Issue #13 FDC presents "Not Again?!?" by Clay and Cliff Arceneaux

Gotham City. Third largest city on the American east coast. Known for it's first rate museums, financial giants, championship caliber Football team, and the highest crime rate in the United States. It is little surprise then that the city's breathtaking night's skyline is interrupted by the red and blue flashing of police lights. A siren screams through the winter night air, accompanied by the staccato sounds of rapid gunfire. "Geez! You hear that?" the young officer asks his partner. "No, Kelly, I am completely deaf." The officer at the wheel snips back as he makes a sharp left toward the sound of the gunfire. "Sounds like those gang-bangers decided to start without us." "How much farther? I was grabbin' our coffee when the call came in, remember?" "Dispatch said the two gangs were seen squarin' off in that back street around the next block. " The Driver responds. "We'll pull up the street entrance and wait for the rest of our boys to get here. I ain't lookin' to get shot up tonight." As the two officers near the street in question small explosions are heard echoing down the concrete canyon. "What the …" The police car lurches to a stop at the street corner under a lamp post. Three terrified gang members come streaming from the dark street beyond, one firing his weapon back into the darkness. The police exit their vehicle, guns drawn using their car for cover as best they can. "Freeze boys!" the driver commands. "Guns on the ground, hands on your head! Now!" The gang members pause, terrified and confused. There is a moment when the lead gang member looks as if he's considering firing the semi-automatic pistol he's carrying at the cops. Officer Kelly grips his 45 and aims it at the gang member, saying a silent prayer he won't have to fire. The decision is taken out of both of their hands as the lead gunman is struck by an object the comes hurtling from the dark street… a bright red water balloon. "Oh %@*#!" He screams as the balloon shatters against his chest. "Oh Shi he he he he heheheheheHAhahaha!" He drops to the ground in a mad fit of laughter. His terrified comrades both spin to fire back down the side street. A glint of light shines off a dozen small projectiles as they pass under the street light and on to their targets. The gun men howl in pain, dropping their weapons as they fall to the ground. The now very confused cops stare at the fallen gang members trying to see what felled them. They see one of the gunman pull what appears to be a metallic playing card from his shoulder. His laughing companion now lies still, his face in a twisted smile. The other lies in a pool of his own blood, the cards having hit sliced open his neck. "Help Me!" the gang member screams! "You've got to get me out of here!" "What the hell did we drive into?" The older officer asks his partner. "You go see to that kid, I'll cover you." The younger nods and make his way over to the fallen gang member, the whole while keeping his eyes staring into the smoky blackness of the side street. The steam rising from the manhole covers on this cold winters night reflected the light from both street light and the rooftop flashers of his patrol car making it impossible to see into the street, just a swirling mix of color and shadow. "Where's that backup, Larson?!?" He calls back to his partner as he reaches the bleeding gunman. "This guy's cut up pretty bad!" "On their way, Kelly, just sit tight and they'll be here any…" Officer Larson stops as he sees shapes taking form in the swirling darkness. He hears low chuckling whispering on the night air. "Oh crap." Six figures begin to emerge from the shadows, each dress in gang colors and studded black leather. Obviously the rival gang of the first three, their appearance in markedly different from any other gang bangers either officer had ever seen. First none of them appeared to be carrying anything that looked like conventional weapons, it looked more like they'd raided a novelty store somewhere. And second they each wore the same demonic grin on their faces. The smiling thugs slowly advanced into the open. "Hold it right there!" Officer Larson cries. "Hands where I can see them! His only response is a menacing laugh that rolled from each of them. One of them takes a step toward the police car, wielding some kind of walking stick. The rest move slowly towards the still breathing rival and the young officer kneeling over him. "I said don't Move punks!" Larson repeats. The 'punks' don't respond, and continue to advance. "I mean it! This is your last warning!" Again no response. Swallowing hard, Officer Larson fires a round into the shoulder of the nearest gang member. He falls… laughing. His comrades now give Larson their full attention. Larson hesitates for a moment, wondering which of his grinning assailants he should shoot next. His attention is drawn to the movement of one of them reaching for their lapel, for a… flower. "Wanna smell my flower, piggy?" The goon laughs. Before Larson can fire his gun, a stream of liquids squirts from the flower on to the car door Larson is using for cover. Some of it splatters onto Larson's hands. The police man screams in pain and falls back into the car. Everything the liquid touches begin to steam, hiss, and dissolve. The flowered goon continues to squirt the acid from his flower all over the still running patrol car, eating away at the hood, shorting out the top lights. The gang howls with laughter as the acid eats through the grill and causes the radiator to explode in a jet of steam that send hood flying open. Trying to ignore the pain in his hands, Larson crawls across the front seat and out the other side of the car. He hits the ground hard and tries to roll away from the car before the acid eats into something more volatile than the radiator. "Officer Down! Need Back Up Now!" Kelly yells into the radio on his lapel. "Repeat Officer Down!" With a shaking hand, Officer Kelly trains his gun on his partners assailants. To his horror, he sees the one Larson had shot just moments before rising to his feet. The terrifying thought crosses Kelly's mind that bullets may not stop these guys. The grinning gang members continue to watch with glee as their companion douses the patrol car with acid. Kelly knows in his heart he's outnumbered, outgunned, and unless Bulloch and the other cops arrive in the next minute or so, probably a dead man. Without warning, a thin black line snakes from the shadows entwining the acid yielding goon. With equally jarring swiftness the surprised gang-banger is yanked back into the dark swirling steam and out of sight. There is a loud thud, like flesh hitting metal and then silence. The remaining gang members laughter turns to a strange growling giggle as they make ready their bizarre weaponry. One reaches into a satchel and produces another water balloon. There is a light whirling sound, and the straps of the satchel are cut away and the balloon is knocked from his hand. The gang members stare in confusion as it splashes harmlessly to the ground. Then from a near by rooftop a shadow seems to take flight. Hurtling down to the street below a huge black, winged shape crashes into one of the gang members carrying him into the wall behind him. Careening back of the wall on his now apparent swing line, the figure flips back into the street to stand between the cops and the very befuddled gang. Drawing his cape around him, he appears to be nothing more than a black shadow with two bright white eyes. He is the sworn defender of the night, and Gotham's single most famous citizen. The Batman. Batman carefully eyes his opponents, tensing his muscles beneath his cape. The four remaining gang members were attempting to surround him. Batman's white eyes narrowed. They were uncharacteristically brazen, and the one he had just slammed into the wall was already trying to get up. Batman readies himself, and allows the gang to make the next move. With a giggling roar one of the gang charges Batman, palm outstretched. Batman reacts almost faster than the eye can follow, his leg seeming to erupt from his cape catching the attack with a wicked spin kick to the head. He follows through grabbing the dazed goon's arm and in one smooth motion sends him flying toward what was left of the patrol car. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees another gang member raising a hand full of familiar looking metal cards. Batman whirls around his cape fluttering wide around him. The cape itself batters the would be card sharp senseless, each of it's pointed 'tips' containing a small weight. The remaining thugs never stop smiling, though their chuckling has an almost detectable nervous tone to it now. Only two armed goons left, the one with the cane and one that seems to be wearing an over sized boxing glove. Batman recognizes both devices. As the boxing glove clad punk pulls back his hand as if to punch Batman despite his being out of arm's reach, his comrade grabbed the cane as if it were a rifle. The gloved goon swings his punch forward, and as he does the glove sprang forward, attached to his hand by what looked like a giant spring. Of course Batman easily evades the clumsy blow, which instead strikes the pavement with enough force to chip the asphalt. From behind him, the cane fires some kind of explosive blast from its tip. The Dark Knight drops beneath the wave of force an instant before it would have taken his head off. The gloved goon's weapon has returned to his hand and he is preparing for another strike. Leaping from his crouched position, Batman slams both hands up into the gloved goon's jaw, knocking the grinning assailant unconscious. Spinning around, Batman then fires the glove at the thug with the cane. The gang member tries to block his ally's weapon with his own, but the glove smashes through the cane, striking the thug squarely in the chest. He too falls unconscious. Unfortunately the goon that had landed on the car and the goon Batman had knocked into the wall aren't quite finished yet. The goon from the car is the closer of the two. He swings, again open-palmed, at Batman. This time Batman sees the small device he had strapped to his hand. The smallest grimace appears on the Dark Knight's otherwise unemotional face. He lets the still-grinning goon continue to swing at him, neither deflecting his blows, nor evading him all together. The thug never realizes he is being maneuvered over toward the lamppost. Finally the punk again attempts to hit Batman with the device on his palm, but this time Batman knocks his arm aside so that the blow connects with the metal lamppost. A brilliant flurry of sparks erupts from the device and small arcs of electricity plays about the gang member as he stands there shaking, his hand now fixed to the post. His only remaining conscious ally tries to jump Batman from behind, obviously thinking Batman had forgotten about him in the confusion. Batman had not. And seemingly without looking, Batman catches his would be attacker in mid leap and flips him over his head and into his sparking companion, knocking both gang members senselessly to the ground. Almost on cue, the sounds of police sirens and screeching tires fills the air. Batman takes a second to take in his surroundings, making sure all of his opponents are out of the fight. Satisfied, he turns and disappears back into the shadows as a small army of police cars roar onto the seen. In seconds Gotham's finest are everywhere. Directing them is a large, disheveled looking man in a battered trench coat and hat, barking order at everyone and anyone. "What the hell is going on here?!?" The big man looks around looking more than slightly annoyed. "Geez, Kelly, I thought you were in a war or something? All the perps I see are either dead or unconscious. Don't tell me you handled this all by yourself?" "No… no sir, Lt. Bulloch." Kelly replied, still shaking a bit. "That gang over there, they had us pinned down, and then the Batman…" "Say no more, Kelly, I get the picture." Bulloch grimaced. "Freakin' glory hog. Winters, what have you got on that stiff you're lookin' at?" "Lieutenant…" Winters calls back, looking at the corpse of the former rival gang leader. "You'd better have a look at this." "What? What's wrong with this guy besides he's dead?" Bulloch crosses over to examine the body himself. He does not like what he finds. The dead man's unnaturally pale face was pulled into a horribly grotesque smile. "Blast." Bulloch grimaced. "Somebody go call the Commissioner, boys. Our favorite freak job is back in town." Police Commissioner James Gordon sits bleary eyed at his desk, clutching his third cup of coffee like a talisman. It had been just over an hour ago he received the call from the station as to what happened. Just over an hour ago it had started again, for him at least. The Joker, back again. Jim shakes his head and tries to make himself focus on the preliminary reports in front of him. But try as he might each piece of evidence from the scene reminds him of one of the maniacs earlier escapades. If he had seen the grotesque grin that had become the Joker's signature on one corpse, he had seen it on million, or so it seems tonight. Jim leans back in his and rubs his eyes. Images float unbidden to his mind. His daughter Barbara shot in front of him. His being striped naked and caged like an animal only minutes afterward. Being trapped on the madman's demonic fun house, forced to look at images of his Barbara, herself stripped bare, blood pouring from the still fresh wound. And all the while the Joker's maniacal laughter filling the air. "Jim?" The Commissioner's eyes fly open as he sits straight up in his chair, his hand instinctively reaching for gun by his side. A quick glance around reveals only one thing out of the ordinary: a pair of almost glowing white eyes peering at him from the shadowy corner of the office. And even that wasn't too unusual anymore to Jim Gordon. "Oh." Jim relaxes back into his chair. "I don't know why you startled me tonight, I expected you almost 30 minutes ago." "Sorry to disappoint you, Jim. I had to stop a few muggers between here and there." Batman emerges from the shadows. "You've seen Bulloch's report?" "Yes." Gordon sorts through the papers on his desk. "You captured 6 of them, we had 9 total dead. On the surface, it looks like your normal gang fight." "Except that one gang was better armed." "Right. According to our initial tests the Joker weapons were genuine." Gordon shakes his head. "Including the "marble bombs" that killed one of their number before our officers arrived. As best we can figure we have only two possible scenarios. Either these kids stumbled upon one of the Jokers hidden weapons stashes…" "Or for whatever reason, He armed them himself." Batman finishes. "You've seen the gang members? The expressions on their faces?" "I'm afraid so." Gordon brings pictures of the grinning gang members to the top of his stack and spreads them out over his desk. "They're clearly on some kind of drug. The fact that it's making them grin like that is disturbing to say the least. The lab is still analyzing the blood samples we've taken. What ever it is, they are still in no condition to tell us anything. I'll let you know what we come up with." "Don't bother. I took my own sample." Batman replies. "It's him, Jim. I feel it." "Well we've been waiting to hear from him since he had himself sprung before his arraignment three weeks ago." Jim rises from his desk and walks over to peer through the binds Gotham's winter night skyline. "I just hoped he'd have given us more of a break after last time. Hijacking a plane. Killing over 300 people, just to get your attention.*" Gordon rests his head against window and closes his eyes. "It has to stop, Old Friend, it has to. I don't know how many times I can take these wounds being pulled open again." (*See last issue for the grusome details!) "We'll get him, Jim." Batman silently glides across the room to place his hand on Jim's shoulder. "For both our sakes, and all those this madman has murdered. I promise you that." "I know. Heh, we've had enough practice at catching him, eh?" Jim lifts his head and turns to look at his friend as he felt Batman's hand lift from his shoulder. But Batman is gone. Jim Gordon is again alone in his office, He chuckles to himself. Something else he was far too used to. In an expansive cave deep under ground, a well kept man waits patiently as he always does for his master to return. Alfred Pennyworth has been a servant of the Wayne Family for years, but though he has long prided himself in his preparedness, nothing could have readied him for the adventure his life has become for the last decade. For Bruce Wayne was not the idle billionaire he appeared to the world, he was in truth The Batman. And over the last ten… or was it closer to twelve years now… Alfred has quietly assisted him in his quest to rid Gotham of crime. Now sitting before the expansive super-computer Batman had assembled to aid him in his work, Alfred's thoughts turn toward the past, the changes he has seen. He remembers young Dick Grayson, and watching him grow and mature both as the first Robin, and as a man. And then Jason Todd… who met a tragic end when… The roar of an engine breaks Alfred from his revelry. He turns to see which of his charges were racing into the cave. A red roadster came barreling into its resting place next to the still wrecked Batmobile.* The "Red Bird", the vehicle design for Batman's partner Robin. Tim Drake is the third such young man to take up the roll. (*the Batmobile was damaged in Batman #10) "Greeting, Master Robin." Alfred stands up straight. "How was your patrol?" "It was all right." Robin climbs out of his car. "I didn't run into anything out of the ordinary. Bruce on the other hand… " "Yes. Master Bruce radioed me after it happened. Most disturbing." Alfred replies pensively. "Yeah, I'll say." Robin says moving past Alfred and sliding in front of the Bat-Computer. "I heard about it on the police band. Nasty stuff. Batman been back in yet?" "No, sir. He was stopping by police headquarters to speak with the Commissioner first." "Figures." Robin's fingers race over the keyboard, bringing up various files they had compiled on the Joker. After a moment he pauses. "Alfred, you think we should call Barbara? Let her know what's going on? Maybe we should let Dick know too." "Sir, do you honestly believe that she does not already know?" Alfred smiles knowingly. "As for Master Dick, Nightwing is very busy with his duties both in Bluedhaven and the Titans. I should think we ought to wait until things look much worse than they do before calling on him." "You're right, I guess." Robin sighs, pulling of his harlequin mask. "I just feel like I should do something, you know?" "Believe me, Master Tim, I know exactly what you mean." Alfred places a hand on the young man's shoulder. Before either can say anything else a second engine is heard roaring down the cave's driveway. Batman whips his sleek bat-cycle down the ramp and zips over to where the two spare cycles are stored. He says nothing as he turns it off and removes his bat-eared helmet. He stares at the helmet a minute and remembers the Robin who suggested its design. With a grimace, Batman places the helmet on the bike and heads over to his two waiting allies. "Robin, bring up everything we've got…" Batman begins to say. "On the Joker." Robin finishes. "Already on it. Good to see you to tonight, partner." "Alfred, go fire up the electron microscope and the other chemical analysis equipment." Batman takes a small vial of blood from his belt and hands it to his butler. "I want to know what our young friends had taken." "At once sir." Alfred pauses a moment. "Is it really him again, sir?" "It certainly looks like it." Batman responds. "Tim, focus on the details of the Joker's last escape." "Right." Robin brings a variety of images to the enormous screen. "Here we go. Everything we were able to learn, which wasn't much I'm afraid." The details are all there. The Joker was on his way from Arkham for his formal arraignment after his capture when his latest rather elaborate revenge scheme had gone awry. Somehow, the Jokers henchmen had managed to get the exact route that the Joker's armored truck was going to take and set up an elaborate ambush. The three brutish, mime faced henchmen were able to take the still injured Joker away in helicopter, hidden in the back of a tractor trailer truck. The most frustrating part was that this all happened while Batman was away from Gotham on JLA business and Robin was deeply involved in a case of his own that had taken him out of Gotham as well. The next day Mongul launched his attempted invasion of the planet*. All in all not a good week for Gothamites. (*see the Cold Armagheddon crossover for details) "We went over the area with a fine tooth comb when the dust settled but any clue as to where the Joker may have gone got wiped away by fighting." Robins shakes his head. "If only I'd been there…" "No need to kick yourself, Robin." Batman says. "Neither of us were there. And that may have been a part of their plan. What about the henchmen that sprung him?" "Morris Fine, Larence Howard, and Charles Fine." Robin brings up the rap sheets of all three criminals. "Some of the few criminals to agree to work for the Joker and survive the experience, AND agree to do it again." "Thanks, Tim. You can go now. I'll take it from here." Batman stares darkly at the screen. "What? What do you mean I can go now?!?" Robin rises from the chair and turns to face his partner and mentor. "Come on, Not this again! What is it going to take before you quit thinking I'm Jason Todd! You can't keep running me out of the cave every time the Joker turns up. Come on, I 've beaten the guy all by myself once. When are you going to…!" "Enough!" Batman barks at his young charge. "Tim, calm down. I am not taking you off this case. I know you can handle yourself. But it's 2:30 in the morning. Bruce Wayne can afford to sleep in and not show up at Wayne Tech today, Tim Drake can't afford to miss much more school. And if the Joker is on the move again, I'm going to need you as rested as possible. Now go home and get some sleep. I'll finish this analysis up and fill you in after school." "I… er… I'm sorry, Bruce." Tim lowers his head. "I overreacted. I guess I'm more tired than I thought. I'll see you tomorrow." Batman doesn't react, as he has already sat down at the computer and begins to read over various files. Tim merely shakes his head and rushes off to the passage way that leads to his own home above the caves. Batman's eyes devour the screen, searching from some clue as to what the Joker may be up to. After several minutes the words all seem to run together. He pulls back his cowl from his head and rubs his eyes. His head is pounding, and he can't readily remember when it started. He remembers seeing Jim in much the same position when he entered the Commissioner's office. Batman knew all to well what must have been running through Jim's mind. Barbara Gordon had been crippled. Jason, the second Robin, brutally beaten and killed. Countless others maimed and murdered as well. Over 300 people died in the Joker's last outing alone. All in this increasingly ridiculous dance he and the Joker seemed to be locked in. "Sir," Alfred's voice comes for behind him. "Are you alright, Master Bruce?" "I'm fine Alfred." Batman sits up straight. "Of course, sir." Alfred scowls slightly. "The preliminary chemical analysis of that blood sample you brought is ready. You can, of course, access it from here." "Thanks, Alfred." Batman uploaded the analysis to the screen. He sits back in his chair , interlacing his fingers and resting his index fingers under his nose as he looks over his findings. He does not like what he sees. "Something wrong, sir?" Alfred asks, noting Bruce's sour expression. "The drug in that kid's system is a powerful derivative of Joker venom. It looks like it's designed to promote extreme violence, while dulling the users sensitivity to pain by elevating their endorphin levels." Batman says almost without emotion. "Basically it turns people into hysterical killing machines." "My Word." Alfred says under his breath. "Then that is it then? We know for sure the Joker was involved in tonight's rampage?" "It makes it increasingly unlikely those boys just stumbled on to one of the Joker's old hideouts that's for sure." Batman replied. "The chemical involved is fairly complex. I'll have to analyze it further to be sure. Joker has proven he can make that toxin of his out of almost anything, but there are always a few constants in its makeup. If they show up in this modified sample, then it's a pretty safe bet Joker is behind it." "I'll leave you to your work, sir." Alfred says, turning to the cave's stairway up to Wayne Manor above. "Don't worry sir, we'll catch him. We always do." Batman smiles faintly as he watches Alfred leave in the reflection on the screen. He remembers saying something similar to Jim about an hour ago. "Oh, we'll get him alright." Batman growled to himself. "And this time I swear he's going to wish he'd stayed in hiding permanently." Morning comes to Gotham city. The bright yellows and oranges of sunrise light what will grow to be a typical grey winters day. At the Drake residence, it finds young Tim Drake stumbling through his morning routine on his way to school. Next door at Wayne Manor, the morning finds Alfred rising to begin his daily chores, while many feet beneath the mansion, Bruce Wayne sleeps in his chair as he has so many mornings before. Within Gotham, well bundled patrons of a local McDowell's stand like cattle before the counter, each waiting to order what will pass for their breakfast this morning. No one notices when the side door opens and a man dressed in a long dark overcoat and low sitting wide brimmed hat enters the restaurant. The new arrival casually makes his way to the back of the lines, and with out uttering a word reaches under his coat. The man produces an old fashion machine gun and fires it once into the ceiling. Both patrons and crew scramble in both panic and curiosity. The man's hat falls back revealing a shock white face with green hair and red lips pulled into a hideous smile. As horror sweeps over the crowded restaurant, the clown faced gunman lowers his gun and starts firing. To Be Continued. Bat-Signals I know what you're thinking: Who are you and what have you done with Steve? Well I'll let Steve get into that himself after he answers a letter partaining to his last issue: Dear Bat-guys, So I've read twelve issues now and all of a sudden I'm wondering...where's the JLA? I mean, Batman is still in it, right? I don't recall anyone in this series ever mentioning it, so I'm asking. But seriously, why *is* Batman in the Justice League? Hasn't he enough problems to deal with in Gotham without having to worry about the world's problems? And if this guy is such a loner, why does he feel the need to be in a group of super-heroes. I'm speaking rhetorically, of course, but I think these are questions you should address in future issues of BATMAN. I think it would be interesting to read your take on the whole deal. But enough about that. I'm enjoying the series but I think you need more self-contained stories and less epics. There's never any downtime for these characters. It's from one tremendous adventure to the next. Aren't there any days when Batman stumbles across a villain, beats him up and puts him in Arkham without a lot of life-altering repercussions? Justin Blum Yes, Batman is indeed still on the JLA roster. I didn't do any JLA-like crossovers or appearances for the main reason that 1.) The JLA has their own series with their own adventures. I don't feel that I could have incorporated the JLA's adventures into the Batman's adventures very well. Not to mention the fact that obviously the JLA and Batman series do not share the same time-frame, continuity-wise, at least in my run, because in issue #x of JLA he's in outer space, and in Batman #x from the sam month he's in Gotham beating people up. As I said, not in continuity. Plus. I think if I did indeed attempt to place the stories "in-continuity" it would have been a little confusing (just like this answer I'm giving you in response to your letter!). Maybe Clay and Cliff will include the JLA in their run, though... For your second question as to why exactly Batman's in the Justice League, I feel that since he's one of the "big guns" of the DC Universe, and since he adds importantskills and attributes to the team, he does so. However, that question should really be left up to our JLA writers and our new Batman writers. Well, almost every story I have read, comic or otherwise, has the hero never stopping for rest, always hurrying, hurrying, hurrying. Why? I don't know. But, would you like to pick up the latest Batman and see the entire story about Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake skiing in the mountains, and the story ends like that? Well, not me. I like to see action all the way. In future issues of whichever titles I happen to hurriedly sink my teeth into, I will incorporate that. _______________________________________________________ A NOTE... Well, it's [past] time for me to say the big farewell from Batman. Now, this is not to say that I will not be returning at a later date to resume writing the series. The main problems are that 1.) I'm not a very good mystery writer. Batman is a detetective through and through, so he solves mysteries. Which I don't feel is one of my strong suits in fiction writing. 2.) I am currently writing quite a few other titles for a few different groups. For Faux-DC, I am penning Robin and The Power of Shazam!, and in the near future, a Green Lantern story for an issue of Showcase. For Valiant-1, I am finishing a three-part story involving Magnus, Robot Fighter and Solar. Man Of The Atom in Secrets of the Valiant Universe. For Another Dark Horse I am writing as Tarzan serial, and for Golden Age Fanfiction (my group), I am finishing up a three-part Captain America serial for Marvel Mystery Comics, our flagship title. So, as you can plainly see, I am quite busy at the moment when it comes to fanfiction. Now I'm stepping down and Clay and Cliff, the Brothers Arceneaux, hop up to take the reins. After reading the first issue of their run, #13, it looks like they plan to take you for one hell of a ride with the Dark Knight Detective and his crime-ridden city, Gotham. Looks great so far, guys. Keep up the great work! And now, Kudos to all who gave me feedback on my Batman run, and who read, and even took the time to post reviews on the Faux-DC list and send me letters for Bat-Signals, and to Mighty Miry Clay, the mastermind behind the Dynamic Comics of our fanfiction group, the one who gave me the chance to "show my stuff," as it was, in last July-August, 1998. Since, as you can see in my Profile, I can write much better than I show, which is a fact, you might want to check out Power of Shazam! and the other series that I am writing I've improved, I think. Well, enough rambling here...this isn't my mag anymore! Take it away, Clay and Cliff...and see you all in the funny pages! Oh yeah, and check out my fanfiction site (plug!) by clicking here. Thanks for listening! And, thank you, Brothers A, for letting me share my thoughts. Have fun! Steve Swartz Thanks so much Steve. I hope you've enjoyed this first installment of our Batman. I know you guys are wondering why two Joker stories in a row. My brother and I were already planning to start a second Bat-title, and this was going to be our opening arc. When we decided to scrap our Detecive plans and just take over where Steve left off, this was the story we had ready to go. If you think you know where we're going on this one, think again. We've got some big ideas planned for the Dark Knight in the coming months, I hope they sound as good on paper as they do in our heads right now. Feed back is always welcome. Clay Arceneaux