Disclaimer...I don't own any licensed property mentioned here. Unfortunately, no time to finesse it either before Halloween is over...so...here.


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The Curse Of WereFlash

"Trick or Treat, Bats."

Fantastic. Flash was still here. In the Monitor Womb. With him.

"Definitely not a treat. Must be a trick." He let the other know exactly how he felt about the intrusion by stabbing at a button with maybe a tad more force than necessary.

"Halloween's kind of like that...it's always one or the other," Wally amiably concurred with him.

This was not a good sign. It usually meant that the speedster was in no hurry to leave.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the family curse?"

"Nobody wants to hear the story of your parent's misfortune, Flash. Especially when they have the end result to deal with." He stabbed at another button.

"But this one is true!" the hyper speedster insisted as he daringly perched in the Monitor Womb chair closest to where Batman was. "Every moonlit Halloween, Great Grandpa Mortimer West became a werewolf after accidentally eating a cursed french fry from a haunted Jack On The Box that a one-eyed used-car salesman, Lone Chaney, had left on the dash of his 1928 Ford Model T. See, gramps had been thinking of hot wiring the Ford for a quick joy ride down to Samson McGillicutty's place...borrow the McGillicutty prized County Fair winning pig, and put it in his arch enemy Herby Halliway's swiming pond with the Halliway champion trout. Grandpa was a bit pissed at Herby on account that the year prior to that his hogs had eaten most of grandpa's stored mail-order catalogs and corn cobs and...well, you know they didn't have much in the way of paper products back then for the outhouses-"

"Get. To. The. Point." Batman growled. Only the fastest man alive could take forever telling a stupid story.

"Every Halloween after that Great Aunt Aggie had to hide her and grandma in the broom closet until dawn...along with a shotgun and Great Grandpa's bottle of home-made whiskey which they would threaten to blast into smithereens every time the door knob rattled. Grandma thought I may have inherited the curse because when mom was pregnant with me she had a craving for watching Henry Ford and Lon Chaney Jr. while eating T-bone steaks at the local drive-in theater. It's entirely possible that I could one night become The Fastest Werewolf Alive. You might want to store a silver bullet with that kryptonite chunk. You know...just in case I get all cuddly and huggable...in a feral sort of way?"

Batman was not at all amused by Wally's supernatural tale.

"Flash, you are the curse. Besides...Ford Motors stopped building Model T's in 1927. Now quit sneaking bits of that fake fur to your face before you get prosthetic glue and synthetic pelt fibers on the panel switches."

"Fake fur? What are you talking about, Bats?" asked the suddenly be-whiskered Flash. He felt around his face as if in surprise at finding tufts of awkwardly attached 'fur'. "Ohmagosh! It's happening! I feel an urge to howl at the moon and watch B-rated monster movies!"

"In that case, the moon should be orbiting twelve point 2 degrees to your left. You can serenade it while making your way to any Earth-side versions of The WerewolfHouse movie rental franchise."

"Man, Supes is right...introverted paranoids are boring beyond reason." His cheerful declaration made his companion's teeth grit. Was it too much to ask to be left alone?

"Flash, you are not a werewolf. Lycanthropy is a genuine medical condition which you are not inflicted with. Other...mental...ailments, certainly; but not something you inheriting through paternal indigestion. Believe me when I say that there are many here who would have loved the excuse to legally collar and leash you if you ever did turn into a canine."

"You scoff now," Wally pointed a plush red finger at him, "but mom and Aunt Aggie were terrified for their lives."

"Yet she survived long enough to spawn you." Batman paused with a thoughtful set to his mouth. "I take it back... this tale of yours does qualify as a horror story."

Flash leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "At least being a part-time werewolf is more fun than being a full-time stick-in-the-mud."

"Get your clawed slippers off the keyboard." Bruce warned.

Sighing, Wally planted his furred feet back on the floor. "And I didn't even get a chance to tell you how Great Grandpa was cured. Honestly, Bats...don't you like Halloween at all?"

"Like it? I live in a House of Horrors called Gotham City."

"Okay, I grant you that your home town isn't pretty, but you can relax here and have a bit of fun...this is the Watchtower."

"House of Horrors II." Bruce grunted.

"Huh?"

"Giant, incredible strong, non-human blundering down the hallways...winged Harpy waiting in the rafters, Witch Woman with PMS wrecking the exercise room, The Creature from 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, green protoplasm ghosts drifting through private room bulkheads and refusing to eat any yellow vegetables..." Bruce acidly recited part of the list.

"Mad scientist turned Bat Man brooding in the sanctuary?" The Furry-Faced Flash smirked. "Anyway, John has a point...yellow veggies are yucky. No self respecting ghost or wolf would touch one. If you don't want to end up eating the excess, stop ordering so much of them."

"Did I list the insatiable monster haunting the cafeteria and draining the food containers dry (sans any of the vegetables)...when he isn't stupidly gluing fluorescent-red polyester fur to his mask as if even movie lycanthropy would affect spandex?"

"Now that was uncalled for." Wally frowned, tugging a little at his fluffy red cowl. "This masquerade glue of yours won't stain, will it?"

Batman mumbled something under his breath. "No, you were uncalled for. What are you doing up here, Flash? You specifically requested this night off."

"The Insatiable Cafeteria Werewolf/Monster was hungry, but the cupboards were bare. So it decided to see what was edible up here where all the pretty, colorful lights were emanating from." He shrugged. "Unfortunately, the cuisine turned out to be leathery and mean."

"Emanating...and the word was used correctly," the Dark Knight mused. "You actually picked up a dictionary?"

"It's Halloween," Wally nonchalantly worried at a bit of loose fluff. "Strange impulses can strike a person on Halloween...like, say, going on a Kill-the-Fun-out-of-Life murder spree or cracking open a dusty old book at the Batman Cavern of Doom. Really, though, Superman bet me five bucks and a bag of candy that I couldn't make you laugh. What can I say...I was desperate for sucrose so decided to try. By the by, Alfred says hi and to eat something suitable lest you waste away. Claims these are your favorite snack and that if you don't eat them, I can."

He tossed a rainbow-hued lump over to the Dark Knight who caught the slimy mass in one hand. They immediately threatened to slip out of his grasp.

Gummy worms.

"I figured you wouldn't admit to a preference for sugary junk food, so went ahead and started on them. Feel free to toss those ones right back."

"Alfred is going to die. He actually told you I like these?" A red glove besmirched with sticky residue and stray hairs snatched up one of the candy worms. Wally slurped it into his mouth.

"Alfred likes how I can wash all the mansion windows without needing to use a ladder. I like Alfred's cooking and wild stories about you. If you kill him, can I have his ghost to haunt my place?"

Alfred The Traitor was a marked man.

Revenge.

By tomorrow.

Latest.

"Eat another of my worms and you can join him in ectoplasmic bliss."

"I'll trade you more gummy worms for my silence to the others on things like dissing Superman and Diana the Wonder chick -who, incidentally, can break every bone in your body if she even thinks you shared her image with the word 'witch'."

"You just called her a 'chick'."

"I'm a werewolf. We're immune to golden lassos."

"How about silver bracelets, bare knuckles the hardness of stone, and fashionable high heels?" Diana asked.

Wally froze...then glared accusingly at Batman. "You knew she was behind me?"

"Yes." Batman smirked.

"Just for that, I'm going to go and bite every one of the Batmobile's tires. Possibly as an Undead Werewolf, but still. Hi, Diana."

"Hello, Wally." Her eyes softened upon seeing him in all his holiday glory. "What's with your cowl and face."

"This?" Flash started exaggerating sobs. "It's my curse to bear all because of a french fry gone bad! And Bats won't believe me. I bet if I'd been turned into a werebat he'd give a darn, but not a wolf. Bats is prejudiced against red wolves! It's so unfair." He wiped away an imaginary tear.

"He thinks he's a werewolf." Batman dryly explained to the Amazon. "Whatever you do, don't ask why."

"It could be a result of the full moon?" an amused Diana hypothesized taking in Wally's unusual appearance. "My people say that you can go mad during a full moon."

"Maybe neither of you have noticed we are in synchronized orbit with said moon; therefore, it is always 'full'..." Bruce stopped. "Again I find myself standing corrected."

Diana smiled and pet Wally's head. "Red really does suit you, Wally. I think you look cute...like that child's character doll in toy stores."

Wally's grin threatened to take over his face. "Really?" His voice switched to a childlike falsetto. "Wanna cuddle? Elmo needs a hug...and a tickle. Elmo love tickling!" He imitated the Muppet's joyous giggle when she obliged.

She laughed, returning to pet his furred head while Batman glowered in silence. "Is that the cure for your werewolf problem?"

"One of them," Flash nodded. "The other is to be taken to Metropolis for trick or treating. I owe someone a bag of loot; plus, my own tummy rumbles."

"Metropolis...why there in particular? Why not Central?" Batman inquired...while daydreaming of dousing Wally with a bottle of neon pink dye. Or was that still too close to red in the spectrum?

"Duh, Bats...it's Superman's city?" Wally rolled his eyes. "Where else are they most likely to be handing out super-sized candy bars?"

Bruce pinched his nose. "Flash, it's high time to start acting your age. You're too old for trick or treating," the Dark Knight snapped at him, "and get that ridiculous getup off."

"Elmo thinks he has landed in Grouchland." Green eyes wide, Wally mimed fear while taking Diana's hand and subtly sticking his tongue out at Batman. "Elmo's forever three. As long as Elmo is cute...he's three in the eyes of lady candy providers everywhere." Seeing Batman beginning to smolder, he hurriedly pulled Diana toward the door. "Can we take your Invisible Jet?" he asked the Amazon. "That way I can aerial spot check for the best neighborhoods before we commence Operation: Sugar High. Plus, it has air conditioning." He fanned himself, sending loose fur flying onto Batman. "This fur is hot in more ways than one. Race ya to the hangar!"

Batman stepped in front of Diana. "Diana?"

"I think I can handle a three-year old, Bruce."

"On a sugar high?"

Diana opened her mouth, closed it. Frowned as she looked to where Wally had left to wait for her at her jet. Probably punching every button in sight despite the fact that it was -thank Hera- turned off. "I see what you mean."

"Do me a favor...don't bring him back here." His mood lightened. "In fact, once he's stuffed his face, I'd do both of us a favor and drop him off over at Clark's place...then barricade them inside until Superman calls to say 'uncle'."

Maybe it was cruel, but it would teach Clark to think twice about plotting future disruptions to Bruce's peace and quiet.