The darkness filled the alley. The two men had been in the alley for fifteen minutes. The taller man, dressed in a suit and with a briefcase, looks around himself cautiously. The shorter of the two dressed in street clothes could be no older then twenty.

“All I need from you a single yes or no. Are you in?” The well dressed man asked. The young man, licked his lips and ran his fingers over his chin.

“How much do I get for it?” He asked.

“That’s not an answer. I need a yes or no.”

“Answer my question and I answer yours.”

“You answer mine or the deal’s off.”

“Fine, I’m in.”

The older man placed the briefcase on the ground, a smile on his face.

“Everything you need is in this case. One hundred thousand dollars will be forwarded to your Swiss bank account. You will receive the other nine thousand dollars upon completion of your task.” With that he turned around and left.

Gary Thurman, the young man, was pleased with himself. He had a simple job ahead of him and easy cash that would soon be in his pocket. All he had to do was push these drugs onto some athletes and a million dollars would be his. Carefully he opened the briefcase. Fifteen tubes filled with a bright green liquid met his eyes.

Venom. A drug that made you stronger then hell and was ten times more addictive than any other street drug. The people would come and they’d sell their souls for just one more hit of their poison. The only problem for Gary was unsure how pure it was. What he needed was a test subject. Someone who wasn’t a repeat buyer, who was fully dispensable.

A bum staggered into the alley. He reeked of bad liquors and cheap sex. The kind of man who had no family or friends, none who would notice his death. None who would care about him turning brutally violent.

“Yes,” Gary thought to himself. “Today is turning out to be quite a good day.”

Batman had been sitting on the ledge of Commissioner Gordan’s window for fifteen minutes and he hadn’t heard anything new to the case.

A John Doe had gone on some kind of beserk frenzy in Downtown Gotham, he killed three people with his bare hands and one with only his teeth. His fingers had been too brutally cracked and cut as to be positive about who it was. Before he could be arrested he smashed his face into the ground, killing himself and ruining the ability to discover his identity through dental records. Not only that, one of the victims managed to stab out Doe’s eyes with his fingers. All in all, no one knew who the guy was.

The police covered the who’s, the where’s, and the when’s but not the why’s or the how’s. The closing of the door indicated that Commissioner Gordan was alone. Using the shadows for cover, Batman slipped in the windows. His back was to Batman, since he had been escorting the gentlemen to the door.

“Hello, Jim,” Batman said gruffly. Commissioner Gordan jumped at the suddeness of the voice. Despite the number of times that Batman had snuck into his office it always caught Commissioner Gordan by surprise. Commissioner Gordan cursed himself for being caught unawares again.

“We got a John Doe murderer,” Commissioner Gordan started. His voice filled with a depth and maturity.

“Killed a total of four people. Possible motives? Batman beat him to the punch.

“None so far. We’re having trouble linking the victims together, let alone how they fit with our John Doe. Two of the victims were a married couple from Metropolis here on their honeymoon. Another one was a computer analyst here in Gotham. The last victim was a small twelve year old boy, who was visiting his father here in town.”

"He didn't take any money from any of the victims and he no political agenda that he had been supporting." Commissioner Gordan turned around to face his associate only to see that he was alone in his office.

“He needs to make some noise when he walks,” Commissioner Gordan thought to himself.

He called himself “Mad Dog” McGruff. He had been a prominent lawyer until they found out that he was charging clients for he work he hadn’t done. He was disbarred and sue forcing him to become a bum living on the streets.

That was who he claimed to be. His real name however was Bruce Wayne. As a young boy his parents had been killed in front of him. Growing up, he tried to perfect himself in body and mind. Now, years later, he had become the Dark Knight, Batman. But right now he was undercover, as he had to be sometimes, an he was “Mad Dog” McGruff.

Mad Dog was sitting in a small circle of hobos, all of them playing craps. Gossip sprouted up like wild grass. ‘Mad Dog’ only had to wait before the information he needed would pop up.

“You hear what Lex Luthor’s doing?” A bum asked.

“Now, TeeVee, what?” Another bum replied.

“Moving some business to Gotham, Jeremiah. Could mean jobs for all of us,” TeeVee responded.

“Ah, we can finally leave here,” Jeremiah sighed and leaned back, imaging sunny open fields were he and a beatiuful woman would spend the rest of his days. A grin spread across his face.

“We’re never leavin’ here,” a third bum jumped in.

“Shut up, Epstien,” Jeremiah shot back, the grin having left his face.

“No, I’m not shutting up. We have to accept that we’re stuck here or we’ll just go crazy like Matt.” Everyone tensed up at the mention of Matt’s name, ‘Mad Dog’ looked around taking note of his companions’ reaction.

“Don’t say that name!” A crazy bat-haired woman shouted, holding her finger in a cross as if if wording off some demon spawn.

“What name? Matt, that name? Why don’t you want to say that name? Afraid they’ll get you? Afraid you’ll get the same deal he got?” Epstein teased.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” The kooky old woman screamed. Epstien picked up a small chunk of a brick and lobbed it at the woman, hitting her in the head. She fell over as the blood trickled from a gapping wound on her head. He picked up another piece and cocked his hand back to toss it when someone from the group spoke up.

“Just leave her alone,” ‘Mad Dog’ growled. Everyone looked at him. Epstein turned to face him better and started sizing him up. He now held the brick chunk by his waist.

“Who the hell are you, man?”

“‘Mad Dog’ McGruff.”

“Well, ‘Mad Dog,’ why the fuck do you care?”

“It just makes me sick when a spineless bastard picks on a helpless old woman who can’t fight back.” Epstien stood up and looked down at his accusor. Sensing the tension everyone else scooted back, making the circle larger and broken.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the hell up!” Epstien shouted. ‘Mad Dog’ stared at his opponent for a moment, then stood up and continued his stare.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave the woman alone.” Epstien held the brick chunk up and then quickly tried tossed it onto the old woman.

‘Mad Dog’ leapt at the old woman’s attacker, knocking him onto his back and messing up his throw. He then held up one of his hands and brought it down onto Epstien’s face. He punched his face a few more times and then stopped. He got off of his victim and stood up. Everyone around him looked at him with awe.

“That’s why they used to call me ‘Mad Dog.’” He said simply. Everyone continued staring. He turned around and walked to the woman. He propped her up against the wall and looked at her.

Her face had been cut by a sharp edge of the first brick. The wound started at her right eyebrow and continued up for three-fourths an inch before stopping. The second brick had missed her completly. She was going to be fine, although the head wound might give her trouble.

He was stuck, he had to get her medical attention but an amabulence wouldn’t come there and he couldn’t take her himself. It would ruin his chance to get information and would be out of charector for a bum. He looked around and grabbed a liquor bottle. He poured a little alchol onto her wounds. He then tore a bit of her pants off and dressed her wound.

That’s the best I can do, he convinced himself. He turned around and returned to his craps seat and sat down.

“We gonna play or what?”? ‘Mad Dog’ barked.

No one wanted to play and no one wanted to talk about what happened with Matt. Bruce Wayne wanted nothing more than to leave the alleys and return home. But, on his way out of the alleys he came across a man screaming and raving like a lunatic.

Venom. Bruce Wayne would know it’s effects anywhere. He knew the deadly drug all too well. Bane, the man who broke Batman’s back, was a Venom junkie. Bruce himself had even once held an addiction to the stuff. Now it was coursing through the blood stream of the man attacking him.

Bruce Wayne readied himself for the fight.