Batman vs. Predator: The Next Generation
by Carycomic
A "Batman/Predator/Star Trek:TNG" crossover.
Characters and Concepts: if you recognize them, I don't own or profit from them.
Note: the futuristic portions occur one year before STAR TREK: NEMESIS.
TOP OF THE MARK,
MARK HOPKINS HOTEL,
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
(DECEMBER 18, 2378)
"Captain! Over here."
Commander William Riker stood up from where he had been seated to wave his right arm in the air. Prompting Jean-Luc Picard to do likewise in smiling response. A minute later, both Starfleet officers were shaking hands and grinning like Cheshire cats.
"Thank you for joining me on such short notice, sir. Please, have a seat."
"Gladly. But, what was so urgent you had to call me all the way down from Drydock?"
Will delayed answering until he was eye-to-eye with his former commanding officer in their respective chairs.
"I'm going to ask Deanna to marry me. And, if she says 'yes,' I want you to be my best man."
Picard, for all his well-documented skill at oratory, was literally speechless for a whole minute. Then, his grin returned, seemingly twice as wide as before. And he began to laugh with shamelessly loud joy as he pounded Riker on both shoulders.
"You young pup! It's about time!"
Riker's grin returned, as well (even as he massaged his aching shoulders).
"Then, I can take that as a 'yes,' on your part?"
"Absolutely. I'd be honored! When are you going to pop the question?"
"When she gets back from visiting her sister's grave on Betazed. It's still somewhat awkward for her, learning she wasn't an only child, after all the years Lxwana kept it a secret. So, I figure this will cheer her up."
Picard nodded: "If it doesn't, I don't know what would. Assuming she says 'yes,' what date do you wish to set it for?"
"One year from now. About the same time Enterprise-E comes out of Drydock."
"And, just before your departure to take command of the U. S. S. Titan," Picard noted: "Sound tactical thinking."
Riker beamed with gratitude: "Then let's order some champagne and drink a toast!"
When the waiter brought over a bottle of champagne (bucket of ice and all), Picard personally smelled the cork before filling the two long-stemmed glasses.
"What shall we toast to first?" he asked his former first officer.
"How about 'old friends?'" the waiter suggested. . .in a strangely familiar voice.
Both men looked up, and became drop-jawed with astonishment when they recognized who was serving them.
"Wesley?!" they chorused in unison.
GOTHAM CITY, USA.
(TURN OF THE MILLENIUM)
It had started three week earlier, with a letter-to-the-editor of THE GOTHAM GAZETTE.
That letter had complained about all the organized crime in Gotham. Crime "allegedly" controlled by one Rupert Thorne. And, which the local police were ineffective in dealing with as half of them were controlled by Thorne, as well!
That letter had been signed: "Mad As A Hatter (And Not Going To Take It Anymore)."
Exactly one week later, in the middle of the night, a certain millinery store burned to the ground. In combing through the ruins, afterwards, the GCFD arson squad found a secret sub-basement. One that ultimately turned out to be used, during the day, as a sweat shop. . .
. . .manned by illegal immigrants.
The fact that the millinery store had been owned by one of Thorne's holding companies quickly made front page headlines. As did a similar arson fire, the following week. Only, this time, the targeted business had been an ice cream parlor. One that was ultimately revealed to have been putting real cocaine in their ice cream colas!
And, which (like the millinery store) had been secretly owned by Thorne.
The very next day, THE GOTHAM GAZETTE received another letter from "Mad As A Hatter." This one, not only claiming responsibility for both fires. But, also, threatening a more pro-active strike against another of Thorne's operations. Although, that target was naturally not specified. And, after the signature, there was a postscript which admonished Thorne to. . .
"Beware of the Mean Berets."
Alfred Pennyworth, reading that headline the next morning, could only "harrumph" in mild derision.
"Could there be any worse way to slander the good name of the U. S. Army Special Forces than to form a vigilante militia with a punning allusion to the former's own nickname?"
Bruce Wayne did not even try to pretend to half-smile.
"It's worse than that, Alfred. The millinery store and the ice cream parlor were two of Thorne's most profitable fronts. And the bulk of their dirty money was laundered through his nightclub-casino. If this Mad Hatter sticks to his weekly pattern, then it's the Paradise Casino that will be hit next!"
"Is there any way to ascertain that for sure, sir?"
Bruce Wayne nodded: "Robin and I will have to take turns staking it out."
Meanwhile, back in the twenty-fourth century, the two Starfleet veterans had finally gotten over their profound astonishment at seeing their former shipmate, Wesley Crusher, apparently working as a waiter
"Good Lord!" Picard was the first to exclaim: "The last time we saw or heard of you, you had become the Traveler's apprentice on Dorvan IV. So, what in blazes are you doing here?!"
"It's good to see you, again, Captain," Wesley replied: "You, too, Commander. And, congratulations, as well! But, I'm afraid this isn't a social reunion. The Traveler and I need your help. What for. . .can't be explained here."
Whereupon, Wesley put the bucket of champagne on the table. An act which seemingly initiated a bright flash of golden light that momentarily dazzled Riker and Picard. When the two men finally regained control of their vision, the first thing they noticed is that they were no longer within the Top of the Mark. Rather, they were sitting upon passenger seats in what appeared to be a Federation runabout!
"Wesley!" demanded Riker: "What's going on here? Where are we?"
"Calm yourself, Commander," replied a deep (and shockingly familiar) voice from the pilot's seat: "You are aboard the U. S. S. Housatonic. A runabout that was recently flown to the homeworld of the Guardian of Forever. . .after first being stolen by our mutual acquaintance, Sela of Romulus."
It was not the enigmatic Traveler who had uttered that reply. If for no other reason than he was sitting in the co-pilot's seat! Rather, it was someone who was as well-known to most school children of the Federation as their own names. The one piloting the runabout was none other than. . .
Ambassador Spock of Vulcan.
tbc