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

Chapter Twelve – Batman – Time of the Wolf

A cold feeling took Batman's heart.

"You're lying," he said and lowered the man a couple of inches closer to the crackling power lines.

"For god's sake no!" The man twitched and spun like a caught fish but his fear was obvious.

"No cure? I'll poison you myself!"

Batman grabbed the man by the throat and forced his mouth open. Fosco twitched in fear and then screamed as a few drops of liquid hit his tongue. "No! For god's sake no!"

Impassively the Batman stared at him.

Fosco started crying. "You don't know what you've done! You've killed me! Do you know what you've done?" He looked up at his blank-faced tormenter.

The Batman raised a hand. "You've just swallowed tetrachloric acid."

Fosco was a physical wreck, sobbing and crying.

"What will you do?" he hissed.

"There is nothing I can do! It always kills! Do you understand what you've done?"

"Where is the antidote?"

"Killed me! You've killed me!"

He did not know a cure.

"It's only water," said the Batman.

Fosco blinked back the tears. "Truly?"

Batman said nothing, pulled him up and detached him from the line. "You're going to explain this to the cops."

The Batman leapt head first from the top of the pylon, loosing a line at the last possible moment and Fosco screamed in fear as the ground approached.


A short while later five hugely heavy armoured trucks pulled up to the side of Gotham Hospital. Several ambulances shot past them on their way to a traffic accident in Gotham's east side. Despite their infamous visitor the normal humdrum life of the hospital continued.

These trucks were for a very special, albeit temporary, visitor the hospital had. The Joker had been treated there and was now being whisked back to Arkham.

The Joker and Harley had been bitten by a werewolf earlier in the day and his wounds had healed. This was not known though, and the staff of the hospital was just keen to get rid of the Joker.

Send him back to Arkham.

Where he belongs.

Hope one of the other animals in there will do what no one in the city has.

The staff there had seen too many victims of the Joker to waste any sympathy on the man.

The five trucks were there to leave at the same time just in case a rescue attempt was made. Cloud the issue; make life difficult for them. Despite his psychosis he had friends and allies who would do almost anything to free him.

Each truck had a swat team accompanying it and a police helicopter in the sky above it. They would all take different routes to the asylum.

The Joker disturbed and terrified all who came into contact with him. It was not just his sallow skin and rictus-like grin; it was his pure evil randomness. It was like dealing with a rabid dog; you just did not know if he would bite you or lick you. Neither of which were nice options.

"Oh goody, I'm leaving!" said the Joker as they bundled him into one of the huge armoured vans. Four huge guards were with him. They were all dressed in body armour and darkened helmets. It seemed incongruous for the tall thin man dressed in his trademark purple silk suit to be so pushed around by such men, until you realised what he represented.

Chaos.

Destruction.

Death on a scale that rivalled some diseases. And like some diseases, there was no cure.

"We couldn't swing by the comic store on the way out, could we? I've read all the magazines in Arkham."

"Get in there." A guard pushed him roughly into the back of the van.

"You'll be fun company! Can I sit in the front?"

"No."

"Can I? Can I, huh? Can I sit in the front? It's my turn!" The Joker jiggled up and down like a hyperactive toddler.

"No."

"I never sit in the front! You're mean! Let's have a car game!" He clapped his hands together and the chains that tied his wrists and feet together tinkled quite melodically. The Joker laughed at the sound and carried on clapping louder and louder, the chains rattling louder and louder. "I choose! My choice! My choice! What about 'guess the road kill'?"

"What?"

"I run someone or something over and you have to guess what it is!" The Joker put his hands under his chin and gave a heartfelt sigh. "I love that game! Can I play? Can I? Huh? Can I?"

There was a thumping sound on top of the van and the whole van shook slightly. Then a thin metal line wrapped round the Joker and lifted him up from the shocked grasp of the guards.

The guards raised their guns to the top of the van to see the Joker in the grip of the Batman.

"Batman, put the Joker down!" yelled one of the guards, his gun pointed at the dark figure.

"You heard the man, Bub! What are you doing, Batty?" He gave the Batman a cherubic look. "Missing me? Worried that someone else caught me instead of you? You must be missing your touch, bat boy!"

"What happened to you?" the Batman asked gruffly. His eyes were already scanning the bite marks in the Joker's clothes. "You were bitten." It wasn't so much a question as a statement. "Where were you bitten?" He then winced as he realised the opening he had left.

"On the shoulder, are you blind? Oh, you're a bat of course you are. What are you doing out in daylight, got the day off work stacking shelves?"

"Where's the man who bit you?"

"You're jealous!"

The Batman did not answer, just lifted him up from the roof of the truck with one hand, his eyes boring into the Joker's.

"I can tell you're jealous!"

He was wasting time here; he would get no information from him. Batman pushed him off the roof of the van and, using the cable, swung the Joker through the door where he landed with a painful thump on the floor of the van. With a flick of his wrist he detached the line he had wrapped around the Joker.

"Tell them in Arkham he's been bitten by a werewolf. The same as Harley."

"What?"

"Keep them out of the moonlight."

"Are you mad?"

"Do it or the next time you go driving it'll be in a hearse." With a swish of his cloak he was gone.

The guards looked in the darkness of the van. The Joker got to his feet with a clink of his chains. His eyes glittered dangerously in the gloom. "Stay out of the moonlight! I sound like a gremlin! Those little critters have nothing on me!"


Luthor was putting the finishing touches to his plan in the tunnels under Gotham. The astral plane containment fields were working well and a ghostly wolf was contained. The wolf disappeared and Slade appeared in his physical form.

"I will soon have mastery over the spirit world."

One of the technicians looked down in confusion at this.

"And this one."

"Ignore him," said Luthor. "Continue working."

One of the technicians looked at Slade. "Who are you?"

Slade's eyes glowed red for an instant and the technician turned back to his console.

"Don't look at him, he will try and confuse you, continue the work," said Luthor. The room was surrounded on all sides with armoured Team Luthor men and about a dozen technicians all busy configuring the containment fields.

For just a second the eyes of the technician who had spoken to Slade glowed red as he continued working.


Batman gently let himself through the window of the terminal ward. This was where the dying were kept to spend their last few hours. The last thing they would want to see was a black clad demonic figure. He would not stay long.

Some local volunteers and an old priest visited here every day, bringing fresh flowers, talking and reading stories to the patients and sometimes just sitting there. Just being there for some people in their last hours was just as important as talking to somebody. It was a given that no one ever died alone here.

There he was.

Alfred.

His face was sunken and old, his skin like parchment. It was something Batman had not noticed in the past few years. Alfred had always been there. Batman had been so consumed in his quest that he had given no real thought to him.

Had he had a childhood?

Of course he had. What had he wanted as a child? Had he ever wanted more than to be a servant? He must have had dreams and aspirations. And for it all to end here in a cold hospital bed, victim of poison…

By all accounts it should be Batman lying there, breathing his last. He reached down a black-gloved hand to Alfred's hand.

Sorry, old friend.

Sorry.

There was a hiss of shock behind him. He swished around to see a nurse standing there, her hand up to her mouth.

"Don't scream," he said huskily and raised a hand towards her. "This man has been poisoned." His hand opened up to show her a small vial of liquid. "This."

Wordlessly, just looking wide-eyed into his face, she raised a hand. Her hand seemed small and delicate compared with his. He dropped the vial in her open hand.

"I… I…" he stammered, "don't have a cure. No antidote."

She clutched the vial in her hand and started backing towards the door. "Please save him." The words sounded alien coming from a creature of the night like him. His voice cracked. "Please."

Not trusting himself to stay, he stalked to the window. He allowed himself one last glance back at the bed before launching himself out into the Gotham skyline.

If Alfred died the person responsible for this would pay.

And the manner of the payment would make the criminals of this world shake in fear.


Luthor was still in Gotham, that much Batman knew, and that meant something bad would happen. He quickly finished with the lathe in the Batcave.

He looked at the helmet he had made and sighed. It still had the trademark ears but it was designed so that no moonlight could get through the visor, it was purely one-way vision.

Would it work though?

Was moonlight the trigger for the transformation or was it something subtler?

He could not know until he went out. He was damned if he would spend the night in the cave whilst this was going on.

The computer speakers beeped rapidly for a few seconds. He had a call coming in.

He pressed a button to connect the call. The Oracle's features filled the screen.

"Anything?"

She looked away from the screen and shook her head once. "I've been through all the medical files and records for over thirty-five countries. I've even been through a lot of the alternative remedies." Her lip twitched slightly at this. "If you dance naked round Stonehenge at …"

"I don't care about me, I'm talking about Alfred!"

She sighed. "No, nothing for him either, I'm afraid. Every time someone has ingested tetrachloric acid, they die. I have found no possible cure for people being bitten by werewolves either, besides the death of the one who bit you, but that is just an old folk tale and I have found no evidence that it works."

Batman put on the helmet. It was shaped around his head and covered his face completely. He had adapted it from one of the Team Luthor helmets he had found and cannibalised.

"Very nice. Very Hell's Angels."

"There is one person who might be able to help."

"Who?"

"Slade."

"He might not want to help you though. The last time you met him as a teenager, you blew the building up with him inside."

"Can't take all the credit, it wasn't just me."

"Considering he has killed your other companions of the time he might not take kindly to you."

"If he'll help me, I've got something he wants."

"What?"

Batman stayed silent and put the helmet on. "Where was Luthor last seen?"

A screen flicked on in front of him, showing him a map of Gotham. A glowing red cross showed a location close to the Luthor research base.

"I've got Luthor's mobile number and I've been monitoring its location. From the signals it looks like they've caught Slade. I'm picking up some very strange energy readings from there."

"Then that's where Slade is."

Batman stood up; the Batmobile's lights flicked on as the turntable it was on span it around so it was facing the exit.

The masked man hit a communicator button as he roared down the slope in the heavily armoured car.

"R, this is B."

There was a few seconds static.

"R, this is B," he said again impatiently.

"Put that down, ugly," came Robin's voice. "No, not you, B. Yeah you, I'm talking to you. Put that down or I'll feed it to you."

"What?"

"Not you, B, not you. Didn't I make myself clear?" There were various swishing sounds and heavy thumps. "God, a face only a mother could love. Assuming she was blind, mad and preferably a warthog. No, not you, B!"

"I have placed a tracker on the Joker's van. They are taking Harley and the Joker to Arkham. If moonlight touches either of them they will turn into a werewolf. I have warned the guards but I would be happier if you were monitoring them. If he does change, report directly to me. Under no account do you engage him."

"What part of my fist did you not understand?" There were various punching sounds. "No, not you, B, not you. Standard frequency is it?"

"Yes."

"I'll be on it as soon as I put these boys down. Put that gun down, pal, I'm watching you." There was a whistling sound followed by a heavy thump. "What's with villains nowadays? They don't listen before and they can't afterwards!"

"Are you talking to me?"

"Yes. Silly question but shouldn't you be staying indoors as well?"

"Probably, but I can't stay in tonight, of all nights. It ends tonight, one way or another."


The occasional glimpses of moon flickered through the skudding clouds. In the more dangerous parts of Gotham residents hurried back to lock themselves behind steel doors and barred windows.

The van with the Joker in it was taking a different route to Arkham than the others. Since there were twelve vans, they were taking twelve different routes to confuse any escape attempts. Trying to avoid the other vans took it into a part of Gotham rather away from the normal tourist haunts. In fact the last tourist to visit here returned home in three separate boxes.

Sporadic gunfire erupted around them as they weaved through the streets. Potholes remained unfilled in this part of Gotham and garbage bins spilled out onto the street. Several rats scuttled out of the way of the van.

The lights of the van cut through the darkness, showing the gangland marks of two rival gangs, the Gotham bloods and the Crips.

The sound of laughing echoed through the van, even with the armour plating behind him and the bullet proof glass in front of him.

The guards behind him were hunched up, trying to ignore the mania that was washing over them. The Joker was chained to the side of the van and trying unsuccessfully to have a game of rock, paper, scissors. Although with his traditional warped view it was magma, guillotine, and chainsaw.

"Perform a u-turn where possible," the charming voice of the GPS system said. The little glowing screen of the GPS system showed a huge question mark and the words "back on track".

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled the driver. Trying to avoid the other vans was proving more difficult than he would have thought; twice they had encountered the others and twice they had gone off in the other direction. Their GPS system was now trying to get back on track to Arkham.

"Turn right here."

"No."

"Next right turn in 800 yards."

"I don't care."

"Turn right here."

He looked right and could see one of the other vans trundling towards him. "No."

"Perform a u-turn where possible."

"Bog off!"

"Perform a u-turn where possible." The melodic voice of the GPS system was at odds with the strained and angry voice of the driver.

"Next right turn 500 yards."

"Tell it to someone who cares."

"Turn right here."

"Okay, okay." He was getting fed up with the thing. He was entertaining visions of flushing it down the toilet.

This was an alleyway.

A narrow alleyway.

"Where have you taken me?"

"Perform a u-turn where possible."

"Why did you ask me to turn right here? How can I do a u-turn? The next u-turn you will see will be a u-bend." The alleyway could just about fit the van but it could not turn at all. He trundled slowly down the alleyway, the wing mirrors scraped down the side. Several bags of rubbish exploded their fetid contents about as he drove over them.

"You're playing 'guess the road kill'!" their purple clothed prisoner warbled.

The police escort was trying to keep up behind them.

"Perform a u-turn where possible."

This was getting stupid. He slammed the brakes on. The police car behind him started hooting its horn in an irate way. He hooted it back.

He clunked through the gears and found reverse and tried to drive the van back through the alleyway. There was a horrible scraping sound as the van got stuck. After some inventive swearing and clunking the gears back and forth he realised he was jammed in.

"Perform a u-turn where possible." He grabbed the GPS and gained no small pleasure by chucking it out the window and smashing it against the wall.

He pressed the communicator button. "Card carrier to base, I'm stuck here."

"We read you card carrier, stay there, the police will cordon the area off and another van will be along shortly."

"Err, by the way, the Batman said we have to keep the Joker out of the moonlight, he's apparently…"

"Just stay put, card carrier, the nearest van is one minute away."

He tried to open the door but the wall was too close, he couldn't get out. The guards opened the door at the back of the van and a beam of moonlight shone in.

"We gotta keep him out of…" one of the guards started. The Joker started laughing but it sounded more like a growl.