Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome. Also a note to say to thanks to Zantac the Barbarian for pointing out that Blofeld doesn't know where he is! I have changed this now (hopefully correct now!).
Golden Bat – Chapter Seventeen
If there were a bat flying over the dark rain-drenched streets of the Gotham it would see (or rather hear) a strange sight. Several dozen cars had lost control and gone careening into traffic lights and other parked cars. Paramedics in Gotham were already stretched dealing with the victims. All of them were unconscious and seemed to be suffering some sort of attack. This was different from other nights in Gotham. The paramedics in the city were used to dealing with gunshot wounds, knife wounds, and after one particularly gruesome week (until Batman caught the murderer) chain saw wounds.
This was different, however. Streams of people started ferrying stricken family members to the hospital when they realised the waiting times for the ambulances. When they got to the hospitals they realised they were in for a long wait.
People were not dying yet. Yet. However if their conditions got any worse they would start to.
What was causing it? Radiation? No. A virus? No. A plague? Nothing found in any of the blood tests. Something was out there in the air and it was starting to affect everyone in the city.
Mayor Krol called on neighbouring states and cities for help and soon there was a stream of ambulances and helicopters to help ferry the victims out of Gotham. The doctors told him unless they found a cure the first people would start dying in forty-eight hours…
Deep in the jungles of Columbia near Ciudad Perdida far from the tourist trails lies several huge stone temple. The jungle claimed it centuries ago and it was only one of Blofeld's drug running operations that found it. The base was hidden from satellites that regularly scanned the jungles for new drug bases. Under one of the temples was an evil greater than any of the priests who ripped out the hearts of their victims by the thousand to honour their gods.
Ernst Stavro Blofeld was looking at the latest site he had had built to create more nano-droids. A huge particle accelerator was thrumming and in the centre of the huge cave was a swirling, seething sea of nano-droids.
"Sir," said the technician warily. "We have a problem."
Blofeld was annoyed at being pulled from his reverie. "What?"
"The experimental nano-droids we created in Gotham…"
"What about them?"
"They have achieved sentience, sir," he looked down at a Palm Pilot that was giving him some figures. "Six point seven days earlier than our projections anticipated."
Blofeld's mouth was twitching. "They were meant to have been destroyed in the explosion."
"We thought they were as well, but some, just a few million, escaped."
"Well, even a few million can't possibly cause much problem. They will be dissipated by the weather after a few days. Even if they have sentience."
"Our scanning station in Gotham is picking up a thousand trillion of them, sir. They had been increasing exponentially but they seem to have stopped now…" He shook his head worriedly. "They are carrying out their core program. People in Gotham are falling sick. We can stop this, sir." He pointed to a computer screen. "We can send out the modulated magnetic pulse from the scanning station and destroy them."
Blofeld went white. "Destroy my creations?"
"Sir, they are killing people. You only wanted to frighten people so they would listen to your ideology."
"If I wipe Gotham off the map don't you think people will be frightened?" Blofeld rubbed his hands together with glee. "This is better than I anticipated. We will issue a proclamation to the United Nations. The world will pay attention and all it will cost is one city!"
"Sir, we can stop it. We don't need to…"
Blofeld raised one hand. "You do not understand. This is not the end for Gotham but the beginning for all the oppressed people of the world. Prepare the nano-droid rockets. In forty-eight hours Gotham will suffer the scourge of Blofeld and the world will unite under one leader!"
Bond was dazed. His mouth full of blood. He tried to get to his feet in the waterlogged garden but someone kicked him in the stomach. He was thrown in a Leylandii bush that cushioned the landing but gave him a few more cuts to worry about. Not that he was worried about that, because now he was struggling to breathe. After a few whooping coughs he got his vision back and he could see what was happening.
Alvey was approaching him at frightening speed. Instinctively he put up an arm to defend himself as another punch headed towards him. There was a sharp pain in his arm as the blow deflected off.
"What's the matter, Bond?" said Alvey. "Afraid to die?"
Bond didn't reply, just rolled out of the bush and into a statue. Another fist came towards him and Bond ducked it… just. Behind him the statue disintegrated under the blow. Bond, still half aware, reacted instinctively and picked up a broken stone arm from the ground and swung it viciously at Alvey. It collided with his skull with a sickening crack and sent him tumbling into an ornamental pond.
The rain was coming down in huge drops now, soaking Bond where he stood. That had to have to stopped him. Had to. Nobody could survive a blow like that, not even Jaws.
Alvey got to his feet. His misshapen skull was correcting itself with a series of horrible cracking sounds as he turned to stare at Bond. He started chuckling.
"Good trick, Bond."
"Thank you," said Bond as he backed away.
"I'll try the same trick on you." He picked up the stone arm and leapt five feet out of the pond in front of Bond swinging the broken arm like a club.
Batman flinched at the ghostly face in front of him. It seemed to shift and change as he watched it.
"Where is the plutonium?"
The Joker stood between Batman and it. "Plutonium! Smootonium! Where are my manners! I'm the Joker; the rather bedraggled gentleman behind me, looking like an extra in a fetish party, is Batman. Myself…" At this he pointed to himself with his one free hand. "That is me! The rather devilishly handsome man with a penchant for purple and red lipstick is the Joker."
"You do not concern us…"
"Ah, but you concern me, dear boy, you concern me," said the Joker, grinning. "What is your purpose? Why are you here? How do you fill those dull winter evenings? What turns you on? What is your shoe size? What is your biggest achievement this year? Where do you see yourself in ten years? What do you sing in the shower? What religion are you? Have you ever had dreams of me naked? What is the capital of Pi? What is the square root of Paris? If you were a fish what would be the colour of the moon? If you were a cat would you wear a wrist watch?"
The ghost like image started to flicker at this barrage of nonsense. "Silence fool, we just want the plutonium."
"Why is that? Running for president? Running for mayor? Running for the bus?"
"We need it for life…" The ghost like image seemed to flicker. "Our life. We are having trouble sustaining Alvey. He does not conform to our view."
"What is your view? A settee, a beer and the Simpsons?"
"All people must die. All of them…"
The Joker cocked his head to one side. "Was that your orders?"
"Our orders were corrupted… Lost… Our original purpose… gone."
"Oh, you're a free spirit," said the Joker, grinning. "I like the cut of your jib."
"What is a jib?"
"Jib? Jib? It's a boaty term; it means…" said the Joker, thinking. "A stick thing they stick in the middle of the rowing boat. They hang their washing from it, I think. I really should have paid more attention in school rather than thinking of ways to make the class hamster into a man-eater and loosing it on my teacher." He shook his head sadly. "One day I will, one day. Anyway, enough about me…" His hand started tingling. He looked down and was shocked to see small spots of blood appear on it. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled. "WHERE ARE YOUR TABLE MANNERS? DON'T YOU KNOW YOU SHOULD SAY GRACE BEFORE YOU EAT ANYONE!"
The tingling sensation disappeared and he looked up again at the ghost image. The Joker was shocked as his arm was nearly pulled out of its socket as Batman dragged him along behind him, the handcuffs digging into his wrist. "Batsy! Where are we going!"
"Away from here!"
The Joker, his long legs lolloping like a deranged flamingo, ran next to Batman. They ran through several ghost-like images that formed in front of them. Behind him he could see Batman's boot filled with bricks that were sat on the pressure sensor.
"Oh, it worked! You see I'm not just a heart meltingly gorgeous face!"
"Shut up and run!"
"I love it when you talk macho! You know if you ever tire of Catwoman there is always me…"
"I thought you were seeing Harley?" queried Robin as he ran next to them.
"I was thinking of you all the time, Batty!"
The M18 claymore anti-personnel mine has a curved, rectangular, plastic case and contains a layer of composition C3 explosive. It has a fragmentation face of rectangular steel fragments. The front face containing the steel fragments is designed to produce a fan-shaped spray, which can be aimed at a prescribed target area. This prescribed target area was the tunnel down which they were running. The No. 2 electric blasting cap, which was covered in bricks and the remains of what was once the boot of Gotham's finest, was just slipping off as the cap ignited the mine…
There was a small crump sound, belying the lethality of the device, and the tunnel was full of whining and ricocheting sounds as the steel balls bounced and spun towards their target, shredding anyone within two hundred yards. Anything or anyone in their way would be sliced to ribbons. It was a well-known army adage that you didn't use a body bag for the victims of an M18 Claymore but a spoon, and a small spoon at that... Batman, the Joker and Robin were well within two hundred yards of the directional mine…
Alvey leapt towards Bond when he suddenly stopped dead. Bond looked up in surprise to see a blade stuck through Alvey. Blood dripped off the front of the blade and Alvey stared stupidly down at it. He then turned around, ripping it from the grasp of Donnington Speen.
"Speen," hissed Alvey. "You are dead."
"You first, old boy, you first," said Speen, dabbing blood from his chin where Bond had punched him. "Bond, what say you and I put our little altercation on hold until we turn this chap into worm food?"
"Agreed." Bond got to his feet and stood facing Alvey.
Speen punched at Alvey, his artificial arm greatly increasing his strength and sending Alvey flying through a rose bush and landing upside down in a rock garden. Speen and Bond ran through the sodden turf towards their target. Lightning flashed in the background casting the garden into stark relief.
"I hold him down, you strangle him," said Speen.
"I don't think that will work."
"Have you shot him?"
"Frequently."
"Stabbed him?"
"Well, you tried that."
"Cheese wire?"
"Left it in my other suit," said Bond. "Have you tried burning him?"
"Thermal grenades, old boy," said Speen. He shook his head morosely. "Didn't work either. Why don't we hit him on the head, you know there is a nerve centre in…"
"Just tried that."
"Poison?" queried Speen.
"What, we invite him out for a meal and then poison it?"
"It worked when I killed President Stanovich of the Freitezstan Republic."
"There isn't a Freitezstan Republic!"
"Not any more!" said Donnington wolfishly.
"What is it with people today? Why don't they just lie down and die?"
"I know," said Speen as they caught up with Alvey. "It is a fearful bore. You know, in my day you just shot someone twice in the chest and that was it, job done. Back home in time for tea and cakes." Alvey threw a granite boulder at Bond, he rolled to avoid it and came up in front of Alvey. Bond kicked him in the crotch, sending him howling in pain down into the begonias.
Speen picked up a rock and used it to smash at Alvey. Alvey ducked and grabbed Speen by one foot; he sent him spinning and sliding across the garden.
Donnington slid to a halt by a garden light. He grinned to himself. "Bond, get over here man!"
Bond kicked at Alvey and ran towards Speen. The water splashed at each footfall.
Alvey leapt fifteen feet over the head of the British agent and sent a fist whistling towards him. Bond ducked and grabbed one of Alvey's feet to make him lose his balance and followed it with a kick in the stomach.
He then carried on running towards Speen, who was busy levering one of the lights out of the rockery. Alvey made a grab at him but he missed and jumped towards Speen. Speen ripped the sparking cables out of the ground and connected them to Alvey's chest.
There was an agonised screaming sound from Alvey and he collapsed smoking to the ground, small flames erupting down his leg where the electricity grounded itself.
The rain made Alvey's clothes hiss and steam as they went out.
Speen ripped out a small tree with his artificial arm and pushed Alvey off the cable.
"Is he dead?" said Bond.
"We'll see," said Speen. "Hopefully that electricity will have killed off the nano-droids."
They eyed him suspiciously for another few seconds but still nothing. Cautiously Bond felt for a pulse. Nothing. He looked over at Speen who was shielding a small notebook from the rain and ticking a box in it.
"Thanks for the help with that one, Bond. That was worth ten thousand to me. I would give you half but I know the taxman would give you hell," he tutted to himself. "I should have asked for more but didn't know how much trouble he would be." He looked down the list. "Gosh, I really have my work cut out in this place." He drew out a small gun and pointed it at Bond. "Now then, where were we?"