Disclaimer: All characters (except for Erica Silver and the Silver Fox) 
are copyright of Warner Brothers and D.C. Comics (I think).

The Silver Fox Saga: Part 2

        Terry sighed with relief.  His mom was out somewhere, his little 
brother was off at a friend's house, he hadn't failed his English test, 
and Wayne hadn't called.  Suddenly, his phone rang.  Not the regular 
in-house phone, but, he almost moaned, the Oh-excuse-me-mom-I-have-to-
go-save-Gotham-City phone. He flipped it open.  
        "Yeah?" he asked, having learned not to say "Wayne" anymore when 
he answered.
        "Terry, there's something I need to tell you," Wayne said.  His 
voice was soft, almost reluctant.  This was definitely not a tone Terry 
had ever heard before.  Without being told, he knew something was 
wrong.
        "Who is it?" he said quickly, cutting the older man off.  "My 
mom? My brother?  Who is it?  I know something isn't right, Wayne.  You 
know I hate it when people are slow about `breaking me the news.'  So 
just come out and say it.  Who is it?"
        "There was an accident," Wayne said, still evading Terry's 
question.  "It was . . . it was Erica.  She was hit by a truck.  They 
took her to Gotham Mercy."
        Terry didn't wait to hear anything more.  He slammed the phone 
shut, shoved it into his pocket and raced out the door.  

        He burst into the hospital and practically skidded up to the 
Information desk.  "Where is she?" he demanded of the receptionist.  
        "You have to tell me who first, dear," she replied calmly.
        "Erica.  Erica Silver,"  he blurted.  "Where is she?"  
        She typed on a keyboard for a moment, squinted at the screen, 
then looked up at him.  "Floor three," she said.  "Room . . . one-
twenty four.  But she's not allowed any visit-"
        Terry was already half-way to the elevator.

        He checked himself in mid-dash outside room one-twenty four.  
Terry looked in and saw Erica lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed.  A 
doctor stood beside the bed, examining a chart.  She didn't look up 
until she heard Terry come in.  
        "Are you family?" she asked as he approached the bed.  
        "Yea," he lied, convinced the doctor would throw him out if he 
said otherwise.   "I'm . . . I'm her brother."
        The doctor nodded solemnly, almost as if she knew he was lying 
but had decided to let him stay anyway.  "She's still borderline 
critical.  We'll need to keep and eye on her for another week at 
least," she said.  "I've got other patients to take care of, but I'll 
be back to check on her in a few minutes.  I'll give you two some time 
alone."  With that, she left.
        Terry smiled down at Erica, wondering how she felt.  He wondered 
what exactly had happened to her and looked around briefly for the 
chart, but it seemed the doctor had taken it with her.  With a sigh, 
Terry sat down in one of the guest chairs by the wall.

        He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, 
something hit him in the head.  He opened his eyes slowly and 
immediately noticed two things.  One, the thing that had collided with 
his head was a small but well aimed plastic cup that was rolling on the 
floor by his foot.  And two, Erica was sitting up in bed, chuckling.  
        "That wasn't a very nice way to get my attention," Terry 
muttered, standing up and walking to the bed.
        Erica just kept smiling.  "It was the only way to do it without 
shouting and waking up the entire floor.  Besides, you're kinda cute 
when you just wake up."
        "How do you feel?" he asked.
        "How do you think I feel, junior?" she said, answering his 
question with another question.  "Actually, I feel like I was hit by a 
truck.  They say I fractured some bone in my arm, bruised two ribs, 
cracked two ribs, and have a minor concussion.  Other than that, I feel 
like a million bucks.  Oh, out of curiosity, how long had you been 
sitting in that chair when I pegged you with the cup?"
        Terry shrugged.  "I'm not really sure," he admitted.  "I got here 
not you long after you'd been put in this room so,-"
        Erica shook her head slowly, smiling slightly.  "Go home, 
McGinnis.  Get some rest somewhere other than a chair.  Think you can 
handle Gotham for a few days without me?"
        "I did before you showed up, didn't I?" Terry said.
        Erica nodded.  "That you did, BatBoy," she whispered.  "That you 
did."
        
        Released from the hospital but still not fit enough to resume her 
duties as the Silver Fox, Erica spent most of her time working on her 
bike.  After being nearly completely totaled in the crash, the silver 
motorcycle needed work, a lot of work.  One evening, she had just 
gotten the bike up and running when she got an idea.  
        "You know," she remarked to no one at all, "I suppose I should 
take the bike out for a test run.  A long test run.  Maybe all the way 
out near . . . the edge of the city?"
        Grabbing her helmet, she got on, smiling at the thought of paying 
a surprise visit to an old acquaintance.  

        She braked smoothly to a stop in front of the gates to the huge 
house.  "Whoa," she whispered in shock.  "I knew he was loaded, but 
this is incredible.  But, given his . . . extracurricular activities, 
it makes sense."
        Calmly, she pressed the button on the intercom by the gates. 
        "Mr. Wayne?" she said.  "Are you busy? I'm here to see you.  I 
know I don't have an appointment or anything, but, I'd really like to 
come in."
        "I'm afraid I'm quite busy," came Wayne's voice from the other 
end.  "Come back some other time, please"
        "You wouldn't be busy sending that errand boy of yours out all 
over the city, now would you?" Erica asked, trying to sound casual.
        There was a shocked pause and Erica smiled as she said, "Mr. 
Wayne, I don't know if you remember me, but I was hoping you might.  
I'm Erica.  Erica Silver."
        The pause continued for a moment then Wayne sighed audibly and 
said, "I suppose you might as well come in.  I'm in the-"               
        "Basement?" Erica suggested.  There came no reply, instead the 
gates opened.  As she wheeled the motorcycle up the road to the house, 
a huge black dog came racing forward, growling.  
        Erica knelt down and murmured, "Easy boy," extending a hand for 
him to sniff.  Ace growled for a moment longer, then sniffed.  He 
looked quizzically up at Erica, then turned around and trotted 
leisurely back up the road.  
        Reaching the house, Erica pushed down the kick-stand and left the 
bike by the front steps.  She pushed the front door and, to her 
surprise, it opened.  "He must have this whole place computerized," 
Erica whispered in amazement as she walked into the house and gazed up 
at the high-vaulted ceiling.  Wayne Manor had been grand in its time, 
and would continue to be grand, even hidden under drop-cloths and 
shadows.  Erica walked through the house as if in a dream, drifting 
from room to room.  "Mr. Wayne?" she called, but there came no reply.  
"Mr. Wayne?" she called again, entering yet another room.  Suddenly, 
she heard a voice, but it sounded very far away.  "Mr. Wayne?" she 
asked, offering her plea to the faint voice.  She walked around the 
room, trying to locate the source of the voice, when she passed a 
clock.  As she did so, the voice, if only for an instant, seemed to 
grow louder.  "So," she said softly.  "That's where you hide your 
little secret."
        Gently prying the glass door open, the clock swung away to reveal 
a dark, forbidding stairway.  The voice was most certainly coming from 
the bottom of the stairs.  Heading downward, Erica's breath caught in 
her throat as she looked upon something she'd only seen in her wildest 
dreams.  
        The BatComputer glowed huge and brilliant before her, and off 
to the side, she saw the Gallery.  It was full of costumes and mementos 
of enemies taken down and friends that had to resign from their nights 
of freedom, hidden behind masks and cowls.
        Erica gazed at it all in wonder.  Slowly, she turned to see Bruce 
Wayne seated in front of the BatComputer.  He was older now, but he 
still had retained that presence of greatness about him.  No matter 
what he looks like now, Erica thought to herself, he still looks like a 
man that has done great things.  And he always will.
        With muffled footsteps, she walked to the Gallery, slipping from 
case to case, wondering at the hundreds of stories that must surely be 
behind each thing she saw.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw 
something familiar.  Walking up to one of the cases, she brushed some 
dust from the glass and tried to recognized the costume that hung 
inside.  Of course.  It was the Catwoman costume.  That was why it 
looked so familiar.  Boy, if Kitty could see this, Erica thought, 
reminiscing over her old friend.  
        "I would appreciate it, Miss Silver, if you would stop acting as 
though you were trying to hide from me," came Wayne's voice.  "Just 
because I invited you down here, for reasons even I don't understand, 
that doesn't mean you can just go skulking about like a spy."
        Erica smiled at the man's perceptiveness.  "I wasn't trying to 
hide from you," she said, walking up to the computer.  "I just was 
interested in what you had over there.  You've got quite a collection, 
you know."  She thought they saw him smile.
        Gazing up at the screen, she saw the world through the eyes of 
Batman.  It was an interesting experience.  He was flying over the 
rooftops, then over an alleyway, finally over a group of Jokers.
        "Hey!" Erica heard one of them shout.  "There's the Bat!  I say 
we have a little target practice.  Boys?"  He turned to the other 
members of the gang.  They grinned viciously and drew their guns, 
taking a few shots at Terry.  Most went so wide, he didn't even have to 
swerve to avoid them.  Then, they started firing closer and closer, 
until something went wrong.  The next thing anyone knew, he was 
tumbling out of the sky, head over heels.
        "McGinnis!" Wayne shouted, as Erica screamed, "Terry!"  "What 
happened!" they shouted in unison.  
        "Lucky shot," came Terry's shaken reply.  "Some Joker made a few 
holes in the airfoils.  I can't control it, I'm-"
        His words were cut off as he hit the ground.  Hard.
        "Terry?" Erica asked, worried.  "Can you hear me?"
        The only reply was a soft moan, and the chilling sound of Jokers 
laughing.  
        She spun to face Wayne, anger and fear flashing in her eyes.  
"Where is he?" she demanded.
        "About five blocks from the FoxTeca warehouse.  Why?"
        Erica was almost at the top of the stairs.

TO BE CONTINUED...

You like?  Q&A?  Comments?  E-mail me at MSnyder205@aol.com. Remember: 
Put fanfic, Silver Fox, Silver Fox fanfic, or something like that in 
the subject box so I don't thinks its spam or a virus and delete it. 
Okay!  I'll get Part 3 in as soon as I can.  Of course, if Part 3 is in 
when you read this, that will sound pretty stupid.  Anyway, I hope you 
like this.  It's my own little (if somewhat twisted) concept.  If you 
don't like it, I won't pay attention to you.  So there!  Bwahahahaha!  
*clearing throat*  `Scuse me.  Pay no attention to the psychopath 
behind the keyboard.  Uh.I guess that's it.  So.see ya!