Part 1: The Hunt Begins
Barbara sat on her bed, her laptop on her thighs and several papers surrounding her but at fingers reach if needed. Having ate a light supper after arriving home, she stripped off her modest blue heels and deposited her simple blue & gray dress into the hamper, leaving her in her lacy bra, pantyhose and half slip. Here she felt comfortable doing her reviews.
“Time to go to work, Charlie” Barbara said as she closed down the laptop computer and slipped in into the bag. The hard drive was heavily encrypted, so Barbara was confident that even if someone did break into her small, two story brick home and get past the elaborate security system, the data on the drive was more than secure. The papers, no longer needed went into a small cross cut shredder and became fuel for the two sided fireplace that faced both her dining and living rooms below. The fire died out a few moments later.
She put some food into the bird’s cage and blew him a kiss. “You take care of things while I’m out. I shouldn’t be gone long.” She said as she pushed the button under her makeup table and watched the turntable swung around. The space behind the false wall held the tools of her second trade and she prepared herself for her next nighttime adventure.
Barbara Gordon, better known to the world as Batgirl, was preparing to do field research on her latest investigation.
Stripping down to her thin panties, she selected one of the several form fitting, purple one-piece bodysuit from the hanger and slid her feet in. The suit was tight, forming snuggly against her, allowing for ease of movement, total coverage and the maximum body protection available. Once on, the outfit not only showed off every perfect curve of her sexy, toned dancer’s body, but would protect her from the night elements, even if some of those elements were shots aimed at her from a high power rifle.
Next, she slipped on her ankle high purple boots and laced them on tight to prevent them from slipping while running. The 4 inch spiked heels not only gave her additional height, but often proved to be a useful weapon, especially when applied to the groin of a male attacker.
Her cowling came next, again purple with black accents and fake red hair. The large mask prevented anyone from recognizing her delicate facial features while the wig created a red herring to anyone trying to identify her. Not that was a problem.
Being the Director of the entire Gotham City Public Library System gave her the perfect cover and provided many strategic advantages to her night riding alter ego. By day, she wore simple, boring dresses, or plain conservative skirt and blouse outfits to her private office at the downtown library. In many ways, it was as much of a costume as the Batgirl uniform. Though many would have been shocked if the knew she habitually wore sexy lingerie or lacy undergarments below, just to feel womanly in her drab daytime attire. No one would ever suspect this simple mousy but brainy librarian was actuality the sexy caped crime fighter draped in tight purple and spiked stiletto heels.
For the most part, her daytime job was a cake walk. While she had worked hard to get where she was, she almost felt guilty taking the generous salary it paid. Most days, all she did was read and write a few reports, write a dozen or so emails, draft recommendations, take a few phone calls, sign the bills and attend the occasional fund raising events at night. Even though she was in the public eye, she kept a low profile and made sure nothing of Batgirl ever slipped into her bland, everyday life. Even when people spoke about any of Gotham’s three caped crusaders, she just listened in and hardly added anything to the conversation.
Her job not only easily paid her modest bills, it also gave her unbelievable access to mammoth amounts of data she used in her crime fighting career. Millions of research documents, newspaper articles and public archives were just a few books, periodicals or key clicks away. With the library system’s computers connected into the Gotham City Government Network, she effortlessly hacked her way into the Police Department and prison system databases, the District Attorney’s and Public Defender’s offices, the Crime Lab, even the city planners, utilities and sanitation offices. You never knew where you might find that once piece of information that would result in the capture of a desperate criminal.
She even had secret access to the emails and calendar of her father, Police Commissioner James Gordon. She could sit in her private office all day doing inquirers and research, with no one wondering why or for what, or who was doing it. And with the well disguised remote hookups she installed (and the city paid for), Barbara could tap into everything from a laptop in the comfort of her own home. And her status as both a director and a daughter helped get her into the inner elite social circles, adding to her list of contacts and sources of information.
Barbara Gordon was wired in.
Next came the low slung gold utility belt, not fitting at her slender waist but coming to rest across her shapely hips. Not only did it contain the many tools and weapons she needed to get into places and keep her out of serious trouble, it also showed off her trim waist, sexy hips and well formed buttocks. Barbara purposely designed every piece of her Batgirl costume to be functional yet extremely alluring, both to provide a simple distraction to the criminals and as a counter to her drab daytime attire.
She threw the purple and yellow cape over her shoulders, adding another layer of armor to protect her from knives and gun shots to the back while adding more places for gadgets. Lastly, she put on the form fitting gauntlet gloves, perfectly fitted to not impede her fingers dexterity while preventing accidental fingerprints being left behind. Everything was distraction and misdirection mixed with functionality and survivability. The outfit even breathed well, letting out perspiration so her body wouldn’t overheat, yet warm enough against the cold night and artic blasts of even Mr. Freeze’s icy toys.
She checked herself in the mirror to make sure everything was perfect. She turned her back to the mirror and raised her cape. The suit accented her entire figure, but really showed off her backside. She smiled to herself. Barbara believed her legs and ass her best features.
“Eat your heart out, Catwoman.” She said of her chief nemesis as she gave her tush a little wiggle. “You know Charlie, I bet I give Batman a bigger hard on that Catwoman ever did.” She joked.
Of all the super criminals in and around Gotham City, Catwoman was her chief rival and in many ways her equal. Catwoman was a master burglar on an immense scale. She doesn’t have any grand plans of world dominance like many of her contemporaries, but she was absolutely ruthless in her pursuit of money. If someone got hurt (or worse) in the process, it was their own fault because they got in her way of obtaining her desired prize.
It’s a common belief that the feline thief has a real passion for Batman, and for that reason never could bring herself to intentionally destroy the dynamic duo.
But when it came to Batgirl, that courtesy didn’t apply. In fact, Catwoman took depraved satisfaction in devising horrific attempts to capture and eradicate her female counterpart. Almost all of them took on bizarre sexual angles, causing exotic torments to be inflicted on Batgirl in one form or another, with a few resulting in highly charged Cat-on-Bat incidences. It was well know that Catwoman was bi-sexual, a fact her apprehended kittens would attest too.
It seemed Catwoman has a bondage fetish too and would often inflict tight, elaborate ties on her kittens or kidnapped victims who’s ransom were yet unpaid, to entertain herself or to gratify her own sexual lusts. She had no preference of male a female to entwine in her tight bondage and lavish her sexual attentions on, as long as she got satisfied, leaving many of her victims wishing for more. Her kittens would comment that Catwoman would often refer to them as Batgirl when they were bound, gagged and enduring her lusty affections.
This was no surprise to Barbara. Many times Batgirl found herself expertly bound and humbly gagged by the exotic feline, forced to resist from or keep on climaxing to prevent her own destruction while the Cat looked on for a time before safely withdrawing. Incredible pleasures would be heaped upon or withheld from Batgirl, clouding her judgment as she attempted to escape the evil situations, which up to now she always made happened or was rescued from, while Catwoman pleasured herself , made one of her kittens perform on her or forced herself on the fettered purple avenger as she watched the situation play out. Many nights, Barbara woke up from erotic dreams of herself in perils and pleasures while tangled up with or powerless under the domineering control of Catwoman.
Not that the male criminals didn’t have sexual hang-ups for Batgirl and took their perverted pleasures out on her as well. More than once, Batgirl had faced stiff cocks aimed in her direction while helpless in some kind of life threatening device. The criminal simply wanted to boil, smash, impale, mince or burn up Batman and Robin, putting an end to their meddling crime fighting careers. With the exception of Penguin, they all wanted to first fuck Batgirl or make her suck them off or, at the very least, spray their sperm all over her before she faced her final doom. Joker especially was always doing his best to get into her Batsuit before the deathtrap would work it’s last on her. Needless to say, Barbara was quite satisfied with the results of her implanted birth control and happy she had many copies of her costume.
She just wished Batman would have the same affections for her, just skipping the doom part.
Barbara had her share of male suitors. She dated, but never seriously with a single man or regularly for very long. Even if she found a guy she really liked, she still kept him at a distance, preventing him from discovering or being harmed by her secret identify. It would take a special man to wrestle her way from her night stalking activities. Though she truly believed that would never happen, on both counts.
Not that she didn’t like having hot, wild sexual adventures with a horny and talented stud. In fact it was usually Barbara, having a vigorous sexual appetite, which initiates the physical activities early in a relationship. She loved to roll between the sheets with a guy, giving and receiving intense pleasures and ultimate satisfactions, especially when it wasn’t while involving a life threatening situation. She found nothing more soothing and enjoyable than a hearty one-night (or a weekend-long) stand with a vibrant, gifted lover to relieve the stresses of her simple daily life and perilous alter ego. She even had a few guys she keep close by that on a moment’s notice would be more than happy to hook up for the night and be gone in the morning. And didn’t mind answering the call from them either, when she could.
Especially if the caller was Mr. Bruce Wayne.
While nearly every available woman (and many of the married ones) had awe inspiring fantasies about Batman, Bruce Wayne ran a close second. Handsome, wealthy, funny, rich, generous, loaded, successful, filthy rich, intelligent and above all available. All the qualities a woman could want. Everything he did turned to gold. In business, social gathering, sports, anything he touched, he did well and profitably. Every collage aged girl had the hots for Robin the Boy Wonder, but women lined up when Bruce Wayne became available.
He lived the playboy life, dating the most beautiful women in Gotham City and the world. Rumors and the society pages were filled with images and stories of Bruce Wayne and some gorgeous woman showing up around town at the biggest events and hottest gatherings. The relationships never lasted long before he moved on to the next lucky woman, and the former would have a juicy tale to tell. Those who kissed and told would only say how romantic and wonderful of a man he was. Those who gossiped said he was incredible in bedroom.
Barbara never told or gossiped, but knew his prowess first hand and more.
They first meet at a fund raiser for a children’s charity. Barbara knew all about the legendary playboy, who was oddly flying solo that night, but was completely shocked when he greeted her by name and knew all about her works with the library system and various charities. She was totally smitten with him, his charms & confidence, everything about him. She quickly realized why women fawned and cried over him, especially when they lost his affections.
And Bruce was attracted to her as well. Though not the most beautiful woman in the room by a long shot that evening, he clung to her, staying at her side and her at his all night. He excused them from conversations with the rich and powerful repeatedly so they could remain alone. They eventually stole out to the cool darkness of the rose garden, with his dinner jacket over her shoulders and hid behind a tall hedgerow, just so they could be completely alone for a while. She wanted to resist him, but they made some kind of unintended connection that night, deeper than friendship but not quite a full blown romantic one.
That night, she shared his bed and he proved a masterful lover with her, bringing her to sexual delights she hardly experience before. When hours later it was over, lying together on his huge silk covered bed, he claimed she was by far the best lover he ever knew. While she should suspect it was a cheesy line angling for future encounters, Barbara looked into his being and believed him to be honest and sincere. When he took her to a quiet dinner a few nights later, giving her a single red rose when he arrived, she knew she meant more to him than a good roll in the sack, accented when they didn’t have sex that evening and the 12 dozen roses that arrived at her home and office the next morning. He proved to her that she was more to him than just a good roll in the sack.
For some reason, if either needed a date for a social gathering, they were together. Even if they came separately, they found time to link up and spend private moments together. The press often rumored that they were a part-time and oddly matched couple, but never seemed to grasp they were very good friends and more. Bruce often sent her flowers or a sweet hand written note just when she needed it, when her spirits were low or the crush of being Batgirl was heavy on her. She came to love Bruce more than she would ever let on to anyone. But like the other men in her life, he too was kept at a reasonable distance. Only her father received her unfettered love, the love and joy that only a daughter can bring to a widowed, overworked and lonely father.
Bruce and Barbara have euphoric sexual encounters many more times, especially when they would arrive a charity events together. On those nights, the well known playboy’s eyes were on her alone, no matter how many beautiful or skimpily dressed women would cheaply throw themselves at him. He was more than content being with her. When they returned to his or her bed, the passion was long, hot and many times kinky. Barbara kept an ample supply of ropes and other bondage toys by her bedside. These were often used (at her request) when Bruce brought her home after spending a stuffy evening with the city’s elite. And he kept an ample supply of his own when she spent the night at stately Wayne Manor. Barbara delighted at being bound and gagged by resourceful and creative Bruce, relishing at being rendered helpless by a skilled lover interested in mutual (and repeated) sexual satisfactions. A far cry from the evil minds that wanted a cheap quickie at her expense before she was about to be done in. She needed these times together to remind herself that love and sex can be passionate, erotic and kinky too.
Barbara often wondered if Batman or Catwoman felt the same way or knew what real passion and sexual fulfillment was. She wondered if they thought the same about Batgirl.
She also wondered what Batman would do with Batgirl, given the chance. Who knew what kinky devices his utility belt contained, and what his inventive mind would come up with if the two costumes crime fighter came together for a physical hookup. It could be awe inspiring.
These thoughts were far from her mind as she closed up the hidden space and made her way to the secret garage. “Wish me luck Charlie” she said as she left. Barbara lived in a run down residential area of the city. This provided many advantages for her. First, her mortgage was cheap, which gave her much needed capital for her crime fighting hobby. Second, it added to her mousy librarian persona. Third, the building itself lent well to secret rooms and a hidden street level access, with few people around to see Batgirl’s comings and goings. Lastly and most importantly, it kept her close to the action.
Before mounting the Batcycle, she checked the outside low light and infra-red cameras, making sure no one would see her depart. After a quick self-check of the system showed her ride was ready, she disconnected the charging system, took her seat on her hotted up ride and started up the systems. With a final check of the nearby monitors, she fired up the bike, hit the wall switch to open the hidden door and rode off, the door closing automatically a second after her departure.
The transformation was complete. Batgirl was on her night riding way.
The Batcycle was an amazing piece of technology. An exceptional and unexpected gift from Batman after her first Batcycle, a well modified street bike, was destroyed by Riddler. Unlike most motorcycles, it ran on electric power rather than a standard combustible engine. This made the bike very quiet with almost no heat signature, especially useful when sneaking up on a hideout. The bike could run full out, with all the gear up and running for six hours on a full change. It even had a small generator built in to apply charge to the batteries when the bike while rolling and a small gas powered engine to charge the system when the batteries were low. She faithfully charged the batteries each time she returned from a run and kept it well maintained, for her life might, and sometime did, depend on her ride.
It wasn’t fast, but running around the streets of Gotham City, she didn’t need speed. Batgirl found it topped out at around 70, which was more speed than she would ever need. Though small emergency rocket pods gave her multiple 5 second burst of speed if needed. Function, survivability and stealth were the principals it was built around. Loaded down with zero light and infrared cameras, small radar, GPS, a digital mapping system, digital recording devices, radios, scanner and a dozen other devices, it was still well balanced and surprisingly maneuverable. There was a lockable storage bin on either side of the bike that contained added gear for her fight on crime. For a gal running solo in the dark night, it was a powerful and useful tool.
Batgirl didn’t need many of the devices tonight. She knew where she was going. It wasn’t more than a few miles from her home, but still she took an indirect route, making it hard for someone to trace her back to her simple little home. Rarely did she ride directly to Police headquarters to meet with the Commissioner or to her intended destination. Even when she was meeting up with the dynamic duo, she covered her tracks as she knew they did. Her crime fighting required total confidentiality and she worked hard to keep it that way.
As she approached her destination, an old abandoned research facility, she shut down many of the cycle’s systems and killed the lights. The neighborhood was in an old industrial part of town, long forgotten and almost abandoned by the city. At this hour, no one was about and few were brave enough to venture into the area.
Except for the criminals.
Batgirl had been around here before.
The GPS put her right behind the building. Already reviewing the buildings plans and history on her computer the days before, she knew much of the location and architecture of the brick and iron building. Though she also guessed that under its dingy exterior, many modifications had been made and several evil traps awaited anyone who entered.
Just another typical night for the Batgirl.
But Batgirl suspected this night would be different. New and unexpected terrors would be waiting for her inside. Caution was the key, maybe borderline paranoia. She needed to keep her guard up and suspect nothing was as it appeared. But if this worked right, she just might rid Gotham City (and all the super criminals) of this deadly threat forever.
Barbara had a long running theory that many of the fiendish traps and devices the arch criminals possessed were not of their own talents. While they may dream up the sick ideas, they lacked the time, resources and genius to being them to light. When it came to designing and building them, another mind, sick and twisted as it is, was doing the actual bright work. There was perverted genius in them, more than the likes of Scarecrow or Penguin could produce. A secret police interrogation report spoke of someone called the Professor, but Barbara could find no further information on this person.
So Barbara had been doing a lot of research into the theory for months. At first, not much came of it, until she hit on the idea of tracing the raw materials that would be needed to construct the finished products. Buying 2000 gallons of acid to fry a bat, and the vessel needed to safely hold it, would cause some eyebrows to rise. But the raw material to mix it up yourself might not.
She quickly found a trend in purchasing of hazardous and technical materials. Next, she found the carriers who shipped it and using the city’s traffic camera system, traced the shipments. Even though the purchases and shipments were made in dozens of names, most were delivered to the same 1 block area of the city, an area of Gotham City that no licensed company or taxable business was operating from. Barbara felt she had her theory on track. When she cross checked the building owners, only a few of those who were long dead names came up. But the property taxes were all up to date. Not a single police or fire call had been dispatched to the area in the past 4 years and no utility or street work done. Quite a remarkable record for a rundown area overrun with low lifers.
She suspected this building was the nerve center of the diabolical manufacturing center. It was well suited with large open spaces for production, a lab for mixing chemical compounds, low profile entrances and ship facilities, and still tied into the city’s power grid, water and waste supplies, even though no one ever received bills for the use.
Tonight, she was going to investigate and prove her theory and do so alone, without the dynamic duo’s backup.
While Batman respected her work, she felt he believed her work inferior to his efforts. Add that he was often rescuing her from sinister traps, often in compromising or embarrassing situations, didn’t help promote her to being his equal. While she’s did bring in a fair share of criminals, compared to his achievements her’s were second-rate. Her resume did include a number of high values targets. Batgirl got a liberal share of news coverage, partly because her sexy womanly figure was very photographic and drove up sales and viewers. And her running feud with Catwoman made good a storyline as well, especially when she brought the shapely feline in to the police, and when the thief would again escape. Barbara kept a scrapbook (well hidden in her home) of all her captures, including pictures and articles. She often leafed through it when she was down or wondered what she ever got into the crime fighting business.
She’d report to Batman and enlist their aid after she proved her theory correct.
She parked the Batcycle out of sight and set the anti-theft system. The bike would only allow Batgirl to activate, ride or access it. Anyone tampering with the cycle would get a real charge from the active defense systems.
She approached the back of the building near the loading docks. According to the original designs, a small ground level window that provided light into a stairwell was located here. With luck, she could gain access through it, rather then scale the building and come through the expected roof access or skylight.
The window had been roughly bricked over, but the mortar was crumbling. In a few moments, she quietly had the first brick out and well on her way to clearing a hole big enough to slip her slender body though. With a final look around the area, she slid though the opening.
She was in.
The building was dark, but with the aid of her low light glasses and her knowledge of the building, she easily found her way round as she moved silently, well practiced in keeping her stiletto heels from clicking on the floor. The ground floor was empty except for abandoned equipment, debris and garbage. It looked deserted. There were heavy doors that lead to other buildings on the block. Some of the windows were broke and boarded over. Paint was pealing from the walls. But the air was fresh and she did find a large stain on the floor in a hallway leading from the docks. It was too fresh to have been here for years and a lack of covering dust showed someone was using the docks recently. And there were heat signatures of power cables running through the conduits.
Batgirl knew she was on the right track.
She moved to the second floor. Here things looked cleaner, but provided no further clues. A large solid wall had been erected at some time, closing off much of the area. She couldn’t find a viable entrance. She wondered what could be hiding behind the walls. She moved up to the third floor, quietly ascending a stairwell that was blocked above at this level.
Here things really cleaned up. There was no garbage, no paint chips, no dust or any other sign of building’s disintegration. The walls had been painted over the past few years and the floors were remarkably clean. More walls had been constructed, but short of busting down a steal door with no visible locks or handles, she wasn’t going to get in. While she didn’t see evidence of it, she suspected that her progress through the building was being monitored. She was getting close to her prey.
She still had more floors to go.
A stairwell was around the corner at the end of a long hallway. She stopped before moving down the way. If ever there was the ideal place for a trap to be set, this was it. The only way to the next floor was the stairwell at the end. The floors looked like square tiles, easily swinging open to fall through. The long hall was devoid of doorways or windows to jump on to, but still looked solid enough that nothing was hidden behind. The drywall ceiling was too low to use her Batrope to swing over. The only way though was to walk or run straight down.
One choice and no options.
The good news was she didn’t see any electric eyes, camera, laser trip lines or gas nozzles. With a deep breath, she took her first and immediately recoiled back. Nothing happened. She stepped forward again and put her weight on the tile and pulled back again. Nothing. She fully stepped on the tile and jumped back. Nothing. Once more she stood on the tile and determined it was safe.
One step down, dozens more to go.
The process would be long and dangerous, but absolutely necessary. No need to rush and pretend everything would be fine. She guessed the trap wouldn’t be set up till somewhere past half way, lulling the victim into a false sense of security before hitting them with it.
It took Batgirl several nerve racking minutes to reach half way. Now female intuition took over, the thing that saved her most often. Cautiously, she started the stepping process. Nothing to this soft touch. She put her weight on the tile and pulled back, but something didn’t feel right this time. Was there a little give to the tile? She tested it again, pushing just a little harder. Something clicked and she pulled back. The tile fell away from her revealing a gaping hole. Had she put her weight onto it, she would have fallen in.
She took her light and peered in to a cage about 10 feet down to the floor below. Without warning, the tile swung back up and sealed the cage with a click. A simple but effective trick against the ordinary intruder, but a sorry attempt to catch a famed caped crime fighter.
It was too far to step over, so the only way to get across was to jump the tile. Fearing an alarm was now activated, Batgirl moved back, ran up and effortlessly (and gracefully) sprang over the trap onto the following tile.
Which promptly split open and Batgirl fell helplessly through.
Batgirl slid down a tube. The sides were too slick and pitched too violently for her to stop her progress. She dropped onto a soft floor, landing on her feet. She stood up, hands at her side ready to grab a handy tool from her utility belt to protect herself or provide escape.
She berated herself for falling into that sense of false security and for falling through the trap. She looked up to see if she could begin a climb or use her Batrope to escape.
Suddenly, she felt something touch her back of her shoulders. No, it was over the entire length of her back and moving around her. Before she could react, thin cords of rubbery, tacky material were being wrapped all around her body, from her shoulders to her ankles and moving around her. In little more than a second, it had made a complete revolution round her body and was starting on a second pass. He arms were pinned against her sides and her hands trapped against her thighs, well away from her utility belt and rendering her helpless. It made 3 complete passes around her slender figure in less than 5 seconds, spreading the sticky rubber cords over her body before the end cut free. She squirmed and struggled against the strong webbing, but she was stuck in it’s grasp.
Suddenly, the whole space was filled with red lights, heat lamps. The heat from the lights was causing the cords to slowly constrict and tighten further against her body. She’d been in something like this before, but a nearby sprinkler reversed the shrinking process and allowed her to escape before she was crushed to death. She stood in a large glass tube, with no where to escape. She couldn’t stop it from shrinking, forming against her body into a tight net. And it kept shrinking down more.
Suddenly, the lights went out again and a cool breeze flowed over her. The material rapidly stopped it tightening it grip on her, but she was still unable to break free of it and the coils seemed to be hardening. Even breathing was becoming a bit of a challenge before it formed itself into a hard plastic body forming cage.
Batgirl was trapped.
And no one knew where she was.
She heard something sliding above her. It stopped and white lights snapped on. She was in some kind of clear cylinder, about 4 feet across. The robotic arm that had done the wrapping was at her side. She saw her reflection on the glass, her body entrapped in the yellowish plastic cage, conforming to every inch and curve of her body. The material was so thin yet so strong, with no way to bust out of it. Looking up, she saw that a lid had slid closed above her, creating the lights and sealing her inside the tube and preventing escape.
Like that was going to happen.
Something clicked, like you might hear when the airline captain was about to speak to the passengers on a flight.
“Good evening, Batgirl.” The unrecognized male voice said calmly. “I’ve been expecting you.” He said as she heard another click and a hissing. Looking at the robotic arm, a green steam like substance was spewing from several nozzles, filling the tube.
Knock out gas.
The robotic arm moved again, this time taking hold of her trapped body with two claw-like appendages to prevent her from falling.
“We’ll be meeting shortly.” he said as the gas quickly took affect. Batgirl felt woozy. This wasn’t the first time this had happen. Her world went gray, then black.
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story continues in Batgirl vs the Professor 2: Meeting the Professor