The World's Greatest Detective
Chapter 1
Ernie's hands trembled as he held the gun. The subtle beads of sweat made his grip loose. He couldn't aim it right. He squeezed the trigger and a deafening crack split the air. He could feel his arms ache from the recoil. He missed. That shouldn't have happened. He had been a good soldier in France. He had fought the Nazis just two years ago. He had been a sharpshooter, a sniper. He could pick off a kraut at the farthest distance. And now he couldn't hit this thing right in front of him.
He squeezed again. Crack. He missed again. The rain beaded up on the lens of his glasses. Everything was foggy. He could hear the rats shuffling through the garbage cans right behind him. He could smell the scent of rotten eggs, two-day-old baked potatoes, and leftover dish detergent moldering in the dumpster across the alleyway. But the thing was still there.
What had he done to deserve this? He was good man. He served his country. He went to church every Sunday. He paid his taxes. He helped old ladies cross the street. He didn't kick dogs. He was faithful to his wife. So why was this thing trying to kill him?
He squeezed the trigger a third time. Bang. It hit it. The thing lurched backward in shock, clutching its chest. He fired again. It missed. He heard the shot ricochet off of the dumpster with a sharp twang. But the thing wasn't dead. It kept coming. Kill it. Kill it now!
Bang. The thing stretched out one of its wings and the bullet passed through it. It was inhuman. One shot left. It was coming closer, closer. Ernie clutched the jewelry box close to his chest. It was their anniversary. He couldn't give it up. Charlene had always wanted a nice pearl necklace. She would write to him while he was on duty in France and tell him how wonderful it would be after the war was over. How they could get married, settle down and have three darling little children, and she could get all dressed up in an ermine coat and pearl necklace for Saturday nights on the town. That didn't happen after the war. They'd been living in their run-down low-rent apartment in the Narrows ever since the wedding and his job as a construction worker wasn't doing much but paying the bills. He would see her eyeing that pearl necklace every time they passed by the jewelry store. He had been saving for a year now just to buy her that necklace, and then his creep of a boss had fired him on his anniversary.
Nobody was going to buy that necklace, anyway. It wasn't as if he mugged an old grandma and stole her necklace. It wasn't as if he ran into the store with a mask on and demanded every pearl necklace in the place. He had to do it. He needed to make Charlene happy. He had waited until after hours. He had picked the lock on the door; he had quietly slipped the box into his jacket. Nobody was supposed to see. But that thing did.
Ernie tentatively aimed the gun at the thing's glowing white eyes. He couldn't miss this time. Come on. Do it. Kill the creeper. He held his finger over the trigger. It's now or never. Do it. Save yourself.
Suddenly, it lunged forward, ducking the shot and tackling Ernie. He felt the rainwater splash over his aching body as he crashed into an ankle-high puddle. The thing gripped Ernie's hand, frozen and still gripping onto the gun. Ernie was scared.
"Please, mister. I'm sorry. I know I wasn't supposed to," he cried as the tears rolling down his face mixed with the filthy rainwater, "Let me go, please! I'll turn myself in! Don't kill me!"
The thing spoke. It was a raspy, gravelly voice, coming from deep within its throat, a monstrous voice. "I'll let you go this time," it growled, "but I want you to tell your friends about me."
"Who are you," Ernie yelled.
"I'm Batman."