Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. All reviews welcome!

Chapter Two - Batman – Time of the Wolf

Batman slapped the chainsaw back with his hand, his hand was swift and sure, and more to the point with the same number of fingers he started off with. He sent another hand into the throat of the man and simultaneously kicked him in the stomach. The man dropped the blood-soaked chainsaw, which fell with a clatter and a roar onto the ground. Batman kicked the chainsaw into pieces and turned to face his foe, who he saw was running for the stairs.

He threw the batarang at the back of his head and to his astonishment it bounced off his head and the man did not stop running one iota. He cursed to himself and ran after him.

At least he was disarmed now. Batman ran up the stairs, leaping up four stairs at a time. This guy was fast. He somehow seemed to be faster running up the stairs. He passed a yellow slightly curling sign saying "Authorised Personnel Only" and realised he had chased the man onto the roof.

He controlled his breathing and looked around him. The rain was lancing into his eyes threatening his night vision. The full moon gave the roof a strange ethereal glow. Dark shadows cast part of the roof into blackness.

Concentrate.

As silently as a shadow he stalked towards an air conditioning unit. The thud thud thud sound of the unit permeated his hearing, stopping him hearing what was around him. Next to the unit was dry since the rain had not swept into it and there was a footprint.

He was close,

Very close.

A shape leapt out of the shadows next to him. Batman flicked his wrist to send a batarang whirling towards where the head should be. It didn't slow him down. The air was pushed out of Batman's lungs as he was thrown towards a water tank on the roof. He spun in midair to control his flight and kicked back to send himself hurtling back towards his foe.

He was gratified by the look of shock on the man's face as he crashed into him. He sent two punches into his stomach and one to his jaw. A combination that should knock him out.

Nothing. He was grabbed by the cloak and thrown towards the edge of the roof. Batman grabbed the handrail and spun around it, sending a two-footed kick into his assailant's stomach. Somehow the man seemed to change shape and he lashed out at Batman.

Claws ripped into his cloak and for a second Batman saw a mouth that was a gaping mass of incisors. Then it changed back to what it was.

It couldn't be, could it?

Not again?

The man was incredibly strong and he picked up Batman and carried him to the edge of the building. Batman wrapped his arms around his assailant and got a lock on him to push him back towards the centre of the roof. Somehow he found his force working against himself and he was forcefully thrown off the roof and into the blackness of the streets so far below…

Not a problem. He reached to his belt to get a grappling hook and he sent it flying through the air to land in the only place it could. He swung down to the streets below and landed with barely a splash in a huge puddle that had formed in the broken road. He attached the line to a small motor on his belt and was whisked swiftly back up to the roof.

On another roof a clear thirty feet away he could see a black shape loping away. It leapt again onto another roof and was lost in the gloom of Gotham.

He cursed quietly to himself and leapt off the roof again, slowing down his descent at the last second. Robin was waiting for him.

"Where is he?"

"Gone," said Batman. "As are we. We need to get back to the cave, now."

"Do you know who that was?"

Batman stopped and looked at him. "I think so; I thought he was dead, to be honest. I first met him when I was about your age…"


Lou Buckler wiped his forehead and stopped dancing. The Salsa dance teacher, a pretty blonde girl, said, "Right, well done everyone! You're all coming along marvellously. We've got ten minutes of music before the advanced class so if you feel like carrying on dancing feel free."

Lou was feeling on top of the world, his dancing was coming along well. He walked up to one of the girls in the class. "Do you fancy a dance?"

She gave him a pitying look. "I don't dance with ugly men."

"Well, we both have something in common then. Do you want a drink before the dance?"

"What part of no do you not get, loser?"

"Your poor parents, I bet you were a bundle of laughs when you were a kid!"

"What are you talking about? Are you insulting me?"

"I doubt you would recognise if I were!" He danced a quick side step in front of her. "Shall we?"

"Oh, why not then. This doesn't mean I fancy you or anything." She poked him in his ample stomach with one finger.

"Thank god," he muttered under his breath. "I'm having trouble with my single right turn."

"That's because I'm meant to turn, not you. You're the man."

"That explains it. Is it me or is it drafty in here?"

"Someone's left the door open," she said, leaning over. Screaming started erupting around the dance floor as a huge wolf stalked in.

"Oh no, not again," said Lou and started running towards the end of the dance floor. In seconds the wolf had reached him and started ripping into him with his teeth.


The car purred through the early evening traffic, effortlessly passing a Ford GTX1 Roadster, the Batmobile's engine hardly turning over. For a few seconds the driver of the Roadster tried to keep up, its engine reaching a high pitched whining sound before he gave up. Blue lights behind him saw the roadster being pulled in for speeding.

"So how do you know him?"

"I told you, I met him when I was about your age, but it can't be him. It just can't be." Batman pressed a button on his dashboard. "Alfred, this is Batman. Can you trace Lou Buckler and Adrian Thornberry for me? Also look up Alec Slade while you're there."

"The first two are your old school acquaintances, are they not? Alec Slade, now there's a tempest from the past."

"Yes."

"It pains me that you have lost touch with so many of your old acquaintances, sir."

"You know, Alfred, we all move on; get different interests, don't have the same hobbies any more."

There was the sound of some clicking and muttering from Alfred's side. "I have some sad news to impart, sir. I'm afraid that both Lou Buckler and Adrian Thornberry have had an untimely demise, both this evening curiously enough. I can not trace Mr Slade, but that is no real surprise, sir, I would have to try some other databases for that."

Batman clenched the wheel of his car, nearly making a mark in the moulded plastic. "How did they die?"

"Apparently they have been ripped apart by some sort of creature…" There was the sound of clicking. "I'm just checking the local zoos to see if there are dangerous animals…"

"Don't bother, Alfred. It's back again. If it's been hunting down Buckler and Thornberry it might go after me as well. Where are you?"

"In the cave, sir. I've taken the liberty of unplugging your printer and putting in a kettle. It really does lack some of the basic niceties of…"

"Lock the door to the upstairs. You might be getting a visitor soon."

"Dear lord."

"Stay in the light, we'll be back as soon as we can." He pressed the accelerator and the car shot off into the night…


Alfred cupped the tea in one hand and sipped it. He shivered a bit. This wretched cave was draughty, damp and cold. It really was not the place to have an office. He had a small plate of biscuits next to him and he nibbled at a shortcake biscuit and sipped some more tea.

There was a rustling sound behind him.

He whipped around but could see nothing from the depths of the cave. Stay in the light, what ridiculous advice. If it really were hunting him he would need more than a 40-watt bulb to protect him. He carried on looking in the database. Alec Slade. Alec Slade.

He had checked the CIA, Mossad, MI6 and Interpol's records but found nothing there on him. To be honest, he had not really expected to find any records, Slade was too careful for that. He had found two references to him, both with regards to a series of killings on the Siberian/China border.

However it was a tenuous link at best and from the little he knew of the man he would have no reason to be in that area. He should have no reason to be living and breathing, to be honest. He might try the dramatically named Oracle. He pressed a communicator button.

"Oracle my dear, this is Alfred. I trust you are keeping well?"

The communicator crackled to life. "Alfred, I thought you'd been quiet tonight. He's got you working as well, has he?"

"A normal night, Oracle, a normal night."

"Are you trying out that herbal tea I recommended? It's good for rheumatism."

Alfred shuddered. The tea had smelt like it had been swept off the floor at the monkey house. He had quietly thrown it away. "I'm drinking tea now, it really is wonderful."

"Well, I hope it works for you. What can I help you with?"

"Alec Slade."

"Alec Slade. I assume you have Googled him?"

He chuckled to himself. The advent of the Internet had helped the searches they carried out, that was for sure. "First thing I did. I have tried all the normal channels."

"I doubt I will have any other success, but I will look for you…"

There was a rustling sound behind him and he looked behind him again. Getting twitchy at his age. Ridiculous. He pressed a button under the desk and the cave was lit by huge floodlights. The roof was a moving mass of bats that twitched, screeched and flapped about in the unaccustomed light.

Stay in the light.

Suddenly the advice seemed sound.


The head of the CIA was his normal irritable self. He started off at 5:30 everyday and worked through till ten at night. He was normally a real workhorse; he thrived on long days and longer weekends. The report had been sent to Langley not ten minutes ago and now he was reading it. He pressed a button on his desk.

"Marjorie, you got any of those headache tablets?"

"I'll bring some in now, sir."

"And a glass of water."

His head was throbbing. Too much caffeine and not enough sleep was what his doctor told him, not that that helped him now. Damn doctors. Easy for them to say. They didn't have the security of the country to deal with.

His door slid open and Marjorie walked in with a glass of water and some tablets. "There you are, sir. I was wondering if I could head off now, sir."

He looked at his watch with surprise. It was only 9pm.

"It's just I haven't spoken to my children the past three days."

"Of course, you go. You couldn't e-mail me the number of Bob Mueller, the head of the FBI, on your way out could you? I've reorganised my mailbox and now I can't find a blamed thing."

"Of course, sir."

Internal security was the FBI's field, not the CIA's. They had no internal police powers, damn it. He hated having to kow tow to the FBI.

The computer bleeped as it received an e-mail. "Thanks Marjorie," he shouted to the door. "Have a good night."

He quickly dialled the number. "Hi Bob, its Porter here. You're not heading home are you? No? Good." He clicked on a document on his screen. "I've got a report here that makes interesting reading. Were you ever involved in that case involving Ciardarn Killach fifteen years ago, or was he using the name Alec Slade at the time?" He chuckled at the expletives from the other end of the phone. "Yeah, him. I was just a junior agent at the time. Weren't you Special Agent in Charge of the Gotham field office at the time? That whole incident was handled badly from start to finish. No offence to you, it wasn't your call. The only good thing that came out of it is that most of the people involved are six feet under, most of them in more pieces than they started off with, that's for damn sure. Anyway it looks like our friend has surfaced in Gotham again; I think you should alert the GPD, we'll need more bodies on the street before we start getting more bodies on the street. If it's right, it's really going to be hitting the fan over there and I don't want to be anywhere near it. We'll talk tomorrow. Say hello to your lovely wife from me. Bye."

He thrummed his fingers against the desk whilst he thought. He dropped one of the headache tablets into the glass and watched it dissolve and hiss into the water. What to do? What to do? If Alec Slade was really back, and this report seemed to verify that, then he needed to be liquidated and fast, he knew too much. The problem was they didn't have police jurisdiction internally.

What the hell? He just wouldn't tell the White House and if the Senate asked he would lie. By the time anyone found out the truth he would long since have retired. That was a mess he did not want to be in any way implicated in, but with a bit of luck he would be living out his last years on a tropical island before anyone found out.


The tall man leapt off the roof of the building and onto a fire escape. With a series of easy leaps he made it to the alleyway. He landed in a pile of a black sacks that oozed rubbish and a foul stench onto the street. A black cat hissed at him and ran into a doorway to study him with cold green eyes.

He winced as he held onto his ribs. That masked man had a hell of a punch on him. If he didn't know better he would say he wasn't human, he certainly had the look of the devil in him. He'd lost his chain saw as well. Well, this was Gotham, he could always pick up another weapon he was sure of that, but not one of his own special specifications.

He looked in his pocket for a list of names. Lou Buckler, Adrian Thornberry and Bruce Wayne. The first two were dead, that just left Bruce Wayne. He walked out of the alleyway and into the streets of Gotham. He winced when he saw the full moon above him.


The Batmobile leapt through the streets of Gotham. Out of town the cars got more and more sparse. The garish neon lights of a few street cafes pierced the air.

"So we're looking for a huge wolf-like beast then?"

"Yes." As Batman passed a side street he saw a gleam of eyes. In a screech of brakes he spun the car around so the headlights were facing the street.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Robin.

"There," said Batman, pointing. There, held in the headlights like a rabbit staring at a torch was a huge dog, looking like a hound of hell in the glare. "Stay in the car."

"Well, if you insist," said Robin rather too quickly, still staring at the beast.

With a hiss the door opened and Batman slowly got out. He quietly considered his tranquilliser darts. They had been tested on people but not on animals. He had even tested it on Alfred once. He stopped when Alfred threatened to stop cooking him his favourite meal. He'd been knocked out for six hours; it had been a nightmare. Bruce could use a saucepan as a weapon to knock out any number of thugs but he hadn't been trained to use it to cook pasta. When Alfred saw the state of the kitchen afterwards he nearly had to use another tranquilliser dart on him.

The problem was the sedative that was in effect a mild poison; in an animal it might be fatal.

The beast started growling at him.

How do you placate an angry dog? He knew any number of ways of knocking out a human. It was a big beast, that was for sure. He started to tie one of his lines into a lasso. If he could get it round its neck he could tie another cord round those fearsome fangs of its and get it under control.

"Easy, Fido," he growled at it.

There was a horrible snarling sound that sounded like this beast would be happier tearing a tiger to pieces than sitting here staring at Batman.

He tried changing his tone to a more honeyed voice. It didn't sound quite right coming from under his mask but he tried his best. He knew a bit about Pavlovian and Operant conditioning but somehow the words just disappeared into a mist when faced with this beast. "Sit down. Sit, there's a good dog."

With a fiendish skill he lassoed the dog and his muzzle and he wrapped an arm around his neck. The dog was growling loudly at him but he had muzzled it quite effectively.

This dog was wearing a collar…

"Is that our killer?" asked Robin, who had crept up behind him.

"Unlikely," said Batman reading the collar. "This dog is apparently called Fluffy. If lost, please return to 1232 Seventh Street." Somehow a big red tongue licked Batman's face through the makeshift muzzle he had put on it. It was a huge Doberman Pinscher and now he was up close to it, it seemed as soft as butter.

"We'd better get going…" said Robin.

"We can't just leave it here…" said Batman.

"It's not going to get mugged by a cat, is it? Let's go."

"We'll just drop it off first; it's on the way back." He looked down at the dog. It was staring up at him with adoring eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

"It's not sitting next to me."

"Where else is it going to go?" Batman pushed the dog into the car and sat down next to it.

"It's dribbling on me!"

"Don't encourage it."

"How do you encourage a dog to dribble?"

"Can you get its tail out of my face, I'm trying to drive!"

"It smells," said Robin.

"It's damp, of course it smells. It probably thinks you smell. We're nearly there."

A few seconds later they pulled up outside 1232 Seventh Street. "Come on, you stupid mutt," growled Batman. The dog snarled at him. "I mean come on, Fluffy."

"I'll stay in the car."

"Fine, won't be long." Returning a dog to its owner. That was the sort of thing Clark would do. He was always good at this sort of thing. The dog was growling at him again. "Come on, Fluffy." Dogs probably never growled at him either. I mean, Fluffy. What sort of owner calls his dog Fluffy? No wonder it was in a bad mood and escaped.

He got a surprised look from a little old lady in the corridor and a muttered comment of: "Not another one." He just glowered at her. He couldn't have this getting out. Ring the doorbell; hand over the dog. Easy as that.

He pressed the buzzer. Sounded like a party was going on in there. Great, he hated having to explain his costume.

The door creaked open, the sound of music blasted out into the corridor. A man in a tight black leather costume with chains on it opened the door. "You must be a friend of Gavin's. I don't know you but I love what you've done with the costume!"

"I'm just returning your dog," said Batman, handing over the lead.

"Oh, you found Fluffy; I don't know how to thank you!" The dog wagged his tail in enjoyment and started licking his face. "Oh sweetikins, wonderful to have you back again."

"I'm just off now…"

Another man appeared at the door. "Oh, are you the stripper? I love your costume; how do you peel off the chest plate? Do you have snaps in the back or do you use Velcro? You couldn't give us a twirl, could you, ducky?"

With as much dignity as he could muster Batman stalked back up the corridor. Some days he hated his job…

His communicator buzzed in his ear. "Sir, this is Alfred; Oracle has found out some information on Alec Slade…"


Fifteen years ago…

Pain lanced through Bruce's shoulder as he landed roughly on the floor of the cave. Up above him he could hear the sound of laughter.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Hey! Come back!" As things to shout it was not particularly original he would have to admit.

Now how the hell was he going to get out of here?

"At least leave me the torch!" he yelled. There was a swishing sound from above and something hit him in the stomach. "Ouch!" His fingers felt in the darkness for the torch and he clicked it on.

"Stay there Bruce!" said Thornberry. "We'll go and get something to help you climb up! Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"Well, yes you do actually."

"Get me the hell out of here!" He flashed the torch around the cave. A bit like the cave he had fallen into under Wayne Manor really. Well, not exactly, he would have to admit. The cave under Wayne Manor was a marvel of glistening lime stone stalagmites and stalactites. The very floor was nearly knee deep in bat guano and thousands of tiny skeletons of bats represented the hundreds of generations of bats that had lived there.

Here it had no bats. He flicked the torch up to the roof. Water dripped wetly onto his head and he felt a cold feeling down his spine as it trickled down. He shivered.

"Get help quickly," he said. "We've got to finish our report." Carson was an idiot. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be pushed down here. What a moron. When he got out of here he'd teach Carson a lesson.

What's that up there? He flicked off the torch and looked up at the roof. There was a filigree of cracks opening up. He could see the shapes of Carson, Thornberry and Buckler all crouched over the edge of the hole.

"Guys, the roof is not stable, you shouldn't stand up there!"

"Hey Wayne, it's stood for thousands of years, I don't think it'll collapse now." There was a rumbling sound as the roof collapsed sending all of the kids into the cave below in a welter of dust and debris.

Carson got to his feet and shook himself off. "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! This is all your fault, Wayne!"

"My fault? You pushed me down here, moron!"

"Woah guys, lets get it together here," said Thornberry. They had fallen about twenty feet into the cave. "How the hell did we get into this mess?"

"We're in so much trouble," said Buckler.

"The sides are smooth," said Bruce, looking at the cave. "The cave goes further back. Let's see if there's another way out."

"I'm not going that way, man," said Carson. "Haven't you seen the movies? We'll get picked off one by one by some slathering monster!"

"A monster?" said Buckler. "How old are you? Monsters don't exist. They're just something our moms say to make us eat our greens."

"Come on, we've got to get out of here."

"We don't know what's down here!" said Carson. His voice was starting to get slightly higher pitched.

"Do you know a better way to find out?" said Bruce, grinning slightly at this show of fear. "Don't tell me you're scared of the dark?"

"What? No! Course not. It's just that…"

"Just think of this torch as a night light…"

"Right."

Bruce clicked off the torch, flooding the cave with darkness. "Woahh!"

"Aaaaah!" yelled Carson.

Bruce clicked the torch back on again and put the light under his chin giving his features a demonic look. "Just kiddin' around. Come on guys, lets get out of here."

"What's this on the floor?" asked Bruce. There was a small square of card on the ground. Just like a business card really. He shone the torch on it. It just had a simple name on it. Alec Slade.

Strange. He threw it back on the cave floor. "Come on, let's get going."

"There could be anything down here!"

"The only thing down here is us," said Bruce. "All we've go to do is find a way out." There was a strange mournful howl that echoed and re-echoed through the cave. "I mean what could possibly go wrong?"

The tap, tap, tap sounds of their footfalls echoed and re-echoed throughout the cave. There was a steady drip, drip, drip of water that soon soaked them through.

"Where the hell are we going?" asked Carson.

"I don't know," said Bruce. "I didn't bring a map with me. Did you think of that before pushing me down here?"

"Huh! Huh! It was funny though, you gotta admit it."

Bruce stopped abruptly. "What's this?" In front of him was a breezeblock wall. It looked poorly constructed and seemed to seal off a large part of the cave. He flashed the torch over the wall; in one corner was a pile of breezeblocks, right next to a hole in the wall.

There was a whimpering sound coming from the other side of the wall. What could it be?

Nervously he shone the torch into the room. For a second a pair of eyes glowed at him from the far side of the room. Then he could make out a man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit who was chained by one arm to a huge metal ring through the concrete floor. The man was gaunt and emaciated. Several weeks' growth of beard clung to his pale face and what looked ominously like blood stains spattered the front of his clothes.

There was a clinking of chains as the man crawled towards him. It was then he realised that the man had somehow smashed his way through the wall but he hadn't been strong enough to break the chain. The chain round his neck was glistening a silver colour in the light of the torch; his neck was red and raw where the chain has been next to his skin.

There was a clinking sound and the man leapt towards him, his fangs exposed…