Life is suddenly thrilling again.
"Hand it over," Edward Nygma, aka The Riddler, says with a flick of the wrist that he holds his gun in. He's dressed in a dazzling green suit and a bowler hat, ready to play his part.
The nervous woman behind the glass says, "I can't. I don't have access -"
"Sure you do, lady," The Doc says, motioning for him to step aside. She also holds a gun in her hand and points it directly at the teller. "If you don't do as he asks, the two of us are going give everyone here a little show."
The woman clutches at her throat and pulls on it a little, looking confused by what The Doc is saying. But she shouldn't be -The Riddler and The Doc had been all over the news recently, and he's already starting to grow hard in anticipation.
"Will over here be okay?" The Doc asks innocently, sauntering towards the deposit slip table and partially draping herself over it, stroking her hand along it seductively.
The Riddler grows even harder, trying not to let himself get too distracted. He has his gun pointed squarely at the anxious teller behind the glass that he knows isn't bullet proof. He's pretty sure she knows it, too. These quaint little beach towns down here in The South are still so innocent, unhardened. Nothing like Gotham.
And, easy pickings for a pair of criminals fresh out of cash.
Down here, all of the electronic forms of currency were incredibly unreliable given the destroyed state of Gotham City, the hub of commerce. So, you either had cold hard cash or you starved - and they had no intention of starving.
In a flash, Lee is back at the teller's window - in her face - her excited breath misting up the glass. "Or would you prefer we do it right here?"
Before the woman can even answer, The Riddler lifts The Doc up and places her on the teller's counter, drawing up her skirt. Her bare ass presses against the glass as he pushes himself against her, tongue deep in her throat, one hand in her hair, while the other still holds his gun to the glass, still pointed straight at the teller's face. He is hard and insistent as he presses against her warmth through his pants. He moans, indicating his frustration that the cloth of his suit is still between them.
She rips his head away roughly, breaking their deep kiss. "Need a little help there?"
He nods before diving back in to bite her neck as his zipper is audibly pulled down -
"Here! Here!" The teller yelps. "Take it, take it!"
And incredibly wide grin breaks across The Riddler's face and he chuckles deeply before pulling himself completely away from The Doc and calmly zipping back up.
After The Doc hops off the counter and grabs the bricks of bound cash that have been suddenly thrust upon them, The Riddler turns to the teller.
"What, once lost can never be regained?"
The woman just stares at him blankly.
"Milton," he whispers under his breath. "Does no one read Milton any more?"
The Riddler just leaves her that way, tipping his hat to a stunned elderly couple on the way out. Both of them had failed to notice the tall middle-aged woman with frizzy graying hair who was still waiting in line as they passed. But she had been watching them carefully as she chewed on the same nasty thing that the man who had delivered Kristen's marker had been.
The windows of their fancy black car have fogged up since it's been parked along the beach. The marine layer hadn't lifted yet either, so even though it's nearing midday, basically no one can see them.
"Fuck! Oh God!" Edward groans loudly and squeezes his eyes shut as he comes into her, one of her feet slipping against the window as her leg that is lifted to the ceiling begins to shake. She is coming, too.
"Edward!" The Doc practically screams as she holds onto his neck and pants for dear life.
They may not be visible, but they sure as hell are audible.
And it's his orgasm that lasts for a while now.
"What was that?" she Doc asks, a little shocked once he's done.
He smiles impishly as he draws a strand of hair away from her moist forehead. He knows that he is responsible for making it moist, which makes him smile. "You know how much I love almost getting caught."
"Yeah, but we didn't even get to the intercourse part this time, we had that teller so flustered."
"And that," he touches her nose with the tip of his finger gently. ". . . is why we're in here."
"But why - ?"
"Why do I think we were almost caught?"
"Yeah," she answers.
"Doc, your penchant to use tranquilizers backfired this time, I'm afraid. One of the guards was waking up." He sighs. "Why you insist on that, I will never know. I know you're a killer just like me. And so do you - don't even try to deny it."
"Just because I can kill when needed does not mean that I have to kill people indiscriminately. Do you have any idea how many security guards we would have left in our wake already if I had?"
"Is that why Strange is still alive?"
The Doc sits up, making him move out of the way. She grabs her blouse and starts buttoning it, not looking him in the eye. "I don't know what you mean."
"You wanted him dead as much as I did. You said so yourself, but when you had the opportunity to kill him, you didn't. Now I've got to track him down with Oswald and make him pay for what he did to Kristen, what he did to us."
"Yeah, but you'll love that." She finally turns back to him and winks.
"But why? Why didn't you kill him? Was it some leftover softness, some inexplicable empathy you had for him? I'll never understand why you just let him go with no more than a conk to the head. Why didn't you follow that up with a coup de grace?"
"Are you being serious right now?"
"Yes. Why?"
"You were bleeding out. I hadn't gone soft." She sighs, frustrated. "Sorry I thought that saving your life was more important than taking one. I had to disable Strange in order to focus on you and one blow to the head just wasn't enough to kill him."
"Oh." He hadn't considered that.
"Yeah, oh."
