Top Cop Comics #12 SEP 1938

Title: "The Reign of Doc Terror!"

Author: Ryan Buck

Page 1:

Panel 1:
Dominating the foreground, on the left, is the cloaked figure of Doc Terror. His cape billows out like streaming tentacles towards the background, where Tom Jefferson is strapped to an upright table. Tom is writhing in agony. Covering Tom's arms and bare chest are electrodes. Wires extend from the electrodes to a giant machine in the background, covered with dials and tubes. Electricity passes along the wires. At the bottom of the page, under the caption, is the title written in "electric" type.

Caption:
This scene may be too shocking for some of our readers with low constitutions. But if you can stomach to watch, follow along as Tom Jefferson, the Daring Detective faces his most deadly challenge to date. And see how he brings the deadly mastermind to justice in...{Title}

Page 2:

Panel 1:
Wide shot; Foreground; five huddled thugs , wearing trench-coats hide behind garbage cans. They are firing towards the background from cover. Mid- ground; billowing clouds of smoke. Background; three uniformed cops and Tom Jefferson rush toward the foreground, guns blazing.

Caption:
In our last story, Detective Tom Jefferson had cracked the "Case of the Silver Pen" and was in the process of mopping up the O'Malley Mob.

Tom:
C'mon men, these mugs ain't so tough!

Panel 2:
Side shot; Foreground; One thug looking at back ground, frightened. Background; Two thugs doubling over from bullet wounds in the belly.

Thug 1:
Nuts! Freddy and Joe Got it! All right coppers I surrender!"

Panel 3:
Foreground; Tom Jefferson prodding the dead body of a thug with his foot. He is in the process of cocking back his hat. His expression is dour. Next to him stands a uniformed policeman, looking on. Background; the remaining two policemen stand in front of the last thug, holding guns on him. The thug has his hands in the air, he looks scared.

Tom:
I guess that does it for the O'Malley Mob. But I still never found out who these crooks were in cahoots with.

Panel 4:
Side shot; Tom sitting at his desk looking up at Lt. Rick Reynolds. Tom appears nonchalant and relaxed. Rick is bent forward leaning his knuckles on Tom's desk. His face is red and consternated.

Rick:
So you think that does it do you? You just bring crooks in while the rest of us do all the paperwork? Well if I've told you once I've told you a hundred times there's more to police work than just shooting at criminals...

Tom:
Relax boss, I've already got my reports started. I just have to interview the last of the O'Malley Mob and then I'll be all done.

Panel 5:
Foreground; Tom, his back to us, sits at his desk looking toward background. Background; Rick, walking away from Tom's desk, holding his right hand up and swirling his index finger in the air, paper trailing after him.

Rick:
You better hope so, Jefferson! Or else it'll cost ya two weeks pay and lunch for the station house!

Page 3:

Panel 1:
Wide shot; Tom sits across a table from the captured thug. Tom looks at some paperwork. the thug looks nervous and fidgety. A single light bulb with no cover hangs above the center of the table. Shadows crawl on the wall in the background.

Tom:
Things don't look so good for you Jimmy. With your rap sheet the judge isn't likely to take it easy on you. Maybe if you had something I could use to soften him up with?

Panel 2:
Jimmy, a typical looking dock-rat; sweating bullets. He wrings his hat nervously.

Jimmy:
I told youse coppers that I was just in da wrong place at da wrong time. I don't know nothing 'bout no dope ring. Honest.

Panel 3:
Tom leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. He looks bored.

Tom:
You want me to ask Officer Chino to step in? I know you and he are ol' pals. Maybe you'd tell him what you can't tell me.

Panel 4:
Side shot; Jimmy, looking down at his hat, defeatedly. Tom leaning in, very interested.

Jimmy:
N-no, no. That ain't necessary. I'll tell ya what I know. I'm just a hired gun ya see. That's the truth. I was just there cause a Joey. He got me the job. I didn't know nothing about no dope til youse guys told me, honest. The only other thing I know is there was this funny looking guy handing out business cards to all a us before the caper. I didn't think nothin of it. I thought he was just a hustler, but Big Man O'Malley seemed scared a him.

Panel 5:
Close up of Tom's hand, holding a business card. On it in the upper left hand corner is a skull chomping a bullet between it's teeth. There is fancy feminine writing below and center.

Card Script:
Dr. T. R. 999 Forsigthe Ave. Rm. 13. Call for Appointments. Bellwater 462.


Jimmy (of panel):
Here's what he give me.

Panel 6:
Wide shot; Foreground; Tom shrugging on his coat and donning his hat. He is walking quickly. Back ground; A desk sergeant looks up surprised. Papers from his desk scatter behind Tom to the floor.

Tom:
If the Lieutenant asks where I am. Tell him I've got a lead on that dope ring. It's the Ritz!

Page 4:

Panel 1:
Wide shot; Foreground; A black sedan cab parked on the left. Mid-ground; Tom leaning against the passenger side window-sill. He is tipping his hat back nonchalantly. Background; The bottom 12 stories of a high rise, ritzy Park Place apartment building. It is night and street lamps are lit.

Tom:
Thanks again buddy. I owe ya one. Stop down at the station anytime and I'll see if I can't help you out.

Panel 2:
Mid side shot; Tom looking down at the card he holds chest high. His face a chiseled mask of determination.

Tom (thinking):
If my hunch is right I should probably just go in guns blazing. But everybody's got the right to a fair trial, so...

Panel 3:
Mid front on shot; Tom standing in an elevator. His hands in his pockets, His hat tilted forward to hide his face. A squirrelly looking bellhop pulls the ascension lever. He looks thoroughly bored with his station in life.

Tom (thinking):
Its got to be him! Its just got to!

Panel 4:
Wide shot; Foreground; Mid shot of Tom stepping off the elevator. Mid-ground; Opposite him is a particularly nasty looking thug wearing spats. "Spats" is looking toward Tom, his expression unfriendly.

Tom (thinking):
He's got muscle. I'll just go say hello.

Panel 5:
Mid side shot; Tom standing opposite "Spats". Tom's hat is pulled low to hide his face. He holds out his hand with the small white card. "Spats" puts out a stopping hand level with Tom's chest. He wave's his hand back and forth.

Spats:
Eh, you look lost mista. You musta got the wrong door. Try lookin' elsewheres.

Tom:
I have this card.

Panel 6:
Wide shot; Tom and Spats entering a large, poshly decorated apartment. The rooms dominate feature are the numerous bookshelves.

Spats:
You must be the guy Doc's waitin' for? C'mon in and well take care a ya.

Panel 7:
Mid side shot; Spats saps Tom Jefferson from behind. Tom surprised by the blow is doubled forward. Spats' is smiling.

Spats:
I know the Doc'll be happy you stopped by.

Page 5:

Panel 1:

Foreground; Tom, his back to us, is strapped to a chair. He is in shadow. His head lolls over to his right shoulder. His hair is messed and fallen forward, overall his clothes look disheveled. Background; All is in shadow except for one bright spotlight the illuminates Spats, standing, wearing his jacket and hat, arms crossed. A cigar sticks sidewise out of his mouth. The cigar is unlit.

Spats:
You ain't said much worth listen' to so far copper.

Panel 2:
Mid shot; Spats rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. His coat hangs on a rack behind him. He wears a vest, tie and pocket watch. His face is unemotional, but unfriendly.

Spats:
Guess you're gonna make me take my coat off for this one, eh?

Panel 3:
Foreground; Tom, leaning forward, towards us, in pain. Behind him Spats is following through on a punch to the back of Tom's head, a large sap in his hand. Background; Explodes in 'slam-bang' lines.

Spats:
You remember my ol' pal Beanie here?

Panel 4:
Small, thin, all black.

Panel 5:
Slightly larger than previous panel, all black.

Panel 6:
Larger than previous panel, right side spottily fading to gray.

Panel 7:
Buts the edge of previous panel, Left side is spottily gray fading smoothly to; Close up of Spats' face. This shot is from Tom's P.O.V., Spats is looking up and away to the left (behind us), His mouth is opened as if speaking.

Spats:
He's come back around Doc. Want I should toss some water on 'im?

Panel 8:
Wide shot: Foreground; Silhouette of Doc Terror viewed from the back, on the left side, his left hand fiddles with silhouetted turn dials on silhouetted machinery. Back ground; Spats leans over a table, waist high, center. He looks down at Tom Jefferson, who is bare chested and strapped to the table by buckled leather straps. Tom faces the silhouette of Doc Terror, his face stony and determined.

Doc Terror:
I think the stoic Republican is coming around quite nicely on his own.

Panel 9:
Close up of Doc Terror's hooded face. A floating skeletal head in a field of flowing black robes. The skull looks particularly menacing.

Doc Terror:
Tell me Tom, why is it do you think I've brought you here? What does that brawny brain of yours tell you is happening? Let me assure you though, that nothing you can be thinking now is remotely near what the actuality of this moment is.

Page 6:

Panel 1:
Wide shot; Foreground; Left side; The table, tilted at a 45 degree angle, viewed from behind it is in shadow. Tom's buckled hands are visible at the top of each corner of the table, also in shadow. Doc Terror, in rear silhouette, stands next to him, a black gloved hand pointing toward the screen. Right side; A giant cinema screen dominates the upper portion of the panel, On the screen is a newsreel image of piles of decrepit looking skulls. The lower portion under the screen is a strange machine with numerous diodes, levers and dials. Spats, his back to us, is manipulating some of the knobs and buttons.

Doc Terror:
Not when you face "Les Cinema de Terreur! Put the mask on him.

Panel 2:
Side shot; Foreground; Waist up shot of bare chested Tom strapped to the 45 degree angled table. Covering his head is a Great War gas mask. Fumes billow out of it. On Tom's chest are electrodes connected to wires that run off the table. Background; The dark form of Doc Terror blends in with the shadows around him, a few folds of his robes and his skull face can be seen.

Doc Terror:
That gas is a little experiment I've been working on. It should make all that you are about to see quite interesting.

Panel 3:
Mid-shot; Mid-ground; Tom, face on, bathed in light from the foreground, He is bare to the waist. His hands are shackled above him to the table, struggling. A Great war gas mask covers his face. Background; Very small in the black background is the grinning skeletal face of Doc Terror.

Caption:
As the images, much to heinous to show you, flicker by on the terrible screen, Tom tries to shut his eyes, behind the mask. But the gas makes him want to watch, the terrible gas that makes all the horrible images before him seem more real than anything he's ever seen before!

Panel 4:
Close up of he gas mask. A reflection of flames can be seen in the eye-pieces. Vapors escaping from the venting.

Tom:
Must fight it...mustn't give in to...

Page 7:

Panel 1:
Wide shot; Mid-ground; Tom in coat and hat stumbling forward, his hand held out as if reaching for something. Back ground; A hypnotic background of swirling images and floating objects.

Caption:
Tom finds himself in a world gone topsy turvy. He doesn't know if he's dreaming or if any of this is the real world. He wanders in this foreign landscape for what seem like hours until...

Panel 2:
Foreground; Tom being supported by two uniformed police men. The men look confused. The police men are walking, Tom is being dragged between them. Background; The left side is 'topsy-turvy" world that at center blends in with the "real" world of a street with a car driving past and a lamp post, that fills in the right side.

Cop 1:
Yeah but I haven't ever seen him like this before.

Cop 2:
Maybe we oughta bring him to the station house?

Panel 3:
Tom, disheveled, hunched and gripping a glass of water, sits at his desk. Lt. Rick Reynolds stands next to his desk, knuckles pressed against the top.

Rick:
You took a nasty blow there Tom. The Doc says you'll pull through okay though.

Tom:
T...the D..doc?

Panel 4:
Tom gripping Rick by the lapels of his shirt, thrusting his face toward Rick's.

Tom:
We've got to get back there! Before he gets away, we've got to get back!

Panel 5:
Foreground; Tom and a Rick inside a police sedan. The sedan's siren and lights are flashing! Background; the streets zoom by in blurs.

Caption:
Explaining about the gas, Tom convinces Lt. Rick Reynolds to take him back to 999 Farsigthe, the home of Doc Terror!

Panel 6:
Tom and Rick standing on either side of the bellhop from earlier. The bellhop looks confused and slightly frightened.

Billy Bellhop:
Sorry Mista, I just don't remember. Ridin' up an down all day kinda rattles ya after a while.

Tom:
I know it's here, just take us up.

Page 8:

Panel 1:
Foreground; Empty apartment walls, shadows everywhere. Mid-ground; in the center of the bare floor is a scrap of paper, to far away to read. Background; Tom kicking open the door, Rick behind him gun drawn.

Caption:
No guards out front! No one answering the doorbell! Tom leaps into action!

Panel 2:
Wide shot; Tom stands center looking at the scrap of paper he's picked up, Rick, paces scratching his head, gun on his hip. shattered door lies to the right. Billy Bellhop peeks in through doorway, looks perplexed.

Tom:
I knew this was the place, this card proves it!

Rick:
What I can't figure is how they got all their stuff outta here so fast?

Billy:
Mr. Donnielli is gonna be mad at you guys for this.

Panel 3:
Tom sitting at his desk; feet propped up, his hat knocked back, he holds the card on his chest studying it. Rick stands; next to Tom's desk, arms crossed, his expression dour.

Rick:
Well we've got our work cut out for us on this one. Not a clue except that scrap you found. This guy is pretty slippery.

Panel 4:
Foreground; Tom, his back to us, in silhouette leans against a large window frame (possibly panel frame?). Background; Out beyond the window is the night and the city.

Tom:
Slippery or not, I'll get him. Whatever mad scheme he may have planned, I'll track him down and put a stop to it! I swear!

Panel 5:
Wide shot; An expansive rooftop view of the city at night. Between a gap in the peaks of skyscrapers, the moon and a ghastly cloud crossing in front of it, resembling a skull.

Caption:
This is not the end of our tale. Join us next time for the thrilling conclusion to Tom Jefferson's hardest fight! "The Reign of Doc Terror, Part Two!"

THE END.