"Bigby."

Wolf was slightly disoriented, as darkness surrounded him.

"Bigby, wake up."

Bigby kept his eyes closed, not listening to the voice. He was at peace, and didn't want it to end.

"Bigby, don't make me take a shit on the carpet. We both know who'll have to clean it up."

Finally, the Sheriff opened his hazel eyes, frustrated beyond belief that his slumber was interrupted. He rose from his bed in the old hotel room, still groggy, to see Colin looking up at him from the floor. "What do you want?" He asked, annoyed, as the shirtless fable swung his legs over the edge of the bed, revealing his boxer shorts.

"I'm hungry," Colin stated.

Bigby looked around at the room, to see the sun starting to seep in through the dirty, hole filled, cloth curtains. The wall paper was peeling off the walls, while there were cracks in the ceiling. He slowly got to his feet, his toes touching the hard, wooden floor, the ancient bed he was sleeping on creaking slightly in the process. "Did you check the mini bar?" He asked.

"Who do you think I am?" Colin sarcastically asked. "Course I did. Everything in there's expired."

Bigby walked past the antennae topped TV set, and went to the small fridge on the floor, before crouching down and opening it. He scanned the pathetic selection for a few seconds. "This jerky still looks good."

"Read the label," The pig told him.

Bigby took the bag, and looked over it. "Pork Jerky," he read, before looking back at Colin. The two stared at each other for a few moments, before Bigby shrugged. "I don't see what the problem is."

"Go fuck yourself, Bigby," Colin said, as Bigby closed the fridge, and went over to his suitcase.

"So, what do you want?" Bigby asked, as he pulled out a white dress shirt, and started putting it on, buttoning it up.

"I don't know. What do they have around this time of year?"

"It's October," Bigby said, as he found a pair of black slacks, putting it on one leg at a time. "Everything is pumpkin spice."

"Oh yeah. I never liked pumpkin spice. Flycatcher tried to turn me onto it, but I never got the hype."

"It's overrated," Bigby agreed, before he got a black tie, and started twisting it around his collar, tying it. "So, pancakes?"

"Pancakes," Colin confirmed. "And maybe some coffee."

"Ugh, fine," Bigby said, as he pulled out a pack of Huff N Puff cigarettes from his bag, along with his lighter, before throwing them in his pocket. "I need to stop being such a nice guy."

"You tried to eat me and my brothers, and destroyed our homes in the process," The youngest of the three little pigs reminded him. "You need to KEEP being a nice guy."

Bigby rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Are you ever going to stop guilt tripping me?" He asked. "I've been reformed for centuries now."

"I'll stop guilt tripping you when it stops getting me pancakes," Colin stated. "But we both know you're a sweetheart, so that ain't gonna happen anytime soon."

Bigby growled slightly, knowing the pig was right. "You know, if we weren't such good friends, I'd just eat you for breakfast."

"But we're besties, so please, I'm imploring ya, please get me some fucking pancakes," Colin basically begged.

The Big Bad Wolf snickered. "See ya, Colin," he said, as he walked out of the motel room, closing the door behind him, as he went straight outside.

He covered his face from the sunlight, the brightness still being a bit much for his eyes at the moment. Suddenly, he could smell the scent of Gotham, his heightened senses picking up the stench of the every restaurant, construction site, and person in about a ten mile radius.

He immediately went to his natural defense, as he took out his pack of smokes, smacked the carton on the back of his hand, and place one of the cigarettes in his mouth. He put the carton away, and then lit the cigarette, as he took a drag, blowing the smoke out of his mouth, and neutralizing the scent of the city.

"I hate this place already..." he muttered to himself, as he walked through the motel parking lot, and started walking along the cracked sidewalk next to the busy street, various cars speeding by, a few honking there horns, as Bigby strolled down the street, looking for a place to eat.

Meanwhile, he sorted through what he knew about Charming. He was a womanizer, not being able to help himself but to bend woman to his will, even using them to have a place to stay and live for a few weeks at a time. He was also a bit of a party animal, but only when it was with the high class figures of the world. He was greedy, always wanting more money, even though he was one of the wealthiest figures in Fabletown.

And finally, the man was an attention whore. He needed some kind of eyes on him at all times, which is why the Sheriff was out here in the first place. One of the rules of Fabletown was to not reveal that you're a fable to the mundies, due to the fact that if too many people put them under scrutiny, the magic that made Fabletown look like a regular New York neighborhood would fail, and reveal everything.

And mundies couldn't handle other mundies. They would go nuts and hunt down all Fables. And he would not let that happen.

"Hey!"

Bigby, startled by the noise, took the cigarette out of his mouth for a second, turning towards the voice he had heard.

"Someone stop him!" A blonde woman in a black coat yelled, as she pointed at a man that was running away from her, and straight towards Bigby, a handbag in his hand. "He stole my purse!"

Bigby sighed slightly, as the man sprinted closer to him. In response, Bigby stepped in the man's path, quickly pushing the thief down on his back, surprising the crook. Taken completely by surprise, the man quickly got back up, and into the fable's face, furious. "The hell are you?"

"Just a concerned citizen," Bigby dryly stated, putting the cigarette back in his mouth. "Hi."

"You think you a tough guy?" The man asked, reaching into his coat pocket.

"I think you're a dumbass," Bigby stated.

The mugger pulled out a pistol, and pointed it right at the Sheriff's head, still very close. "Get out of my way, and you won't get hurt."

Bigby looked unimpressed at the thief, before he took out the Huff N Puff from his mouth again, and blew a cheap cloud of tobacco smoke in the man's face. Quickly, Bigby shoved the cigarette back in his mouth, and grabbed the man's wrist, crushing it in his grip until the man dropped the gun, howling in pain.

"You son of a-" the man exclaimed, before being silence by a hard right hook, knocking him out.

The woman ran up to Bigby, who was crouched over the unconscious man, grabbing the purse. "Oh my God!" The woman exclaimed, amazed by the display. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he gruffly stated, handing the woman her purse. "Here."

The woman looked wide eyed at the man, before carefully accepting the purse. "I...I can't thank you enough."

Bigby wasn't listening to her though, as he noticed the fact that several citizens had stopped to watch the scuffle, mouths agape. "Seriously!?" He asked, loud enough for everyone to hear him. "You just watched!? Did any of you even call the damn police!?" He yelled, only earning blank looks, before the people just started to walk away. Bigby pinched the bridge of his nose. "This fucking city..." he mumbled to himself.

"I know what you mean," she said, earning the fable's attention. "People are too scared to help anyone these days. Even someone like me."

Bigby raised an eyebrow. "And...who are you?" He bluntly asked.

The woman stared at him with wide eyes. "You don't know who I am?"

Bigby took a drag of his smoke. "Nope."

The woman didn't seem to believe him. "Are you saying you're not from around here?" She stared at Bigby's silent face for a moment, before realizing that he was being honest. "Huh. I didn't think Gotham attracted tourists anymore."

"It doesn't," Bigby told her, as he flicked his cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under his foot. "I'm here on business."

"Well, I'm Vicki Vale," she introduced herself, sticking her hand out. "Reporter for Gotham City News."

"I'm Bigby Wolf," he shook the hand. "Private Investigator."

"Ooh, a detective?" She asked.

"Something like that," he scratched his cheek, giving the woman a small grin.

"What're you trying to figure out?" She asked.

"Right now? Where to get something to eat. I'm starving," he stated, as he turned around.

"I know a little diner down the block," Vicki told him, as she quickly trotted next to him, looping an arm around one of his. "How about I show you?"

Before he could respond, Bigby was being dragged down the street by the reporter. The fable just decided to go with it, considering how hungry he was. Besides, it might benefit him to have a conversation with a reporter.

Bruce Wayne didn't leave work to go unfinished. If he had a lead in a case, he was going to follow it until it ended up giving him results, or until it turned into a dead end.

However, sometimes he just wanted to find a new lead.

Deep in the Batcave, his secret base under his home of Wayne Manor, he sat at his Batcomputer, compiling the data he has acquired so far in the newest mystery to grip Gotham. Clad in his batsuit, only without his cowl on, he scanned the information, going over what he knew.

Various people have been dying the past few weeks. Murdered. Nothing connects the victims to one another, at least not from the angles Bruce has looked at yet, except for one thing. Their names were all on what appeared to be bounty notes, offering money for whoever was able to kill them. Now he discovered a new note, doing the same thing for a person by the codename of "Prince Charming." Why they were left behind left him baffled, as it seemed as though they were trying to lead him to them. However, he quickly realized it was used to taunt whoever tried to find them.

"Breakfast, sir," the voice of his trusty manservant rang from behind him, as he brought a plate of food to his employer. He set the food down next to him, knowing that Bruce doesn't tend to eat until his work is completed.

"Alfred, take a look at this," Bruce told him, as he typed away at the computer.

"If I must, Master Bruce," Alfred stated, unenthusiastic.

On the screen of the supercomputer was an image of the note Bruce had found earlier. "Here's the most recent bounty," Bruce stated, as the computer then zoomed into each individual letter. "The handwriting here is unique, and not used by any known criminal on file. However, there's something else."

The computer then zoomed out slightly, and started comparing the first letter to the other ones. "It's not the same handwriting. Each letter was written by a different person."

"What does this mean?"

"It means I was right. There's more than one person running this operation," Batman concluded. "Unfortunately, it still doesn't give us a clue on who they could be."

"But you are planning on finding this Charming fellow, correct?" Alfred asked.

"I'm planning on him finding us," Bruce stated.

"Then you should be able to figure this out. In the meantime, I suggest eating your breakfast, and preparing for your evening gala."

"Aflred-"

"Master Bruce, I was not asking you," Alfred authoritatively said. "Now, please, eat."

With that, the butler walked away from the billionaire, as Bruce slowly took a piece of toast from his plate, and began eating it. "Only you, Alfred..." he mumbled quietly to himself. "Only you..."

"Seriously? A puppet?"

Bigby was sipping on his black coffee, with a decent enough egg skillet sitting in front of him. He was sitting at a booth inside a small mom and pop diner, with the lovely reporter sitting across from him, having a small cheese Danish.

"That's right," Vicki confirmed. "His name was Scarface. It was really just this crazy guy who had multiple personalities, but he had a small gang for a while. Until Batman broke the dummy and threw the man in Arkham."

"A crime boss that was a puppet," Bigby thought aloud, shaking his head. "Ridiculous."

"That's Gotham," she said, taking a bite of her food. "It's not the best by any means, but at least it's honest."

Bigby rolled his eyes. "I think I'd prefer the 'fakeness' of New York City."

"How is it up there?" She asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Well sweetheart, it ain't Gotham, but I get by," he joked, giving her a wolfish smirk. He had to get on her good side if he was going to get anywhere.

She smiled back at him. "Smart alek, huh?" She asked.

"Sometimes," he stated, shrugging. "But only when I'm in a diner. You're to blame here, by the way."

"Good to know," she said. She went quiet for a moment, before looking right at him. "So, what brings you to Gotham?"

Bigby stared back, trying to figure out the right thing to say at the moment. He can't let her know too much. "I'm trying to find a man."

"Oooooh..."

"Not like that," he gruffly told her.

"If you say so. I know a lot of fun men for you though..." she tempted.

"I'm good," Bigby bluntly told her, gritting his teeth while trying to be nice. "No, the guy I'm looking for may be getting into trouble, and I need to find out if he is and bring him home."

"And why-"

Bigby held a hand up. "Can you please stop with the interview shit?" He asked. "It's...getting a little annoying, to be honest."

Vicki shrugged, not really caring. "Hey, it's in my blood," she justified. "But what did this guy do that caused you to come out here?"

Bigby had to think on his feet. She seems like she would dig too much if she gave too interesting an answer. "He might be cheating on his wife. She hired me to find him."

She deflated slightly. "Oh."

"Yeah. He comes over here for business sometimes. Loves big black tie parties. You don't happen to know anything like that, do you?"

She smiled slightly. "Funny you mention that. Bruce Wayne just decided to throw a party tonight."

"The billionaire?" He asked, hopefully.

"That's right."

Jackpot! No doubt that wherever Charming was at the moment, he was going to hear about this. There's no way he could resist. "And how does one get into the party?"

"Well, normally you would need an invitation, but it seems like it's an open party. Of course, they aren't just going to let a nobody in."

"But if it's open-"

"He has bouncers," she cut him off. "If they don't think you're a fit, then you won't go in. Simple as that."

Bigby sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to get in himself. "So, not for me then?"

Vicki gave a smile to the fable. "Well, maybe you could. See, I don't have a date, and you are kind of handsome."

Bigby was a little surprised. He could barely hide his contempt for this person, and she wanted to bring him to a party. "Really?"

"Yeah. The person I usually brought to these things is..." she paused for a second. "Well, he's a bastard. Can't appreciate me. I'm on TV all the time and make hundreds of thousands of dollars and year, and he was too good for me!" She slightly ranted.

Bigby bit his tongue so he wouldn't make a sarcastic comment. "Yeah...what was he thinking?" He said, insincerely.

"I know! Well, screw him, I got a rugged guy who can beat up street criminals instead."

Bigby quietly ate his food, considering this. She was annoying, self-centered, and thought she was way better than she actually was. But, she could definitely get into Wayne's house. And this was the only way he could think of to find Charming in this hellhole.

"Ok, I'll be your date," He said with fake enjoyment. A few seconds later, a waiter walked past them, making Bigby motion to him. "Excuse me, sir?"

The waiter, hearing him, walked up to the table. "Yes sir?"

"Can I have an order of pancakes?" He asked. "Add it to the bill."

"Of course," the waiter said, before walking off again. Bigby then looked back at the reporter, to see an accusing type of look.

"What?" He asked.

"Pancakes? You just had a large skillet," she observed.

"It's for later," he lied, as he took a sip of his coffee. He planned out the night ahead of him in his head. He just hoped he could get the bastard, and get out of the city.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Wayne Manor!"

It was now night in Gotham, and while the rest of the city fell into its usual gloom at this time, one place was glowing vibrantly in celebration. Inside Wayne Manor, various aristocrats, politicians, and all around important people gathered in the ballroom, which was decorated with tables covered in refreshments and appetizers.

The suited individuals were currently paying attention to one man, and one man only. Their host, Bruce Wayne.

"I hope you all are enjoying yourselves so far," Bruce smiled, a warm expression on his face. "It's always a pleasure to see you all. However, I'm afraid I have to bore you for a few seconds with my talking."

A few chortled slightly, amused by the man.

"I'm sure most of you are wondering why I'm throwing this party out of nowhere. Well, it's not because I'm rich, even though that's a pretty decent reason."

More laughs from the distinguished crowd.

"But the main reason I'm doing this is just to celebrate Gotham. Last year, we had the highest level of reported police corruption in the world, the city had more unrenovated buildings than any other city and the country, and we were gripped in fear by the Scarface gang. Today, a year later, and that has changed."

That statement earned some cheers from the party guests. Bruce looked at all of their faces, making eye contact with several of them. He was slightly studying them, trying to see any obviously unknown people, hoping that this Prince Charming showed up.

"The city has cracked down on police violations, we have several neighborhood upkeep programs now in effect, and Scarface's gang has been disbanded, and their leader was thrown into Arkham. Every year, we are improving, thanks to people like you. So," he began, as he took a glass of champagne from one his servers, and raised it above his head. "Here's to us!"

The rest of the crowd rose their glasses as well, before drinking its contents. Bruce, content with his speech, walked away from the crowd, before approaching his butler.

"Enjoying yourself, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, a plate of quiches in his hand.

"Anyone seem on edge?" He quietly asked.

"No one is especially conspicuous, sir," he told him.

"Keep an eye out. There's a chance that this man knows he's being targeted. But if he's a socialite, he won't be able to help himself."

"Dully noted. Can I interest you in a quiche?" Alfred asked.

The billionaire looked at the platter that Alfred presented him for a second, considering it. After a second, he took one, and shoved it in his mouth, before walking away.

On the other side of the ballroom, Bigby walked into the room alongside Vicki Vale, as he scanned the room. He was wearing his nice, brown trench coat, looking just formal enough to pass as someone who belonged here. Vicki, on the other hand, was wearing a fancy, pale blue dress. "Nice place," he stated, as he looked around, hands in his coat pockets.

"The nicest in town," Vicki said. "Glad you came?"

Bigby raised an eyebrow, giving her an annoyed look. "I literally just got here. How am I suppose to form an opinion in two seconds?"

Vicki just stared for a second, before huffily turning away. "Well, talk about ungrateful. You know, I brought you along because of how grateful I was, but-"

She turned around, to see that her 'date' was gone. "Bigby?" She asked, as she looked around, having no idea where he went.

Bigby was escaping through the crowd, not being able to take another second around that woman. Did anyone here actually listen to her? She's an airhead.

The sounds of various people conversing at once filled his ears, as he did his best to focus. Charming had to be here somewhere. This place would be too tempting for him. It was like a bug zapper to a moth. However, due to all of these socialites cologne and the food they were eating, too many smells were coming to him, clouding up his mind. He focused, trying to single out any familiar smells he may have at the moment.

This reminded him of when he was hunting back in the Homelands. Back then he stayed in his natural form, as the pure wolf, and he would wander the forests, finding the soldiers from the group that drove the fables to New York in the first place, the Adversary.

He would disembowel goblins and the like for years, before finally going through the portal to Fabletown, destroying the passageway behind him. He then got a human form, and became Sheriff of the community. However, there was still nothing quite like following his basic instincts.

He passed by several people, as they were too busy enjoying themselves to notice him.

He sighed to himself, the easy music that was playing starting to grate on him. He pulled out his carton of cigarettes, stuck one in his mouth, and lit it. Content, he took a drag of the Huff N Puff, as he put the rest back in his pocket.

"Excuse me, but there's no smoking here," a deep voice from behind told him.

Bigby rolled his eyes, as he started to turn around. "Look pal, I don't really-"

He cut himself off, as he stood eye to eye with the host of the gathering, Bruce Wayne himself. He didn't look pleased.

"Oh," Bigby stated, not expecting to actually see the man. "Hello."

"Hello. No smoking," Bruce told him, with narrowed eyes. The detective studied the unfamiliar, smoking man in front of him. His clothes were formal, yet not expensive in the slightest. The cigarette pack that he saw wasn't a brand that he recognized, meaning the man could've been from out of town. The man's slightly disheveled brown hair and stubbly face made it clear that he wasn't someone that was concerned with grooming too often.

He definitely didn't belong here.

Bigby, meanwhile, was looking right back at the host, forming his own thoughts on the man. He was famous, known for charity, as well as parties and hanging around supermodels. He was a good guy for the most part, but obviously spoiled due to his money. He faced some kind of tragedy when he was younger, but Bigby couldn't remember what it was for the life of him. One thing was for sure though, that incident grounded the man enough. In person however, the billionaire seemed...intense.

"I needed to smoke," he stated, stoic.

Bruce just stared for a moment. "That's a terrible habit to have."

"...I'm sure it is..." Bigby carefully said. He couldn't afford to get kicked out now.

"I don't think we've met," Bruce said, a frown on his face.

"No. We haven't."

"Bruce Wayne," he said, introducing himself.

Bigby couldn't help but notice that he didn't offer his hand. "Bigby Wolf," he told him, still smoking. "Nice shindig," he insincerely complimented.

"Isn't it?" He asked. "So, who did you come with?"

"Who said I came with anyone?"

Bruce didn't look phased. "Everyone came here with someone."

Bigby considered this. "Vicki Vale brought me along," he answered.

"Really?" He asked, a bit interested. "You know, we use to date."

"Good for you," he said. "You know, for breaking up with her."

"Heh. She was a bit much," he agreed.

Bigby didn't feel comfortable for some reason. He had to get out somehow. But how, he-

"Screw off, creep," he heard a feminine voice say, from what must of been across the room. He looked around, seeing that no one else but him was able to hear it.

There was only one person who could get that strong of a reaction from a woman, for better or worse. "If you excuse me, Mister Wayne," Bigby said, as he walked away, still smoking.

Bruce stood there for a walking, watching the man walk into the crowd, cutting off his line of sight. Bruce then turned around, walking away from the party. He found his lead.

After a few seconds, Bigby was able to track down the source of the sound, before his eyes landed on an absolute beauty of a woman that was near the refreshment table. In a smooth, strapless red dress, and with short, black hair, the woman was sipping on her drink, leaving a small smudge of blood red lipstick on the glass as she did so. She had a slightly sour expression on her face.

"Excuse me, miss," Bigby said, earning the woman's attention.

"Ugh, great, another man who thinks he can just hit on me," she said in a velvety voice, rolling her eyes. "How boring."

Bigby looked unimpressed. "Relax, I ain't flirting with you."

"Ha! I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want," Bigby stopped caring. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

The woman looked at him for a second, before calming down. "You're serious?"

Bigby nodded.

"Wow. A gentlemen. I kinda want you to flirt with me now, big boy..." she seductively said. "Selina Kyle."

"What?"

"My name's Selina Kyle," she said, getting a little closer to Bigby. "And can I get your name, handsome?"

The fable scratched his cheek. "Uh, Bigby Wolf." He said.

"Very Nice to meet you. So, what brings you around?"

Bigby shrugged. "Just...hanging out."

"Really?" She asked, not believing him as she leaned on the table.

"Don't believe me?" He asked, suddenly finding himself intrigued by the woman.

"I never said that," she playfully told him.

"You were thinking it."

"Oh yeah?" She asked, as she suddenly got very close to him, and put a hand on his chest. "And what am I thinking now?"

Bigby smirked, before he sniffed the hair, getting a very familiar scent. Charming! He suddenly broke away from the woman, taking her by surprise. "Sorry, but I just remembered something," he lied, as he followed the scent.

Selina crossed her arms. "Sorry hun, but no one gets away from me that easily," she quietly said to herself as she turned away.

Bigby paced quickly to the direction his nose was leading him, as he finally came across a glass door to the balcony. He went through it, quietly, closing it behind him. No one in the party seemed to notice him, which only helped him.

He saw at the end of the balcony the silhouette of a man. A man in a very expensive suit, wearing a very particular musk.

"Charming!" He growled, making the former prince turn around in fear, as the Big Bad Wolf stomped towards him, flicking his cigarette away.

"Sheriff!?" He asked, more than surprised to see him. He quickly tried to put on an expression of calm, but it obvious that it was fake. "It's lovely to see you here."

"Do you know how badly you messed up here!?" He snarled, furious with the fable. "Going to Gotham, getting involved with criminals!?"

"Hey, how do you know about that?" Charming asked, as he backed away slightly, as Bigby slowly got closer to him.

"The Magic Mirror, Charming," he exasperatedly told him. "Snow used it to find you. She was worried when she didn't see you around the neighborhood for a few days. Turns out she was right to be worried. We saw you in the Iceberg Lounge, talking to some shady folks."

"So, like a good obedient pup, she sent you here, right?" Charming asked, a devilish smirk on his face.

Bigby wiped it off with a hard punch, almost knocking the former prince over. Bigby then grabbed him by the collar, and pushed him against the railing. "You got involved in criminals, Charming!" He roared. "Crooks! Do you understand that, you idiot!? You could've revealed us! They could've killed you!"

"I'm too popular with the mundies to die," Charming said, nonchalantly, as a large bruise started to form on his face. "Besides, they might of been mad at me, but it's fine."

"'They'!?" Bigby yelled, not being able to believe it. "Someone's after you!?"

"They shouldn't be!" Charming stated. "At least not anymore, after our trade."

"What trade?" Bigby asked. However, Charming went quiet, putting the Sheriff in unease. "What fucking trade!?" He asked again, shaking him.

"Bigby, please don't be mad, but-"

"Let him go."

Bigby looked over his shoulder, to see a shadow perched above him, looking down from a gargoyle on Wayne Manor.

The shadow of the Bat, staring threateningly. At him.

"Aw shit..." he groaned, as he realized that his night was about to become a lot more difficult.