The Bat

There was nothing but darkness for what seemed like the longest time. She was conscious of nothing more than a feeling of weightlessness and the sound of rushing water. She wasn't in pain at all; in fact, she could hardly feel her body. But soon she was conscious only of a rhythmic beep, beep, beep, that echoed on the outskirts of her consciousness. At first she didn't know what the beeping was—an alarm clock? a phone? She tried to open her eyes but they felt incredibly heavy. She almost didn't want to wake up from this magnificent sleep. But the beep, beep, beeping wouldn't stop—it actually got quicker as she tried harder and harder to open her eyes.

She was conscious of movement near her and a bright, thin line of light appeared miles away. It grew closer and closer until it was all that filled up her vision and then it shrank so she could see that it was a small flashlight-contraption held by a man dressed in black. She could only make out his vague outline. He said something but she couldn't hear what it was, as if her ears were clogged. She blinked a few times and tried to move her body. At first she felt nothing, but then she was electrified by a horrific pain in her arm. She gasped and the beeping got even quicker. The voice spoke again, this time louder, but she still couldn't tell what it was saying. She felt a suddenly pinch on her left arm and she winced.

But then an overwhelming high enveloped her body, accompanied by a serene chill. Her vision suddenly became clearer and she was conscious of a hand on her shoulder. She looked down to observe it. It was tan in color and muscular. It had a large bruise on it that spread from his ring finger down to his thumb. The wrist attached to the hand disappeared underneath a tight black sleeve.

Her eyes followed the sleeve up to a forearm attached to a bicep that bulged with very striking muscles. Her eyes moved to his chest then downwards when she saw that through the shirt she could even see a six pack. Wow, that's impressive, she thought. Or she thought she thought, because a voice answered. "What is?"

"Your abs," she replied before she realized what she was doing.

The figure crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled.

She looked up at the man's face. It was square with a strong chin and cheeks dotted with a dark 5 o'clock shadow. His nose was thin and not too long. His eyes were bright and intelligent and sparkled a brilliant blue in the bright lights. His smooth forehead betrayed a concerned expression. His hair was cut short and was dark brown, almost black.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She stared at his mouth—it was a very pretty mouth. In fact, every bit of him was pretty. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen a more attractive man—Joker included.

"I feel high as fuck."

"You are high as fuck," he answered, holding up a syringe with a smile. "Morphine," he said, "You have a pretty grisly bullet wound that would be causing you a lot of pain without it."

She turned her head to look at her arm. Her bicep was wrapped with a white bandage and an IV stuck out of her arm. Her index finger rested inside a pulse monitor.

"Ewww, I hate needles," she squirmed a bit.

"Don't look at it, look at me," the man said.

She gladly complied and stared at the handsome man once more.

"Does your arm hurt?" he asked.

"Not really," she said and moved it and screamed with pain. "Aaah! Never mind, yes, it hurts."

"Just try to keep it still," he said and he turned to survey some computers that sat atop tables to her left.

"Where am I? I'm not at the hospital…"

She definitely lay in a hospital bed but she'd never seen a room like this before. They were positioned on the edge of a large, cavernous chamber. A waterfall sounded in the distance. She could see a jet sitting on a platform that stood out across what looked like a bottomless pit. Two silver bridges stretched across the void, joining different parts of the strange room.

"You're in the Bat Cave," he answered matter-of-factly as if this wasn't shocking news.

"The Bat Cave?" she exclaimed. "What—why am I not at the hospital?" Not that she was complaining…

He shook his head. "You've been unconscious for a while," he said.

"Like how long?"

"Let's see…" he said, checking his watch. "One hundred and fifty-six hours so…almost a week," he answered.

"A WEEK!" she exclaimed, sitting up and squeaking again due to the pain in her arm.

"That's right," the man said. "I didn't want to leave you in a hospital unguarded," he said, the smile disappearing from his face. "Joker's torn the city apart looking for you."

Her eyes widened at that tidbit of information. She was partly flattered, but mostly indignant. "He shouldn't have put me up on that crane if he cared about what happened to me!"

The man chuckled. "You and I are in agreement there," he replied as he put the cold metal of a stethoscope on her chest.

"So… you're Batman then?" she asked hesitantly.

"You can call me Bruce," he said nonchalantly. "Now breathe in… and out…"

She did what he said and stared at him. "Sooo… you brought me here to keep me safe?"

He nodded and put the stethoscope down after marking something down on a chart. He crossed his arms across his muscular chest and frowned slightly, looking at her with a stern expression. "You want to tell me why you ran away from me at the Gotham Royal?" he asked, peering at her with serious eyes.

She could feel color rush to her face and she bit her lip, unable to suppress a smile. "I didn't run away; I was kidnapped," she lied.

He raised one eye brow. "Is that so?" and he pressed a button and all five computer screens beside the bed started playing the same video. She first saw Batman and then saw herself. She watched as Batman climbed into the vent and then watched herself bounce girlishly around the corner to the elevator.

She grimaced—he'd caught her.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, staring at her with a confused expression.

Could she tell him the truth? He'd either laugh or think she was crazy. "Umm…" she faltered, "I… uhh… wanted to see the Joker…" she confessed.

His eyes widened. "Were you high on crack?"

She laughed a little. "Umm, no, I just… always liked him."

He remained silent and still looked at her with a confused expression.

She sighed. "I thought he'd be great at sex—and I mean he was-"

His face betrayed a disturbed look.

"Don't judge me!" she snapped. "I thought he'd be nice but obviously I was wrong."

He laughed. "Uh, yeah, way wrong."

"Shut up!" she told him but smiled in spite of herself.

"You'd be dead if I hadn't saved you're life," he looked impressed with himself.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Beating up thugs, saving the day—it's what you need."

He looked surprised at her spunk. "Maybe that's true, miss—"

"Marley."

"Maybe that's true, Miss Marley," he continued, "but you're in more trouble than you realize."

"How so?"

"The Joker's not going to stop looking for you. He's already taken countless lives in the past week…" and he pushed keys at his command center and the computer screens filled up with grisly scenes of mayhem and destruction. One screen showed the Gotham Royal, once again burning and ruined; another showed Joker thugs—she was almost positive one was Jacobs—driving a stolen ambulance, smashing cars as they barreled down the road; another showed large, purple presents dropping onto the city only to explode when they touched the ground; and another replayed the video she and Joker had made before the disaster at the Steel Mill.

"Well where have you been?" she asked the Batman.

"I've been here taking care of you," he replied, not at all bothered by her snarky response. "I finally got him to stop terrorizing the city by telling him that I had you."

"You told him I was here?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, not that you're here here, just that I have you. He knows I won't kill you now that we've all seen the imposter Batman."

She'd forgotten all about the other Batman. "Who the hell was that?" she asked, suddenly remembering his glowing red eye.

"I'm not sure yet."

"Well don't the police have him in custody? You tied him up before we came here," she said, recalling her last few moments of consciousness.

"He got away," Bruce replied in a disappointed voice.

"He got out of the ties?" she asked, surprised.

"It's unlikely he got out by himself."

"So you think he has a partner?"

"It's a theory," he replied. "I need to investigate more to know for certain."

"Do you have a hunch about who the murderer Batman is?" she asked.

"I try to refrain from making too many assumptions before I have solid evidence," he replied, "but those guns he was using, I've seen them before."

"Really? Where?" she asked eagerly.

"His name's Deadshot. You heard of him?"

She nodded, remembering hearing about him on the news a few years ago. He was an excellent sharp shooter, known to hit several targets with one carefully placed bullet, but no one had seen him in years. "Why would he want to kill Joker? Isn't Deadshot a mercenary?"

"Yes," Bruce replied. "So, the real question would be who hired Deadshot to kill Joker. But before I dive into a wild theory, I need to wait for more evidence to surface."

She suddenly remembered the note she'd found in the bullet. She recounted the creepy little rhyme and Bruce narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

"Well Joker certainly has his fair share of enemies," he mused, "but why would someone suddenly have it out for him?"

She shrugged, having as much a clue as he did. She changed the subject. "Soo… is Joker fine with me staying here?"

Bruce laughed hard. "Hell, no. He thinks I'm handing you over to him tomorrow night."

"What!" she exclaimed. There was no reason for her to be afraid of Joker, but she didn't feel very good about being committed into his care after what happened at the Steel Mill. "Are you going to give me to him?" she asked incredulously, studying Bruce's face.

"That all depends on you, Miss Marley."

"What? How?"

"Well if I like having you around, I'll keep you; if I don't, I'll hand you over," he teased with a handsome grin.

She could think of one or two ways to convince him to keep her.

"So when can I get out of this bed?" she asked, and into yours, she thought.

"Well I was hoping you'd accompany me to a ball tonight."

"A ball! Tonight!" she exclaimed

"But it depends on how your arm looks," he opened a drawer and took out a pair of long, silver scissors. "Let's take a look," and he walked over to the other side of her bed and began cutting the bandage.

"It looks worse than it is," he said in response to her gasp.

Her arm looked horrible. A massive green and blue bruise colored her arm from elbow to shoulder. She turned away when she saw the gnarly hole in her arm from the bullet. It was black and very scabby, only just beginning to heal.

"Believe it or not," he said with a smile, "it looks really good. You're lucky the bullet didn't dig into your bone—then we'd have real problems," he told her. "I'm going to give you another dose of morphine—"

"Yes, please!" she exclaimed, remembering the amazing feeling.

"—because and only because I'm going to clean it and I don't want to hurt you," he told her. "But that's all the morphine for tonight. I refuse to be responsible for a morphine addiction." He pulled out a clean syringe, filled it with a clear substance, and inserted it into her IV.

She felt the mind-blowing sensation spread through her body once more. "Oooh, fuck," she moaned, delirious with the feeling. "That's almost better than an orgasm."

Bruce laughed as he got a cotton ball and dipped it into another clear liquid. "Alright, brace yourself," he said, and began dabbing it onto the wound.

Even with the effects of the morphine she winced from the sting of the substance. "Ouch! Stop it!"

Bruce laughed. "No, I have to do this."

"No you don't," she insisted, trying to move her arm away from him.

"Miss Marley, don't make me put you under. Then I'd have to ask another pretty girl to the ball."

"Well you're Bruce Wayne," she snapped, "that wouldn't be too hard."

"To get a girl, no," he answered, "to get a girl worth getting, yes."

The satisfaction of those words themselves seemed to ease the pain of the acidic substance. "So what's the occasion?" she asked him, trying to take her mind off the pain.

He smiled at her ignorance. "Today's Halloween, Miss Marley."

She widened her eyes. She remembered he'd told her she'd been out for a week but she hadn't given a second thought to what today was.

"So it's a costume ball?"

He gave her a bored nod as if this didn't excite him. She loved Halloween. It was the one night you could be anything you wanted, get super drunk, and party.

"What's your costume?" she asked excitedly.

He seemed surprised at her sudden excitement. "Hold still," he said as she started to shake her fists in anticipation of tonight's festivities.

"Are you going as Batman?" she asked and laughed. "You already have the costume."

He laughed too. "I was thinking we could have themed costumes," he told her, his face betraying a shy expression.

"Awww, you want to go as a theme? You're cute as a button," she teased him.

He couldn't hide his blush, but he covered his embarrassment skillfully, like someone who was used to wearing a mask. "If you don't want to its fine—"

"Of course I want to!" she exclaimed.

His face lit up and he looked unbelievably boyish. She couldn't believe this was the man who cracked skulls on the streets every night, who outsmarted supervillains, who dedicated his life to stopping crime.

"Anything you want to be, we can be," he told her as he massaged some sort of gel onto her arm.

Her mind swam with all the choices. "Let's be Batman and Batgirl," saying the first one that came to her mind.

"Believe it or not," he smiled, "most people in Gotham don't know my true identity. Let's not make it too easy for them."

She had to agree. "How about… Harley Quinn and Joker?"

"Dressing as a recently deceased woman is definitely in bad taste," he replied. "And I don't want someone shooting at me if they mistake me for the actual Joker."

"That would never happen! You two have way different body types." She'd know.

He rolled his eyes but smiled. "I still refuse to take that risk. Let's be safe and go as fictional characters."

"Hmmm," she puzzled. "Oh! I'll be Ms. Marvel and you can be… Spiderman?"

He laughed. "I like you as Ms. Marvel but I don't want to be Spiderman. I'll be Deadpool."

She liked that even better. "So when you said I could pick the costumes you really meant you'd make me throw out ideas until I said one you liked," she pointed out.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed amiably. "But in my defense your first two ideas were really bad ones."

"Hey! I still think you'd make a really good Batman. Irony would abound when people complimented your costume."

"It would," he agreed, "but I think I'll make a sexy Deadpool."

"You'd make a sexy toaster for God's sake."

He laughed. "You'll look great as Ms. Marvel too," and he gave her a sly smile, undoubtedly imagining her in the skimpy, black leotard. He began wrapping her arm in a tan colored bandage. "The gloves of the costume will cover most of your arm," he told her, "but the bandage will by slightly visible. If anyone asks, you hurt it…" he brainstormed for a lie.

"Rollerblading," she blurted out.

He smiled, "Okay, rollerblading."

She watched him wrap the bandage around her arm for a few moments and then said, "Joker won't be at this party, will he?"

"If he is then I guess I will have to go as Batman. I need to take him into custody. He's an escaped prisoner, you know."

"Yeah, I know," she said gloomily. "Are you going to try to take him down tomorrow night when we meet him?"

"Well…" he scratched the back of his head. "I wanted to discuss that with you."

Uh oh, she wondered what was coming next.

He sighed. "I was hoping you'd be willing to go back to him," he said, "and do some investigative work for me. It seems this mystery Batman is after Joker for some reason. I can't watch Joker while he's in the penthouse, but you can."

She was silent for a few moments, thinking it over. "So you want me to be a double agent?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. You aren't really working for or against one of us but helping me find the imposter Batman who's trying kill Joker. In a way, you're actually doing Joker a favor."

She wasn't so sure about his logic. "Do you think I'll be safe? What if Joker finds out?" she asked, suddenly scared. She had no idea what he would do to her if he found out she was working with Batman, but she knew it wouldn't be good.

"Yes, you'll be safe," he assured her. "I'll be with you every moment of every day with this," and he held up a small device that looked like a hair barrette. It was red with a black flower on it. "It's a microphone," he said, smiling at the look on her face. "Just put it in your hair," he handed it to her, "and I'll always be with you. Any sign of trouble, and I'll be there."

She scrutinized the tiny microphone.

"Does that make you feel more comfortable?"

"Sort of," she replied. "You realize you'll hear us having sex, right?"

"Of course I realize that," he said grumpily, almost jealously. "I'll just turn it down during that."

"Yeah right," she teased him, "You'll probably turn it up."

He smiled, getting used to her jests. He changed the subject. "So if you're coming to the ball with me," he said, "you have to get out of that bed. Your legs will be weak at first from almost a week of disuse," he said as she scooted to the foot of the bed, "so hang onto me as you walk these first steps."

He didn't have to tell her twice. She was more than happy to grasp his bicep. It was rock hard and made her think of other things that could be rock hard. Instead of trying to walk like she was supposed to be doing, she started massaging his arm, squeezing and caressing his muscles while she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Ummm, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I guess this could be classified as feeling you up," she replied. "How about we don't walk right now and do something else instead?" she asked, giving him a flirty smile.

He gave her a look. "Do you think I'm that easy, Miss Marley?" he asked.

"Yeah…"

"Well, I'm not," he smiled. "You're going to have to do a bit more than that to get into my pants."

She tried not to betray her chagrin. Guys always wanted to have sex and never turned her down when she came onto them. I guess you are going to be a challenge, Bruce, she thought. "You're boring," she teased him and jumped off the edge of the bed with reckless confidence.

She had expected her legs to work properly, but they definitely didn't. They felt like jelly and she would have collapsed onto the concrete floor if he hadn't caught her around the waist and scooped her back onto her feet. He continued holding her around the waist so she wouldn't fall again.

"Can't keep your hands off me, I see," she teased again.

He ignored her. "If you want to go to the ball, you'll have to listen to me. Put weight on one leg," he instructed her, "hold if for about a minute, and then switch."

In about 5 minutes she was mobile once more.

"So you think you've seen enough of the Batcave?" he asked as she graduated from a brisk walk to a clumsy skip.

She jumped and landed in front of him. "I'm assuming your mansion is above this cave?" she asked.

"I prefer to call it my house, but yes," he smiled and walked over to an elevator in the corner of the room.

She followed him, her eyes studying his perfect ass. She felt a slight pang of guilt for coming onto Batman so quickly. She felt loyal to Joker in a way, even after what had happened at the Steel Mill. Well you haven't fucked him yet so don't feel too guilty, she told herself. But she didn't know if she could resist Bruce Wayne; she didn't even know if she wanted to resist him. Let's say I did sleep with him, Joker would never know, right? she rationalized to herself. So there'd really be no harm in it… Her mind began racing. I could have both of them, she thought wickedly.

"Why are you so quiet?" Bruce asked as the elevator door shut and it lurched upwards.

"Oh, just thinking about all the nasty things I'm going to do to you," she replied.

He gave a "Hmph," and didn't ask any more questions, leaving her alone to her thoughts.

Would that make me a slut? she puzzled. Even if it does I don't give a fuck, she decided. She took a moment to think about how different they both were. With Joker, she'd felt like he was always the one in control, the one calling the shots. But with Bruce, she seemed to have a strange hold over him; she recalled how he'd betrayed dismay when she had jokingly rejected his idea that they attend the ball with themed costumes. Bruce's hesitation at having sex with me is just a ruse then, she realized, his one way to try and maintain control. You wont hold out much longer, Batman.

The elevator came to a stop and the door opened with a cheerful ding, just like the elevator at the Gotham Royal. That made her remember how the Wayne's had made their fortunes, in technological innovations. And their house fucking showed it. The elevator had taken them to some sort of enormous study. It had countless bookshelves that rose up at least 4 stories high. The furniture was dark wood. A warm fire crackled in a huge fireplace in the center of the room. Inviting arm chairs were scattered throughout the room. If she'd liked reading, she would have been quivering with excitement. Instead she asked, "Are you a bookworm?"

He shrugged. "Maybe," he answered, "but most of these are my father's."

Everyone knew Bruce Wayne's parents had been killed when he was a child, so she didn't question him further. He led her into another huge room that looked like a foyer. Two marble staircases led up to the second story.

"You can stay in one of the rooms up here," he said as he led her down a hallway after they'd climbed the stairs.

"I can't stay in your room?" she flirted.

"We'll see," he said.

Oh, so we've graduated to a "we'll see," she thought with satisfaction.

He opened the door to a huge bedroom with a four poster king-sized bed, a full entertainment center, and a balcony that overlooked a magnificent garden. "You can rest in the bed or get cleaned up in here," he said and opened the door to a huge bathroom.

"You sure you don't want to join me," she rubbed her hand against his crotch.

He pulled away and laughed. "You are one horny girl, Miss Marley. It's tempting but I got some things to take care of before tonight—acquiring our costumes for one. But maybe later," and with that he'd shut the door, leaving her alone in the massive bedroom. But before he'd gone, she saw that he had a boner. She smiled, knowing she'd soon have him.