On Dark Wings

>>>>>[ Chapter 2: "Convergence"

Batman descended to the city streets taking care to remain hidden in the shadows. Continuing his way through the city searching for a place to sleep he was unable to ignore the populace running about on the streets below.

"Furries?"

Batman continued to be astounded by the plethora of humanoid animals that filled the city around him. Although it seemed for the most part a population of ducks, he noticed bears, bulls, dogs, and even goats going about their day-to-day lives in a manner no different to the human population of Gotham.

In fact, that was perhaps his most disturbing observation – there were no other humans here at all.

Spotting an abandoned warehouse Batman found his way in and verified it was empty. He tucked himself away – but not before finding an old newspaper in one of its former offices. "The St. Canard Guardian" he mused. "Hmm..."

Tired, hidden, and satisfied with having at least some concept of where he was Batman resigned himself to sleep. He would deal with Bat-Mite in the evening.

Stubs was a rottweiler/pit-bull mix – and the leader of his gang. Inspired by old movies they called themselves "The Canine Noir", and hung out in the back rooms of a derelict restaurant near the docks in St. Canard. "Tiny" – an English Mastiff – was dealing.

Tiny opened conversation as he began distributing cards. His voice was deep, and his speech slightly slurred as if he'd been fighting way too long in the streets of Brooklyn. "Hey yo! You heard about the fight last night between David Dane and Mike Bison?"

"Yeah, yeah." Miffy – a German Terrier – came back. His voice high-pitched. "Din't Bison take him out in three rounds?" Miffy raised his small, black body onto his chair and began throwing punches – shifting his feet around. "I heard it was like 'BAM!' and Dane was like all dizzy when Bison came back with a 'POW!' and Dane was all like 'OOF!' an' junk."

"'Ey!" Stubs interrupted – irritated. "Will ya sit down an' getch'er mind on the game? We's gots gamblin' ta do. 5 card stud, Gentleman – an' I use the term loosely. Aces high ..."

"AND JOKER'S WILD!" A voice came out of nowhere – echoing through the building and interrupting Stubs mid-sentence. The Canine Noir looked around.

Stubs picked up the Tommy Gun by his chair. Tiny nodded to the others who each drew their respective pistols from their coats as Tiny himself took his own Tommy Gun out of a violin case.

Stubs was the first to challenge the voice. "Who's there?"

The smashing of glass overhead was soon followed by the sound "THUMP!" of Joker's feet as he landed squarely on the Poker table in front of Stubs. Reaching out, Joker grabbed Stubs by the collar and snatched him nose-to-nose grinning madly as he introduced himself. "JOKER!"

Tiny lowered his Tommy-Gun as Miffy sank in his chair. The remaining members of the game followed suit – looking panicked. Stubs continued speaking – saying what everyone else was thinking, anyways.

"You ... Yer one o' Quackerjack's guys, ain't ya? Tell ya what, Mr Joker – you can has the place long as you needs it!" The remaining members of The Canine Noir needed no further confirmation – they immediately scrambled – deserting their boss.

"We'll just be gettin' on our way an' you can make yourselfs at home!" Joker leaned back – his expression a bit more serious now. He let Stubs go – dropping him. Stubs hit the ground running. Moments later Joker was alone in his new hideout with time enough to think, and rest up for the next battle with the bat.

But one thought now in particular titillated his soul – his curiosity was going to get the best of him. Plopping down cross-legged in the center of the poker table Joker asked "Now who's this 'Quackerjack'?" before exhaustion – and sleep – overtook him. The answer would have to wait until evening.