Green on steel. Thin lime boots, pacing slowly forwards. Slender body with hips swaying from side to side with each step. A slight echo as her heels dig into the grating beneath her boot. It's dark. Usually that's dAngerous in Gotham but she isn't scared. She has her own silent protector. The machine whirs. It is almost ready.
The Iceberg Lounge. Gotham's very own hive of scum and villainy. Anyone who knows anything knows to get out of his way. Inside: patrons gossip, men of 'taste' whose tongues are lined with secrets and pockets stuffed with cash. Waitresses wait, skimpily dressed nobodies that drop everything so the crowds can watch them bend over. The tight black corsets. The little domino masks. The plume of feathers bursting from their rears. Men make it their business there to grab those tails and pull the petite blondes and brunettes into their laps. The women make it their business to be pulled. They'll give those men the night of their lives and they'll never know who that girl was. But that girl will know who they were. And so will their boss. Black on marble. Dark heavy boots, pacing slowly forwards.
The Penguin prefers the shadows. Let Wayne and the others have the light. He'll take everything else. Oswald Cobblepot sat in his counting house making towers of coins and notes and cheques and diamonds and jewels and severed fingertips s. "It's different this time Penguin," one of his less respectable employees tells him. Cobblepot makes a mental note to fire him once this conversation is over. Nobody calls him Penguin. "He's different." They know who He is. No need to explain. "He's angry."
The Lounge starts to empty. Drinks left half-finished, women left with half their clothes still on, pockets not yet emptied. He's here. One of the waitresses makes the mistake of trying to delay him. A little slip here, a flash there, the act finished with a cheeky wink. It's enough to entice any man. This isn't any man. She flees with the others. Cape drags across the marble floor, enshrouding everything it touches with darkness.
"First he hit Sionis. Then Thorne. The Ice Pick, The Canary, Devil's Drive. Nowhere's safe boss." Cobblepot has grown tired of this man's voice. He will have him removed. Permanently. "I imagine he's coming here next then," the Penguin finally speaks, pouring himself a drink. The doors burst open. "Right on cue," he smiles, that thin toothy devious smile of his. Practically trademarked. The other man panics. He runs. The intruder sticks an arm out and stops him in his tracks. His jaw shatters, he hits the floor with a thud. He doesn't get up. "Where is she?" Batman growls.
Penguin's voice doesn't falter and break like it did the first time he met the dark knight. He takes a sip of his drink, a thick Irish whisky with twin cubes of ice floating in it, and he answers calmly. "Don't know." He sees Batman's fists clench and his heart speeds up. He doesn't let it show. "Not here I can assure you. I wanted nothing to do with her. She's gone too far this time. I know that. We all know that. No I'm afraid none of your usual suspects are hiding her," The thin white slits that Cobblepot presumes are his eyes narrow. "If you're lying..." He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. Oswald blinks and the building is empty. No more customers. No more staff. But the demon is gone.
She's not alone. She lifts her arm, extending her hand. Her skin is flawless, perfectly soft. Her hair flows down her her back in a river of red. Red lips. Poison. Her hand is clasped by a yellow glove. More red hair. Another slender body. Poison Ivy licks her lips. "Pucker up" she hisses. The other figure does not move. Ivy takes both of the yellow hands in her own and slips off the gloves revealing pale flesh. She takes those new hands to her mouth and presses her lips to each of them in turn, gently. She thinks she feels them trembling. Ivy then cups the cheeks of her companion and pulls her into a kiss. Lips meets and sparks fly. The figure submits. Ivy is the master. "Are you ready to begin your work?" Ivy whispers and she almost sounds like she doesn't already know the answer. "I am." Batgirl submits.
The cowl is gone. Bruce Wayne sits in his cave, elbows propped up on the console of the computer, both feet planted on the ground. He is brooding. It has been a long time since Alfred has seen him this bad. Alfred Pennyworth. The servant. Loyal to the last. He wants to offer words that will make everything right again. He wants to put his arm around the little boy who lost his parents. He wants to console his son. But that boy is gone. Only Batman remains. Godforsaken and empty: Batman. "Master Bruce," he speaks up but receives no response. Words start to fail him so he falls back on old favourites. "Your dinner is getting cold." Silence. Then Bruce Wayne speaks. "It's been 24 hours since Ivy took her. Put out the call." Alfred does as he is told. Loyal to the last.
A signal. To all allies of the Bat in Gotham. Help. Please help. He needs help. His parents are dead. He is alone. He prowls the streets at night. He is alone. He hides behind a mask. He is alone. He dresses as a bat to strike fear into the hearts of criminals and avenge the deaths of his parents. He is alone. He needs help. He is never alone, loyal to the last.
Today her name is Emma. That's one of her favourites. Not her real name but it will do for tonight. Because Emma is a naughty girl. Emma deserves to be punished. And Emma will be paid to be punished. When he spanks her, he is unsure. She can sense it. The palm of his hand smacks into the soft flesh of her nude butt. It stings. She screams for him. His confidence grows. She can feel it.
Her ass stings. It is seared red by the beating. He is not holding back anymore. She feels the cold metal around her wrists holding her to his bed. She doesn't know his name. He said his name was Tommy. He was lying. This is Gotham. He is Gotham.
His belt crashes into her stomach. Her body writhes in pain but it can't break free. It will never be free. The city hates. The city loves her. The city hurts her. He laughs. He has drawn blood. He has seen her bleed. Now he will not stop. She can see it in his eyes. The leather of his belt whips into her again and again, finding new targets with every hip. The metal buckle is the worst. She can live with the bruises, its the cuts that sting the most.
She feels his hands grip her thighs, softer than she imagined, spreading them wide apart. He peppers her with kisses, as if seasoning a meal. She realises now, that nowhere is safe. His tongue finds her vagina and scrapes slowly along it. She moans softly. This punishment is not so bad. Them he takes the belt again and she finds herself shaking. He likes that. And when he brings the belt down this time her screams are louder than ever before.
At this moment, Emma reflects on reality. There are only two types of people in Gotham. The whipped pussies like herself. And the whips themselves. And the man who holds the whips? Who forces it to come down on everyone else? Gotham City herself. She has lost focus, not been paying attention. She didn't see him coming. But she felt it. His hands grasping her scrawny neck and squeezing. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is finally the one who kills her. Or perhaps he'll stop like the others did, and leave her broken. Alone. He won't stop. She can see it in his eyes. Glass smashes.
"Daniel Powers." Emma looks up. The grip on her neck is gone. The devil has come for them. A demon of darkest black and blazing red. She looks angry. "Murderer." It speaks. Powers recoils in fear. He protests. Tries to cry his innocence, he's never killed anyone. Not yet. "1,131. Or did you forget about the forests." He pauses. He doesn't understand. "You mean... Trees? This is about trees?" "This is about survival" the dark angel replies, "ours not yours." Emma understands. There are 2 types of people in Gotham. This is not one of them. Powers swallows as the figure advances on him. There is no escape from Batgirl.
Knuckles hit his face. At least one tooth flies from his mouth. Daniel Powers slumps to the floor. It only took one punch. Batgirl turns to the girl. "Who are you?" She asks. "I'm no one," she whispers. Pause. "Good." The redhead, usually so full of charm and energy, advances on her new prey."he dis this to you?" "Yes." "You let him?" "Yes." She stops at the end of the bed and Emma feels Batgirl grasp her ankles tightly. "Let me."
Emma knows what men like. She has no idea what devils like. She discovers they are far less cruel. Her body writhes, but not from pain. From the touch of an angel. Batgirl's glove is on the floor. Her fingers, two at least, are inside the girl. Pumping back and forth, making her squirm and moan, fingers spreading further and further apart inside her. Emma closes her eyes and moans. Batgirl rewards her with her mouth.
Lips press to the sensitive pussy and Emma gasps as Batgirl's tongue darts inside. She feels it circling her walls, wet lips working her vagina forcefully. Waves of pleasure wash over the helpless woman, her hips starting to buck in the arms of her saviour. "Mon dio" she mutters u der her breath over and over, slipping into her mother tongue. She cries out as orgasm hits her.
She lies there, still naked, still bound. Batgirl looks at her. "Say my name," she says slowly. Her fingers are now softly tracing the red lines of her skin, feeling every cut and bruise as if it were her own. "Batgirl," Emma breathes out. "No," Batgirl says and her hand retracts. "I'm no one and that gives us strength. We are all no one. And we will all serve the mistress." Emma doesn't respond. She can't. She has no words. She doesn't need to. Batgirl is gone. 'Tommy' is gone. She is alone.
It's not how fast they run that tips him off. Its that neither of the thugs can say anything as they do. They are scared silent. They can't even scream. Tim Drake knows he is in the right place. He drops down into the alley they came from. He lands next to his mentor. "They're getting worried about you. None of the others could find you," Red Robin watches as a shadow draws up from the darkness and steps out. "You found me," Batman says. It is merely a statement. "I'm smarter than the others." Another statement. "They don't need to worry." A lie. "Because you're clearly the model of mental health." A joke. Tim reaches out, his hand lands on Bruce's shoulder: "We'll find her."
Dick Grayson knew he never should have left her in Gotham. Barbara Gordon was the only person who still mattered. Bruce was a father. A brother. But he wasn't a person. He could talk to Barbara. He knew her and she knew him. He'd felt that connection even before they'd been partners fighting crime. Back when he was the new kid on the block and she was the Commissioner's daughter. She'd been through so much but the one flaw in Barbara Gordon was that she was incapable of asking for help. Whenever he'd tried to be there for her, she'd pushed him away. His mistake was letting her. And now she was gone. And he was alone.
The city was quiet. Batman had been busy. Nightwing could see no one moving in the streets below. But he could see someone. On the roof. In front of him. A dark perfect silhouette. Curves in all the right places, clad in tight leather. A nine-tailed whip hanging from her tiny waist. Catwoman steps towards him. He tenses up when she speaks, a voice with a rough sexy edge to it that sends a shot of lust through any man that hears it. "little birdie all alone?" She licks her hips and she feels her hand press to his chest. Sharp clawed nails almost digging into him. He almost wishes they were. "Need a hand?" And he was no longer alone.
Daniel Powers' eyes flicker open and his first thought is thank god its not the police station. He is tied up. And he is not alone. Two women stand over them, both redheads. Both beautiful. The Batgirl. Poison Ivy. It is the taller one, clad in tight green and spiced up with foliage, who speaks. "You are all here to pay for your sins. You have no place in the new dawn that is upon Gotham. You have been judged. When my machine is ready, it will spread my spores throughout Gotham turning all into servants like my bodyguard here." At the gesture towards her, Batgirl's mouth twists slightly. A proud smirk.
"It will be a new age for Gotham. Not so much a golden age as a green age. But like I said, you have no place in it. You will all be at the heart of the explosion and reduced to part of the soil you have defiled. And Gotham shall be reborn..."