"Bigby...come out, come out, wherever you are..."
Bigby Wolf was stuck. He had never before felt helpless like this. He was clutching his stomach, trying to stop the blood from rushing out of the gaping hole in him, crimson staining his white dress shirt. He leaned against the wall, peeking his head around the corner nearby, trying to find his attacker, only to see nothing. He could hear his voice echoing around the dark halls, mocking him, torturing him, hunting him down.
Moonlight seeped through the broken widows, the night breeze going through his tussled hair. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as he tried gasping in a few deep breaths, only to feel a sharp stabbing pain every time he attempted it, making it in vain.
"Oh come on, Bigby, I just want to play...with your corpse..."
At the sound of his attacker's grating and demented voice, Bigby pathetically crawled away with one arm, the sound coming from close by. A trail of blood followed him, as he scrapped against the old, splintered floor. He was the Sheriff of Fabletown. He was the Big Bad Wolf. And he was on the verge of death. Murdered by a psychopath.
He couldn't begin to comprehend where he went wrong. All the people he had just let down by failing here. Snow, Boy Blue, Colin, every fable in general, really, and that's not to mention the people he's met since this all began. His friends, the people who have given him solace.
And he failed them all. He's going to die. He's going to die right here. And all he could do was prolong it.
One Month Earlier
Bigby Wolf guided the ferry through the harbor, the cold night air smacking him in the face. The sound of water splashing underneath him filled his ears, as he unenthusiastically sailed towards his destination.
Gotham City. Otherwise known as Hell on Earth. Filled with mundy freaks that would have to be seen to believed, the city was a haven for crime and corruption. Or at least it use to be. While it's still nowhere close to paradise, it has seen a drastic upturn since a particular man started operating in the city.
Bigby scoffed. A man had to dress like a bat for this city to do anything. Ridiculous.
"Dammit Snow," he cursed to himself, not pleased at all. "Why did I have to be here?"
Of course, he already knew the answer to that question. Prince Charming as been sighted in the area. And he's apparently making some pretty crappy friends. It's only a matter of time before he poses a danger to Fabletown by revealing himself, so Bigby was sent to find him, and bring him back home.
Of course, Snow never said anything about being nice about it. He didn't expect her to. Not for her ex-husband.
Bigby set the course for the port, as he let go of the steering wheel, checking his smartphone to see if his accommodations were all set up. While he checked though, a smell came across his nose.
He sniffed a few times, as he looked around his small boat. The scent was strong. Filth. Familiar filth.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Bigby growled, as he followed the scent to a closed trunk on the deck. He opened it up, to see the last thing he wanted to see.
Colin, one of the three little pigs, sleeping. He snored slightly, as Bigby groaned.
"Colin!" He yelled, causing the pig to jump awake, startled. He looked around, before laying his eyes on the Big Bad Wolf.
"Oh. Hey Bigby," he greeted, tired.
"'Hey Bigby'!?" The Sheriff snarled. "What the hell are you doing here!? You're suppose to be at the Farm! Not on a boat to the worst city in the world!"
"I thought I could use a vacation," Colin casually said, as he jumped out of the trunk, before almost falling over due to the unsteadiness of the boat. "Jeez. Rough waters?" He asked Bigby.
"No, they're actually really smooth. You're just a pig, and you have terrible balance."
"That's harsh," Colin stated.
Bigby gave an exasperated sigh, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Colin, this isn't a joke. This is a dangerous place. People die here for nothing at all. The only real hope I have of finishing this quickly and quietly is for me to remain inconspicuous. And I can't do that if I have to wander around the city WITH A TALKING PIG."
"Relax, Bigby," Colin reassured. "I'm only going to be in wherever you stay at. I ain't looking to be your deputy."
Bigby gave the pig a hard stare. "Ugh. Fine." Bigby turned around, towards the gothic city, it's lights emanating a sad type of glow. "Get back in the trunk. We're here."
"What's this guy's name?"
In a dark alleyway on the other side of town, two men were walking around, looking around wearily, trying to figure out what they were suppose to do there.
"Don't know," one of the men answered the other's question. "He didn't give a name."
"He didn't give a name?" The first one repeated.
"Are ya deaf? No, he didn't. These things don't work like that." The second explained.
The two men, dressed in dirty clothing with multiple tattoos printed on their skin, looked around the dank alley, looking for any sign of their contact.
"So, this guy of yours," the first started. "You sure he good?"
"He got Charlie his first big break," he said. "Now he works for Penguin. He's good."
"So we find what this guy wants-"
"And we do it. And then we get our fair share. Sound good?"
"Sounds good."
The two searched underneath the dumpster in the alley, and around any boxes that they see, only to find nothing. Before they could continue their search however, something flew by out of the corner of the first goon's eye.
"Did ya see that?" He asked his partner.
"See what?"
Again, a flash of black flew by just out of his line of sight, making the man panic. "Oh man, no, no, we gotta go."
"Calm down man, you're just seeing things," the thug brushed off, still searching.
The first crook wasn't convinced. "He's here! Screw this, this ain't-"
Before the thug could escape, he was hit in the head by a speedy object, too fast to properly see what it was, much less dodge it. He toppled to the ground, scaring his friend in the process.
"What the-!?" The first man exclaimed, before a solid punch came out from the shadows, taking him by surprise and knocking him out cold. The other thug, seeing his friend get taken down so swiftly, immediately stopped what he was doing, and tried to make a run for it.
However, felt something trip him, making him crash to the concrete floor, his face landing right into a puddle. The scared crook looked up, to see his worst nightmare.
The silhouette of the Bat, with his thin white slits for eyes staring menacingly at him.
"Please, no! Don't! I'm begging-"
He was cut off as the Dark Knight rocked him with a stiff kick to the head, silencing him. Batman then looked at the unconscious body, and satisfied with his work, he looked around the alleyway.
"Computer: Scan," he ordered, as his cowl changed his view into an x-ray vision. He looked around the alley, observing the boxes, garbage cans, and various other items, before he detected something.
He walked straight up to a storm drain that was against a wall, crouched next to it, and stuck his hand through the metal bars. He grabbed the item he was searching for. A wadded up piece of paper, damp from the water that has been hitting it. He unraveled it, reading the message inside.
THE MAN CALLS HIMSELF PRINCE CHARMING. BRUNETTE, ABOUT 160 POUNDS, REAL PRETTY BOY. ONLY WEARS FANCIEST CLOTHES. SOCIALITE, MIGHT HAVE MONEY. FIND HIM AND TAKE HIM OUT.
Batman stood up, before putting a finger to his ear. "Alfred?"
"Yes, Master Bruce?" His faithful butler answered.
"I found another bounty, this time for a man who calls himself Prince Charming."
"Just what this city needs, another fairy tale," he dryly responded.
"He seems real enough. He's the fifth person in two weeks that's been targeted," he stated, dead serious.
"And the next one to meet a terrible fate, if you don't intervene," Alfred commented.
"Exactly. The problem is, he doesn't relate to any of the other victims," The vigilante told him. "He's an apparent socialite. The last victim was a drug dealer, and the one before him was a dentist. None of their backgrounds were similar, and it looks like this man is no different."
"What do we do now, sir?" Alfred asked.
"This time it was just some street punks, but considering the ways we found the other bodies..." He grimaced, thinking about the image. "We have to assume that there are others. Whatever this is, they're expanding."
"Who is?" Alfred asked, a bit lost by the Caped Crusader's thoughts.
"The ringmaster of this whole system they have," Batman explained. "Whoever this is, they're organized. They set a target, they kill a target. Why, is another question, that we can't figure out until we find out who this is, and what their end goal is. The only way to do that, is to find an arm of this syndicate, if we can call it that, and follow it to its core."
"And how would we go about that, sir?" Alfred inquired.
Bruce thought for a second, as he walked away from the alley, long black cape treading behind him. "We bring Prince Charming to us."