Issue #1 Faux-DC Presents: Science Killings, Part One of Five By Steve M. Swartz

The man sat alone on a bench on Gotham Park. He took a folded paper from his coat, unfolded it, and read it for perhaps the fifth time that day. The man's hand shook as he attempted to hold the paper steady. The paper in his hand was a newspaper clipping, from the last Sunday's Gotham Gazette. It read: Polish scientist Dr. Markus Flasky was found dead in his hotel room last Sunday, homicide detective George Smythe said, and it seemed as if the man had burned to death, judging from the scorched carpet and floor around him... but his body was unscathed. The coroner told the press that Flasky died of "acute indigestion". This is the third death of a Polish scientist this month. Police are wondering if it is a coincidence, or if the murders are linked together in some way. The fourth scientist of the group that was also working on a so-called top-secret project is still in hiding. The man refolded the paper and stuck it in his right coat pocket, glanced about, and quickly walked to a hotel on Fifth and Main, in downtown Gotham. "I don't get it, Batman," Robin was saying, as Batman and Robin walked into The Batcave. "I mean, the murders have to be linked. Three scientists were murdered in one month! This is more than coincidence." "Hmm..." Batman stroked his chin, then turned to face Robin. "And all three were Polish." He swiveled in the chair to face the computer. He tapped in his password and began searching for articles about the three scientists. One came up on the screen. It was the same one that the man in the park had been reading earlier that same day. "What do you make of this, Robin?" Batman asked. "You said that they're linked. Now, we just have to get the evidence to prove that." He stood up, flexed his huge muscles. "But where to start?" "Maybe we should visit the Gotham PD," Robin suggested. "Good thinking, Robin. THAT's why I make you think. Partner." The next thing Robin knew, they were swinging into central Gotham, landing atop the Gotham City Police Department. Batman silently slid the window to Commissioner Jim Gordon's office open and he and Robin slipped inside. Gordon was turned away from them, sipping coffee. "Commissioner," Batman said, startling Gordon, who jumped up and spilled his coffee all over him. "Yiiii!" Gordon cried. "That's HOT!" He began mopping up his clothes and the chair. "You know, you're going to be the death of me...what are you two looking for?" "Information," Batman said. "Recently, three Polish scientists were murdered, all here in Gotham. I need all the information you have on them." "We really don't have that much on the murders, since all of them came up as dying from acute indigestion. I think it's too much of a coincidence that all three Polish scientists, all hiding in different parts of Gotham, were all found dead. "I'm beginning an investigation Monday," Gordon said, as he handed a thick file to Batman. He yawned, turned around to reach for the pot of coffee. "Maybe you two can give me some information when you - " He turned back around to see an empty room and the curtains swaying from the wind. He shook his head. "How do they DO that?!" After searching through the contents of the file, Batman and Robin sat, contemplating the information. "So what exactly are we looking for again?" Robin asked. "I think we're looking for poisoning." Batman stood up, sat at the computer, began copying files to the databank. "How do you know?" Robin asked. "In the file, it said "acute indigestion"...yet the victim's mouth was virtually destroyed beyond recognition...burned, as if he had breathed fire. As the article said, the floor and rugs around him were scorched. That could only be the work of a poison." Batman's deft hands quickly tapped in a search string. "I'm searching for a type of known poison that would do that to a victim." He scanned the words that appeared across the screen. Tapped a key. Scanned. Tapped a key. Finally he turned to face the anxious Robin. "No known poisons act like that...which means we've got a poison on the loose and we don't know how to control it. Or what it looks like. No informat- ion." He stood up. "I think it's time to pay scientist number four a visit." "How do we know where he is?" Robin asked. "We find out." Batman touched a button on his belt and the Batmobile's engine revved. "Here," he said, tossing a stomach pump to Robin. "Just in case it is a poisoning, we'll need this." And with that, they ran to the Batmobile and hopped in. The man that sat on the park bench earlier was sitting in his hotel room, eyes wide open, nervously chewing on a cigar. Cigar butts littered the floor and at the minibar in the corner, most of the liquor was gone. This man was a very nervous man, nervous for his life. He stood up and paced. He knew all about the poison, for he had helped to invent it...to be used for something else, though...something to benefit mankind, not to hurt it. But oftentimes when something that is supposed to be used for good falls into the wrong hands, it is harnessed for bad. And this man, the fourth Polish scientist, deeply regretted his participation in the experiment. A knock sounded at the door. The scientist jumped out of his chair, deeply startled by the intrusion. "W-who is it?" he queried. "It's me, mister Nakowski...the hotel delivery man? I have a package for you...'from a friend', the label says." "Just leave it at the door," Nakowski said. He took out an object that looked like a stethoscope off of the desk by the door. He put the earpieces in his ears and put the receiver on the door. That instrument could pick up the sound of a pin dropping ten feet away. So when he heard the delivery man's footsteps fading, he opened the door and quickly whisked the package into the room, then just as quickly shut the door. Meanwhile, the delivery man was peeping around a corner, watching the scientist take the package into his room. He took a small two-way radio from his inside jacket pocket. "Boss," he said. "Boss, the trap's been set. An' it looks like the Pole's taken the bait." Meanwhile, inside the hotel room, the scientist was prodding the box with the listening instrument. When he didn't hear any ticking, he slowly opened it...slowly cut through the tape, slowly unfolded the flaps...to reveal... ...A bottle of brandy. The scientist laughed out loud. 'How stupid,' he thought, 'of them* to think that I would actually DRINK this!' He carried the bottle into the small bathroom, smashed it on the sink. Shards of glass flew in all directions, and the brandy poured into the sink, over the floor and dripped over the sink edge. He sauntered back into the living room when he heard another knock on the door. He crept up and said through the door, "Who is it?" The Batman's deep baritone answered. "A friend." "I have no friends!" the scientist said. Batman could hear the man's footsteps becoming softer and softer...walking away. "Come back!" Batman said. He looked at Robin, who said, "Why don't we just break the door down?" Batman gave Robin a look, and Robin said, "Sheesh, it was only a joke." The man appeared again, and this time he opened the door a crack. Batman could see a small mirror through the crack. Apparently, this man was taking no chances. He could see them...and they could see him. Apparently, the scientist didn't recognize them, as famous as they were, for he slammed the door and shouted, "Go away!" Batman nodded to Robin, and they simultaneously threw their shoulders into the door, which splintered and fell from its hinges. "We're sorry," Batman said. "But we really ARE friends. We mean you no harm." "H-how do I know that?" Nakowski stuttered. "If we wanted to hurt or kill you, we would have done so already...as you can see, we haven't." As Batman was speaking to Nakowski, Robin was searching the small room for clues, and the possible whereabouts of any poisons. "I suppose so," Nakowski said evenly. "How did you find me?" "We....have our ways," Batman said, glancing at Robin, who quickly turned around to examine a table ornament. "We have come to warn you that you may be in grave danger. I have come to the conclusion that your three fellow scientists all died from a form of poisoning, not yet known to me." Batman's sharp eyes noticed a gleam in Nakowski's fingers. In the next second Nakowski had a small .45 pistol pointed straight at The Batman's chest! "You can't harm me," Batman said, walking slowly toward the shaking Nakowski. "Give me the gun..." Meanwhile, Robin was in the bathroom. As soon as he entered he norticed the broken glass and the stench of the brandy. He knelt down to the floor to sniff the liquid. He dipped a gloved finger into the liquid and sniffed. Seemed like it was okay. He wandered out into the living room. And froze. "Come on, Nakowski," Batman said evenly, hand outstretched. "You don't want to shoot me. I am a friend, not an enemy." Finally Batman got within arms length of the gun and slowly tugged it from the scientist's hands, throwing it to the floor and stomping on it, shattering it. Suddenly, without warning, Nakowski lapsed into convulsions, holding his stomach. Bile began dribbling out of his mouth. "Water," he gasped. "Water! Must have - " The scientist collapsed. "Robin, the pump!" Batman shouted. "Get the pump!" They tried to use the pump but by then it was too late. Flame shot out of Nakowski's open mouth, his face twisted in pure agony as he died a hellish death. Suddenly a voice was heard from behind them. "Okay, youse two...against the wall." They turned around to see a tough looking fellow pointing a gun right at their faces. * You'll find out more about "Them" in later issues. - Swingin' Steve Bat-Signals Okay, this being the first issue of Batman, I guess this is the text page...where the writer has to write about himself. Well, let me first thank Clay Arceneaux, the Editor-in-Chief at Faux-DC, for landing me this position...and thanks to you, dear readers, reading this now, for without you there would be no Faux-DC (well okay, there actually WOULD be a Faux-DC, but not a very good one). This section will be a letters page/author's notes section, where I will list and answer all letters that I receive, and write about this and other issues of Batman. Et cetera, et cetera. So, the way I see it, if you don't want to see my comments here, send me letters! Please send all correspondence to Solar_Winds@yahoo.com, subject: Bat-Signals. Thanks! Here's to 11 more great issues. - Steve Swartz Solar_Winds@yahoo.com