Detective Comics 10
The Strangest Case of All!
Winter's cold grip was slowly loosening in Gotham. The side streets were still caked in a dark slush and a few icy patches still clung to the sidewalks. The Bat stared down at the city from her perch. Flanked by two gargoyles, she looked every bit the part of a creature of the night.
Her musings were interrupted by the screeching tires and the familiar rat-tat-tat of a Thompson. A black sedan barreled around the corner and sped off into the night as a lone figure staggered out into the street. Hooking her line around the stone sentries, she repelled down the wall to the street. She rushed to the man, but she could see he was beyond help she could give. She knelt down as he feebly reached towards her. "Strange…fog!" he wheezed as she felt his pulse slow and stop.
Noticing the tightly gripped bundle in his other hand, she pried it loose from his death grip as she heard the sirens before she heard the police. "Hey you, stop right there!" One of the officers fired a shot as she rolled to the side.
Pulling her grappling gun, she fired a shot. The claw raced through the air, wrapping neatly around the gargoyle looking down at the scene. With the push of a button she was yanked to the roof as the policemen gasped at the sight of her seeming flight.
"Hey, better cancel that ambulance Murphy, this guy's already gone." The nearest officer poked the now deceased man lying in the street.
"Yeah, and the Bat killed him!"
At stately Wayne Manor, Elizabeth mused over the bundle she had taken from the dead man. Opening the paper revealed a diary. The name in front identified the owner as John Davis, an agent for the FBI. "A fed? Odd that they would be working a case here." Her thoughts grew darker. "A dead federal agent can bring attention, some of which I may not need."
Browsing through the diary's pages revealed nothing, as most of them were either torn out or smeared with some kind of blue industrial fluid. The only page that was readable showed part of a chemical formula and the word 'Strange' underlined several times.
She thought of the words Davis said. "Strange…fog, it wasn't a fog that was strange, it was a fog that belonged to Strange!"
"Strange?" Alfred entered the room, silver serving tray loaded with coffee.
"No, Hugo Strange." Elizabeth stood up and made her way to the library, the confused butler behind her. She rummaged through her files under she found a particularly thick one. "Strange, Hugo, degrees in engineering from Edinburgh, law from Christ's College, medicine from Harvard, science from Ivy, and psychotherapy from Hudson, most of them under assumed names and possibly more besides. The man's a genius in almost every field there is, but he's bent towards crime."
"My word, and those files are his crimes?" Alfred pointed towards the fat pile.
"Yes and no. He's never been convicted, or even suspected; yet somehow, he always manages to be connected in some way. He's like a spider, pulling at invisible strings. I never thought he was operating in Gotham."
"That was what that chap Davis thought too, I bet." Alfred shock his head. "If the FBI proved to be unsuitable, how can the Bat hope to stop this madman?"
"With everything I have Alfred. I'll have to."
At a subterranean lair nestled deep within the city, Hugo Strange stared at the fireplace, his misshapen skull dwelling on evil. His underlings would joke that he wasn't born so much as cast from Hell itself. They never repeated that joke.
"Number 1, how did the mission go?"
The underling stepped forward from the shadows. "We eliminated the target, but there were complications."
Strange tilted his head slightly. "Explain."
"Davis was killed, but we couldn't recover the book."
"I see." The underling gurgled and pitched forward as a second man appeared from the shadows, wiping his blade clean.
Without even looking at the corpse on the floor, Strange poured himself a drink. "Find me that book, and tell Jenkins I want no less than eighty percent of the project finished by tomorrow."
The morning papers were laying scattered around the den, as usual. Alfred gave a small sigh and tided up as Elizabeth looked over the articles. "Can you believe this trash?"
"Yes, actually." He ignored her raised eyebrows.
"The police seem to think I'm the one that killed that man. Now Hoover is promising to appoint a special task force to apprehend me and all other masked people."
"I wonder how he plans to arrest Wonder Woman?"
"Funny, but this complicates my work. If Strange is the one behind this, he must be working quickly. I just don't understand where the 'fog' comes into play. How can one profit over that?"
Henry Jenkin leaned back in his chair and wiped his brow. "I'm finished." It was more of a question than a statement.
"Very good Mr. Jenkins, your reputation is well earned." Strange loomed over the man. Strange's body was almost as misshapen as his mind. Towering over most people, his massive hands looked more suited to fighting than reading. His lack of hair highlighted the almost devilish peak of his skull.
Jenkins leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his stubble. "It should work. All the tests went well."
"Good Mr. Jenkins, very good. Success equals life Mr. Jenkins. If our missions prove lucrative, you may consider your employment here extended." Strange clamped a hand down on Jenkins shoulder, making sure to squeeze. Jenkins winced.
Hugo Strange looked over the assembled group. He hand-picked all the men. Cut throats, thieves, looters, and general all-around trouble. "Gentlemen, if our test run tonight is successful, then our reign over this city will be complete!" the men cheered. Strange held up a hand. The men became silent. "Remember, once the fog is activated you must keep your masks on, otherwise you risk blindness."
The men checked their equipment and loaded into the waiting vans. Several trucks roared out of the hideout first, strange machines strapped to their back. Once the trucks were a good distance away, a thick fog began to pour out the machines. Rather than dissipating into the night air, the fog grew thicker, covering everything around. It expanded like a cotton balloon, wrapping everything into a thick bundle of black oily fog. The vans followed behind, headlights cutting through the thickness via a special lens Strange invented. Banks, jewelry stores, fur depots, all of them were targeted.
"I don't like this." Gordon looked out on the city from his office.
"Yeah, fog looks pretty bad tonight." Officer O'Hara agreed.
"Looks? Clancy, I've never seen fog this bad, even in London during the war." He peered at the window. "I can't see a blasted thing out there! Has anyone radioed in yet?"
"Plenty" wheels started to turn in O'Hara's head. "and none of them can see much past their noses…"
"Which means the whole blasted town could be plucked clean and we wouldn't know it! Call all units, get some search lights set up, now!" Gordon dashed out of the office, O'Hara following.
At one particular jewelry store, Strange's men easily broke in and helped themselves. Leaving, however, proved difficult as they found four flat tires on their van. "Going somewhere?" A voice rang out.
One of the men dropped his sack of ill-gotten loot and drew a gun. The leader calmed him down. "Relax, whoever this joker is they can't see us. Just use your mask like the boss ordered and we'll be fine."
Something whistled through the air and landed near them. They didn't have time to ponder as it exploded, flooding the area with light. Dazed, the six men staggered blindly as an all too familiar figure jumped down in the center of them and started fighting.
Gripping the wrist of the nearest one, the Bat forced him to fire his gun blindly. The rest of the men dropped. A well-placed elbow to the temple knocked him out. Sirens broke the silence. She could see the dim outline of police lights.
"Stay here. You don't want me to come back." She fired off a grappling hook and vanished into the swirling mist.
A few hours later, Strange tallied up the night's take. "Six of my men were captured." He ignored the piles of cash and jewels. "The rest of you performed admirably, but I've received reports that the Bat was to blame."
The rest of the men were silent. Interrupting Strange when he was talking would mean a fate worse than death. "We must trap this Bat." He drank deeply from his glass before continuing. "It is possible the Bat knows my plans, or suspects enough to know. We will use our next heist at the Wolf Brothers Fur Company as the bait. I think we will prepare a warm welcome for this interloper." He looked directly at the men. "I will crush the Bat as readily as I crush this glass!" the glass shattered to pieces in his hand.
The next night, the trucks came out again. Thick fog blanketed the streets. As Strange thought, the Bat was watching, although it was mostly due to seeing the trucks. Seeing several of them clustered downtown, she swung towards them. As her feet hit the pavement, she felt dizzy. "Poison, in the fog?" She tried to aim her grappling gun, but her limbs felt like lead as a group of strangely suited individuals filed out of the truck. Her vision swam but she saw them dressed head to toe in a thick, almost firefighter like suit. One of them swung a pipe, knocking her out.
When she came to, she was suspended on a hook. Her wrists were bound with thick rope and her arms forced over her head. She noticed her cape and belt were on a table some distance away, but her mask was secure.
Hugo Strange entered the room, a bullwhip on his hip. "So you are the infamous Bat of Gotham. You had caused me no end of grief you know."
"Sorry to be so much trouble."
"Sarcasm, truly the last refuge of a desperate animal." Strange walked over to her. She could look him in the eye, if only because she was suspended high enough off the ground. Strange uncoiled the whip.
"Tell me, why do you do this? Are you working for one of the families and taking out their rivals? Are you trying to establish your territory perhaps? Or are you one of those maddened fools who think they are above the law, yes?"
The Bat said nothing. Strange shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, no matter." He spun her around so her back was to him. He then reared back with his arm and let the whip fly. It cracked against her back, slicing through the thick cloth. "I brought you here alive so that you may learn what it means to cross me."
Another crack, this one deeper. She gritted her teeth, but she knew she couldn't hold out forever. Her belt was removed, but not her boots. As Strange's hand reared back she slammed her heels together. A thick noxious gas poured out of her boot. Strange gagged as he stumbled back.
Twisting her forearms rewarded her with a click as the ridges in her gloves straightened. She sliced through the ropes easily enough, dropping to the floor. She landed hard and leaped forward, catching Strange in a flying tackle. Her arms wrapped around his legs, driving him to the ground.
Strange, enraged beyond reason, twisted around. He slammed a foot into the Bat's face, driving her back. Leaping on her, he wrapped his giant hands around her neck. "I'll choke the life out of you!"
Her vision blurred. Using an old jujitsu trick, she managed to flip him over. She drove her fist under his chin. Grabbing the discarded whip, she slammed the heavy wooden handle over Strange's head until the wood splintered.
Panting, the Bat climbed off the moaning man's body. Grabbing a pair of handcuffs from her belt, she secured Strange before leaving. The hall led to a larger room. Judging from the spilled drinks, whoever had been in there had left in a hurry. "Like rats on a sinking ship."
Opening a window, she looked down at the street. A police car rounded the corner. Lighting a flare from her belt, she dropped it in front of the car before leaving. "The police can handle it from here."
The trail was short. Strange was convicted of dozens of crimes, including the murder of Agent Davis. Listening to the radio as Alfred checked her stiches, she felt herself relax slightly. "I wonder if we've seen the last of Hugo Strange?"
"I wouldn't know ma'am."
Inside Gotham State Penitentiary, Hugo Strange occupied his own cell block. He looked out of the small window onto the prison yard. "They can't keep me here, caged like some dumb beast! I'll escape…and when I do I'll devote the rest of my life to revenging myself on that blasted Bat!"
The end
Based on the story "Professor Hugo Strange" which was first published in Detective Comics I#36 (February 1940) with credits to Bill Finger (story), Bob Kane/Jerry Robinson (pencils), Bob Kane/Sheldon Moldoff (inks), and Jerry Robinson (letters)
Be here next time when the Bat fights "the Spies"!
From Wolvmbm
Interesting update and clever twist to the overall mystery. Keep up the good work on this series.
From Darci
This was a great adaptation of Detective Comics#35. What it must have looked like to see the Bat prowling the streets and alleys of Chinatown? Strangely, the cover for this issue has nothing to do with this story. The cover for #36, though, does seem to be connected. Sin Fang reappeared in Robin#174 (July 2008). Wong reappeared in #39, as the unofficial mayor of Chinatown. Although signed by Bob Kane, this story was written by Bill Finger and drawn by Sheldon Moldoff. For some reason, they chose to modify the name of the Hindu god Kali to Kila.
Thanks! We'll see the return of Wong for sure.
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