62 Detective Work #62

Lounging in the public library, scrolling through the internet, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the sad state of Doctor Midnight's fan page. It was like a digital ghost town, maintained by a guy who probably had a shrine dedicated to her in his closet.

 Poor Doctor Midnight, she deserved better, but hey, at least she had infrared vision, right? Not exactly a superpower that lights up the room.

As for the other heroes on Yolanda's list, they were all hanging out in the same pit of obscurity. It was like the Island of Misfit Superheroes. And to think, these were the folks supposedly on a mission to save the world. Talk about sacrificial goats.

I mean, come on, DC Comics was supposed to be this dark, gritty world where anyone could kick the bucket at any moment. But let's be real, they couldn't just off the popular money cows like Superman or Batman like it was no big deal. Well, they did off them from time to time, but they'd bring them back faster than you could say "comic book resurrection."

So what's a writer to do to maintain the dark, unforgiving charade? Cook up a bunch of forgettable characters, and when the time's right, gather them up and toss them into some tragic fate. It's like the comic book equivalent of Russian roulette, and that's exactly what's happening here. 

I was now 99% sure none of these obscure vigilantes would make it back alive if they went to Parador, including Yolanda Montez herself. 

 Now, you might be scratching your head wondering why a comic book aficionado like myself was suddenly playing detective. Well, let me tell you, my comic book consumption was strictly limited to the A-listers back in the day. I didn't waste my precious time on the B-squad, let alone the Z-team. Who wants to invest brain cells in characters just waiting for their inevitable demise?

But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, right? So there I was, diving into the deep end of the internet, digging up dirt on this Count character. And let me tell you, he was a real piece of work. 

He Started off as your run-of-the-mill drug dealer, and then, bam! Suddenly he's the puppet master pulling the strings in Parador, with more power than the actual government. If that doesn't scream "red flag," I don't know what does.

I mean, let's be real, folks don't just stumble into power like that with a stroke of luck. It's like winning the lottery twice in a row. Nah, there had to be something fishy going on behind the scenes. Maybe the Count had a secret benefactor or heck-- maybe he's got some evil mastermind pulling the strings from the shadows. 

This ain't your grandma's bedtime story; this is DC Comics, where every twist has a twist.

But then again, maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe the Count's just the clever, scheming type. But considering his track record of arrests and failed prison breakouts, that seems about as likely as finding a unicorn at the bottom of a cereal box.

So far, we've had a group of sacrificial pawns and a hidden mastermind pulling the Count's strings. And just when I thought the plot couldn't thicken any further, in swoops Bruce Gordon, Earth's resident solar energy guru, with a rap sheet longer than my grocery list.

I mean, talk about a guy with a knack for attracting trouble. Gordon's life reads like a soap opera script on steroids. Criminal groups? Check. Government shadiness? Double check. And let's not forget the cherry on top: a father-in-law who gets offed in the most gruesome cartel-style hit this side of a Quentin Tarantino movie.

But here's the kicker: right around the time ol' pops-in-law bites the dust, the Count had just finished wrapping his mittens around the figurative neck of Parador. Coincidence? I think not. This smells fishier than a seafood market on a hot summer day.

Now, call me crazy, but I don't believe in coincidences, especially not in the DC universe. So when a drug lord suddenly decides to set his sights on Bruce Gordon's family, someone he didn't even know existed before, it's like waving a giant neon sign that says, "Something's fishy here, folks!"

So, let's connect the dots here. We've got the Count, who's climbing the villainous ladder faster than a cat up a curtain, targeting Bruce Gordon, the solar energy maestro. But then, plot twist: the Count gives Gordon a get-out-of-jail-free card when he's got him in his clutches. Strange, right?

Why would a bad guy with a one-way ticket to the top give his arch-nemesis a chance to slip through his fingers like a greased pig? It's like inviting your worst enemy to a game of hide-and-seek and then telling them exactly where you're hiding.

Now, if we toss in Yolanda's tidbit about the Count playing cat-and-mouse with Gordon, only to let him scamper away, the whole thing starts to smell fishier than a sushi joint on a summer's day. It's like the Count's playing 4D chess while the rest of them are stuck on checkers.

So, who's pulling the strings behind the curtain? Some shady oil tycoons afraid of losing their monopoly over the energy industry due to Gordon's solar energy research?

Maybe. But would such people really need to bankroll the Count's rise to power just to take out Gordon? It seems like a bit of overkill, doesn't it? And if the Count's puppeteer had it out for Gordon from day one, why give him a chance to play Houdini and escape?

So, here's the headache-inducing, brain-busting summary of my mental gymnastics: The Count's got a mastermind behind the curtain, pulling his strings like a puppet. This puppeteer's got a serious bone to pick with Bruce Gordon, but for some reason, they're playing a game of cat and mouse instead of just going for the jugular.

First off, they lure Gordon into the lion's den by offing his father-in-law. Then, they nab him but let him slip through their fingers like a wet bar of soap. And get this—they let him escape with the knowledge that could bring the whole house of cards crashing down around the Count's pointy ears: the fact that his drugs are about as safe as a cocktail of arsenic and cyanide.

Now, why on earth would someone go through all that trouble just to give Gordon a fighting chance? Well, it's like this: Gordon's no ordinary Joe. He's the solar energy guru, the top dog in a field that's got some shadowy figure shaking in their boots.

And that's where it gets real juicy. Why would someone be sweating bullets over solar power? It's not exactly the kind of thing that keeps most people up at night. That's the million-dollar question, and right now, I'm about as clueless as a goldfish in a shark tank. 

The answer to this conundrum was with Bruce Gordon and his solar tech, but with the internet hitting a dead end, I figured it was time to pull out the big guns. So, I whipped out my trusty phone and dialed up Azrael faster than a speed-dialing champ. He wasted no time picking up, and I got straight to the point.

"Hey, Jean... I need you to do me a solid real quick," I said, cutting to the chase.

Azrael, always up for an adventure, gave me the green light. "Shoot, what do you need?"

"Bruce Gordon. I need the inside scoop on him, the juicy details you won't find on some random website. If you've got access to any top-secret government databases, now's the time to work your magic," I requested.

Azrael let out a chuckle, promising to put his detective skills to good use. A minute later, he was back with the goods. According to the GCPD database, Bruce Gordon had teamed up with the dynamic duo—Batman and Commissioner Gordon—to take down a rising gang leader in Gotham.

"That's the best I've got for now, but give me some more time, and I might uncover more," Azrael offered.

"No need to break a sweat. Just give me the name of the thug they were after," I replied.

Azrael wasted no time and dropped the name: Johny Malone.

"Thanks, Jean. I owe you one," I said, ending the call and diving straight into a search for this Johny Malone character. Another thug on the rise, and Gordon's mixed up in it? Yeah, call me skeptical, but I smell a setup from a mile away!

...

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