Gotham's Detective

Chapter 1

Friends, this story is not usually something I write about. But I thought it would be fun to do something different from my usual. Yes, it is another detective story, but this one involves a caped crusader. I hope you enjoy it! Leave me some good comments!

            Heather was only supposed to go to the party, find out who was poisoning drinks that were killing so many young women and then get out. But of course, things never went according to plan. Heather had not planned on being picked up by two burly men and forced to swallow a shot of alcohol that had been laced with the poison. She spit most of it out, and then punt kicked both of them, right in the groin, and threw both of them into the wall. She always had been good at Judo. But the poison was setting in. Heather needed help and soon, and she knew just the person to help her; he was sitting in the next room. Heather had caused a scene, people were beginning to stare, but she didn't care, her savior was just steps away if he could help her. Heather should have brought backup; she was sure she could handle what was going to happen, but she was so wrong. Heather stumbled into the living room, her vision hazy. Her limbs were beginning to feel very heavy, and she felt as if she were moving in slow motion as she headed to the man who was sitting on a couch in the other room. He glanced up at her, mildly amused, thinking she was drunk. She handed him the empty glass. "You must help me," she whispered, "I've been poisoned."

The man looked closer at her. Heather's eyes were showing the signs of the poisoning; the pupils were going blue. He swore, and picking her up in his arms, ran out the door with her, yelling for his chauffeur. His chauffeur Alfred, ever faithfully waiting for his boss, pulled the car up to the front door for him and opened the back door so he could climb in with Heather. The man looked at his chauffeur for a moment. "She's been poisoned, we've got to help her," he stated, getting into the car.

Alfred shook his head and climbing in; he sped away. "Sir, we couldn't save the last ones," he pointed out.

"I don't think she inhaled as much. She is still breathing."

"Well, that gives her an advantage then, doesn't it," Alfred said, as he expertly maneuvered the limo down the busy streets.

"Whoever is poisoning the girls is doing so by force now," the man said. "I think she was forced to drink alcohol. Her wrists are red, and so is her neck, like it had been forced down her throat, but I think most of it spilled on her clothes."

"Lucky for her, if it did," Alfred commented.

"I can't believe that they are acting so brazen," the man commented as Alfred stopped, and the man hurried inside with Heather.

"That is not good," Alfred stated as he followed his boss up the stairs and into a room.

Heather could hear voices, she knew she was safe, but she didn't know what was going on. Her limbs were still so heavy, and she couldn't even move her mouth to say anything. All she could do was hope that the man could save her.

Heather felt a needle in her arm. "That should help stop the spread of the poison," she heard.

"If it isn't too late already," Alfred commented.

"I hope not; I want her alive. She might be the only one to survive this, and we need to know why. I don't need her to be the tenth victim this month."

"Why is someone so determined to kill off young ladies?"

"I don't know," the man replied, "we need to find that out. She gave me her shot glass; I am going down to the lab to test it."

"Did you find out who she is?"

"I have her purse right here."

Heather heard a rustling noise, knowing the man was going through her purse. "Here is her license. Sarah Bingham," he read, and then put the license away, but as he did so; he hit the bottom of the purse, feeling something else.