enthusiasm waned. "I don't know," he admitted, looking cautiously at the masked villain in front of him, waiting for his reaction. He looked dejected, and Revenger had to admit that he had already done more for him than he expected, so he decided to cheer him up.

"Doesn’t matter. You helped me anyway," he assured him.

"Really?" The bald man lit up like a Christmas tree, and Revenger began to seriously question his sanity. He had no idea what had happened since his last visit, but it almost seemed as if Cecil had decided they were suddenly friends. Old people and their loneliness.

"Indeed," Revenger nodded, keeping his tone neutral.

"By the way..." Cecil frowned, looking as if he was thinking about something that really pissed him off. "I haven't told Marie why I was asking her. If she knew she'd helped solve the crime, she'd never shut up about it." 

His grimace quickly disappeared, however, and he seemed to have another thought, which he decided to address immediately. "Oh, I was going to ask. You do catch murderers, right?" 

The horned villain had no idea where he was going with this, but for the old man's sake, he decided to nod in agreement. 

"But that doesn't sound like a job for a villain," Cecil finally got the point across, looking expectantly at Revenger as if he had just asked him the most crucial question in the world. 

Revenger tilted his head, showing that he was thinking about the answer, even though he had known it all along. "With my methods, I could hardly call myself a hero." 

"You can be an anti-hero. Like Batman," Cecil offered with a smile, and Revenger couldn't help but laugh heartily at the suggestion. 

Of course, the sound of his laughter made the older man light up like a small child who had just received a compliment. There was no sign of his original fear, and he behaved almost as if he had a friendly visitor.

Revenger shook his head, genuinely amused by the man's words, and rested his hand on his forehead, a gesture akin to running his fingers through his hair, something he couldn't do with his hood. 

"I'm definitely not Batman," he said, but then realised in the back of his mind that the old man wasn't so far from the truth. In fact, Revenger had more in common with the masked bat than he originally thought.

"You're still a badass," Cecil said, snapping Revenger out of his momentary haze.

"If you say so," Revenger muttered vaguely, the humour in his voice completely gone. He knew he had stayed in this place longer than he should have and was beginning to realise it was a mistake. He had a reason for not getting close to people, and Cecil had just reminded him of it. 

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" the bald man asked, not letting the change in Revenger's voice get to him.

"You've done enough," the masked villain assured him, adding immediately, "I have to go." 

Without waiting for Cecil's reply, he turned and headed for the balcony door. The shorter man, however, was at his heels.

"What?" Just a step from the door, Revenger stopped and turned sharply, his arms outstretched in reflex as the older man stood directly behind him, too close for his liking.

"I just..." the man began, a little nervous this time, "Are you sure there's nothing else I can help you with?"

Revenger almost sighed but stopped himself at the last moment. 

"If I need anything, I'll find you," he promised, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm. The old man seemed pleased with his promise, though he had no idea it was false, and Revenger had no plans to return here.

Never good at saying goodbye, the masked villain jumped off the balcony without another word and disappeared into the darkness of the night.