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Okay, honestly? Werewolf hunting is the one bizarre mission that Duke had secretly been hoping he’d end up doing ever since he decided that superheroing would make an adequate lifestyle choice. Who doesn’t want to chase a werewolf through the woods under a full moon? It’s a real-life monster movie.
This being Gotham City, of course some crazy scientist thought it would be a good idea to mess with powers that shouldn’t have been messed with, and now there’s a werewolf running around through the Gotham wilderness after a thrilling battle with Huntress and Batgirl that Signal wasn’t even there for. Helena already had the silver-tipped crossbow arrows ready to go and everything. Lucky bastards.
He’s never been so disappointed in his life. Duke turns on his comms after a solid hour’s searching. “Should we call it a night and reconvene in the morning? It’ll be easier to find him in daylight, anyway.” The Bats are all scattered through the woods so they can do a solid sweep and track the creature down before it can cause any more destruction.
“Oh, c’mon,” Spoiler chirps from miles away. “Don’t tell me you’re not having the time of your life. It’s every teenager’s Twilight Saga fantasy come true.”
“Y’all dragged me out of bed to walk through the woods for three hours. I have a quiz at eight tomorrow. The only reason I’m here is because I was promised I’d get to fight a sexy werewolf.”
“You fought Killer Croc twice last week! What, that wasn’t sexy enough for you?”
“There’s nothing sexy about beating up a giant reptile in the sewers.”
“Can we not be weird over the family comm link?” Nightwing interjects. “You guys are ruining my Halloween spirit.”
“It’s barely October.” Duke kicks aside a tree branch in his path. Gotham City isn’t exactly a national park. The closest Duke has come to interacting with a wild animal in the woods was when that raccoon stole his bagel outside a deli. He never thought he’d be grateful to Bruce for supplying all of his proteges with bear repellent. “I’m just saying, wandering through the woods at two in the morning on a school night isn’t how I’d choose to spend my time. I was raised on XBox and YouTubers like the rest of my generation.”
“Don’t loop me into this,” Robin says.
Red Robin makes an offended noise. “What do you mean your generation? We’re the same age! The only old one here is Nightwing.”
“Hey! I’m a millennial. That’s considered young.”
“You still do duck faces in selfies. You’re ancient.”
“If I get bitten by a werewolf tonight and become a bloodthirsty monster, I’m eating you first.”
“Hey,” Spoiler cuts in, “first one to find it gets fifty bucks and bragging rights for life. What’s a better incentive than that?”
Duke tunes out the uproar that incites to investigate a cluster of snapped branches slightly east of the trail he’s been following. Even without his ghost vision cheat code, Duke was trained by the world’s greatest detective. The fist-sized clump of silver fur tangled in the branches is hard to miss.
While Nightwing chatters in his ear about some old-timey story retelling the time he and Batman tracked a vampire to a gay nightclub. Duke follows the trail of disrupted foliage and loose fur until, suddenly, a howl pierces the air from somewhere nearby. Close nearby.
Another glimpse with his ghost vision, and— “Suckers!” Duke announces in the comms. “He’s headed northeast of my location.”
“Ha!” Robin crows. “I’m northeast! That money is so mine.”
Duke is already on the move, running towards the source of the howl. Like hell is he letting Damian brag about getting to fight a werewolf. He’s too distracted trying to duck under all the low branches in the darkness that he isn’t watching his step. His suit is armored, but every uniform has its weak points. Joints, for one.
Clang!
Duke snaps to a stop so abruptly he gets whiplash. He’s flung forward with a yelp, slamming into the ground face-first. His hands would be shredded from catching his fall if it weren’t for his gloves.
For those first few seconds of disorientation, Duke can’t tell up from down, let alone pinpoint what stopped him. His right foot feels heavy. Something caught him.
Duke coughs out dirt and grass, raising himself up on an elbow, and that’s when the pain hits. It’s so jarring and intense that the scream rips out of Duke’s throat before he has the awareness to realize he’s sucked a breath in at all.
Pain explodes in his ankle, all the way up his leg like he’s been dunked foot-first in hot oil. He can’t even drag in a breath because it just keeps going. The rest of Duke’s body has gone cold. He’s terrified to look back because what if his foot isn’t even there anymore? What if he ran across razor wire and his foot is gone?
Duke rips off his smothering helmet. He presses his sweat-beaded forehead to the dirt and tries to channel Bruce’s breathing exercises, his inhales punctuated by whines as the pain surges again and again. He can’t keep screaming in case the wolf is nearer than he thought, but it’s impossible to bottle up his sounds because the pain won’t stop. Wave after wave, his foot up to his calf ripples with agony.
There is still chatter happening in the comms. Duke’s mic wasn’t on at the time he fell. They have no idea what happened yet. He needs help.
Moving his body as little as possible, Duke swallows back the nausea rising in his throat and turns his head to check out his right leg. Every miniscule quiver shoots off a fresh wave. His ankle—still attached, thank god—is clamped in the jaws of a terrifying metal contraption. The jagged teeth sliced straight through his flesh and sank right down to the bone. It’s broken—no doubt about it. The bleeding is staunched for now by the teeth still in his leg. It takes all of his focus not to vomit.
With difficulty, Duke reaches for his earpiece and opens the line. “G-Guys, I need an evac,” he squeezes past clenched teeth. “Who’s close?”
“I’m less than a mile from your location,” Nightwing says. “Did you find it?”
“No. Bear trap. Ankle’s broken. Really—really hurts.” Duke tries to turn over so he’s not talking into the grass, but the pain as the chain tugs on his leg is blinding. He may or may not be crying—not that he’ll admit it with his siblings all listening in. “I’m stuck here.”
“I’m on my way. Blood loss?”
“Minimal so far.”
“Good. Keep it that way. You have first-aid supplies, right?”
“In my belt,” Duke affirms. “I can’t get the trap off from this angle. We’ll have to work fast when you get here.” There’s no telling how far the werewolf has moved since Duke made that fatal step. Hopefully far away from here, but he can’t take any chances. The scent of fresh blood will attract whatever creatures are close enough to catch a whiff, and bear repellent is just glorified bug spray.
Duke manages to turn onto his side so he can at least survey his surroundings. It’s a better view than making eye contact with the ants. He rummages blindly in his belt for his first-aid kit, finding a few painkillers and swallowing them dry. They won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing. He coaches himself through more meditation techniques until footsteps crunch intentionally through the foliage nearby, heralding Nightwing’s arrival.
“Smallest bear I’ve ever seen,” Dick jokes. He crouches at Duke’s side and squeezes his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
“Oh, great. I needed some downtime.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dick sits back to examine Duke’s leg. He can hear the grimace in Dick’s voice as he clicks his tongue and says, “Y’ouch. The chain is bolted to the ground good, which doesn’t give us much room to work with. This is going to hurt.”
Duke already knew that. “Just…do it fast.” Duke peels off one of his gloves and stuffs it between his teeth. He can’t do anything for the pain, but he can keep himself from catching the attention of anything hungry.
Every small adjustment Dick makes to Duke’s ankle feels like a thousand razor blades digging through muscle and bone. Dick doesn’t give a warning before he begins, but at least he’s fast. He finds the release switch with ease and pulls apart the jaws of the trap with the utmost care. Duke screams into the bunched fabric of his glove as the teeth pry themselves out of his splintered bones.
He drags in deep, wet breaths as Dick pours disinfectant on the wounds, then presses down with clean gauze. Duke whimpers. “Almost there, buddy.” Dick wraps the ankle quickly and tightly. “Just another minute. You’re doing great.” He splints Duke’s ankle and finishes off the last bandage. He sits back when he’s done. “This should hold for now until we get you to the cave. Still with me?”
Duke spits out the glove. He’s too woozy from the pain and the blood loss to form a coherent sentence, so he emits a pained hum instead.
“There’s a champ.” Dick assists Duke in sitting up, keeping his ankle aloft and away from the dirt. It takes some maneuvering to get Duke up off the ground and onto Dick’s back, piggyback-style, but they manage it. Duke’s leg throbs with every heartbeat. “Buckle up. Nightwing Express is leaving the station.”
Duke leans his head on the back of Dick’s shoulder, gritting his teeth through the residual throbbing. He’s so ready for some painkillers and ice cream after this. “Did you guys at least find the werewolf?”
Dick snorts. “We each owe Damian fifty bucks.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t be too bummed out. Maybe for Thanksgiving we’ll track down Frankenstein.”