Time for a Change
By Les Bonser
This is a work of non-commercial fan fiction. The characters used in this story remain the trademarked property of their respective owners. No trademark infringement is intended and no profits are made by the author for writing or distribution of this work.
No permission is given to anyone other than the author to archive this on any website. No permission is given to anyone other than the author to repost this on any newsgroup.
Chapter 7
Batman awoke slowly. His first impression was of awkwardness; he'd fallen such that one arm was stretched out above him and his legs were curled underneath. He was almost bent over backward. He felt a sharp scratch on his face under the cowl.
He moved his head slightly and felt the pain go away. His vision was blurry; but he focused slowly on a mass of thorns. His first thought was that he was caught in another of Pamela Isley's plant traps. "Poison Ivy," as she was called by the press, had the unique power to manipulate plants. More than once, she'd ensnared him with plant mutations.
As he became more awake, he remembered the shrill noise. And the chase right before. Catwoman had stolen the Lion's Soul gem from the auction house and he had chased her. And the British guy was there. And the alien.
Batman shook his head. The residual dizziness began to fade. He remembered more clearly now. Catwoman had run down the alley trying to escape and had run right into Clark and his wife. Batman still didn't have a clue why Superman, in his civilian identify of Clark Kent, was in New York, but that had been the case.
Clark had grabbed Catwoman by one hand and the gem by the other.
They had all been standing there, arguing over the British gentleman's claim that he could arrest Catwoman. Batman hadn't had a chance to review the man's credentials, but it was obvious by the way he handled a gun and by the way he fought, he was a professional. Kent's wife had called the guy "Bond." Probably MI5 or MI6, Batman thought. Someone babysitting the gemstone after the theft attempt in Gotham.
Batman tried to move; he discovered a few sore muscles, but no apparent injuries. He moved his legs and shifted his weight. It was dark. He pulled a flashlight from his utility belt and turned it on. He discovered him in a bed of cactus. That explains the thorns, he thought to himself.
He slowly extracted himself from the plant. His Kevlar costume and cape protected him from the sharp quills of the plant.
It was intensely dark, no street lights or other sources of artificial lights. Batman looked up. The moon had not risen yet, but there were plenty of stars. With a clear sky and without the light pollution from a nearby city, they were absolutely stunning. The sky looked like a carpet of gemstones.
He had no idea how he ended up here, but wherever here was, it wasn't near New York City or Gotham.
Batman walked around a moment, trying to stretch his sore legs. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but it had been for at least a half hour or more. He knew from long experience exactly how long it took for his legs to cramp up. A large part of his life was to crouch in the shadows and stake out a suspect--he knew exactly how long it took for the muscles to tighten and stiffen from inactivity.
He determined that he was in a wilderness area. Yucca trees and sage brush scrub, and the occasional cactus patch, covered the area. He was somewhere in the Southwest.
How the hell did I get here? he wondered. Did Superman fly him here? If so, to serve what purpose.
He reached into a pocket of his utility belt and pulled out a small electronic device. The device was an electronic map of Gotham City. The map would be useless here, but the device had an electronic compass and GPS built into it as well.
The GPS function was flashing "no signal." Somehow, it couldn't pick up beacon signal from one of the 24 Global Positioning System satellites that orbited the Earth. The electronic compass gave him a reading to North. Batman looked in the sky and easily found Polaris, the North Star. The compass appeared to be functioning correctly. At the very least, he knew which way was north. But this information was practically useless without a clearer idea of where he was.
He knew from the plants around him that he was somewhere in the Southwest--New Mexico, Arizona, or Southern California, possibly Southern Nevada or Southern Utah, and possibly as far south as northern Mexico. There were a number of sub-species of yucca, but all of them were native to only North America. The most common types were most the Joshua tree, western Spanish bayonet, and mission bell, all of which simply didn't grow anywhere else in the world. And from the height of Polaris above the horizon, he guessed that he was somewhere about the latitude of Los Angeles or Phoenix.
Batman turned off the electronic map and put it back into its compartment in his belt. He then pulled the small two-way radio from its compartment. The radio allowed him to send the car remote control commands as well as handle voice communications. He normally used heavily encrypted channels seldom used in the US. This helped avoid eavesdroppers. But the radio was capable of being tuned to more conventional channels as well. He set the radio to scan-mode and let it run for a few minutes.
The radio automatically shifted up through all the frequencies, stopping for a few seconds at each increment. If it detected a strong signal on any frequency, the radio would stop and allow him to listen to the signal to determine if it was something of interest. The radio only discovered static.
While listening to the radio, Batman then pulled out the slim pair of night-goggles from their compartment. Although he had excellent night vision and had taught himself to navigate with very little visible light, the goggles turned night into day. They were similar to the goggles used by the military for night maneuvers. The goggles had miniature TV cameras in place of lenses. The TV cameras were tuned to infrared wavelengths. The insides of the goggles had tiny video screens. The screens showed exactly what the cameras saw.
All objects gave off some level of heat as infrared radiation. The image through the goggles was a distortion of what you'd see without them, but useful for seeing at night.
Now wearing the goggles, Batman slowing turned around, carefully looking all around him. He saw a few small "hot spots" which were probably animals in the brush around him, but he saw nothing that resembled houses, buildings, cars, or other signs of people.
By the time he'd finished his reconnaissance of the terrain, Batman had decided that he must be outside the range of any radio signals. The radio had detected nothing but static on all of its frequencies. That seemed odd--even in the most remote portions of the Earth, there were still stray signals from atmospheric bounce, or from satellites, or from remote navigation stations. But he acknowledged that he'd designed the device to work in an urban environment and it just didn't pickup all frequencies.
He turned off the radio to conserve its batteries. He'd noticed a hill to the west during his 360-degree turn. He struck out for the hill--perhaps the increased elevation would allow him to see further and possibly spot some sight of civilization.
The walk up the hill had been quick and almost effortless. It had taken Batman only about 15 minutes to reach the highest point of the hill.
He repeated his 360-degree surveillance of the area. The night-vision goggles allowed him to spot a distant light; given the remoteness of the area, he guessed it was perhaps a small ranch house. The rangefinder built into the goggles had problems focusing on the light. It was too indistinct to allow a definitive reading, and since he normally worked in an urban environment, Batman had calibrated the rangefinder to work most accurately only up to about 1,000 meters. Batman took the goggles off and spotted the light without them. He estimated the building, whatever it was, to be about 3 miles away.
The moon had come up over the eastern horizon. It was a slender sliver, not even a quarter moon. Batman immediately realized something was wrong; the moon had been nearly full in New York. He'd noted that while waiting on the rooftop across from Sotheby's.
The limited light from the nearly new moon didn't hinder the Dark Knight Detective. He struck off in the direction of the light and easily found his way through the bush. He occasionally stopped, and listened carefully. He heard a coyote crying far in the distance. Otherwise, the night was silent.
Because of the strangeness of the situation, he decided that discretion was the plan for now. He didn't know where he was, or even how he'd gotten here. He didn't know what the light was in the distance. It could be an innocent rancher's home, or some covert government installation. He didn't know if it was somehow linked to his sudden and unexpected transport from New York.
Either way, the darkness of the nearly moonless night and color of his costume gave him the advantage. He moved as quietly as he could, and he kept his guard up.
He met no one on the approach to the light. The night was still and quiet. Batman stopped several times, the last on a small rise above the slight valley where the light was. From here, he'd crouched beside a yucca tree and surveyed the area with the night-vision goggles.
The light turned out to be a burning torch beside the gate of a walled village. The buildings inside appeared to be made of adobe, which further evidenced that he was somewhere in the American Southwest.
Inside the walled village, he could make out a church, a stable, and a number of other buildings. By the size of the village and the number of buildings, Batman estimated that possibly 400 people lived here.
The whole thing looked like something out of a movie. Or the history books. It looked like the typical Spanish mission community the Catholic Church and the Kingdom of Spain had established in the 18th century along the coast of California. He knew of no where in the US where such a community might still exist.
Such a community might exist on a movie lot. And many of the original Spanish missions still existed in California, but were now surrounded by major cities like Los Angeles and San Diego.
It was possible, he guessed, that some parts of Mexico where still rural enough that there might still exist small villages like this, but he didn't know of any.
As he continued to watch the sleepy little village, he heard a distant noise. He scanned the surrounding area with the goggles. Eventually, he made out a heat signature. Something was approaching the village from his right; he could now tell that there was obviously some sort of dirt road. It had been hidden previously by the angle of his approach and the high yucca.
He stayed crouched down beside the bush and watched intently. The heat signature resolved itself to a horse and rider. The rider veered off the road before reaching the gate of the village. Instead, the rider swung wide and came up beside a low portion of the village wall.
Although he couldn't tell for sure, Batman took the rider to be male by the way the rider carried themselves. Plus the fact that it just didn't seem likely that a woman would be riding around such a remote area at night. But then, there are women like Catwoman, he reminded himself.
The horse stopped. Batman watched through the goggles as the man steadied the horse and then, unexpectedly, stood up on the saddle--balancing carefully on the back of the horse. Batman was impressed. The horse was obviously very well trained and its rider very skilled.
Using the height of the horse to gain the advantage, the man vaulted to the top of the village wall. He didn't quite make it, but he did catch the top with both arms and scaled over the wall with little effort.
Batman was uncertain about why he was here, or even where "here" was, but he recognized suspicious behavior when he saw it. He'd trained himself for most of his life to fight this sort of thing. He paused for several seconds, weighing the options: involve himself versus continued caution and learning more about where he was, why he was here, how did he get here, and how to get home. His decision came quickly and he left his hiding place and begin moving toward the village.
He stayed behind the yucca plants as much as possible. There was no breeze in the cool night, so he didn't worry too much about having to stay downwind of the horse. He wouldn't be able to surprise the intruder if he spooked the horse.
He approached to within about thirty feet of the wall and remained crouched low. His dark cape draped over him and he remained invisible to the animal. He waited the the beast's master to return.
While waiting, he slipped the goggles back into their compartment in the belt. He didn't know how long he'd be here. And the area seemed to primitive--he didn't imagine that he'd be able to replace or recharge the batteries.
After about ten minutes, he began to hear sounds from inside the village. The sound of voices raised in alarm. The voices sounded like Spanish. That helped Batman decide that he was somehow in Mexico, possibly Baja California.
The voices continued; an occasional shout, the sound of running feet. The horse shifted nervously at the sound of the commotion. Batman watched the beast for a moment. It was a jet black stallion, strong and muscular, obviously a fast runner. Although it looked ready to sprint faster than the wind at the least provocation, it remained in the spot its master had left it. A very well trained beast.
A few minutes later, Batman heard a scuffle against the wall. He assumed his prey was returning, ready to crawl back over the wall and onto the horse. No doubt to make his escape after robbing the innocent villagers.
Batman saw the man come back over the wall. He was also dressed in black. He wore a broad brimmed hat, and a short cape of satin or silk. Unlike Batman's own longer cape, the material of the man's cape shimmered slightly in the pale light of the slender moon. There was a glint of steel--the man was wearing some sort of sword.
Just as the man prepared to drop onto the waiting horse's back, Batman rushed from his hiding place. Contrary to its training, the sudden appearance of the Dark Knight Detective startled the beast and the horse started to move forward.
The man dropped heavily to the ground where the horse had previously stood. "Tornado, stay!" the man shouted in Spanish. The horse obeyed it's master and stopped moving. To Batman's ears, the man's voice sounded more like a Castilian accent than a Mexican one.
The man rose and the sword was in his hand in a flash. "You think to catch the fox, Senor? I think not."
Batman wrapped his arm in his Kevlar cape and rushed the man. The man tried to parry with the sword, but the flexible blade couldn't cut the bullet-resistant cloth. Using the cape, Batman ensnared the blade with his Kevlar wrapped right arm and gave the man a hard upper cut with his left. The man staggered, but didn't fall. He was a tough customer, but Batman had fought tougher.
"There he is!" came a shout from the top of the wall, also in Spanish. "Si, shoot him!" another voice yelled.
Batman looked up to see several men in some sort of uniform raising what appeared to be muskets at him and the man he was fighting. He might be a crook, Batman thought, but no need to see him shot. He raised his cape and shielded both of them.
The roar of the muskets filled the air, along with a flash of light. Several projectiles hit the Kevlar cape, but none of them struck either Batman or the escaping thief.
The man twisted in Batman's grasp. "Senor, it is time to say 'adios.' The fox never gets caught, no? The people would morn their hero and who would protect them from Alcalde de Soto?"
A sudden thought came to Batman. Was it possible that this man was some sort of costumed crusader or vigilante. Was it possible that this man was like himself?
He glanced over his shoulder and saw the men were about finished reloading the primitive muskets. He decided that it would be easier to deal with the man singly rather than the man and his pursuers. Batman eased his hold on the man and the man snatched up the sword and then ran for the horse. Batman followed closely.
The two men vaulted onto the back of the horse almost as one. The horse staggered under the extra weight, but was strong. The beast sprung forward as its master flicked the reins and spurred its flanks. Batman squeezed his legs as hard as he dared to keep his balance and held the man as they fled through the night.
The two men in black rode through the night in silence. Even burdened by the extra weight of the second rider, the horse continued its swift gait. The beast's master had steered them back to the road where Batman first saw them. After about twenty minutes, the man reined in the horse and turned to see if they were being pursued. There appeared to be no one following them. Batman thought it highly unlikely given the early hour and the darkness.
He slid off the back of the horse, but quickly reached forward to grab the reins from the man. Before the man could react, Batman had the reins and was controlling the beast directly from the bit. As Bruce Wayne, he'd sometimes played polo--purposely inept. Not a master horseman, but expert enough.
The man jumped off the horse. By his body language, Batman expected him to strike out. For the first time since they first encountered each other, they could see each other fully, even in the darkness.
"So, my friend," the man said, "If I could be so bold as to inquire, what do you call yourself?"
"I'm Batman," Batman said. He had to think for a moment about the translation, "I call myself 'Hombre del palo'," he said in Spanish.
"Ah, an Ingles, by the sound of it," the man said. He stepped back and removed his hat. A deep bow and a flourish followed, "I am El Zorro."
The Fox, Batman thought. He sized up the man, this Zorro. He was almost as tall as himself, but not quite as heavily muscled. He wore a black hat, black shirt, black pants, and a short silk cape. The cape only covered his shoulders. The hat was a broad rimmed gaucho with a ring of silver ornaments around the brim. Over the pants Zorro wore black leather chaps and a fencing sword hung from a scabbard at his belt. The sword looked like a saber Batman thought, but not a blunt one like that used for modern fencing. Even through the Kevlar, he'd felt how sharp the weapon was when he'd grabbed it earlier. The chaps, belt, and scabbard were all decorated with rich, but tasteful, silver fixtures. Under the hat, the man wore a bandana tied around the top of his head, but pulled down over his eyes. Eye holes cut in the bandana showed bright, intelligent eyes. A thin black mustache followed the line of his upper lip.
Zorro likewise studied the Englishman. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the man in almost total black; this "man who was a bat." Or was it meant to be "the bat who was a man"? The man's cape hung nearly to the ground and was of such darkest black that the Bat-man almost disappeared into the night. The hood the Bat-man wore covered most of his face and the sides of the hood even had pointed "ears" much as a bat's ears.
Zorro casually moved forward and took the reins from this Bat-man. "And this is Tornado," he explained, giving the horse an affectionate pat on its neck. The horse was slick with sweat, having ridden hard under an unexpectedly heavy load of two riders. "What brings you to the pueblo de Los Angeles?"
*Pueblo* de Los Angeles? Batman thought. Los Angeles hadn't been called that since at least the time Mexico ceded their California territory to the United States in the mid-nineteenth century.
"I'm a...traveler," Batman lied. "I seem to have become lost," he said, in Spanish.
"You speak our language quite well, for an Ingles," Zorro commented. "And you have a hard fist," he said, rubbing his chin. "I would recommend the inn at the pueblo, but after our quick exit, I'm afraid the Alcalde's militia might frown on our return."
"And why were you in such a hurry to leave?" Batman asked. He hadn't seen this Zorro with any items that might have been stolen from the pueblo, but then again, he could have had other reasons for stalking around the village in a mask in the depths of the night.
Zorro shrugged. "Yesterday was tax collection day. The Alcalde's men left many of the peasants without enough to feed their families or buy seed for next season's crops. I...liberated some of the taxes and made a 'contribution' to the church. The padres' will ensure that the people are cared for."
Ah, Batman thought. This area's version of Robin Hood. Or Catwoman. The Feline Fatale often stole for herself, but Batman had enough evidence on her to know that she sometimes shared her ill-gotten earnings with some of Gotham's less fortunate. And this "Alcalde" must be this area's version of the Sheriff of Nottingham.
"I've lost track during my travels," Batman said. "Can you tell me what the date is?"
Zorro eyed the other man cautiously. "It is eighteen hundred and six in the year of our Lord. The date is March 2nd. Was March 2nd, actually. Today must be March 3rd. The moon has risen, it must be after midnight."
1806, Batman thought. How the hell did that happen? His self-appointed mission was to rid Gotham City of crime, but in his career, Batman had encountered a number of strange things. He'd not only meet aliens from ancient Mars and extinct Krypton, but considered them friends and colleagues. He'd met women that could control plants with the merest thought, and others with the command of magic at a simple spell spoken backwards. He knew men that could run nearly as fast as light and others that claimed to have lived for a millennium.
How had he traveled backward in time? Batman considered the options. Flash claimed to have the power if he traveled fast enough. Green Lantern likewise claimed that the power ring had the capability. Neither of them were in New York at the time he'd been chasing Catwoman. He thought briefly about the possibility of his JLA team members using their supposed powers of time travel to find him. But he dismissed those thoughts. His more immediate concerns were centered around survival in this primitive era.
"Yes, thank you, senor," Batman said absently. He was still lost in thought. Could he trust this masked vigilante? If he truly was in the early 19th century, it was a different time. A time when a man's word was his honor. He decided to take the risk. He slid off the cowl and looked at Zorro squarely.
"Zorro, I need your help."
"Si, senor. You seem to be quite lost. Pueblo de Los Angeles is a very small village and very far from Britain."
"Senor, I'm not actually an Englishman," Batman said. Obviously his "accent" sounds English to the Spaniard.
"Perhaps the English colonies then?"
English colonies? Batman wondered. Granted the news moved slow in 1806, but surely the founding of the United States would have been known in Spanish California.
"Actually, I'm from the United States."
"What are these 'United States'?" Zorro asked.
Batman responded, "The English colonies on the other side of this continent broke away from England and have declared themselves a new nation."
"Such news hasn't arrived to Alta California, senor," Zorro responded. "But we get very few travelers here. It's been several months since the last ship arrived from Spain."
Surely news didn't travel that slowly, Batman thought. By 1806, the news of the United States' purchase of the Louisiana Purchase should have reached even the furthest reaches of the Spanish Empire. Let alone the formation of the US. After all, the Revolutionary War had ended almost 25 years before. And Spain had even allied itself with France and declared war against the British near the end of the war.
Unless...a frightening thought came to the Dark Knight Detective. Suppose this was not just a case of time travel, but suppose this world had a similar, but different history from his own. Batman had once heard Superman and Green Lantern discussing the possibilities of "alternate universes." The most preeminent physicist of the day, Stephen Hawking of Cambridge University, had even suggested the possibility.
He preferred being in control, being in Gotham City; an urban environment where he knew everything and had some a sense of independence. Here, he felt powerless--given this, the decision to trust the other man and ask for his help was easy to make.
Batman reached into his utility belt and pulled out a one ounce gold bar. It was part of his emergency money stash. He would have offered the coins, but they had dates on them. Dates and the name of a nation that this Spaniard would find improbable. The gold bars, however, only had a serial number stamped in them. The only other writing on them was the raised letters spelling out the name of the Swiss bank that issued them.
He offered the bar to the other masked man. "I can pay you for your assistance."
"Keep your gold," Zorro said. "I will help you. Assisting the unfortunate is what the Fox does." Zorro remounted Tornado and offered his hand to the Dark Knight. "Come. Ride with me," he offered.
"Gracias," Batman said. He grabbed Zorro's hand and vaulted onto the horse.
After a short ride, Zorro, Batman, and Tornado arrived at a small cave, hidden by a strand of thick brush. Zorro guided the horse into the brush and into the cave, which was outfitted with a stable for Tornado, a workbench, and a fencing practice circle. The cave was lit by several oil lamps.
As the men dismounted, Batman couldn't help but smile when he saw the rustic parallels to his own "bat-cave" headquarters.
Zorro immediately striped the saddle from Tornado and lead the animal into its stall. He began to wipe down the horse while keeping a close eye on his visitor.
Batman politely and casually looked around the cave. He tried to make to threatening moves or attempt to look around for an exit. He realized how he'd feel with visitors to his own cave; he imagined how Zorro must have felt. He didn't want to betray the growing trust with the other man.
He walked to the fencing circle. Batman was more familiar with the Japanese art of Kendo, but knew enough about swordplay to know that the Spanish school of fencing tended toward a circular form instead of the linear form of the French school.
"You know how to use the sword?" Zorro asked. He drew his own sword, and brandished it lightly to limber his arm. In the light of the oil lamps, Batman could make out the weapon better than he could in the darkness of the night. He could see that it was razor sharp at the point.
Batman saw the other sabers hanging on the wall of the cave. He could easily have reached the rack and taken a weapon for himself. But he wasn't in the mood for a test of machismo. "I know the way of the sword," he said. In fact, "kendo" was literally "the way of the sword." "But I prefer something with a little more range." He pulled two of the throwing stars from a pocket in his upper arm and without warning threw them at the post beside Zorro.
The bat-shaped stars were made from knife quality stainless steel and were weighted with slugs of depleted uranium. The were sharpened at each of the points; the bat-ears and the points of the wings were all honed to razor sharpness. The stars weren't lethal, but could be distracting enough to force an opponent to drop his gun, or at least mess up his aim, or to annoy and occupy the opponent enough to allow Batman to move into striking range.
Zorro startled at the unexpected appearance of the stars on the stable post beside him. He looked at the stars and then at his guest. This Bat-hombre moved quickly, Zorro thought. He'd seen few men move with such speed since leaving Spain. The heat of Alta California tended to slow most men down. And the militia in this far corner of the Spanish empire couldn't be called the King's best warriors. What an opponent this man would be, Zorro thought. He thirsted to weigh his steel against such an opponent, to truly test himself as he had at the fencing school in Madrid. But the man was a guest.
Zorro pulled the stars from the post and admired them. "Si, senor, I can see how these would be useful." He carefully gauged the weight of the stars in his hand and attempted to throw them himself. One of the stars embedded itself in another post on the other side of the cave, but the other simply fell to the floor when it didn't strike the post as intended. He shrugged. "Perhaps a bit of practice, and I'll be nearly as good as you?"
"Perhaps," Batman agreed.
Zorro decided that the Englishman was a trustworthy man. Several times now, the Englishman had the chance to best him, but had not. Zorro wondered how he could explain the stranger's appearance. It was rare that anyone traveled by horse or by foot across the great desert to the east. And there had not been a recent ship to the bay west of the pueblo. Perhaps a story about traveling from the north and losing his horse to bandits.
"Come, my new friend. It will be morning soon." Zorro lead Batman into another portion of the cave. It was likewise lit by oil lamps. A bench rested against the wall and a richly appointed upright chest was against the other wall. Hooks hung from holes drilled in the rock walls. Zorro removed his cape and hung the cape and the hat on one of the hooks. He then removed his gloves and dropped them on the bench.
The Spaniard removed his bandana and ran his hand through the sweat-slick hair underneath. "You shall be a honored guest of the De la Vega hacienda." He wiped his hand on a towel that hung from one of the hooks.
He extended his hand. "I am Diego de la Vega, son of Don Alejandro."
Batman removed the glove from his own hand. He extended his bare hand and took that of the Spaniard. "I am pleased to meet you, Don Diego. I'm Bruce Wayne."