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.
Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Six
James Bond stumbled over a tree root and threw out his right hand for support from the tree. He missed, tripped again and fell over heavily. He lay there for a moment measuring the noise he must have made. It couldn't have been much, considering the noise the soldiers were making.
The rumbling from the tank was getting closer. The soldiers were keeping their distance and relying on the tank to run him to ground. They had been stung too many times by his gun.
A hundred yards away he could hear the river. Possible safety? Possible trap? Were they herding him towards it? Like a lamb to the slaughter? He was filthy dirty, the sweat running down his face carving rivulets through the mud and blood. His arm was giving him a dull ache where he had cut it on the glass escaping the helicopter. Blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage every time he used his arm.
He knew what they were doing. Leading him away from Blofeld. The mission; that was what counted here, not his tiredness, not his wounds. Batman would not do what was needed. Kill him. Blofeld was like a rabid dog, you don't arrest rabid dogs; you kill them and hope you don't get bitten.
God, he could do with a drink. A bourbon chaser would go down well, in Brown's, his favourite club. This was just another roll of the dice to him. He could already see the table set up for poker. Mary Goodnight sitting opposite him giving him her little smiles that said so little but promised so much.
Get up, you bloody fool. Concentrate! Concentrate!
He was suffering from shock. Or was it a breakdown? He'd seen it enough times to recognise the signs. Loss of blood. Stress. Dehydration. All he had to do was keep his mind and eyes in focus. A shadow appeared for just a fraction of a second in front of him and his gun kicked in his hand. The shadow fell back, the gun of the soldier clattering noisily against the tree. Bond's promise to Batman to not kill any soldiers had gone the moment they had started shooting at him.
"¡El está aquí¡El está aquí!" He's over here! He's over here! they shouted.
Damn.
The tank got closer.
Bloody hell.
Bond forced himself through the thick undergrowth, scratching himself on plants and getting tangled in webs.
The overwhelming smell of faeces and urine invaded his nostrils. He had reached the edge of a village. Damn, it was hidden well in the jungle. He hadn't even noticed it.
He was losing it. Losing it bad. He had stumbled straight into a village.
He had to get out. Quickly, otherwise they would trap him like a rat here.
The screams and shouts of villagers erupted around him as he ran through the wooden huts. Pigs and chickens snorted and snuffled about him as they tried to get away from being trodden underfoot.
God damn it! Get out the bloody way!
Soldiers burst into the village behind him. "¡Párelo¡Párelo!" they shouted. Stop him! Stop him!
He pushed a villager out of the way. One of the male villagers, a huge man, hacked at him with a machete. Several women were screaming shrilly around him.
Bond might have been exhausted but he learnt how to deal with this sort of threat in the first week of Intelligence training. He shoulder-charged the man to get under the swing and elbowed him in the throat. Another villager pointed a musket at him that must have come to South America with Cortez and the conquistadors.
Bond rolled and the musket ball whistled over him and threw out a big splinter from a hut door. Like a cornered animal, Bond leapt at the man and used his pistol to bludgeon the villager unconscious.
He snarled and swore like a rabid dog at the other villagers to get out of his way. The tank was crashing through the edge of the village turning their houses into so much matchwood.
"¡Párelo¡Párelo!" The soldiers ran towards him, their guns to their shoulders.
The back of his head seemed to explode and he crashed to the ground. His vision was lined with black dots and the last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was one of the women raising a stick to hit him again…
Alvey flew up higher and higher, Batman held in a vice-like grip. The air was getting thinner up here and condensation was forming on both of them. Batman's black cloak swept downwards, fluttering in the slipstream, almost like the Angel of Death had claimed Alvey and was carrying him to the afterlife. Bruce hadn't said a word to him.
Not one.
He was expecting him to at least plead for his life. Or his precious Gotham. Who would have believed that Bruce Wayne was Batman? I mean he had everything. Everything.
Money.
Power.
Family.
Everything that Alvey never had. Was never born with. Everything Alvey had ever craved. Why would he risk it all defending Gotham from the pyschos like the Joker and the Riddler?
Actually he didn't have family, did he?
Like Alvey didn't have family, he lost his to some petty thugs. Was that why he did that? To avenge his lost family? What did Alvey do to avenge his family?
He killed.
Did that make Alvey better than him? Or did it just make him another criminal?
He had killed Speen. Did that make him better than Bruce?
He didn't like where his thoughts were leading him. He thought of Marie, his wife, and Jack, his son. Cut down before he had lived. Would killing Bruce bring them back to him?
No.
Nothing would bring them back to him. Not even these nano-droids that infected him like a plague and gave him the power to exact his revenge.
He floated high above the earth, pondering what he was about to do. He was too far down the rocky road to turn back now. There was nothing now to turn back to…
"Goodbye Bruce. The last thing you will think of is that I'm better than you," said Alvey. He gave a small smile. "By the way, I thought bats could fly?"
He dropped Batman from 15,000 feet and watched as he plummeted to his death.
Thwip! Thwip!
Something wrapped around Alvey's ankle. He looked down from his god-like stance to see a cable wrapped round his ankle.
Batman!
He pulled the cable up so he and Batman were face to face. Batman punched at Alvey but it was like punching steel and just as painful.
"You just don't get it!" hissed Alvey. "I'm better than you!" He tried to punch Batman but the masked man dodged it and kicked away from Alvey, wrapping the cable round his neck and spinning around him, wrapping him in steel cable.
"Eeuurrrgghh!" Alvey gasped in shock as the cable wrapped round his neck and then had the full force of Batman pulling down on his neck. His vision went black for a few seconds. Despite his invulnerability and super strength he still needed to breathe occasionally.
They both plummeted from the sky with Batman still tied to Alvey. While they were falling Batman twisted acrobatically in the air and landed on Alvey. Before he had a chance to recover he put a small plastique charge in his mouth and pushed away, still holding on with the cable.
BANG!
The small charge exploded, stunning Alvey for a few seconds. They were still falling. Batman pondered his situation. It had not improved. Alvey would undoubtedly survive such a fall but he would not. He spun around to Alvey and attached one of the Hatter's mind control chips to his head.
Would it even work on such a being?
The circuitry in the chip surrounded his head with signals that altered his alpha brain waves. Batman had the controlling chip in his cowl.
"Induce trance and hover," said Batman, trying not to look at the jungle getting closer and closer.
Nothing.
"Induce trance and hover," he shouted.
Still nothing.
"Induce trance and hover, godammit!"
Bond awoke to a bucket of cold water being emptied over his head. He coughed and spluttered and tried to wipe his eyes, but then realised they were handcuffed painfully above his head. There was a bright light in front of him and he could see two silhouettes of men in front of him. He looked about himself to orientate himself. The floor was decaying concrete, full of cracks and little puddles of water and dark stains that he did not want to dwell too much on. He was attached to a hook in the ceiling. To his left he could see several manacles and what looked like bullet holes and splashes of blood. There were a few bits of graffiti daubed on the walls and a picture of a dove flying free of chains that looked like it had been painted in blood.
A regular holiday home.
Standard interrogation technique. Despite all the training he had, nothing could prepare you for being tied up, tortured and interrogated. There were two soldiers in front of him. Both of them in jungle uniform. One of them had a notepad and pen. In the corner of the room he could see a pile of his equipment and his gun.
One of the men pulled up a huge pair of rusty pliers and started clicking it slowly in front of Bond's face. "What is your name?" the man growled.
"Dick Van Dyke."
There was the sound of a pen on a notepad.
"Don't be stupid, that's not his name."
"But he said…"
"We know he is James Bond, this is called the opening gambit of an interrogation. We ask them easy questions they can answer, like name and favourite colour, and throw in one we really want like: where is Batman?"
"Oh right, sorry…" There was silence. "Should you have told him your plan?"
"I don't wish to be a bore here," said Bond. "But I am thirsty, could I have cup of tea?"
"Answer questions first, then tea."
"Okay, okay."
"What is your name?"
"James Bond."
"What is the American government doing about…"
"Woah, woah!" said Bond. "I've answered your question. Where's the tea?"
"Get him a tea…"
"We only have coffee."
"I've got some tea in my bag," said Bond, gesturing over with his head to where his equipment was piled up. "Third pouch on the belt."
"Don't be stupid, it's a trap," said the first soldier.
"But you said you would give him a tea if he answered your questions."
"It's just some tea," said Bond. "An Englishman abroad always takes tea with him. You just can't get proper tea outside the UK."
"He's right, you know," said the soldier with the pad. "My mother took me to London as a child and they have whole sections of a supermarket devoted to tea. I never knew there were so many different kinds. I did like Darjeeling when I was out there; do you like that, Mr Bond?"
"Well it depends," said Bond. "If you have a bit of time for it to brew I find Darjeeling very nice, but for preference I favour Ceylon for the afternoon. For breakfast you can't beat English Breakfast tea. It's a good strong way to kick-start the day."
"What tea have you here, Mr Bond?" asked the second soldier. He opened up the pouch and was immediately blown back by a stun grenade; his colleague was similarly knocked out by the blast.
Bond didn't have time to think of a quip, he was too busy looking at his handcuffs. First things first; get them out of the hook. That explosion would soon attract attention.
Bingo. He could hear the sound of running boots outside. He raised his feet to the ceiling until he was hanging upside down and grabbed hold of the chain with his boots. He raised his hands off the hook, still in the handcuffs and dropped none too gently to the ground.
A guard came running in the room. Bond rolled to his feet and punched him two-handed in the stomach and shoulder-charged him into the door, which crushed the next guard coming in.
He needed keys, and quickly. He checked the guards he knocked out with the stun grenade and found some keys on his belt.
Damn, his fingers would not function properly at the moment. His hands started tingling as the blood ran back to his hands. Another guard came running and Bond punching him two-handed on the chin, sending him flying back against the wall. Bond picked up the AK47 and started to edge round the cell door…
BANG!
The cell door slammed shut and a laugh started echoing around the chamber. Bond looked up to see some speakers and a small camera in the corner.
"Mr Bond, glad to see you are up and about. I'm just sorry to miss the tooth extraction, I've heard such good things about it."
"Blofeld," hissed Bond.
"Do not concern yourself for the guards you have knocked out, they will die for a higher cause."
From out of a tube in the ceiling water started pouring out. In seconds the water was round his ankles.
"Don't worry about drowning, Mr Bond." The water flow was interrupted for a second and then a huge flesh eating grub flolloped down into the water closely followed by a half a dozen others. "You won't be alive to drown…"