I know I said I would have this up last night...you have to understand, our church is hosting a dance troupe from Nicaragua (Capitol on the Edge), and my mom and I are feeding them. That's a grand total of 14 teenage boys plus two girls and the troupe leader! So, yeah...

This is set right after the end of 'Seeds of Evil'.

ENJOY!

Damon flinched.

"Come on, it's not that hard…" he chastised himself. "You just put the needle in and…" He hissed in pain and stopped again.

Then again, maybe it was that hard.

He'd been sitting here in front of the filthy mirror in this dank, dirty old bathroom for a good five minutes, and he only had seven of the required stitches in the gash across his ribs to show for it. The awkward angle wasn't helping either.

He tried again, working to keep his brain numb as he desperately attempted to repress the memories of the fight. Memories of his father lunging at him with a knife, maniacal cackle ringing off the walls and down the hallways of the little house.

His mind shied away from those memories like a skittish horse.

You know, avoiding them won't really help in the long run. Mini Me's voice was dryer than the Sahara.

"If that's what get's me through the night, so be it." Damon answered, wincing as he laid in another stitch. To himself he added, "Gotta get my mind off the pain. Shoot, um…. Come on, happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…."

You gonna fly away to Neverland?

Damon ignored him. Though his eyes were watching his hands lay in one stitch after another, his mind was focused elsewhere. Memories played across his mind's eye. His childhood with Mamaw. His friends Danae and Joseph. Joking with Robin in his cell in the Bat Cave. Playing with Bud and Lou.

It seemed like his stitches were done in no time at all.

Wow…that was actually a lot more effective than I thought it would be. Mini Me murmured.

Damon smiled. "See? I know what I'm doing." He looked the rest of his injuries over. Compared to his rib gash, the rest of his injures were pretty minor. Well, minor in the fact that he thought he could get away with leaving the stitches out at any rate.

He reached for the bottle of peroxide.

Mamaw would always swear by her own remedies, but she would grudgingly extol the virtues of peroxide. She always claimed that if you were stuck and couldn't look to the land for healing, peroxide was the next best thing. So that was how it went. One wound at a time, peroxiding the wound then wrapping it with bandages from the first aid kit.

"Good thing mother made sure I memorized the list of addresses." He muttered, looking around at his surroundings. He was in an abandoned subway station bathroom.

Or rather, he was in what would've been a subway station.

The city had started to build a subway system, but had abandoned the project when Wayne Industries had offered to build their elevated train. So there were a few abandoned stations hidden beneath the streets of Gotham. Stations without tracks or tunnels. Joker held sway over at least two of these, and had converted one into a hideout. He hadn't quite decided what he was going to do with the other one.

Damon was packing the leftovers back into the first aid kit when he suddenly froze.

What? Mini Me asked, voice tense. Did you hear something?

"No." Damon quickly rose. "I just remembered someplace I should've been yesterday."

Tucking the kit back into its hiding place behind the wall tiles, he hurriedly left the hideout. It had taken him a full day and a good chunk of his evening to limp his sorry carcass from the suburbs back into the heart of Gotham to this hideout. Now that he wasn't bleeding his life away from every cut, he was confident he could make much better time.

Would you please care to explain what the heck's got you worked up? Mini Me yelled.

Damon chuckled. "That's gotta be so weird for you. You're literally inside my mind and half the time you have absolutely no idea what's going on."

It's like riding in an airplane that has a mind of its own. Mini Me groused. You can see what's going on inside and outside the plane, and you can see some of the maps it's using, but you have no idea which way it's going to turn.

Damon laughed, amused by the little voice's description of him. "Well I hope you enjoy the ride." He paused, realizing there was a homeless person sitting against the alley wall ahead of him. And the scrappy looking man was staring at him. "What are you looking at?"

The man quickly looked away, mumbling to himself about steam engines and water balloons. Damon carefully edged past him, trying to look as nonchalant about it as he could. As he walked away, he could still hear that man muttering on to himself about peanuts and popsicles.

"Wonder what his problem is…" Damon murmured, once he was sure he was out of hearing range. He darted a glance at his surroundings. Until he found the supplies he needed to disguise his rather...unique... appearance, he was taking a huge risk moving around Gotham like this.

Well think, moron.

"What?"

You're walking around Gotham, head tucked down and muttering to yourself. Your skin is bleach white and your hair's about the color of that nasty moss you find in the sewers.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks…"

Mini Me wasn't going to be sidetracked. My point being, he's probably ticked at you. But he's leaving you alone.

"Why?"

Because you're totally stealing his act and combining it with the Joker's act. He'd come and pound on you, but really why bother when the Joker's totally gonna come get ya as soon as he finds out?

Damon sighed. "You're a real ray of sunshine you know that?"

What? It's not my job to blow sunshine up your…"

"Hey!"

To Damon's surprise, Mini Me actually paused. Fixing his eyes on a group of schoolchildren getting on a bus across the street, Damon smirked and quoted one of his favorite Disney lines.

"Pumba! Not in front of the kids…"

So, we're basically here because your mother supposedly hid some type of present here for you?"

Damon ignored the disparaging tones of the voice in his head. Retrieving the key from its hiding place he quickly and covertly let himself in. "As a matter of fact we are." He answered once the door was safely locked behind him.

And exactly how are we supposed to find it?

Looking around at the apartment, he found himself wondering the exact same thing. The apartment was devoid of people, but it was fully furnished. He made a face. He wasn't anywhere close to an interior decorator, but even he could tell that the furniture was tacky.

"She wouldn't have put it right out in the open." He made his way farther into the apartment, heading for what looked like the guestroom. "There's always the off chance that Pops could walk in, and I'm not sure she wanted him to know about this till after the fact."

Until after the fact? What on earth could she have…? Mini Me's voice trailed off as Damon opened a large closet in the back of the guestroom. …oh.

A small pen had been erected on the floor of the closet, newspapers spread all across the bottom. Judging by the smell, they hadn't been changed in several days.

Something small and dark stirred near the back of the pen, and the Indian boy clicked on the light.

He could almost picture Mini Me backpedalling, plastering himself up against the back of Damon's skull. Oh no! Oh no! No! No! NO! We are not keeping it!

Sitting there in the bottom of the plastic play pen was a very small black puppy, blinking up at them with curious black button eyes. It slowly got to unsteady feet and toddled closer on stumpy little legs, short squat tail giving the tiniest of wags.

Damon smiled, reaching in a hand for it to sniff and Mini Me about had a conniption fit. No means no means NO! He squalled. We are not saddling ourselves with some stupid little mutt!

Damon snorted. "What's all this 'we' business? I'm the one calling the shots." He gave a soft warm laugh as the little pup nibbled at the tip of his finger. "Hey lil fella. Bet you're probably pretty hungry huh?"

He carefully lifted the pup out, cradling it close to his chest. Exploring the apartment, it didn't take him long to find milk replacer formula for the pup and, true to form for his forgetful mother, a series of hastily jotted notes on how to care for the puppy. He carefully read over the instructions for the pup's formula, noting that it had been measured out carefully to last to a certain date. He was to start weaning the pup before that date. He had several weeks till then though, so he was good for now.

He quickly whipped up a bottle and fed the ravenous pup.

Lookit how much that thing eats! Mini Me complained, trying to dissuade him. And it's appetite is only gonna keep growing! What happens when you wean that thing off onto solid food? What happens when it gets big and you can't even feed yourself, let alone that little brute!

Damon rolled his eyes. "I'll teach it to hunt with me once it's old enough to learn. It could actually be a big help… And what makes you think it's gonna get big?"

Because that's just our luck.

Damon laughed. "That would be our luck." He agreed, tucking the empty bottle into his pocket. Turning the black pup over, he added, "Let's take a quick peek under the hood, shall we?" deftly pulling the little beast's tail out of the way, he checked it's gender.

So am I going to be giving you cigars with the blue or pink ribbon 'Papa'? Mini Me commented sarcastically.

"Blue." Damon answered, smirking at the idea of Mini Me face palming.

He had no idea what the little voice in his head would look like, if it looked like anything. Right now he had the semi clear mental image of some sort of cartoonish looking character.

You sure Dr. Dolittle?

"Positive."

Mini Me's voice sounded decidedly smug when he answered. Only fools are positive...

No, I did not make a mistake. Yes, I am aware Naomi is a girl. No, I'm not suddenly possessed of an urge to change her to male in all three stories. Yes, it will be explained in the next installment. You see, in my research for this series on hyenas, I came across a fun and little known fact. I am now choosing to exploit this fact for my own entertainment!

Review! Or Mini Me will be displeased! I'm already displeased you halfwit! Between easily amused writers and my own personal idiot...halfwit...I'll have to remember that one...

Until next time...