WARNING: This story contains scenes of violence, rape, bondage and other sexual situations that are not appropriate for anyone under the age of eighteen. If you are under the age of eighteen, do not read this story. If you are offended by this material, do not read any further.
Batgirl, Batman, the Crimson Fox, Gotham City and all other characters, except for Peck, the Red Masque and Tree, were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time, of which I seem to have a lot. No compensation has been or will be received for this story. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.
Any similarity between names characters and places in this story are purely coincidental.
The Red Masque was created by, and is property of, Glavas K.
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(I)
The woman whimpered as her lips and face were padded dry from the sweat that had accumulated there. The silk handkerchief smelled nice and felt smooth against her flushed skin.
"There, there," the man who crouched over her on the bed cooed. "Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?"
The woman did not reply. The man, his face hidden by the darkness of the room, put the handkerchief down on the table next to the large bed.
"No comment, eh cherie? That’s just as well. I like to think that I leave all my women…breathless."
The man smiled. She could see his teeth reflected in the light coming from the large window. He looked like a shark to her. She whimpered again and tugged at the ropes that bound her hands behind her back.
"My good man," the man spoke over his shoulder while hardly turning his head. "Will you help this young lady to the window so that she may take in our beautiful city one more time?"
The shadows behind the shark-like man moved and all rose as one. Into the light of the window, a giant of a man stepped. He was dressed in a fine three-piece suit. He slowly stepped around the other man as that one retrieved a dark colored silk robe from the back of the easy chair by the room’s large fireplace. The girl cowered.
"Do not fear, cherie," the shark-like man purred as he slipped the robe on. "My man will not hurt you. He is just going to seat you by the window so that you may marvel at the beauty of our bright city."
With relative ease, the large man picked up the nude woman and carried her to a large, ornately cushioned, straight-backed chair that faced the open window. The woman struggled and whimpered some more, but the man was too strong. In moments, he had several lengths of rope wrapped around her torso, securing her to the chair. The woman began to cry.
"Oh, do stop." The smaller man chided her. "You would think that a veteran police detective would have a bit more courage, eh cherie?"
He stepped up behind her and slid his hands around her neck, massaging her smooth skin. The woman stiffened, her sobbing momentarily halted as she held her breath.
"You have such a beautiful neck," the smaller man purred as he slid his hands down to the woman’s breasts. She began to whine.
"Please, don’t…don’t kill me…" she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "I’ll do anything. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll quit the force, I’ll leave the country…just let me live!"
The man sighed.
"I’m afraid that is impossible, petite. You have seen my face. That alone has sealed your fate-"
"Noooooo!" The woman wailed, sobs punctuating her cry.
"And if I did let you go--if I knew that you would do all those things you said you would do--then I would be robbing myself of the pleasure I would gain from you…as you die!"
Suddenly, the man wrapped a long, silk scarf around the captive detective’s slender neck. Her cries were cut off as he pulled on the ends and constricted her windpipe. The woman began to thrash in the chair, but she was tightly bound and the chair was sturdy. She started to choke and gag, but soon there was no air to create those noises. Her eyes bulged as her brain sought more oxygen to replace what was used up while she thrashed about. The woman’s pink tongue started to creep out of her mouth, forcing her teeth out of the way. Sweat broke out on her skin and covered her face and breasts.
"I got you a blue scarf, cherie , because I thought it went well with your eyes."
The man grabbed one end of the scarf in his teeth to free one of his hands. He then reached around to the woman’s breasts and began squeezing them. Even though the woman knew that she was being strangled to death, she tried to pull away from her killer’s touch, her mind bringing back the memories of the degradation she had endured not even a half-hour before.
"Oh yes, petite, oh yes," the man purred through clenched teeth. "Oh, you are exciting me…driving me wild. This is wonderful, is it not? The lights from the city enhance the beauty of your body. You look like an angel, an angel bathed in the glow of the ten thousand lights before us…"
He ran his groping hand down the gagging woman’s sweaty stomach and into the dark blonde mound that lay below. One probing finger slid inside the folds of the woman’s vagina, causing her to gasp, although it was a hideous, airless gasp.
The man sighed.
"Oh, and you do feel like an angel. Oh yes."
He fingered the woman as she thrashed beneath him. Tears streamed down her face. Her mind reeled with the dawning knowledge that there was no way out of this one. She was bound and helpless, and weakened from her earlier ordeal. Help was not on its way because no one knew where she was. The killer’s identity had come as a surprise to her and she did not even have time to contact her partner before she fell into the human monster’s trap.
The doomed detective’s vision blurred. Small flashes of white light joined the countless lights of the Paris night that lay just beyond the window. She was so close to so many other people, and no one knew she was even there. She could see people in some of the other buildings outside the large window. They were preparing to go home, or they were coming home from work. She could see a couple hugging as the man came through the front door of their apartment. They were directly across, but several stories down from the dying woman, although clearly visible from just across the street. And then they faded into a blur.
The woman, her beauty marred by her wet, protruding tongue, her sweat and tear soaked face, and the twisted mask which distorted her striking features, watched helplessly as her vision slowly faded into a black wasteland. There was no escape, there was no help, there was not even dignity. There was just darkness and failure.
As the killer groped and probed the woman, his own actions bringing him to a violent climax, the woman herself finally gave up. She slumped into his arms and allowed death to claim her.
Her last thought was a question:
How many more will die because I fell into his trap?
The man stood naked at the window, his hands folded, and shaking, behind his back. Behind him, a body cooled.
"Tree?" The man spoke.
"Yes sir," came the reply from somewhere behind him.
"Get her out of here. Dispose of her in the usual manner."
"Yes sir," the man referred to as "Tree" replied.
"And Tree?"
"Yes sir."
"We’ll be hunting sooner than usual this time. I can feel the need growing already."
Tree paused before speaking. "Is that wise, sir?"
"Don’t you fucking worry about what’s wise and what’s not. Just find me another girl. And be careful…you are supposed to have my best interests at heart. You would not want us to get caught, correct?"
Tree paused. "Yes sir."
The killer watched the reflection in the window as the huge man carried away the body of the female detective.
Batgirl crouched on the rooftop of an old brick apartment building and watched the Parisians travel to and fro beneath her on Rue de Sevres. She sighed.
"Some vacation," she mumbled to herself. She sighed again. Well, I guess I had two weeks, at least, she thought. And it was a good two weeks.
Batgirl fondly brought back the memories of the past two weeks is Paris. She had taken the impromptu vacation after barely surviving a horrible ordeal at the hands of the wicked new villain, Pirate King. Time alone, to relax and forget was just what she needed. And Paris was perfect.
Using some saved vacation time and some saved vacation money, Batgirl flew out of Gotham International as Barbara Gordon, and she had not looked back since.
She had rested at her hotel, the Royal Crest International, for her first two days, enjoying sleep-ins, vigorous work-outs in the gym, and long, hot baths in her room’s Jacuzzi.
When she began to get her strength back, both physically and mentally, Barbara ventured out into the city. She strolled through Paris’ beautiful parks, she lunched at some quaint yet trendy sidewalk cafes, and she wandered through some of Paris’ finest museums, including the world famous Louvre, on which she now perched.
Her nights were made up of long baths, fine dinners and exciting dancing at nearby nightclubs. Barbara even found herself warming up to a couple of Parisian gentlemen she met at those nightclubs. Her dark memories of the time spent as Pirate King’s prisoner and plaything were fading fast. Her romantic spark was being carefully rekindled, as if the two men knew just what she wanted.
She smiled when she thought of them. Her relationship with one of the men would never get farther than dinner and dancing, but the other man was someone to be readily considered as a Prince Charming. He had the heart of a poet and the face of an actor, and he could cook up a fragrant fury in the kitchen. And elsewhere…
Batgirl’s smile widened.
After several moments of recent memories, The Caped Crusader brought herself back to the present, and her reason for being crouched on a building ledge when she should have been walking through the streets below with her new lover.
Her smile faded.
The newspapers called him the Seine Strangler. He was a murderer of women, and he was terrorizing Paris.
There were ten victims so far, including a female police detective who washed up on the banks of the Seine River that very morning. Each of the women were strangled. Each was found nude, save for a scarf wrapped around their necks. Each had been sexually assaulted before they were killed.
Barbara Gordon could only ignore the papers and the newscasts for so long. She had thought the police would have been able to handle the situation, but they appeared baffled. Her undercover, information gathering mission to police headquarters that day had proven that the authorities were trying their best, but they were getting nowhere. The ninth victim was the one whom pushed Barbara over the edge. The girl had been a guest at the Royal Crest International as well.
Batgirl had to step in.
In case of an emergency, Barbara had packed her purple, Lycra costume with newly designed facemask to replace the old, bulky cowl. She had also slipped a sized-down version of her utility belt through Customs in a specially designed suitcase she had made years before. She was without her custom-made Harley Davidson Streamline motorcycle, of course, but she would just have to make do.
Movement in the alley below roused Batgirl from her thoughts. Her plan had been to stake out the park across the street from the Royal Crest International. Some detective work with the information she had retrieved earlier had revealed that all the women were last seen within a quarter of a mile of the park before they disappeared. She thought a stealthy surveillance of the area might produce some results.
It seemed that she might have been right.
Whatever person had caused the movement had stopped, or slipped deeper into the shadows, because there were no further movements from the alley, but Batgirl saw more movement from the street.
A small group of young people was traveling on the sidewalk and was threatening to cross the alley entrance. The police had stressed that travel in groups was best, and it appeared that most of the citizenry were wisely heeding that suggestion. The tourists were, however, another matter. Those in town long enough to be scared or affected by the threat of the strangler would most likely be leaving Paris anyway. Those who had recently arrived were ignorant of the threat and were the most vulnerable.
The group moving toward the alley appeared to be young, American college students. And they looked drunk. Bad news.
As the group passed the alley, Batgirl did not notice any further movement from the shadows, but did notice that one of the girls in the group, a pretty blonde in tight jeans and a black leather jacket, dropped some sort of nightclub party favor near the alley.
Leave it, Batgirl thought. Forgot about it, leave it, keep moving.
The girl did not appear to notice the loss of her item and kept staggering along with her friends.
Whew! Batgirl sighed. Good girl. It’s just some plastic--Oh no.
The girl, apparently now aware of her loss, spun about and bounced over to the alley. Her group did not seem to notice her absence and kept walking.
"Dammit," Batgirl cursed under her breath. She leaned farther over the edge of the building to be able to spot the shadowy figure easier, if it should reappear.
"Hey!" She yelled to the girl below. The girl looked around, apparently confused. The girl staggered back a step or two towards the alley.
"Dammit!" Batgirl cursed as she pulled her Bat-hook from its place on her yellow utility belt.
Batgirl crouched and then leapt into the air, over the edge of the building. The world and all its stable objects seemed to pause and then soar up towards the sky. All except the concrete below which rose up to meet the plummeting heroine.
Batgirl twisted in the air and fired her Bat-hook at the ledge. For a moment, she thought she saw a figure on the roof where she had just been perched, but then that figure was gone. These days, Paris seemed to be filled with shadowy figures.
The Bat-hook’s cable-claw clamped onto the edge of the roof, and then Batgirl engaged the device’s interior, rubber cable brakes. Her fall began to slow and her athletic body felt the pull of gravity as she swung out over the alley. As she swung back towards the girl by the entrance, Batgirl released the Bat-hook and twisted herself into a tumble. As she landed behind the girl, the Bat-hook’s auto-retract system was just finishing with the cable retrieval. Batgirl’s toes took up most of the impact and then distributed the rest to her muscular legs and well-stretched joints.
The girl at the alley spun and yelped with surprise.
"You need to get out of here and catch up with the safety of your group," Batgirl instructed the girl as the crime fighter stepped into the light provided by the street lamps. "It’s not safe here at night."
"B-Batgirl," the girl stammered. "You’re Batgirl!"
Batgirl smiled. "Yes, I’m Batgirl. Now go and catch up with your group."
The young tourist turned and ran toward her inebriated group of friends, turning once to wave at the Girl Wonder.
"And be careful!" Batgirl called after the blonde.
Slowly, Batgirl turned toward the dark alley. Shadows hid almost all which lay within. The beautiful crime fighter took a deep breath and then entered.
The Parisian alley smelled like any in Gotham. Spoiled food, the kind that had been thrown out of a refrigerator long ago, was the prevalent smell. Garbage rotted where it lay. Puddles of stagnant water bubbled warm beneath Batgirl’s boot heels, puddles which would have long ago evaporated if at all exposed to the cleansing rays of the sun.
Batgirl removed her Bat-light from her utility belt, but the ray did not seem to pierce the gloom present in the alley. She was reminded of her near watery doom at the hands of Pirate King. That villain’s light barely cut through the murky depths of Raven’s Cove.
The heels of her yellow boots clicked on the concrete below, echoing throughout the alley. The noise seemed to fade into the ticking of a huge clock.
Batgirl’s heart beat heavily within her breast as she checked behind each box and crate, around each corner and into each cul de sac, into each locked doorway and under each metal stair. The result was the same, however: nothing and no one.
I don’t understand it, she thought. I know I saw something in this alley. It wasn’t a rat, it was as big as a man. But all these doors are either locked from the outside or rusted shut. And there are no signs of tracks. But I saw something.
As Batgirl neared the end of the alley, something caught her eye on the ground before her.
A footprint! A large, wet footprint!
She kneeled down and touched the print with her yellow glove.
It’s still wet. Somebody was here! And recently. So I wasn’t imagining things! Now, I’ll track this guy and make him answer some of my questions.
As the Girl Wonder stood, a massive hand snaked out of the darkness and clamped down over her mouth. A thick, wet, cloth pad stifled her cry. A huge arm encircled her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. The tiny Bat-light fell to the concrete and broke, plunging the young woman and her attacker into total darkness.
Before Batgirl could even begin to struggle, she noticed a familiar odor on the pad covering her nose and mouth.
Chloroform! No!
She tried to fight the man, but he was massive. And tremendously strong. Her arms were uselessly pinned at her sides. Every kick and stomp she launched at the man was countered as he merely stepped back and put the girl off balance. And the fumes were creeping into her head.
No! This can’t be happening! She cried mentally as the man casually walked her backwards in circles. He’s a killer! He’s not some…thug, he’s a…killer!
Finally, the one good breath Batgirl had managed to save was expended. With a whuff, she released that air into the pad and anguishly drew another breath. Thick chloroform fumes invaded her brain, robbing the young crime fighter of her precious will. She felt her flailing forearms and hands grow heavy and fall to her sides. She felt her eyelids begin to droop. And she felt something else: the man’s erection poking into the small of her back.
No… Please… I’ve got to… fight him. If I can just reach… my utility belt…
But her hands would not respond.
Batgirl felt her legs relax, and she sagged into the man who was now her captor. Soon she felt herself being lowered to the concrete and into a puddle. The pad was removed from her mouth.
"No…please…" was all she managed to say before the man’s lips crushed down upon her own. His tongue jammed into her mouth and began probing with urgency. A large hand was groping her lush body, mangling her breasts and pressing down upon her stomach. The man’s mouth was so much wider than Batgirl’s that she found herself being smothered by his violent kiss.
Then the mouth was gone and the pad was replaced, and Batgirl joined the darkness of the alley.
=====
(II)
"How could we lose her! She was right there!"
"Yes, I know, but she is gone now! Come on!"
The two women spoke in French as they darted from shadow to shadow in the dark alley. Their flashlights barely cut through the darkness and the gloom, but just enough to see that they were alone.
"Face it, Crimson Fox," the shorter of the two women said. "Batgirl is gone!"
She stepped into the light of her companion’s flashlight beam. The young woman was French and she was extremely beautiful. Her hair was a mane of black locks that hung down to her shoulders. Her face was partially concealed by a black eye mask. Her lithe body was covered by a skintight, black, v-necked bodysuit which hugged her every muscle and curve. The abdomen of the bodysuit was cut away, exposing her muscular belly. Around her waist, the young woman wore a black utility belt.
"Well," the other woman began, "we will just have to find her, Peck. If that madman has her, then she will surely be dead by dawn."
The woman called Crimson Fox stepped into her companion’s flashlight beam. She was a tall, sleek French beauty with sultry blue eyes. Her sculpted body was covered by a skintight brown bodysuit that went from neck to toe. Her head was covered by a light brown hood that hung down her back, liripipe-style. Her gloves ended in long, hard, plastic claws.
"Well, what are we going to do?" Peck asked, looking around the alley nervously.
"We shall look for clues," Crimson Fox replied. "Batgirl had to disappear somewhere, and if she was kidnapped by the Seine Strangler, then he could not have carried her far."
After a few minutes, the Crimson Fox discovered the wet foot prints which Batgirl had discovered minutes earlier.
"Over here, Peck!"
"Footprints," Peck said as she joined her companion.
"And they lead to this wall..."
The two women began an intense inspection of the wall and, after ten minutes, Peck called out.
"Found something! It looks like some sort of switch disguised like a loose brick."
Crimson Fox stood next to her companion.
"Good job. Are you ready?"
"I’m ready, C.F."
"Please do not call me that."
Peck giggled, and then pressed the brick. The wall before them slid inwards, revealing a damp stairwell that descended into the far wall of the alley. From somewhere inside of the passage, water dripped.
"Let’s go," Crimson Fox said, and then the two costumed women descended into the darkness.
Batgirl finally struggled out of unconsciousness. Her head felt like it was filled with thick cotton, and then she realized that her mouth was filled with thick cotton. She weakly whuffed into the gag and then tried to open her eyes.
She was hanging, suspended in the air by her wrists, which were tied together above her head. She tried to move her feet, but found that they were bound together at the ankles.
The room in which she was in was dark, but enough light filtered in from a window somewhere behind her to allow her a decent view of her surroundings.
The room was plush and exquisitely decorated in a thick French style. The floor was a polished black marble, but it was mostly covered by thick, white rugs that appeared to be made out of fur.
As she spun, she saw that the center of the room was taken up by an enormous brick fireplace that was open on four sides. The coals appeared to have burned low because little light came from within the fireplace.
The walls were papered with what appeared to be gray wallpaper that was decorated with grape leaves and the fleur d'lys. Several beautiful paintings adorned the walls.
As Batgirl’s body turned toward the window, a large bay window that framed a breathtaking view of the Paris skyline, she realized that she was not alone.
"Ah, the red-haired beauty awakes!" A man sitting silhouetted in a large chair before the window spoke in French-accented English.
"How was your sleep, my dear? I’m afraid that it probably was not as restful as it could have been, eh cherie? "
Batgirl grunted at the man and began to struggle against her bonds.
The man seemed to ignore her struggles. "Well, my American crime fighter, let me begin by telling you what an unexpected treat it is to have you joining me tonight. I expected that one ‘hero’ or other would figure me out eventually, but I had no idea it would be the American Batgirl! Have you come all the way from Gotham to put a stop to the wicked Seine Strangler, no?"
Batgirl stopped her futile struggling in order to conserve her strength. Her skin crawled as the mystery man spoke. He seemed very aware and he emanated a darkness.
"No." The man continued. His hands appeared to be folded before is face. Batgirl’s rotations now turned her out of sight of the man. "No, you did not come all the way from Gotham to get me. You were already here, and your pure heart would not allow you to ignore the wicked things which I do here, eh cherie? How noble.
"Well, I thank your nobility and your pure heart because they have both brought us together so that we may share this night. You will be exquisite!" The man whispered, but the words echoed in Batgirl’s ears as if the man had yelled.
"So, we shall begin. I have uninvited guests coming into my lair; more of your ilk. The Crimson Fox and Peck. Have you heard of them, cherie?"
Batgirl remained silent as her hanging body helplessly turned. She was almost facing the man again.
"They are local do-gooders. Two beautiful women. Two lovely French girls. You will meet them soon. They will be punished for their intrusion and then they will join us."
Batgirl now hung facing the man. He stood.
"But for now, let us begin."
The man reached for some item that lay on a cluttered wooden end table next to the chair. Batgirl could see a brown bottle and some cotton pads, and ashtray, some matches, a semi-automatic pistol, which appeared to be a .45, and some other items.
Batgirl’s eyes widened as a gleaming straight razor appeared in the man’s hand. A short whine escaped her throat as he began to walk toward her.
"Let us begin…"
"An elevator," Peck stated as the two girls’ flashlight beams came across the metal doors. "Up?"
Crimson Fox nodded. "I could not find any other secret doors during our trip down the tunnel. I guess up it is."
Peck pressed the only button on the panel next to the elevator doors. From somewhere beyond the doors, motors whined.
"We traveled quite a distance underground." Peck said as they waited. "Where do you think we are?"
"I’m not sure, Peck. My guess is that we’re somewhere under the park, or beyond. Here is our ride."
The doors opened to reveal a stainless steel elevator. The two girls hesitantly stepped inside the chamber. Inside, there were only two buttons, ‘Up’ and ‘Down’. Peck tried ‘Down’ and nothing happened. When the beautiful brunette pressed ‘Up’, the doors closed and the elevator began rising.
"Be ready for anything," was all the Crimson Fox said during the ride. Peck just nodded.
After a few minutes, the elevator reached its destination and the doors opened to reveal a dark corridor. The girls looked at each other and then exited the elevator. Their individual flashlights illuminated parts of a long, wood-paneled corridor. They carefully walked on. The elevator doors closed behind them.
After the two girls walked about eighty feet, a bright spotlight turned on above them, startling them both. From behind them, a man spoke, causing both of them to spin around.
"Ladies." The man greeted in French.
To their surprise, a large, muscular man stood only a few feet from where the elevator was. In each hand, he held a large pistol, which he both promptly fired.
The two heroines grunted as a large dart embedded itself in each of their bellies. Peck dropped her flashlight and then dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach. The Crimson Fox, however, fought against the pain and the warm feeling of poison that was spreading outward from where the large dart had penetrated her abdomen. She dropped her flashlight and launched herself at the man, claws flashing in the air.
The svelte woman almost covered the distance and reached the man, but he casually dropped both weapons and produced two more from the small of his back. He fired one at the Crimson Fox and struck her with another dart in her left breast. The woman yelped and dropped heavily to the floor, clutching her punctured mammary. She writhed on the marble floor, devastated by the pain. Alarms went off in her mind as the warm feeling from the darts quickly spread to the rest of her luscious body. She felt her muscles relaxing, turning her into a squirming rag doll.
The man walked over to her and casually pushed her onto her back with his boot. Crimson Fox’s arms splayed out. Her body was now completely relaxed and immobile. She watched helplessly as the man reloaded his fired pistol while he walked over to the Peck. The Crimson Fox tried to cry out as the man methodically shot her slumped over partner in the girl’s luscious ass, but only a gasp escaped the Fox’s coral lips. Peck collapsed into an unconscious heap.
The man slowly returned to the fading Crimson Fox. The woman numbly watched as the man raised the other pistol, which was yet to be fired. A sleazy smile crossed the man’s lips as he shot the defenseless heroine in her unprotected right breast. The pain exploded into a white flash across the girl’s vision, but she could not ever grit her teeth. The warm feeling of the poison finally blanketed the Crimson Fox completely and she faded into oblivion.
The sinister mystery man had fiendishly sliced Batgirl’s costume into ribbons with his straight razor. Batgirl recoiled several times as the instrument brushed her flesh. The man, however, was extremely careful not to cut the girl’s body. Soon, only Batgirl’s eye mask remained as her costume formed a pile of shreds on the floor below her.
The man dropped the razor to the side of the room’s large bed and walked over to the cluttered endtable next to his chair.
"I am going to take you down now, cherie, but first I am going to make you a bit more manageable."
He returned with a thick cotton pad that he was soaking with a liquid from a heavy brown bottle. Batgirl resumed her struggling as she recognized the odor of chloroform.
The man’s smile said ‘you silly girl, you can’t do anything’, as he placed the dripping pad over the heroine’s gagged mouth and flaring nose. His free hand held the girl’s head steady as the drug sapped her strength. Once again, Batgirl’s surroundings were becoming thick and distorted. Her deep blue eyes widened and then glazed over as she succumbed to the chloroform. Soon she was hanging freely from the ropes that bound her.
Vaguely, she felt the pad being removed. Then her arms fell forward over what she thought were her captor’s shoulders. After, she felt herself falling. She landed on something soft, and then her legs were spread. Her subconscious tried to order her muscles to resist, but there would be no resisting. There was a heavy weight upon her chest, causing her to exhale strongly through her nose. And then something entered her body through her most sacred place.
She was being raped, and she was too helpless to do anything, but aware enough to feel every thrust.
The air was constantly being driven out of her body as the Seine Strangler pumped at her pelvis. Her body’s natural reflexes could not keep up in her weakened and drugged state, and she found herself starting to suffocate, even though her nose remained unblocked.
She barely opened her eyes enough so that they were slits, but that only seemed to make things worse. Her vision was blurry and jerky due to the chloroform and the rape, respectively. The white spots associated with an oxygen deprived brain began to appear in what pathetic vision she could claim.
And then, he covered her nose with his hand.
There would be no more oxygen and she was too weak to fight.
The pounding deep within her sex continued. Soon it began to increase, and each thrust seemed to inflate her body and her brain. Her eyes slowly opened wide, large blue orbs glazed over, yet pleading for life. Her brain seemed to grow larger and thicker as the man pumped, until it seemed as if it would burst. She was dazzled by the flashes of light before her. Her chest felt as if it would explode at any second, spraying her blood and ribs about the room.
And the pounding continued.
She felt her chest heave and her legs spasm, and then darkness enveloped Batgirl.
=====
(III)
As the Crimson Fox slowly awoke, she became aware of several things. First, she was bound. Her hands were tied behind her back with what felt like some kind of nylon cord. Her ankles and knees seemed secured with the same kind of cord. There was a large ball jammed in her mouth and strapped behind her head.
Second, she felt a distinct absence of clothing. Her costume, including her liripipe-like cowl, had been removed. This fact, more so even than her being bound and gagged, made her fight to reach consciousness even harder. After all, she had been captured several times in the past, with each time resulting in her being either bound or gagged, or both, but no villain had ever removed her clothes. She cringed at the thought of some criminal’s dirty hands stripping her. What else did the cretin do?
Third, she felt that she was slumped over inside some sort of vertical-standing, rectangular-shaped box, which seemed to be made out of hard plastic or plexiglass. The air present was warm and stale, with the distinct smell of mint.
With her inside the chamber, there was the warm body of another nude woman pressed up against hers, breathing. The Fox felt the other woman stir as she herself stirred. The other woman’s moans revealed her to be the Crimson Fox’s young brunette sidekick, Peck. The crimson crime fighter was willing to guess that her friend was bound and gagged as she was.
One of the most disturbing things which the French superheroine noticed was the presence of some sort of thick, slippery gel which filled the chamber up to the lower portion of the women’s breasts. As the Crimson Fox slowly moved about, the gel squished and slipped into her nether regions and up under her armpits. She carefully opened her eyes and found that the gel was green and the chamber was clear. The smell of mint washed over her again.
A spotlight came on over their heads.
On the outside of the chamber, a handsome man stood smiling at her.
"Good evening, Crimson Fox," the man said in French. "I am called the Seine Strangler by our media, but I prefer the moniker of the Red Masque!"
He stepped up to the chamber. His dark hair was slicked back. His face was clean-shaven and smooth, broken only by his wide, shark-like grin of perfect teeth. He was wearing a dark two-piece suit with a white shirt and a black tie. There was a red pin on the lapel of the suit jacket that resembled a red hood.
"The Red Masque symbolizes the red haze which is said to fall over one’s vision before they die from asphyxiation." He shrugged. "Just symbolism, really; but I am that red haze to my victims. I am the last thing that they see… The last thing that you will see."
The Crimson Fox struggled, covering herself even more with the gel. She saw that Peck was awake, and looking decidedly concerned. Their nubile bodies slid against each other as the man called the Red Masque continued.
"I normally would call you my guests, but right now you are nothing more than party crashers."
The Red Masque stepped to the right and gestured toward a large bed where a naked, but still masked, Batgirl lay hog-tied on her belly. The Caped Crusader struggled and moaned behind a ball gag. Standing to the side of the bed was the large man who had initially kidnapped Batgirl and subdued the Crimson Fox and Peck.
"I had been watching Batgirl’s attempts to track my activities over the past few nights," the Red Masque continued in French. "And I intended to entertain myself with her tonight…that is until you two decided to interrupt."
Batgirl struggled both to free herself and to translate as much of the conversation as she could. Unfortunately, she had never studied French past the tourist level of conversation that she had brought herself up to for her current trip. However, she did have some knowledge of languages that gave her a certain edge. As Barbara Gordon, Batgirl had studied Spanish since she was a girl, bringing her up to the fluent level in that language. Studying for her Ph.D. at Gotham State University put her through many hundreds of nights laboring over Latin. While these languages were decidedly different that French, Batgirl was familiar enough with the basic and advanced theories of human language to put her limited French to use. Her concentration was strained, however, between the translations and her attempts at freeing herself from the expert rope work that bound her.
The Red Masque walked over to the chamber that held the helpless French superheroines and put his hand on the plexiglass.
"So now you will have to be punished," his smile broadened, "before I enjoy myself with you!"
He laughed as the women doubled their fruitless efforts to free themselves. Peck looked into her partner’s eyes, and the Crimson Fox saw the girl’s concern increase.
The Red Masque sat in a luxurious leather armchair and took a remote control from an endtable.
"Crimson Fox and Peck, you find yourselves squirming in a chemical gel of my own concoction. The gel contains minute metal filings that conduct electricity enormously well. Electricity which emanates from the many tiny electrodes that line the base of the chamber.
"You will dance while I watch and enjoy…"
As the two beautiful crime fighters tensed themselves for the inevitable electric torture, the Red Masque’s long finger hovered over a button on the remote.
"Bon appetite! "
Every muscle in the Crimson Fox’s body seemed to stiffen all at once as the chamber’s electrodes began pumping electricity into the gel surrounding her. Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, and she felt as if she would bite through her rubber ball gag. The electricity that now coursed through her body was absolutely mind searing. Flashes blotted her vision as her body began to convulse. Gel splashed up onto both her body and young Peck’s. The two women found themselves slapping and sliding against each other as their lush bodies automatically tried to avoid the dangerous electric current.
As she slid and flopped, Crimson Fox found that breath would no longer come to her. Her ability to breathe had been stalled due to the shock that was piercing her. She tried to collect herself enough to restart her breathing again, but she could not catch a break in the waves of pain. Peck was not doing any better. The Fox watched helplessly as her partner began to turn purple from the strain on her body and the lack of oxygen. The Crimson Fox had only one idea to get them both breathing again, at least temporarily.
The auburn-haired Justice Leaguer launched her body violently into Peck’s, driving the younger girl into the opposite side of the chamber. The jolt shook them enough to get them breathing again, but their breaths came in ragged, frantic gasps. Crimson Fox clenched her teeth, thankful for the ball gag, for without it she surely would have bitten her tongue in two.
As she looked past her flying hair and the splashing gel, she could plainly see that her friend was in just as much, if not more, pain than she was. Peck had slipped down further into the gel, which now covered the girl past her pert breasts. Peck was convulsing and her brown eyes began rolling up into her head.
Even through the haze of pain from the electrical current, the Crimson Fox knew that she had to do something to help her young partner.
She’s…going…to…die, the Fox thought laboredly, if…I…don’t…do…something…
Without further debate, the older heroine reared her bound and tortured body back and then drove forward using her back to head butt Peck violently. To the Fox’s relief, she could clearly see that her friend had been knocked out cold. The girl slumped back against the plexiglass, eyes closed and face relaxed, but body still convulsing. To the Fox’s horror, her movements had thrown her forward and over, sinking her completely into the gel.
No! Gnnnnhhh! Gnnnnhhh! Arrggghhhh!
The Red Masque casually got up and walked over to Batgirl. The Girl Wonder had been transfixed by the savage torture of the two women, but the appearance of the killer at her side and the sound of his zipper shook her from her trance.
"My dear Batgirl," he said in heavily accented English. "Let us continue, shall we?"
He removed her ball gag and let it fall to the thick, white rug.
"Get away from me!" Batgirl screamed. She shook her head back and forth, but the Red Masque caught and held it easily.
"We are going to have a little fun," he spoke from a crouch while holding her head still. "You are going to give me oral pleasure."
"Fuck you!"
"Such language," he smiled. "You are going to give me oral pleasure, or I will let those two petites fry. It is I who has to shut off the power to my little playpen; if I don’t, they will die a horrible death."
Batgirl froze. She knew that she really had no choice, however horrible the consequences. She could not let those women die. But this man was a monster; she did not even want to think of touching him in any way, never mind that way.
"What will it be, cherie ?" Behind the man, Batgirl could hear the suffering and pathetic moans of the auburn-haired woman.
Batgirl barely nodded.
"Ah, good. Now here are the rules: If you bite me, I turn the electricity back on; if you don’t please me, I turn the electricity back on; if I do not cum, I turn the electricity back on. Do you understand?"
"Anything, you son of a bitch, just shut the power off before they become vegetables!"
The Red Masque’s smile broadened. "I like you. You are a feisty one."
"Do it!" Batgirl screamed.
The killer laughed. As he stood, he pressed a button on the remote control. The sizzle and the thrashing from inside the chamber stopped. There was now only a gurgling noise.
The Red Masque grabbed Batgirl by the shoulders and spun her around on the bed so that she was no longer facing the chamber. She let out a short yelp as her shoulders were stretched in their sockets.
"Good. Now my view is complete." He spoke in English, but then repeated the sentence in French for Tree’s benefit. The big man laughed.
"Ok, little Batgirl. Do not disappoint me."
Batgirl stared wide-eyed as the man removed his engorged penis from his pants. It was stiff and veined, with the tip seemingly glaring at her. The member hung before her with its owner’s hand gripping it.
"Take it in your mouth."
Batgirl’s lips were slightly parted in amazement and horror. A thin line of saliva connected her full lips. She dreaded the thought of that man even near her, never mind in her mouth. In her mind, she wished the whole situation away, praying that someone would wake her up from this horrible nightmare.
"Take it in your mouth, you little bitch, or I’ll fry those two from the inside out." He held up the remote control threateningly, his shark-like teeth clenched.
In her mind, Batgirl wanted nothing more than to make all of it--the murders, her capture, her eminent torture-- make all of it go away. She closed her eyes and prayed that the horror would all be gone when she opened her eyes.
"You better take me into your mouth, you American slut, or you’ll hear those two screaming for mercy for the rest of your short, miserable life!"
Batgirl knew, however, that none of it was going to go away. She knew that she had to make it go away herself. She knew that the only option which any of them had was for her to stall for time until they had some kind of break, until the Red Masque and his henchman let down their guard. Then and only then could they even think about making a move.
The murderous fiend held all of the cards.
With her eyes still closed, Batgirl reluctantly opened her mouth to allow the human monster entrance.
The Red Masque let out a triumphant laugh as he plunged his cock into the helpless heroine’s soft mouth. Batgirl jumped with surprise and shock as her mouth was filled with the man’s sweaty prick. Her eyes popped open and she found herself fighting against choking.
"That’s it…take it all, you bitch…" he said in French.
Batgirl gagged as the man’s member poked her in the back of her throat. She was reminded of brushing her teeth as a child. She would experiment with brushing her tongue to clean it, especially after she drank Hi-C, or some other colored drink. She would always find herself gagging on the brush after allowing it to go back too far. Only this time, she could not stop herself. And it was not a toothbrush that was in her mouth. The man’s member repeatedly hit her in the back of the throat, and all she could do was gag around it.
Inside the chamber, the Crimson Fox found herself sliding down into the green gel while lying on her side. The slimy substance slowly claimed her inch by inch, yet she could not find the strength to right herself. Her body, drained of energy from the electrical torture, was helpless as she slid into the gel and it began to cover her face. Using all the reserves of strength she had remaining, the crimson crime fighter twitched her head and neck slightly, but only enough for her nostrils to remain free. She had bought herself another few seconds. She found herself doubting that it would be enough.
Batgirl felt her own situation deteriorate as the Red Masque grabbed her head and used his hands and arms to give his thrusts more leverage. Breathing was taken out of Batgirl’s control then; breaths only coming when her lungs compressed through force or sheer luck. Her vision became a strobe of clamped shut redness or of candlelit horror whenever her delicate lids fluttered open. Soon, the bound superheroine began to feel the signs of oxygen deprivation. Her willpower fled and she despaired that she would suffocate with the sweaty cock of a serial killer jammed down her throat. All the while, the Red Masque laughed devilishly as he thrust into the powerless young woman’s violated mouth with the strength he would use if he were thrusting into her vagina.
Crimson Fox could do nothing more than to take in a lungful of air before she completely slipped underneath the green ooze. She was sickened as the slimy substance crawled over her smooth features and covered up her nostrils, for what she thought could very well be the last time. As weak as she was, she already felt the thudding in her chest as her battered body immediately demanded oxygen. She found herself hoping against hope that the young Batgirl was only half as resourceful and wily as the Batman whom Crimson Fox had molded herself after. For Batgirl was now the only hope for any of them.
Batgirl’s eyes flew open as she felt the Red Masque stiffened. She struggled vainly as he clutched her face to his crotch and buried his prick up to the hilt. Immediately, the villain’s hot cum filled the back of the helpless heroine’s throat. Her scream, foolishly and impulsively done, causing only the wasting of the remaining oxygen in her lungs, turned into a sick gurgle. Batgirl wanted to vomit, to spit the foul stuff out and into the Red Masque’s face, but the only option which was now afforded to her weak body was to swallow the thick, warm semen. Her mouth and throat worked in involuntary unison to swallow the vile fluid, for no other reason than to open an airway for the girl to breathe. Batgirl sucked and pulled on the intruding member, her full lips milking the man’s pulsing cock, consuming mouthful after mouthful of the body heated cum into her nauseated belly. Very soon, the sucking was robot-like as Batgirl’s suffocating brain shut everything down except for that which could remove the cum and the penis, thereby making room for oxygen. Her big, blue eyes glazed over as her consciousness faded.
As she slumped over onto the Red Masque’s throbbing, spurting cock, Batgirl found herself hoping against hope that the two other superheroines were better than she had turned out to be. She had failed, had let herself be caught by a killer, and had dragged those two innocent heroines down into the Red Masque’s web. She feared that they were the only hope for any of them.
=====
(IV)
Batgirl awoke with two warm, naked bodies struggling next to her.
She slowly and painfully opened her eyes and found that not only was she alive, but the other two women were alive as well. Batgirl’s heart fell as she realized that they all were still nude and bound, now lying on the large bed on which the Girl Wonder had previously been raped.
They had been cleaned up. All three had been bathed and dried, and Batgirl could smell the alluring scent of some flowery French perfume on their shapely bodies. Batgirl actually found herself becoming aroused, she had to mentally restrain herself as she rubbed her pelvis against the older of the two other women, whom she guessed to be the Crimson Fox. The Fox, and her companion, Peck, seemed to be lost in the perfume’s hypnotic fragrance; they wantonly rubbed themselves on each other and on Batgirl. With each touch, Batgirl thought that she would lose her resolve and join them in their carnal ecstasy.
The Red Masque appeared above them. He was now naked.
"Ah, Batgirl," he said in his heavily accented English. "I see that you are becoming acquainted with the Crimson Fox and her young partner, Peck."
"You fucking bastard, what have you done to us?" Batgirl weakly snapped.
"Well, after I cleaned up your messy little bodies, and made them nice and delicious again, I rubbed them down with a version of an erotic perfume created by one of your crass American villains, Louie Lilac, I think his name is. His version is much stronger, but mine is softer and more beautiful; made as only the French can, eh?"
Batgirl discovered herself rubbing her chest against the Crimson Fox. Reluctantly, the Girl Wonder pulled away, but the crimson crusader followed, inching down to nibble on Batgirl’s nipple. Batgirl gasped.
"The perfume throws the sexual drives of women into overdrive, so to speak. Every touch, every feeling, is magnified sexually a thousand-fold. Even death, the ultimate experience in life, will be the ultimate sexual experience, but you will soon find that out firsthand."
"What…aahhhh!" The girl named Peck had maneuvered herself onto Batgirl and was now licking the Girl Wonder’s clitoris. Batgirl moved her head to avoid Peck’s own crotch.
"What are you…going to do with…with us?" Batgirl felt her body temperature rise with her growing excitement. She tried to move her young body away from the charmed advances of the other two bound heroines, but each of her movements seemed to bring her closer to the other women’s luscious bodies.
"Well," the Red Masque continued. "I am going to randomly choose one of you. I will then place her into my gel chamber, which has been cleaned out."
The fiend gestured, but Batgirl could not see to what he was gesturing at because Peck was lowering her dark mound of pubic hair down onto the Girl Wonder’s face. A light went off in Batgirl’s head, telling her that the three of them were only bound with their arms behind their backs; their legs were free. As the French superheroine’s pussy settled onto Batgirl’s mouth, the Dark Angel of Gotham could think of nothing else more than licking the juicy folds of the French girl’s pussy. And the voice of the Red Masque.
"The chamber has been fitted with its vacuum attachment. The one of you whom I pick will then be placed inside the chamber and will be asphyxiated while I watch and pleasure myself on the remaining two. I will repeat the process with the second one, and then I will strangle the third with a delicate silk scarf."
The Red Masque leaned over Batgirl and smiled. "Any questions?"
Batgirl said "you monster," but the words came out as a muffled groan. Her mind was now lost to the pleasure she was receiving from the two women. Crimson Fox was mangling Batgirl’s breast, and Peck was devouring the Girl Wonder’s pussy, as she herself devoured Peck’s. She knew that the Red Masque would carry out his plan of erotic murder, she knew that she had to do something to save them, but her sexual drive had taken over; everything else seemed as if it could wait.
"Let’s get started, shall we? Eniee…" He touched Batgirl’s free breast.
"Meniee…miniee…moe…" He then cupped the breast and gave it a squeeze. Batgirl ground her hips into Peck’s face.
"Catcha…tiger…by the…" The villain tweaked Batgirl’s nipple. She moaned, and then Crimson Fox sank her teeth into Batgirl’s other breast, causing the girl from Gotham to moan even more.
"Toe…if he…hollers…" The man grabbed Batgirl’s breast, causing her to gasp.
"Let him…go…out…" He increased the pressure on Batgirl’s breast. When she moaned again, Peck lowered herself even farther onto Batgirl, smothering her.
"Goes…Y…O…" The evil man crushed and twisted Batgirl’s breast. She screamed in pain, her mouth filling up with pubic hair and vaginal juices as she did so. She moaned as Peck drove herself into Batgirl’s face, once again cutting off her air.
"You! Well, it looks like the Crimson Fox is out of the game. Now it’s just you and Peck, Batgirl. Let’s change things around."
The Red Masque called his henchman, Tree, over to assist him. The two men maneuvered the three women so that Batgirl and Peck lay side by side on their bellies. Crimson Fox lay beneath their faces, with her pussy under Batgirl’s mouth and her breasts underneath Peck’s. Both girls immediately went to work on the crimson Justice Leaguer, causing the woman to utter a throaty moan. The Red Masque positioned himself by the pair of girls’ asses, with his thumb hovering over their pussies.
"You first, Batgirl…eniee…meniee…" On Batgirl’s turn, the killer rammed his finger into the Girl Wonder’s pussy. On Peck’s turn, he did the same for that girl. Soon, each woman was like a living pipe in a human organ, squealing when the key was depressed.
"Miniee…moe…
"Catcha…tiger…
"By the…toe…" Then the Crimson Fox joined in the chorus as the girls drove into the helpless woman with reckless abandon. They seemed joined as one, one helpless, doomed, triangle of tender female flesh.
"If he…hollers…
"Let him…go…
"Out…goes…
"Y…O…
"You!" The Red Masque jammed three of his fingers deep into Batgirl, causing the girl to raise her torso off of the bed in a wail of pleasure and of pain. She slumped down onto Crimson Fox’s crotch, but was immediately pulled in closer as the Fox used her muscular legs to hook Batgirl’s neck and force her face to her until it was buried in wet pubic hair and throbbing, sweaty flesh.
"Well, my dear Peck," the Red Masque purred as he rubbed his naked body and his erect penis against Peck’s sweet ass. "It looks like you are the only one left. I guess it’s off to the chamber with you."
Peck, knowing what was about to happen, even through the sexual haze she was in, leaned up and kissed her friend and partner, the Crimson Fox, on the lips with untold passion. The Fox returned the kiss, but was robbed of her passion as Peck was roughly taken from her.
"Peck… Anna…" she weakly cried as she watched her friend taken to the airtight death chamber. Tree and the Red Masque removed the girl’s ropes and quickly pushed her into the rectangular box, sealing the door behind her. Once inside, Peck pressed herself against the plexiglass, trying to force herself through, but only succeeding in relieving her sexual tension by rubbing her pelvis against the plexiglass.
The Crimson Fox found herself pulled around so that she lay on her belly facing the chamber and her friend. She felt the Red Masque crawl on top of her from behind, his engorged prick pressing at the entrance to her pussy. She saw Batgirl being thrown next to her to lay in the same position, only with the enormous Tree behind her, groping her and forcing himself upon her. A look to Batgirl told the Fox that the American superheroine realized the gravity of the situation, for themselves as well as for Peck, but that Batgirl was still under the spell of the perfume, as was the Fox. Batgirl’s big, blue eyes were wide and glazed over, but a look of concern was etched on her beautiful features.
That look changed to shock and pain as Tree thrust past the girl’s vaginal muscles and deep into her swelling pussy.
"Enjoy the show," Red Masque whispered in French into the Crimson Fox’s ear. "Her death shall bring you supreme pleasure…almost as much as it will bring me."
The Fox tried to call him a bastard, but then he was thrusting and heaving into her, and her breath was taken away. All she could see was her helpless friend pounding against the plexiglass coffin before her.
The Masque’s thrusts were heavy and animalistic, full of violence and aggression. The Crimson Fox’s attention, however, was now drawn away from his violence, and even her hope for escape, as she watched Peck. The pretty, young brunette was caught between pounding on the plexiglass and rubbing herself on its surface. Her eyes behind her mask held a look of sensory overload. She was free of the bonds, but trapped in the case. She was free of the sexual assaults, but still high from the erotic perfume. She was concerned about her friend’s situation, but terrified of her own. The girl took a deep breath. Peck’s expression told the Fox that Peck now realized the chamber was actually airtight. The brunette squatted and felt at what appeared to be one of many metal vents in the chamber. Crimson Fox, who spoke fluent English, had heard the Seine Strangler’s explanation of their fate, so the French superheroine guessed that the metal vent was the vacuum that would drain the chamber of its precious air.
The Crimson Fox lost her train of thought as her assailant began pulling his dick almost all the way out of her pussy and then ramming it back in. The woman grunted and tried to catch her breath. The man on her tightly gripped her biceps for greater support.
The Fox watched as Peck attempted to cover the vent with her hands, but there were several vents and she realized that she was wasting her fleeting time. She stood and tested the door to the chamber. Crimson Fox could see her partner begin to breathe heavy, her ample breasts rising and falling with her heaving chest. Peck threw herself against the door several times, but to no avail. The girl braced herself against the opposite side of the box and tried to push against the door, but it was too strong and she was too weak. She slumped against the wall, her chest heaving and her skin flushed. Her mouth hung open as she panted arduously. A line of drool hung from her ruby lips.
The Crimson Fox yelled as the Masque squeezed her biceps with what appeared to be all of his strength. He was pounding at her again, feverishly. When she opened her eyes, her world was a blur. Then, Peck’s brown eyes caught hers, and she could look at nothing else.
The girl was slowly sliding down the facing wall of the chamber, her face a mask of horror. Her mouth and throat worked emptily, gasping for air that would not come, like a dying goldfish. Her lithe body was covered with sweat and it left wet streaks as she slid to the floor. All the while, her pelvis pressed against the plexiglass and involuntary gyrated. Peck collapsed to her knees. Her wet breasts, mashed to the transparent wall, gradually pulled away and sloshed as she fell backward. Her arms reached out to her friend and her eyes pleaded where her voice could not. Slowly, almost ghostly, Peck crumpled back, her long neck pushed forward onto her chest as she lay on the back wall. Her arms drifted to her sides and her weight settled onto her feet and calves, which were bent beneath her. Her last word was "sorry" as her flushed chest heaved its last and her beautiful, damp body was still.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" The Crimson Fox wailed, every muscle trying to pull free of the raping murderer whom wrestled her slick body.
The Red Masque could hardly restrain the woman any longer. Her throes, however, sent him over the edge and he stiffened and came into her unprotected vagina. With all his might, he grappled with the superheroine until he had repressed her mourning explosion and she slumped under his straining weight. As she sobbed beneath him, he panted on top of her.
"That was the best!" He yelled triumphantly. A look to his henchman told him that Tree was finishing up with his girl as well. The big man hugged a very defeated looking Batgirl as he climaxed into her young body. With her red mane all wet and plastered to her face, and her eyes all glazed and distant, the American heroine looked especially delicious. The Red Masque decided that he would have her again before she died.
"When you are finished, Tree," he gasped over to the other man. "Get the chloroform for our little Crimson Fox. She is next, and I do not want her to pull any of her tricks on us, especially now that she is distraught over her friend.
"Batgirl should not be any kind of threat. She is finished."
=====
(V)
When Tree was finished with her, and he got up to fetch the chloroform, Batgirl rolled over onto her back and panted heavily. The big henchman looked at her with destain as he shrugged on a heavy woolen robe and secured it tight about him, then he continued with his duties. She tried to make her breathing seem worse than it was. She purposely made her eyes glaze over, giving her a drugged out look. She was far from finished, and very much a threat.
Had the Red Masque just kept the women as sexual slaves, had he strangled them himself, had he killed them outright, or had he done anything else, Batgirl just might have been finished. But the monster suffocated an innocent girl on display while violating the two of them. Peck had died a very undignified and demeaning death. In her final moments, she had been turned into a sideshow freak, performing for the pleasures of a couple of monsters. Had the men done anything else, the hypnotic perfume might have stayed on in full strength, robbing Batgirl of any will to act and survive. But she had been so appalled by Peck’s senseless and humiliating death that her body had overcome the perfume’s effects. And now, she was ready to act.
While the men busied themselves with chloroforming the Crimson Fox and removing poor Peck’s body from the death chamber, Batgirl hung her leg off the side of the bed and felt around for an object. In moments, she found it: the straight razor that the Masque had used to cut her costume off earlier. She had watched as he carelessly discarded the item when he was finished, apparently too excited to get his lecherous hands on the Girl Wonder’s body. With a glance to make sure that the men were still occupied, Batgirl brought the razor up and to her side on the bed. With her amazing flexibility, Batgirl stretched the closed razor up and under her body to her hands. She quickly opened the tool and carefully started to cut the ropes.
"Well now, Batgirl," the Red Masque gloated as her approached her prone body. His teeth flashed like a hungry Mako shark. "The Crimson Fox is now tight and cozy in her little playpen. We shall now have some more fun, you and I. If you are good, maybe I’ll let you have Tree again before I give you the gift of death."
Suddenly, Batgirl spun around and up onto her knees. She lashed out with the straight razor and sliced the Red Masque across his forehead. He screamed and clutched at his face as blood from the superficial cut ran down into his eyes. The Dark Knight Damsel hopped to her feet and launched a powerful side kick into the man’s throat, sending him wheezing and thrashing to the floor.
Batgirl discarded the razor across the room and charged Tree. The big man grabbed a nearby bar stool and lashed out with an uppercut at the approaching heroine. Batgirl rolled with the blow, but was still knocked backwards and onto her side.
Tree punched at the controls to the vacuum chamber, starting the suction process. Inside, the Crimson Fox lay struggling to regain consciousness. With that done, the big man lunged at the now crouching Batgirl.
Batgirl initially scrambled backwards, terrified of being struck with the man’s heavy weapon, but then her Judo training kicked in. She stopped her backward momentum and jumped at the approaching Tree, grabbing him by the sleeves on his thick robe, underneath the elbows. She swung a foot up and planted it in the man’s belly, then fell backwards with his charge. She succeeded in throwing him off balance, and as she struck the floor with her ass, she pulled in with her arms and pushed out with her foot. The result was a careening Tree who had lost any balance he might have had. The force of his own charge, combined with the skill of Batgirl’s throw, caused Tree to tumble forward and through the room’s enormous plate glass window. The man’s feet pointed at the ceiling and his back scraped the base of the window. Huge shards of glass sliced at his body as the window collapsed around him. Tree tipped forward and out over the street far below, screaming and flailing his bloody arms. His form disappeared into the night.
Batgirl got to her feet and stepped to the broken window, brushing the billowing drapes out of her face.
"Shit," she cursed. "I didn’t think I was that close to the window." She bit her lip. Tree’s form was crumpled into the roof of a Mercedes parked out front of the building they were in.
Then, for the first time, Batgirl realized where they actually were, and her mouth hung open in shock.
The Red Masque’s penthouse hellhouse was actually the top floor of Paris’ Royal Crest International--her own hotel!
"Of course!" She exclaimed, hugging herself as the wind of forty stories up buffeted her nude form. "The Royal Crest is completely centralized with all of the disappearances, and it isn’t even two blocks from the Seine River, where the Red Masque disposed of his victims’ bodies. It makes perfect sense-- and I was staying here the whole time!"
Suddenly, Batgirl’s head exploded as something struck her from behind. She tumbled out of the window, grabbing blindly for some kind of handhold. Her hands found the flowing drapes and clutched at their thick fabric. She hung to her lifeline, even though her brain was threatening to shut down from the blow she had received. Through her failing vision, she saw a bloody, maniacal Red Masque glaring at her from the open window. In his hands, he held the .45 semi-automatic handgun that Batgirl had seen earlier.
"Well, I will be sure to leave a comment card with your mutilated body, you fucking bitch!" He gestured at his forehead. "You ruined my face!"
"You’ll have a tough time explaining that at the next meeting of the hotel’s board of trustees, won’t you, Monsieur Geneste?"
The Red Masque smiled. "Where did you pull that out of, petite?"
"I thought I recognized you." Batgirl explained, stalling for time while her head cleared. Her arms began to ache. "If this is the Royal Crest, and this is your penthouse, then you’re Francois Geneste, owner of the Royal Crest International. What better place to take kidnapped girls and murder them than your own penthouse. The floors below this one are offices; the guestrooms don’t start until the thirty-fifth floor. Surely you were crafty enough to play your sick games after the help went home. I should have realized it sooner."
"You filthy little beggar," Geneste growled. "I’m going to flay the skin from your body while you lie screaming. I will give the help a week off just to enjoy your record-breakingly lengthy death. You will wish I had killed you first."
Batgirl smiled weakly. "Are those police sirens, Monsieur Geneste? Oh, I think that they are. You’re through, you monster. Surrender." Batgirl’s time was running out. Her head was clearing, but her arms were turning to jelly. She did not think that she could hold on for much longer.
The Red Masque laughed wickedly. "Surrender? Surrender? This from a naked, beaten girl hanging from tearing drapes forty stories above the streets of Paris? Maybe I am finished--here, but I have a dozen different identities in as many countries, including America. I shall get away, and then maybe I shall travel to your Gotham and snuff young girls there, eh?"
"You bastard!" Batgirl clenched her teeth as the Red Masque leveled the firearm at her beautiful, but haggard face.
"Au revoir, Batgirl. May you realize your failure for all of eternity."
Batgirl closed her eyes.
The Red Masque pulled the trigger.
When she heard the loud metallic click, Batgirl realized that she was not dead and she opened her eyes. She saw the Red Masque’s face twisted in a mask of confusion as he stared at his weapon. The .45’s slide had stopped in mid- action, and a gleaming round was sticking vertically out of the ejection port, in the classic stovepipe fashion. The weapon had jammed.
Batgirl wasted no time in lieu of the tremendous break that was now afforded to her. She swung across the face of the building on the drapes, using her legs to walk away from the window until she was as far away as gravity would allow her to go. She then ran back and swung into the open window, striking the Red Masque with her body. The two crumpled into the penthouse.
When they got to their feet, Batgirl was all the quicker. She twisted about in a spinning kick that sent the Red Masque sprawling into the wall by the window. The man grunted and then uttered a low moan as he slid to the thick, white rug.
With a triumphant grin, Batgirl turned toward the room, only to freeze in horror.
She had forgotten about the Crimson Fox, who had been trapped in the vacuum chamber. The French superheroine pathetically clung to the side of the plexiglass and twitched as her body’s air supply exhausted itself. The woman’s voluptuous breasts jiggled as her body seized in pitiful death spasms. Her blue eyes were rolling up into her head and her pink tongue was forcing its way through her pearly teeth. Her tremendous body shivered as she slid down in a repeat of the doomed Peck’s final performance.
Batgirl acted without pause. She scooped up the jammed .45 and recalled the lessons her father had taught her since she was a little girl. As a career policeman, and the current police commissioner of Gotham City, James Gordon wanted his daughter to become familiar with firearms to protect herself against life’s many predators. Even though she currently chose the physical prowess of her alter ego as Batgirl for her protection, she still practiced with the weapons, if for nothing more than to appease her loving father. Now, the lessons mattered.
She ripped the magazine out of the weapon to conserve the unknown number of remaining rounds. With the hand that held the magazine, she brushed the stovepipe jammed round from the ejection port. After racking the slide once to clear any other unseen rounds, Batgirl quickly inserted the magazine, tapped it on the bottom, racked a fresh round, and fired at the top of the vacuum chamber.
Her ears shook with the thunder of the weapon firing. The round penetrated the plexiglass wall, making a large hole. Batgirl fired two more times, increasing the size of the hole to allow more air to the dying woman inside. She watched as the Crimson Fox, who was now covered in shards of plexiglass, began gulping the fresh air that filled the chamber with a hiss.
Batgirl dropped the weapon to the rug and ran to the chamber. The door was complicated to open, and she was immediately glad that she had opted to fire though the wall rather than to muddle around with the chamber’s door. Finally, she opened the door and dragged the Crimson Fox out onto the carpet. Batgirl held the sweaty woman in her lap and tilted her head back to further open the Fox’s airway. Soon, the Crimson Fox opened her eyes and weakly smiled at Batgirl, who sagged her shoulders in relief and smiled back.
"It’ll be okay," she comforted the pallid woman.
"It’ll be okay, alright!" Came the scream from the window. Dread fell over Batgirl’s spirit and she looked up.
Standing by the window with the cleared .45 in his hands, was the Red Masque. His face was twisted with blood and madness.
"It will be okay when the worms are eating your bullet riddled flesh!"
As the maniac squeezed the trigger, there was a whizzing sound in the air between them. Batgirl saw something which resembled one of her Batarangs, only more dart-like, appear in the barrel of the man’s gun just before he fired, then there was an explosion and the Red Masque’s face was shredded with metal. With the barrel somehow blocked, the round exploded in his face as he fired. The Red Masque screamed and fell backwards out of the window, hands clawing at his face. His scream faded as he fell forty stories to the street below.
Batgirl blinked and then looked behind her. Standing in the doorway, was a beautiful woman in a skintight brown costume and a light brown liripipe-like cowl. The woman’s face was the most striking part of her, however, for it was the exact face of the woman in Batgirl’s arms.
Another Crimson Fox.
Captain Atom was there. As was Wonder Woman. Power Girl stood by Wally West, the heroic young Flash. And there was a Russian man in a suit whom Wally said was formerly the armored hero, Rocket Red. And although he did not know her, Batman appeared at Peck’s funereal at Batgirl’s request.
Batgirl stood by the Crimson Fox. That is, the Crimson Fox who had suffered with the Girl Wonder at the hands of the Red Masque on that fateful night. Her name was Constance Daramus. She was the president of Paris’ Revson Industries, but also secretly the costumed crime fighter, the Crimson Fox.
In the days following the torture at the Royal Crest, Constance explained to Batgirl that she shared a life, secret and public, with her twin sister, Vivian. Years before, the two had faked Constance’s death to set up the perfect alibi for their crime fighting activities. The twins, Constance and Vivian, would share Vivian’s identity and the responsibilities of their company as well as the role of the Crimson Fox.
They had eventually taken of the spunky girl named Peck as their sidekick, and had both grow close to the young woman.
When Constance and Peck had not returned from their patrols for the Seine Strangler, Vivian donned an extra costume and followed the homing beacon sewn into Constance’s lirilipipe-like cowl. Regrettably, Vivian had arrived too late to save Peck.
Batgirl glanced over to the lone figure of a civilian-clothed Vivian, hidden under the cover of trees far behind the service. To maintain their secret, one of the sisters could not be at the service. From a distance, it appeared that Vivian was crying, as was her sister.
Batgirl lowered her head and quietly sobbed.
Batgirl spent two weeks with the Daramus sisters as Barbara Gordon; all identities had been stripped away with their costumes and their dignity on that night in the Royal Crest. Barbara found the twins to be excellent friends. When the two weeks were up, and Barbara resigned herself to returning to Gotham, the three women vowed to forever remain friends and to always come to help when help was requested. After a quick visit to a certain Parisian gentleman with whom Barbara had spent much of her vacation before the ordeal at the Royal Crest, it was off to the airport. There was a lot of crying as the planes took off and landed in the background; Constance had taken the roll of Vivian to say her good-byes to Barbara. With a strong embrace and a wave, Barbara boarded the plane.
She was settled into her seat by the time the plane took off.
She was asleep in moments and slept the whole way home.
"Hey, Bill, what’s in that crate?"
Bill Penner looked up from the crate he had opened on the loading dock.
"A bunch of cool ball caps!" He replied. "Good quality ones, too. Not that crap they gave us last year, Paul."
Paul O’Malley walked over to Bill and peered in the crate.
"Wow, there’s a ton of them in there! Those are pretty cool. You think we’ll get ‘em?" Paul said.
"We better," Bill replied. "And even if they sell them in the gift shop, I’m buying some. These are the best ones yet."
Bill held a black ball cap up and marveled at the outstanding logo on the front.
"Gotham’s Finest -- G. C. P. D." He read. "Well we certainly will be Gotham’s Finest once we get these babies."
THE END
Follow Batgirl’s continuing adventures as she returns home to a sinister surprise in "Batgirl - Degradation Derby"!