The last thing Henry remembered was trying to go asleep in his new spot. Winter was setting in faster and he would have to find a warmer place soon, but for tonight his new home in the alley would do. His clothes were tattered and worn but decently warm. He knew of several shelters in the area, but they were always to capacity. After gathering several newspapers and cardboard from nearby dumpsters, he had made a reasonable bed, if only by his standards. He had made himself at home, fell asleep…then awoke here.

The gag was removed, allowing Henry to breathe better. "Where…where am I? What's going on??" He was terrified, not because he was strung up…but because he didn't know what was going to happen next.

"First you're going to feel terror, then pain, and then blessed relief from life's travails," came a voice. "You're going to die, unmourned, unloved and unwanted. Society doesn't want you around. You're a drain on its resources. A leech." A sound like metal scraping metal. "Your kind doesn't deserve mercy. That's why you're going to die tonight." Hot breath came onto Henry's face. "Painfully. Terribly. You're not going to be missed. The police, they don't worry about you. They look after the bigger crimes, the bigger injustices. The task of getting rid of you falls to me…and it's a task I am happy to oblige in."

"WH-Why??", pleaded Henry. "Why me?? Whatever did I do to hurt you?!"

"You took my life," came the voice, anger trembling in the sound of the words. "Now I am going to take yours."

The blindfold came off.

"Happy Halloween," said Henry's killer.

Henry screamed.

FDC Presents

A

Halloween Mystery

"Unwanted"

By Mike Hintze

October 31, 8:30 pm

The Bat-Signal cut into the Gotham night like a razor. Barely into Halloween Night, and already the crazies were coming out in droves. Police Commissioner James Gordon shook his head and put his pipe, sans tobacco, into his mouth. Nights like this he felt the urge for nicotine more than ever, but as always, he resisted. For Sarah. It seemed anything and everything good in his life revolved around Sarah.

Halloween Night was one of the worst of the year for Gotham City. The usual horrors and crime other cities saw once in a while were normal course here in Gotham. No, Halloween and the Full Moons were just spikes in normal behavior for his city. This year, however, Halloween was on a Full Moon. This year, someone had decided to make it an especially horrific one.

"Jim."

Gordon turned around to see his friend and ally. "Batman," he replied. "Thanks for coming."

"It's going to be a busy night," said Batman as he approached from the shadows, his dark cloak seeming to merge with the night. "I presume this is about the Arceneaux Bros.Warehouse."

Straight to business, thought Gordon. One of the more admirable qualities about him. "You presume correctly. A homeless man that we're still identifying. Mainly because we can't make out any defining features. M.E. places time of death within the last six hours."

"I'm on it," said Batman. "I'll be in touch."

"Thanks. Anything else comes up, I'll let you know. I think we-" Gordon looked around.

Batman was gone.

The Batmobile roared its way down Gotham's Angelo Freeway, a black ghost in the night. The Arceneaux Bros. Warehouse was still several minutes away.

"Satellite link on. Activate Batcave sublink."

The dashboard computer came to life. "BATCAVE SUBLINK CONNECTED. MAIN COMPUTER ACCESS ESTABLISHED AND VOICE ID VERIFIED."

Batman turned down the Glaser Avenue exit. "Search for the following intersecting keywords: Homeless, transient, murder, within twenty blocks of Arceneaux Bros. Warehouse within the last five calendar years."

"WORKING."

"Estimated time until completion?"

"APPROXIMATELY 60 MINUTES."

"Notify me once its complete."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

The Batmobile was now several blocks away from the crime scene. Batman pulled over into an alley. As the car stopped, the overhead door opened and the ejection seat fired Batman into the air. As he soared, his grapple fired into the night. It secured itself on a fire escape and continued his ascent. Seconds later, he was gone.

Medical Examiner Eileen Randal stood up from the grisly scene before her. The body had been cut down from its hanging position after it had been photographed. She had seen many things in this city that would turn anyone's stomach, but this was one of the worst.

"This was personal", a voice said.

Randal turned to see a dark shape from the shadows. One of the patrolmen went to grab his gun, but stopped when he saw who it was. Batman came partially out of the shadows of the abandoned warehouse.

"That would be my guess," responded Randal. "By your presence, am I to assume Gordon thinks one of your sparring partners is responsible?"

"I don't think so," replied Batman. "The majority of them have a signature. This seems more an act of rage than anything." He knelt down beside the body. "The erratic nature of the wounds suggests a wild series of strikes. Looks like a machete was used…and a gunshot to the head, right temple." He stood up and walked away from the body. Several feet away were clothes that could only have belonged to the victim. He knelt down again and began to examine them.

"We haven't analyzed those yet," said Randal. "I'd appreciate your not handling them until we've completed our preliminary examination."

Batman stood up again. "Tell Gordon I'll be in touch." With that, he went back into the shadows and disappeared.

"That…that was him, wasn't it?" asked the patrol officer.

"Yes it was," replied Randal. Still impolite as ever, she thought to herself.

Batman recalled the Batmobile and intercepted it two blocks away from the murder scene. He parked the car on a side street and began to examine the evidence he had collected.

Several stray hairs…plus the shoe print I photographed before I announced my presence. Not much to go on…but maybe it was enough.

He headed to the Batcave.

The Batmobile screeched to a halt on its parking platform in the Cave. With a hiss, the driver's side door opened and Batman exited. As he approached the main computer bank, he saw Alfred Pennyworth waiting for him.

"I didn't expect you back for several more hours, sir," said Alfred. As usual, he was attired in his business clothing, the consummate professional. "Shall I prepare you anything to eat?"

"No, thank you, Alfred," said Batman. He pulled his cowl and cape off and set them on the console chair. "Some tea would be fine. I'll be in the forensics lab."

"Very good, sir," replied Alfred. He made his way to the Cave's kitchenette.

Batman got out the evidence he collected and began his tests. The hairs were put through an accelerated Polymerase Chain Reaction and the DNA was mapped on a gel pack. The shoe print was compared through the vast database Batman had at his fingertips. Alfred came in with a tray of tea and biscuits.

Batman sipped his tea and waited.

A beep sounded from his utility belt. The initial search he had requested was complete. Batman made his way to the Cray mainframe in the central computer core of the Cave.

"Show Data Search results," he said.

The screen lit up with five search results. He used the mouse to select the first:

31 OCTOBER 1999, FAMILY MURDERED IN ROBBERY ON REESE AVENUE. SINGLE SURVIVOR, PHILIP DICKINSON (38). DECEASED: MARY DICKINSON (37); JASMINE DICKINSON (6); PHILIP DICKINSON, JR. (9). SUSPECT NEVER APPREHENDED. POLICE REPORT ATTACHED (1999-4678348.exe)

Batman sat silently for a moment, then proceeded to the next result:

5 NOVEMBER 2000, UNIDENTIFIED BODY FOUND IN GOTHAM HARBOUR NEAR GLASER AVENUE. BODY NOT POSITIVELY IDENTIFIED, PRESUMED TO BE TRANSIENT/HOMELESS MALE BETWEEN 40-50 YEARS OF AGE. HEAVILY MUTILATED, GUNSHOT TO RIGHT TEMPLE. NO ACCEPTABLE HAIR OR FIBER EVIDENCE. VICTIM DNA PROFILE ATTACHED. (johndoe2000-12338.exe)

And the next:

2 NOVEMBER 2001 MARK FOSTER (21) REPORTED MISSING BY CASE WORKER, JASON EDMUNDS. LAST SEEN IN VICINITY OF GLASER AVENUE AND DANNER STREET. MISSING PERSONS REPORT ATTACHED (fostermark2001-11-02.exe)

…the next…

4 NOVEMBER 2002 MISSING PERSONS REPORT FILED FOR JONATHON WILLARD (58) BY ACQUANTANCES BILL HOLDEN & MABEL SORENSON (FORWARDING ADDRESS GIVEN AS ST. MARY'S SHELTER, PRESUMED HOMELESS. MISSING SINCE 31 OCTOBER 2002. MISSING PERSONS REPORT ATTACHED (willardj2002-11-02.exe)

…and the last…

20 DECEMBER 2003 BODY FOUND IN REAR OF MARSHALL WASTE DISPOSAL, AT 562 GLASER AVENUE. IDENTIFIED AS ROBERT WINSLOW (32), HEAVILY MUTILATED, GUNSHOT TO RIGHT TEMPLE. CORONER'S REPORT ATTACHED (winslowr-autopsy-2003 -12-21.exe)

The pattern was there. He couldn't be sure if all the missing homeless were due to the same killer, but the pattern seemed obvious. There was a serial killer preying on homeless citizens of Gotham City, and coincidentally on or around Halloween Night.

It was time to pay Mr. Philip Dickinson a visit.

11:30 pm

The last known address for Philip Dickinson was listed as 1099 Bristol, an affluent neighborhood not far from Wayne Manor. The lights were out in the house. Batman moved in for a closer look, parking the Batmobile in a copse of trees along the property line.

As he approached the house, he saw a dim light in one room near the back of the house. He crept up and looked inside.

A man matching the description of Dickinson was sitting in a recliner, a bottle in his hand. He was asleep, most likely passed out. His face was unshaven, his clothing rumpled and worn.

Is it grief over the loss of his family, or guilt over another murder?, thought Batman. There was one way to find out. He entered soundlessly through the back door. There was a security system installed, but it hadn't been armed. Batman saw as he walked the house that all the furniture was covered in sheets. The only rooms that looked lived in were the kitchen, a small bathroom off the den and the den itself. The kitchen was filled with take out containers and soup cans. It smelled as if it hadn't been cleaned in years…which it probably hadn't.

Batman approached the door to the den, where Dickinson was still asleep. His presence made no sound, yet he could tell that short of setting off a grenade in the room, Dickinson was not going to be waking up anytime soon. The smell of alcohol on his breath reinforced that.

On the table beside the recliner, was an open photo album. Pictures of Dickinson's family could be seen. Batman picked up the album and leafed through it. Smiling, happiness, everything that had been robbed from Batman himself as a child had been taken away from this man as an adult. Dickinson had lost everything.

Batman took a remote display from his belt and activated it. Immediately, a connection was established between it and the Batmobile, which acted as a relay to the satellite link that was set up with the Batcave. He toggled down on his menu for DNA results. The investigation from the earlier murder tonight had yielded some interesting results.

During the Dickinson murders, DNA had been collected from Philip during the investigation as a matter of course. Those results had been sent with the search results from earlier. The DNA was not a match to Philip Dickinson. But it did have partially matching alleles to someone else…

An alarm beeped in Batman's cowl. His heads-up display was being relayed a picture from the Batmobile's surveillance suite. Someone was pulling up the driveway to the Dickinson home. The license plate was zoomed in on and a search was immediately done to the Gotham Department of Motor Vehicles. Batman began another one of his own from his remote.

The person in the car parked and left the vehicle. Batman quickly moved into an adjoining parlor, melting into the shadows. From his vantage point, he could see the kitchen and den with equal clarity.

The back door opened and the new arrival entered. "Phil?", the visitor asked. "Phil, it's me." The visitor entered the kitchen and stood at the door of the kitchen. The visitor was obscured by darkness. Batman transferred the search from his hand display to his heads-up in his cowl, and watched.

The visitor stepped into the dim light of the den. Batman's display showed the result of his search in his peripheral vision. Just as I thought…

"Phil, it's done. Another of those bastards gone. Man, how he suffered! He was screaming for mercy at the end like the pathetic cockroach he is. I flayed the bastard alive. God, I hope he was the one that killed Mary and the kids…as far as I'm concerned, all of their kind are responsible for what happened to them. I was interrupted by some passersby outside so I had to ditch the body as is, but-"

"He can't hear you, Edmunds." Batman stepped out into the den.

"What the hell…YOU!", screamed Jason Edmunds. He drew a gun and brought it up to bear on Batman. In the split second for Edmunds to react, Batman had already anticipated it and countered. He had taken two steps and kicked the gun from Edmunds' hand, knocking it into the air. Batman caught it and kicked again, sending Edmunds careening into the dark kitchen. He deftly withdrew clip and tossed it aside with the now useless firearm.

"Why did you do it?!" asked Batman, barely containing his rage as he reached down and grabbed Edmunds by the collar. "The loss of losing your sister and her children? What did those people ever do to you?!"

"They were killed by a homeless bastard with nothing left to live for! If you'd been doing your job taking out these psychotic vagrants, I wouldn't have had to! It's your fault this happened! If all of you Justice League bastards were doing your jobs, MARY WOULD STILL BE ALIVE, DAMMIT!" Edmunds' eyes were ablaze with hatred and madness.

Batman slammed Edmunds into the wall. "The only psychotic vagrant I see is you." He delivered an upper cut to Edmunds jaw, letting him crumple to the ground.

November 1, 9:30 pm

Jim Gordon stood on the rooftop of police headquarters, pipe in hand. Still no tobacco. Last night had been an interesting Halloween for the GCPD, but nothing more grisly than the murder of Henry Vanker. A distant relative was able to identify the body after a surprisingly short search. Vanker had a daughter in Gotham who had lost contact for years. Ironically, she lived a short 10-minute bus ride from where Vanker was murdered.

"Jim."

Gordon turned again to see Batman standing beside the Bat-Signal. Batman walked out into the chilly Gotham evening, cloak billowing behind him. "We nailed Edmunds. He confessed to everything. The family had been out Halloween Night and gotten lost from the residential neighborhood where Philip's aunt lived. When Mary and the children were killed trick or treating Halloween night, Philip crumbled. With the life insurance claims, he simply stayed at home. The man has been drinking himself to death for five years." Gordon looked at his pipe, shook his head and put it in his coat pocket. "Edmunds, Mary's twin brother, finally snapped. He actually got a job as a case worker for the Gotham City Social Assistance Branch. Turns out his office handled all five cases for the victims prior to death. He even identified the John Doe that your research found. We recovered documentation at his home as well as trophies he kept from the murders. Seems he went out every Halloween on the anniversary of Mary's murder and killed one of the many cases his office was working on. Then he would head to Philip's home and tell him about it. Dickinson himself was pretty unresponsive when we questioned him, but considering the state of perpetual inebriation he's been in, especially on the anniversary of his family's death, I don't think he'll remember anything. Not that we'll need it. Edmunds is going away, its just a question of where: the chair, or Arkham. It's a tossup which way it will go. I guess the D.A. needs to worry about that."

"Philip Dickinson lost everything," said Batman somberly. "Once I realized the hair left at the scene was from a blood relative of Mary Dickinson and Edmunds was her maiden name, it was a straight line to Edmunds himself as a case worker with Social Assistance. He would have been caught sooner, had the police realized the pattern. They all fell through the cracks, Jim."

"I realize that, no one does more than I," replied Gordon almost defensively. "The system isn't perfect, but we do the best we can. All of us. We can't catch everyone. Not me. Not you."

No, thought Batman, but as of tomorrow the Wayne Foundation will be building more shelters and sponsoring more aid programs for the homeless here in Gotham. Its not a cure or a solution…but it's the best Bruce Wayne can do. "You may be right Jim," said Batman as he walked to the ledge, "But that doesn't mean we ever stop trying."

Batman leapt off the rooftop and into the waiting Gotham night.

Jim Gordon stood there for several moments more. I don't plan to, my friend. I don't plan to.

End