Fate Of The Dark Damsel Ch 09 And 10

IX.

I took it as a good sign that one of Gotham's Top Ten villainesses would give me the time of day, much less jerk me off in public. I guess the only person I should have been concerned about was Two Face. I expect he was hoping for a totally different evening. I cashed in my chips and tried to keep watch on the situation. However, there was very little I could do with 20 of Bane's henchmen around to watch his formidable backside. I could only imagine what he would do with Batgirl. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be pleasant.

I shouldn't have concerned my self with it so much because, as I stepped onto the elevator and punched "G", I didn't notice the elevator heading straight up. I did give a casual glance up but didn't see that 17 had turned to 35 and I was still climbing for the penthouse. I blame the lateness of the hour and my own personal exhaustion.

I was daydreaming about other close encounters I've had there and the tales other thugs tell in our various rounds of poker between heists back in the days when The Joker ran Gotham. If Duality could be described as the Underworld's Studio 54, The Lab could be the basement where the elite meet for metahuman treats.

The only catch-of-the-day I know for certain was The Huntress. Pretty much your garden variety mobster with gymnast training, she ventured into The Lab looking for the guy who parked the car for the assistant to the secretary of the fuckwit that shot her daddy. She had a big chip on her shoulder before she was tamed by Joker.

Vinnie Clives was working the books for Joker when Huntress showed up, busting heads and desks, looking for him. I was working what amounted to a typist pool three floors up writing ransom notes and death threats when I heard the ruckus and hustled down with the others to see this gorgeous raven-haired Amazon with a pistol crossbow and the tightest pair of ass cheeks ever to be packed into spandex. Her purple/black costume might as well have been painted on for all the good it did covering her muscular body. She was one of the more graceful fighters I've seen and spent the last few minutes of her career as a superheroine cracking skulls before Joker decided he'd had enough.

Huntress found Vinnie Clives working at his desk and was doing the whole "vengeance is mine" routine when Joker left his officer and introduced himself to her.

"Good eeeeevening, my dear." He said, happily dancing about in Bermuda shorts and a LOUD Hawaiian shirt. "Is there a problem? There's no need to get so upset in our place of business. Surely there's something I can do."

The Huntress jibber-jabbered about revenge and death for about two minutes, holding her crossbow square at Vinnie's forehead from about a foot away. Vinnie was sweating like a pig. He'd never done so much as lift a candy bar from a grocery let alone murder someone. But there he was, looking to Joker to save his sorry ass. Joker looked concerned for a moment, then started to yawn.

"Yes yes yes, my dear," Joker said, displaying his ruby gums through his mal-formed white lips. I quite understand how you feel. Let me make amends."

With a single jerking motion, he extended his right arm and fired a single round from a concealed pistol in his wrist. The bullet tore a hole clean through Vinnie's head and spattered the Huntress as the remains crashed forward on his desk.

The echo had barely faded when Joker said, "Now. Can we be friends?"

His grin remained fixed, but his eyes betrayed fear as he suddenly ducked, avoiding the bolt intended to shatter his skull.

In that moment, they were on her - 30 thugs and henchmen with big meaty fists, chairs, table legs, blackjacks and even bullwhips...took her down quickly. I watched from a distance as she was pummeled to unconsciousness while Joker danced maniacally. As the sound of leather against flesh subsided I heard him growl, "Take her to The Lab."

I know I'm getting off subject, here, Bats, but as I understand it, this Huntress - the one bloodied and beaten in this narrative - is the daughter of the first Huntress you used to be seen with way back when. I don't know if you knew what finally happened to her, but I'm fondly recalling my "cherry" adventure so I might as well share the revelation with you. When I thnk about her and all her assets - the stature, the grace, the dark attitude - it all spells "Batsy's Love Child" to me.

So when I tell you I was tapped to carry the injured Huntress to The Lab, I was quite surprised. Close up, she was quite magnificent. Her body was sculpted and well-defined yet feminine and even moreso that Batgirl. Though her face was battered blue and purple, She had naturally beautiful features. 38 D breasts defied gravity and pressed tightly against the lycra bodice she wore. I kept staring at her face and her long, black hair full of glass and streaked with her own blood as well as the 30 or 40 she had mercilessly pounded on her way through the office. On the way down, she would show signs of waking and her swollen eyes would open slightly, sparkling blue eyes caught mine once and closed again.

The Lab was the sub-sub basement to the office building and was a playroom for The Joker and his accomplices. He had us take Huntress to what amounted to a ceremonial chamber - a mockery of a pagan relgious altar. There, we depostied Huntress on a wooden table and got the hell back before anything important happened. Other goons tied her wrists over her head and pulled the rope tight through a floor mounted loop, pulling her wrists back over her head at an uncomfortable angle. She was pulled to the edge of the altar and her legs spread wide on nylon ropes mounted to the floor. Her ass sat on the ledge, displaying her lycra-clad body to the growing audience of villains.

From the shadows, I watched The Joker appear in a really awful pink tuxedo, with frills and gaudy gold cufflinks. Immediately, Barry White filtered through the soundsystem. He did a little Danny Tario across the floor as he approached the writhing, struggling heroine. Joker stripped his pink top coat and did "the swim" up to the altar, where he looked over The Huntress like a long overdue meal. Joker spoke to her and laughed a lot, but he spent the time exploring the Huntress with his hands, like a sculptor gets to know his clay. He molded her breasts in his white, gaunt hands as he whispered into her ears. He roamed over her muscular abs and caressed her thighs as he hooted and hollered. In the growing crowd, there was a call for some kind of action, some sort of show. Huntress struggled harder as Joker made his way around the altar between her legs and leveled his eyes on her. He snapped his fingers and the music from 2001...Also Sprach Zarathustra..began to play. The lights changed and a spotlight rose on Joker's Pink polyester pants. He slowly unzipped them to the rising music and, as it reached its height, revealed - ironically - a thin, short and creepily pale cock with a decidedly twisted purple head.

Huntress could see, from her position on the altar, what was to happen. Her body was prone to everyone in audience. She must have felt us all staring at her and fantasizing about her as Joker unzipped her crotch, displaying her pussy for us. His cock, while stubby and twig-like, was at an impressive 2 o'clock as he approached her to the cries of those around him.

He snapped his fingers again and two men approached Huntress with a muzzle. She didn't cry out, but they fastened a reubber and leather gag, choking her to open her mouth. From there, they inserted a padded "O" ring that kept her mouth open. Eye level with the Joker's weird cock, she had no defense when he slid it, effortlessly between her lips.

He danced about, petting her raven-haired head like a dog, stroking it back and holding her face toward him as he rocked slowly in and out. He recited rude poems to the crowd and let his fingers walk over Huntress' body.

"Someone get this cut-rate Catwoman a glass of water! She's about to swallow a bitter pill! HOOOO HOOOO HOO!!!!!!"

I could see her writhing on the altar, heroically resisting, tearing at her binds, raising her torso up and down trying to get leverage to pull away, but it only caused the crowd to cheer louder, watching her pussy rise and fall and the spandex pull further way from her crotch as the zipper slid further open, We watched her tight ass tense and relax and her long, muscular legs in heeled boots kicking about helplessly in their restraints as Joker calmly increased his attack on her mouth, cupping the back of her head and pulling. He laughed and laughed and laughed until suddenly he shook - spasmed against her face. He hooted and whooped as we all breathlessly waited for the climax...

And then he stopped! He leaned down to her face and said, "Psyke!"

Sounds of disappointment grew in the room as he danced away from her, his weird manhood slick with saliva, whipping about with him. He suddenly stopped and turned back to her, slowly.

"You know...I feel somehow unfulfilled."

He wasted no time stepping between her legs and, without much ceremony, taking her with quick, short thrusts. While she didn't beg or plead or even cry out in resistance, Huntress struggled hard against the restraints as he fucked her and she managed to pull free one of the floor mounts holding back her wrists, but it was too late. Henchmen we on her quickly, pinning her wrists painfully as Joker laughed and laughed as his wicked, twisted member penetrated her and spilled into her and finally shrank away despite his continued thrusts and unbridled laughter.

The crowd had grown silent and I decided to leave the scene for the cafeteria where I thought I could swipe a few quick snacks.

After that, there was little heard from Huntress. Word is she took the hint and went back to her day job coaching kids gymnastics at some Junior High in Smallville, Kansas.

But I digress...

When the elevator stopped, I half expected to walk out into the lobby and hail a cab. I didn't expect to step into Two Face's office suite and three meaty thugs with blackjacks. They didn't swing at me. I knew most of them. They gave me a look that said the boss wasn't happy with me. I had a feeling the "A" card saved my ass. Without it, I would have already been a puddle.

I nodded to Bennie Markowsky, a savage-looking thug hired by Two Face after the Penguin laid off all his hired guns last year. Of the three, I knew him the best and trusted him the least. He was capable of great cruelty to people, animals and even plants if the whim struck him. The other two were relative newbies, though the bruising told me they were being broken in quickly enough. I knew the drill and walked along the hallway to another dramatic-looking office with expensive breakables and a view of the city out a bulletproof plexiglass bay window. Behind a really heavy oak desk sat Two Face flipping his coin nervously. At this point I knew the coin had been tossed and he was going to either kill me or let me walk with a severe beating. So I felt comfortable speaking my mind.

"Are we going to do this again?" I asked, impatiently. "I really don't want to fuck around with the details of your would-be girlfriend's hand job. You can't tell me you weren't thinking the same dirty thoughts I was."

This was said for two reasons. The first was to establish that I wasn't fucking around. The second was to clear a space around me to move. None of the henchmen like to be in the line of fire from an angry boss with poor depth perception due to oddly shaped eyeballs. Two Face looked like two people in the same space arguing with each other about how to handle my particular case. Clearly there was some jealousy, but I think there was more confusion. I looked at the hideous plant in a pot beside his desk. There was a card that I can only presume came from Ivy hanging from a dangling, twisted branch. I could see in the weird noir lighting that a faint red cloud was circling his head just like the one circling Batgirl's in the nightclub. He began muttering to himself and twitching. I decided that the pollen or the gas or whatever the fuck it was had caused an imbalance in Two Face. It was acting on one side differently than another. It became clear to me that Poison Ivy was fucking with Two Face big time in what could be a hostile takeover bid.

"I need Parkview Square." He said abruptly.

"Excuse me?" I asked, more for clarification than anything else.

"Your boss owns Parkview Square. I need it." He was visibly shaking. "You need to get your boss to sell the rights to that territory to me."

"Why Parkview Square?"

One side took control of him for a second, "None of your fucking BUSINESS, toad!!" He gathered his-selves "I...need to...have those extra city blocks for Ivy. Ivy is working on something of her own and she and I will split the proceeds of the venture. "

I took a breath. "You know that my boss will want a cut of that if he hears about it."

"He ain't gonna know, fuckwit!" the bad side snapped.

I smirked. "Oh no?"

I considered telling him about the plant. I thought about pointing out that Ivy was fucking with both my boss and him. In the bigger picture, my revelation could have gotten me killed OR it might have served to elevate me to a higher level of power in the network. But ultimately, I had to play the more important card I had and deal with a more urgent matter of business. "Tell you what. You get me Batgirl now, before that fat slobbering behemoth Bane gets to her and I'll sing your praises to the boss that you need to look out for someone personally in that district. He isn't married to that territory or anything."

Two Face looked almost like a child on Christmas morning. "You really think he'd do that?"

I shrugged. "Not for me to promise, sir. I know a list of places he'd like to have that you currently own, though. You might make an even trade. I'll keep quiet about the money...IF you get me Batgirl."

Two Face picked up a phone with one hand and opened a drawer with the other. With his chiseled side talking to someone about gathering men on 17, the twisted side was examining the well-balanced revolver. The hand twirled the weapon, spun the empty chambers and slapped them into the weapon with a hard metal slap. I relaxed a little. The phone slammed back on the hook and the gun twirled in his finger until it was upside down, handle out. I knew he was going to have me get Batgirl myself. "I can't get my boys dirty. I'll make sure Bane's goons are distracted, but it'll be up to you to get past the big man before he gets to her. If shit hits the fan, we're strangers got it?"

I nodded. It was my best chance to get Batgirl out of there in one piece. I didn't even think about the fact that my gun was empty until I stepped on the elevator and then, it was too late.

X.

I'm sure the strategic advantage of Parkview Square comes immediately to your keen analytical mind, but I had to think about it for a long while. On the surface, its basically part of Old Gotham featuring the old clock tower at its square surrounded by Federal architecture and converted office buildings. Those office buildings were occupied by some of the most warped and crooked lawyers available and several businesses are, as you know, simply fronts for other, less legal operations. On three sides of Parkview is Old Gotham Park and on the other is City Hall, Armory and Courthouse. The territory is no more than six city blocks and the only benefit to my boss owning it is the protection money it generates and even that is only 3% of his entire protection revenue from the city.

All this passed through my mind as the elevator fell from 35 to 20. Beside me was that slavic idiot Markowsky. We didn't bother with small talk. He hummed along with Juice Newton's "Queen of Hearts" bopping his head back and forth until we reached the destination. I was expecting him to step off with me, but he stood there, shit-eating grin on his face. He gave me a little half-wave like when Wil E. Coyote is about to drop off a cliff and the doors shut between us. Of course, I'd never been to the 20th floor. There was a smell of tea and honey, a feeling of relaxation and soft Eastern music...Jap music I guess, not that queer Indian ganja music. Like the other floors, a main corridor led from the elevators through the middle of the building, branching off twice perpendicular to the main hallway. Along its length, I was caught up in the Feng Shui of the moment, mood lighting, soft colors, heavy carpeting and no echo as I stepped down passed unmarked doors toward the far end.

At least, I thought, he could have given me a room number. At the far end of the hall was a room that should be directly underneath Two Face's penthouse office. I figured that the layout was basically the same, so I walked right to the end of the hall and examined a thick metal door sculpted to look like cherrywood. The teapot handle pulled easily open and I peered inside. One of Two Face's men looked up and leveled a Glok-9 at my chest. I looked over his shoulder to see most of Bane's hooded men like Mexican wrestlers with pale skin watching television. The barrel of the Glok dropped away from my innards and I stepped inside. The doorman waved me toward a far door behind the masked thugs watching a "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" rerun and I walked cautiously on. By the far door, two more of Two Face's thugs stood watch. I nodded to them as I opened the door and passed through.

Around a corner, I entered a medical exam room. Batgirl lay naked except for her cowl on an exam table, arms apart and strapped down. Her legs were also apart, raised in stirrups. Her uniform sat neatly folded in the corner next to her boots and cape. Her body was bruised, red and swollen. Bruises on her arms and legs were a sickly black/blue. Her abdomen was bright red and her dignity was maintained by a towel under which I could see a compress. She was barely conscious and didn't see me. I saw long scratches long her body, old scars and new lacerations. Some of her "show" costume still clung to her skin. Her left eye was dark and her lip cracked and bloody. That, I decided was from biting her own lip so often in the show.

I wanted to go in and touch her, to make sure she was all right. I knew she wasn't in serious danger. She looked more like a fighter in the locker room after a TKO than an ICU patient. No monitors or IVs were to be seen, so I squared my shoulders and moved on to the next office. There I heard the distinct low growl that was Bane and the soft, childlike patter of Poison Ivy.

"So I give you the hybrid of Venom in return for certain...'favors' with this Batgirl. It will take quite a while to generate the amount of Venom you require."

I stopped and listened outside the door as Ivy replied, "We could simply take a blood sample and replicate the formula."

"No. You cannot have my blood," he snarled in a thick Latin accent. "I will give you pure Venom."

"Pure Venom will not work," she almost whined. "We require the unique mixture of Venom and your lifeblood to have the proper components. It’s how the Venom interacts with your blood that makes it necessary to our experiments."

I arched an eyebrow. Venom, as its called on the street, is a wild PCP-like narcotic with extreme physical enhancement capabilities, like steroids, but potent enough to grow mass by the second with every drop. It is highly addictive and potentially lethal. Bane is the ultimate Venom case; he was raised on the stuff. His physiology depends on its constant flow into his body from a series of tubes assisted by a computerized induction machine. Tubes shoot the drug directly into his adrenal cortex and into his bloodstream with such precision that he is able to "Hulk Out" with the press of a button. On its own, Venom is so addictive that a normal human has been known to tear himself apart from withdrawal symptoms. I was wondering why Ivy was looking for metabolized Venom when Bane snarled back, "Then it is necessary that I deposit it … as I see fit. If this is not agreeable to you, I could suggest you milk it from me yourself. It should only take us 2 ... 3 days, tops, my dear." I didn't need to see Ivy's response. I stepped backward toward the med lab. I looked Batgirl over. She was in no condition to move, much less walk. I gathered her costume and belt into a nearby trashbag and started to untie her binds.