A/N: Yet again, all fancharacters used (including my own) are credited back to their creators in the copies of the "Cry Wolf" chapters that are in my deviantArt gallery, as these chapters were uploaded there first. (If you don't know my dA username, it's Yoruhoshi.) R&R please!

Chapter 17: Of Men And Of Monsters

[Jeanette's POV:]

There was only one spot on the beach we could immediately tell was ideal for making berth, and Croc ran us ashore with such little grace I felt certain I would upheave my stomach all over the floorboards of our ferry. The sudden, jostling bounce of the vessel knocked me off-balance and I would have fallen, had I not been gripping a pipe overhead. The whole thing was incredibly amusing to Vic, who had been moping sourly in a corner after he came to. Clearly he wasn't about to let go of having been knocked out with a book any time soon.

That thought put me in mind of another, more dangerous individual that held the same grudge against me, and my entire body went cold. I had been able to keep Joker out of my thoughts for a time, but I couldn't forget what had happened at Arkham. It was the stuff of nightmares, and I had not rested easy since that day. The black wolf had appeared in my backyard a few more times, and its presence had given me some comfort, but that had done very little for my abused sleep patterns. Truthfully, I had become paranoid, terrified, caged by my own fear.

"Come on," Croc's voice brought me sharply out of my own pondering, and I blinked, surprised to see him offering me a webbed hand.

"I beg your pardon?" I said, tentatively following him to the edge railing.

"Hop on mah back, chere, and we'll jump down." He explained, and I caught Sam leaping onto the beach out of the corner of my eye. My mouth twisted in a mirthless way as I grabbed Killer Croc's hand and shakily clambered onto his back with all the grace and coordination of a drunk chimpanzee. I was uncertain how the reptilian man would respond, but I was entertaining the fantasy of telling the Joker that the Killer Croc was one of my friends in bizarre places. What would the Clown Prince of Crime think then?

"Yah alright, Miss Harker?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Croc. Simply musing about what it must be like to be dangerous."

His scaly head twisted on his shoulders, and a half-lidded yellow eye gave me a flat stare.

"Y'all crazy." He remarked coolly before launching off his feet and into the air. My stomach made a brief visit to the location of my throat, then was abruptly slammed back into its proper spot on impact with the ground, and I bounced slightly as Croc landed. A few soft thumps behind us indicated Vic and Freddie were right behind us, and I slid off Croc's back, relieved when my feet touched the sand.

"Land!" I exhaled, "Beautiful solid land! Oh, I'll never take you for granted again!"

"Hmph. She's too soft for this mission, Boss Croc," Vic snorted, "She doesn't have sea legs, even."

"Vic," Croc replied, "Shuddup."

I tossed him a smug grin and wobbly followed the reptilian rogue as he began trekking up the shore and further inland. After a moment's pause, the three stooges followed behind me, armed and wary as the beach led up and into a dense, lush forest. Soft, low animal noises soon reached my ears as we blazed a trail through dense scrub and underbrush, and a flickering of the dim moonlight indicated clouds moving overhead. For all it was far from silent, there was a strangely calm sense in this island forest, the sort of peaceful stillness I could expect from a wildlife sanctuary. Of course, my romanticized view of the place wasn't shared by the henchmen, who I caught glimpses of when they crashed around loudly, either swatting at bugs or jumping at imagined threats.

"Y'all make more ruckus than a 'gator at Mardi Gras," Croc growled at one point, "Pipe down!"

"S-sorry, sir!" Freddie answered, swallowing nervously, his gun rattling as he shook violently with fear. "Th-this p-place really g-gives me the creeps."

"Don't worry, boys," he responded a tad gentler, "Ya ain't got a thang to worry 'bout so long as ya stay with me."

Like children they formed a chain, each grabbing a fistful of one anothers' shirts, save for Sam, who respectfully kept his hands off my person. He did, however, keep right on my heels the entire time, and I had to pick up the pace to avoid being trodden on. Croc looked over his shoulder at us once or twice, and muttered something about ducklings in a row. I refrained from commenting. The trail he cleared took us right toward the heart of the island, and soon, the further inward we went, the more we found signs the place was inhabited, such as signposts directing toward a main trail and a couple of bridges at random intervals. The three stooges made an attempt to get on the main path, but Croc lifted his head and sniffed like a hound before leading us in a completely different direction.

"But boss!" Vic protested. "The main trail-"

"Use ya head!" He snapped. "That path probably's gotta buncha hidden cameras watchin' it. 'Sides, I'm pickin' up a whiff o' fumes. Smells like a jet exhaust engine. We goin' this way."

I looked at him in surprise; I had been ready to agree with the point of cameras monitoring the path, but I could not smell anything remotely like exhaust fumes. How sharp were his saurian senses? After a second of wondering, I quickened my pace to keep level with him.

"Mr. Croc-"

"Waylon." He mumbled.

"Waylon?" I echoed, puzzled.

"'S'my name." He whispered. "Real one, anyway. Don't think you can go usin' it right now; I'd just like ya t'know."

"R-right then," I said, taken aback by this strange admission, "You said you can smell the exhaust fumes of a jet?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a low nod, "Been off for a while, but the fumes got a way of lingerin'."

"And why are we heading towards the fumes?"

"If they's a jet, we might find us a hidden entrance, chere."

I let out a low whistle. "Color me impressed, Croc." I said, tossing him what I hoped was a look of approval. He responded by shooting back a grin. The trees started to thin out before long and after a handful of minutes, I spotted a glint of metal in the moonlight ahead. Even from a distance, it was difficult to mistake; Croc had found the jet. We picked up the pace, coming to an end of the trees to a space that had been cleared as a landing strip for just such a plane. The three henchmen immediately broke into whispering, and Croc made some remark as he began to stalk toward the jet's nose, but a logo on the side of the plane caught my eye. The initials "DBI" meant nothing to me, but the name of "Pendragon" printed in large blue letters certainly did.

My mind began to reel at the implication, and I had address my newfound rogue friend to make sure I wasn't finally losing my mind.

"Croc? Do you know who owns this plane?"

He paused in mid-stride, blinked, and scanned the logo before scowling. I felt my heart leap into my throat. Not Lancelot Pendragon. Surely not him! He was so handsome, so charming and kind...surely he couldn't be involved in having kidnapped a woman and brought her here...?

"Yeah," Waylon remarked finally with an irritated grunt, "Lance Pendragon. Nice guy; he was able t' help Eva out last week when she was in bad shape. But the guy that owns this island got Lance undeh his boot. Tried blackmailin' him and Eva, both. Looks like he's makin' good on it, too."

I swallowed hard over a lump I hadn't realized had formed in my throat, clenched my hands, and tried to consider the matter and hand and where it was leading. This Eva had been kidnapped or brought here, and apparently she wasn't the only one. Lance Pendragon was also being blackmailed by the same man responsible for all this. Suddenly a horrible thought occurred to me. Had Mr. Pendragon known Eva was a werewolf? Had he met her prior? Was that why he had reacted so vehemently to my reading those werewolf novels, and the rest he had said was merely a cover-up, to throw me off?

I wanted some answers.

"Looks like everything around here's clear, Boss Croc." Sam declared as he, Vic and Freddie returned from a quick sweep around the perimeter of the jet.

"Nice work, boys." He gave them an approving, toothy grin. "This way."

I worked my jaw slowly, bringing up the rear behind the men, considering what to do...

The inside of the tunnel we found felt cold, cramped, and it set all our nerves on complete edge. While I cannot recall ever indulging in certain horror novels, I remain positive to this day that tunnel could have very well been the inspirational setting for many a thriller novel. Or else, it was deliberately based upon such writings so as to discourage the curious and thoughtless from foolishly venturing deeper within.

The notion did not bolster my faith in our little rag-tag team in the slightest. The tunnel was short enough, but it ended in a towering wall, with a single, small door off to the west wall, cut deep into the earth of the island. One by one we squeezed inside, and began to make our way through a confusing maze of halls, seeking out any sign of a main room, or at least some place with a higher ceiling; Croc did not take well to barely having elbow room. To make matters worse, the moment we opened a set of double doors under a sign labeled "Enclosure Sector 8," a high-pitched, tinny ringing started up somewhere further off, and it grew irksome quickly.

"Agh, we set off the alarm system!" Freddie grumbled, wincing against the noise. Croc grunted in response; after all, there was little to be done for it now. The enclosure seemed to encase more jungle area that had been cleared out to a degree, and was full of crumbling, half-built structures that you might expect to see in South American ruins. A sudden, strong smell filled my nose, and I didn't require super-human senses to recognize it.

"Oh, sweet Hemingway!" I croaked, hand flying up to cover my lower face. "Cats!"

"Ugh..." Vic groaned, pinching his own nose, "Smells like someone's not cleaned the litterbox in about ten years."

We spent several minutes wandering the enclosure, trying to locate a different exit, the shrill alarm still ringing somewhere in the distance. Sam finally found the exit on the farthest end of the enclosure, hidden in a small corner. But as we made our way toward it, we were met with a less-than-pleasant surprise, and I had to bite down on a scream.

There was a figure, not quite a man, but more than an ape, guarding the door, and he was hefting a long-barreled shotgun in his hands, preparing to aim for any of us.

"Oh, no ya don't," the ape-man grunted in barely discernible English, "You ain't goin' nowhere. The Doc ain't gunna be real friendly to a buncha trespassers."

Good lord, his grammar was appalling to the point I was having waking nightmares.

"You thank that li'l BB gun is goin' to scare us?" Croc snorted, leaning forward, probably preparing to charge.

"I think 'nuff tranquilizer darts'll drop yuh." The ape-man said confidently. "Unless you come with me t' the Doc's lab nice an' quiet."

A low, dangerous growl built in Croc's throat, and my mind raced as I seized his forearm to get his attention.

"Maybe we should do as he says," I whispered, "We might have a better chance of finding your friend."

His yellow eyes flicked to me briefly, and slowly his growl died away as he straightened his posture, glaring at the ape-man with distaste. Reluctantly, he held up his hands to show his surrender, and with a good deal of griping, his three men stowed away their guns and followed suit. I was half-expecting the ape-man to force them to drop all their weapons, but he wasn't showing himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, and merely ushered us under the threat of the tranquilizer gun out of the enclosure, and led us deeper into the heart of the huge building. We passed through two more major hallways before he indicated a door and ordered us to halt. He shuffled along, keeping a wary eye turned on us all before he opened the door and pushed it inward, grunting in a way to show we were to step inside.

"Found 'em, Doc." He announced in a half-growl.

The room seemed to be a low-ceilinged hallway between several small enclosures, the sort that belonged in a zoo. To the right, in a sparse, grassy area behind thick glass walls, were two men. One of them, a taller man with a shapely, almost-feminine chin and long, wavy blonde hair pulled back in a horsetail, was unfamiliar, but his companion wasn't. It took me only the briefest of glances to recognize the filthy, unwashed young man with the black-and-white checkerboard patterns in his hair and clothes. He was the fellow Lancelot Pendragon had sent to the library to deliver me flowers! What was his name? Rook?

A strangled, heart-broken noise from the left enclosure drew my attention and my breath caught in my throat. There stood a disheveled, pale-faced Lancelot Pendragon, accompanied by a shorter woman in torn, tattered street clothes with long, wild brown hair and bright, furious eyes. I wasn't certain I could put my finger on how it all fit together, but she looked absolutely feral. Of course, if she was Croc's werewolf friend, that was fitting.

"Ahh, well done, Garth. Now if you please, do leave us alone."

The smooth, elegant English-accented voice came from the older man in the room, standing perfectly between the opposite glass walls of the different enclosures. He was roughly Lance's height, with graying red hair and a weathered face that had something of a feline tilt to the angular wrinkles time had carved into his features. A long, thin cane was dangling from the crook of his folded arms, but despite this, he stood straight and tall, and radiated authority.

"B-but-" The ape-man stuttered in protest, throwing a significant look in Croc's direction, but the Englishman silenced him him with a calm, even look.

"You worry too much, Garth." He said smoothly. "But very well; if you're so anxious about my well-being, you may stay. But keep away for the time being. You have a way of putting off my guests."

"Kidnappin' is off-puttin' enough as it is." Croc snarled, his entire body tensing as he whipped about to look at the wild woman in the enclosure with Lance. "Eva..."

"Ahh, yes, Mr. Waylon Jones," the Englishman drawled, a cold smile creeping over his features, ignoring the reptilian sneer, "I haven't forgotten that you were initially against Miss Eva's coming here for further treatments against her silver poisoning, let alone joining her that I could...get to know you better."

"Whadd've ya been doin' to her?" He demanded.

"Hardly anything, yet." The scientist replied calmly. "In fact, your arrival here has prevented my beginning the experiment."

I shifted uneasily, glancing at the furious werewolf woman behind the glass, her bright yellow wolf eyes darting around at us all. My suspicions were beginning to creep up on me again. If Mr. Pendragon was in there with her...

"What experiment?" Croc growled. Luckily, the Englishman's voice seemed to be hypnotic enough that everyone was focused on him, and he was focused on my saurian acquaintance. I took the opportunity and snuck closer to Freddie, carefully reaching out toward the holster on his belt.

"Breeding, of course!" The man spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Breeding?!" Rook suddenly spoke up from behind the glass of his enclosure, and his voice held a note of shocked horror. I also froze, listening to him. "That's what all this bullshit has been about? Dorian, you're insane!"

The man's name was Dorian? I barely registered it, following multiple gazes back to where Lance and Eva stood on the other side of a wall of glass, both looking equally outraged and disgusted. A revelation I didn't want to believe was taking place in my head, the very one I'd been trying for the past several minutes to avoid thinking about. If my hunch was right, then Lance...Lance was...

"BREEDIN'?!" Croc roared, flinching back for a second before making a wild lunge for Doctor Dorian. "I'LL KILL YA!"

A shot was fired, and something bit into the floor in front of him, stopping him short.

"You try t' hurt the Doc again, I'm shootin' at yer head." Garth declared simply, giving the barrel of his tranquilizer gun a fond pat. Croc growled at him and stepped back with what appeared to be a great deal of effort. Dorian, for his part, seemed completely unfazed.

"Of course," he said brightly, "This sort of opportunity is one that many respected individuals in my field of biogenetic research would kill to have. Can you imagine if a genetically engineered werewolf can mate with a wild, fully-bred true werewolf?" He turned and glanced at Eva as though he was hoping to placate her with his smile and honey-coated suggestions. "The population of your species would soar again, my dear. The North American werewolves would no longer be dwindling, let alone endangered. Through successfully mating with Lancelot, you will contribute a greater work to your entire race than many war heroes have done for entire countries."

That was it. I couldn't take it any more.

I moved, barely stopping to think about what I was doing, and I surged forward past Croc and seized Dorian by his shirt collar, cutting off whatever he was saying.

"You! You're a great, beastly coward of a man, forcing your will and god-complex on those less fortunate simply because no one objects to a word you say!" I snarled. His eyes opened wide, and for a moment, I wondered if anyone had ever stood up to him before. But witnessing all this, the way that everyone seemed to just completely clam up when he began talking, how was it not the case? "Well sir, I object. I will not tolerate this ghastly experiment of yours!"

I lifted it then, the gun I had swiped from Freddie, and he let out a delayed yelp of shock when he realized what I was holding. The weight felt cold and utterly wrong in my hand. Never in my life have I ever even wanted to touch a gun.

But...I had to do something.

Mind racing, I recalled my cousin. Catriona had made me sit through countless episodes of Xena, because she absolutely idolized the warrior princess. I was nothing like Xena...but that didn't mean I was unable to learn a trick or two from her.

I pushed the gun to Dorian's temple, and forced my arms to keep from shaking with the terror I felt. My heart was hammering in my chest, probably breaking some record of beats per minute, and my body started to break out in a cold sweat. Was I actually going to do this? One mistake and my life would be utterly changed for the worst forever.

I just prayed I was better at bluffing than I thought.

"Now." My voice, much to my relief, came out sounding much more calm and collected than I felt. "You will release Mr. Pendragon, Mr. Greene, and Miss Eva into our custody. You will not pull any tricks on us or manipulate the circumstances of their release in any way that works to your advantage. There are to be no strings attached in any way."

"Surely you're joking, my dear." Dorian laughed, but something flickered in his eyes, and I had to fight to keep my features even. I was gaining the upper hand, and he was starting to panic, to give into his fear. I decided to try to push my bluff a bit further.

"Having come to know the sort of man you are, Dorian," I replied as calmly as I could manage, "I consider you less than human. And trust me, that means I have no qualms about pulling this trigger. Killing a worm is not the same as killing a man."

Dorian fell silent, staring at me in silence for a long moment that stretched on and on, until the tension in the air was as thick as swamp water. And then, to the side, I caught something Eva was saying in a tone of questioning doubt.

"I thought you said this woman of yours was a librarian."

I heard Lance sigh in response. "She is."

I fought to keep my rage in check. So I was 'his woman' now, was I? And yet he could not even bother to mention the fact he was a werewolf?

No, no. I had to concentrate! I couldn't allow myself to waver for a moment. I raised my eyebrows at Dorian.

"So..." I asked, "What is it going to be?"