The Claridge Estate - 1:15 AM
The master bedroom of Henry Claridge smelled of lavender and death.
Thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windowpanes. Inside, the only sound was the whir of Batman's handheld scanner and the scratch of Commissioner Gordon's pen.
Henry Claridge, a man worth four billion dollars, lay in his silk pajamas on the floor. His face was twisted into that same impossible, skin-tearing grin. His eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling in pure terror.
"No forced entry," Gordon muttered, closing his notebook. "Windows were locked. Alarm system was active. He had three private security guards downstairs. Nobody came in or out since 6:00 PM."
Bruce was kneeling by the body, running a UV light over the victim's face.
"He wasn't attacked," Bruce said, his voice modulated and harsh. "He was waiting. He knew the threat was real. He was watching the broadcast."
"So how did the Joker get to him?" Gordon asked, lighting a cigarette to mask the smell. "Sniper? Nanobots? Magic?"
"Chemistry," came a voice in Bruce's ear.
[The Batcave]
I sat in front of the massive Batcomputer, sipping a cup of Earl Grey. On the screens, I had pulled up the live feed from Bruce's cowl, as well as the chemical analysis of the air in Claridge's room.
"Young Master," I said into the comms. "I have cross-referenced the chemical signature from the body with the GNN studio gas. It is the same base compound, but the delivery system is different. The gas at the studio was an aerosol. This... this is contact-based."
"Contact?" Bruce whispered on the feed. "He touched something?"
"Look at his hands," I directed. "And his mouth."
[The Claridge Estate]
Bruce zoomed his cowl lenses in on Claridge's hands. Under the UV light, his fingertips glowed with a faint, greenish residue. The same residue was smeared around his lips.
"He touched his face," Bruce realized. "And his mouth."
Bruce stood up and walked into the adjoining bathroom. It was opulent, filled with gold fixtures and marble.
"Gordon," Bruce called out. "Don't touch anything."
Bruce scanned the counter. Razor. Shaving cream. Cologne. Toothbrush.
"Sebastian, analyze the toiletries."
"Scanning..." I replied from the cave.
The data streams poured in. The cologne? Clean. The shaving cream? Clean.
"The aftershave," I noted. "It has a high alcohol content. But look at the chemical breakdown of the Solex brand mouthwash."
Bruce picked up the bottle of green mouthwash with a pair of tweezers.
"Got it," Bruce said.
"It is binary," I explained, watching the molecular structure on my screen. "Harmless on its own. But when mixed with the specific compound found in... let me check... ah, yes. The Glisten brand toothpaste sitting next to it."
Bruce looked at the tube of toothpaste. It was squeezed flat.
"He brushed his teeth," Bruce realized, a cold dread settling in his stomach. "He was nervous. He was getting ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and used mouthwash. The two chemicals mixed in his mouth to create the venom."
Gordon stood in the doorway. "What is it?"
"The products," Bruce turned to him, holding up the toothpaste. "They've been tampered with. The Joker didn't break in tonight. He must have poisoned the supply chain days ago, or maybe weeks."
Gordon's face went pale. "Supply chain? You mean..."
"I mean this isn't just about Claridge," Bruce said. He tapped his comms. "Sebastian. Run a search. Where are Glisten toothpaste and Solex mouthwash manufactured?"
"Checking..." I typed at a speed that would melt a normal keyboard. "Both are subsidiaries of Axis Chemicals. Which was recently acquired by a shell company... Ha-Hacienda Holdings."
"Axis Chemicals," Bruce growled. "That's the plant next to Ace Chemicals. Where the Red Hood fell."
"It gets worse, Young Master," I said, my voice losing all trace of humor. "I am accessing the shipping manifests. These batch numbers weren't just sent to Claridge. They were shipped to every pharmacy, grocery store, and convenience shop in Gotham City three days ago."
[The Batcave]
I stared at the map of Gotham on the big screen. Thousands of red dots appeared, representing retail locations stocking the tainted products.
"Young Master," I said solemnly. "The Joker hasn't just targeted a billionaire. He has poisoned the city's hygiene products. Deodorant, hairspray, toothpaste, lipstick. If anyone uses the wrong combination..."
[The Claridge Estate]
Bruce dropped the toothpaste tube.
"He's targeting everyone," Bruce said. "Men, women, children. Anyone who brushes their teeth or washes their face tomorrow morning is going to die laughing."
Gordon dropped his cigarette. "My God. Barbara... she uses that brand."
"Call her," Bruce commanded. "Tell her not to touch anything in the bathroom. Then get on the emergency broadcast system. You need to warn the city. Tell them to stop using all cosmetics and hygiene products immediately."
"I... I can't just tell people to stop washing! It'll cause a panic!"
"Panic is better than death, Jim! Do it!"
Bruce turned to the window.
"Sebastian. I'm coming back. We need to synthesize an antidote. If the poison is binary, we can create a neutralizing agent."
"I am already heating the centrifuge, sir," I replied. "However, you should know... the Joker has just hijacked the airwaves again."
[The Batcave]
I watched the screen. The Joker was back. This time, he wasn't in a studio. He was sitting on a throne made of mannequins, somewhere dark and industrial.
"Did you like my little joke?" the Joker cackled, holding up a bottle of shampoo. "New and improved! Now with 50% more... DEADLY! Hahaha! You look so glum, Gotham! Why the long faces? You should smile! After all... cleanliness is next to... DEADLINESS!"
He threw the bottle at the camera.
"I'll make you a deal, Batman!" The Joker leaned in. "I have the antidote! Gallons of it! But I'm bored. So, let's play a game. Come find me before dawn. If you do, I give you the cure. If you don't... well, I hope you like the sound of laughter in the morning!"
I looked at the clock.
2:30 AM.
"Dawn is in four hours, Young Master," I said. "And Axis Chemicals is a maze of industrial waste."
The sound of the Batmobile's engine roaring to life echoed through my speakers.
"I'm on my way," Bruce said. "Sebastian. Prepare the suit. The heavy one."
I raised an eyebrow.
"The Exo-Frame? You have not tested the hydraulics."
"I don't care. Tonight, I'm not sneaking around. I'm breaking every door down until I find him."
I stood up and walked to the armory.
"Very good, sir," I whispered to the empty cave. "Let us see if the Clown can laugh with a broken jaw."
_________________________________________________________________________
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