WARNING!!! The following story contains bondage, domination, and extremely adult sexual situations. If this isn't the kind of thing you're interested in, for heavens sake DON'T READ IT!!! You should be OVER 21 YEARS OF AGE to read this, as it is intended for adults only.
Set in the world created by The Cliffhanger in the stories 'Arc of the Gold Bug' and 'The Tournament of Death', it involves a dark and somber future where Batgirl fights crime with other vigilantes without the aid of Batman, who is (at least temporarily) gone from the scene.
This story is written as fiction for entertainment purposes only, and is not intended to gather monetary recompense in ANY WAY, SHAPE, or FORM...it is freely offered for interested readers only.
The original creation of Batgirl is copyrighted by DC Comics...without whom we wouldn't have this wonderful superheroine. (So go buy a few to show your support...and encourage them to write more Batgirl stories...)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one is for the folks at C3C...hi everyone! Based on a discussion there regarding some of the more creative 60s deathtraps, this story includes a somewhat updated version of one of them. Wait...you'll see...
When the first six-foot wave crashed against the docks in Gotham harbor, no one was terribly concerned. After all, it wasn't unusual to have large swells rolling inward on the piers.
Five minutes later, a ten-foot wave not only crashed into the docks, it spilled across the concrete barriers to splash the pavement with several inches of water.
Disconcerting, and unusual, but not dangerous.
Several of the workers were pointing, and exclaiming loudly, when after another five minutes the fifteen-foot wave rolled in. This time the panic was barely held at bay. Five feet of the wave exceeded the retaining wall, and millions of gallons of seawater burst onto the pavement, swirling across the blacktop into the forklifts and warehouses.
Loud profanities and vehement shouting ensued, while the union bosses tried to calm the worried workers. It would have succeeded, had not the fourth wave appeared, rolling across the horizon like a dark black juggernaut. Even at this distance it was easy to estimate the twenty-five foot height, a size that would easily submerge the nearest recipients.
A huge scramble ensued, as every worker tried to secure a safe location from the incoming wall of water. When the colossus hit, forklifts overturned like children's toys. Grain, rice, and other products were blasted apart from their carefully stacked columns, tossed in all directions by the force of the water. Several workers were pried loose of their moorings, and banged into doors, walls, or other objects. The open doorways to the warehouses admitted thousands of gallons of water, destroying much of the contents being held for shipment.
When the devastation ended, everyone was thankful that no one had been killed in the freak tidal wave.
And no one had a logical explanation...
Batgirl had been reviewing the devastation under her alternate guise of Barbara Gordon. The digi-vid accounts had all been secondhand, since much of the water had receded by the time the news reporters had arrived. Still, the first hand accounts that were retold held some interesting facts.
One: the final wave that had done the most damage was not the first wave to hit. The accounts stated that there had been at least two (and many said three) preceding waves.
Two: there had been none of the characteristics usually associated with a tidal wave, even a small one. No storm fronts, no earthquakes, nothing that could have explained the disaster.
Three: the wavefront had been very limited in length and intensity. A 'normal' tidal wave would have expanded over many linear feet of frontage. This wave seemed to limit itself to a mere two hundred foot facial surface, yet the damage had been that of a much larger wave.
It was almost as if the wave had packed the energy somehow, and been directed to its final location.
Something deep within her told Barbara that this was not a natural catastrophe. She began retrieving articles on wave dynamics and particle motion. The first line of defense was to understand what was happening in more detail. And Barbara especially needed to know who the experts in the field were. If the wave had been generated intentionally, and there was malice behind it, Gotham could be at serious risk.
A dark, black clad vigilante swung between rooftops that night. The lithe, athletic Batgirl was attired in her slitex costume, a flash of black against the moonlit sky. Her research had indicated that one of the preeminent leaders in wave motion dynamics had an office here in Gotham. Professor Angstrom had written several books, and generated quite a bit of interest in the field with his theories on the dispersal and control of wave motion. He had even displayed some success with the ideas at a recent symposium.
The Dark Angel felt that a covert examination of his office wasn't unwarranted. Especially since there had been no answer to any of her tele-comm calls. In fact, by all accounts that she could recover, the Professor hadn't been seen in almost six months.
The shapely heroine touched down on the rooftop with barely a sound. The office building was locked for the evening...but Batgirl had her own means of entry and egress. She rappelled down the glass on the side of the huge skyscraper, stopping her downward motion when she finally reached the fourth floor.
A thin metal wire, hook shaped, was removed from her utility belt as she examined the lock. The window was old, and improperly sealed against intrusion. Who would possibly want to enter from fifty feet up? Within seconds, the lock mechanism flipped upward as the hook coerced it. Batgirl slipped inside.
The office was organized with immaculate neatness; no spare papers or clutter in evidence anywhere. Barbara had already searched via ORACLE, and found nothing definitive. There had been conferences, lectures, exhibitions, and printed research articles. But there had been nothing indicating the current whereabouts of the Professor.
The portable vid display caught her eye, however. It was a standalone unit, not connected to the city mainframe. Unusual. She flicked on the power supply, and began retrieving the saved graphics files one at a time. What appeared in the display confused her at first...at least momentarily. The blueprints were highly detailed, and quite complex. When Batgirl minimized the point of view, a shape began to form. It was a geodesic dome. The parameters for the structure, as well as the design elements, indicated a surprising fact. This structure was designed for underwater application.
The size, shape, and tensile strengths all pointed to a man-made habitat that would be secured to the ocean floor. It was a highly inventive, innovative design that could withstand the stresses of immersion, while providing a window to the undersea world.
Could this be where Professor Angstrom had disappeared to? It seemed possible.
Batgirl continued to peruse the files, looking for any further clues that might help in the search. There was a tremendous amount of data regarding electronic components, only some of which the Dark Angel recognized. Radar, fluid motion trackers, thermography, and a host of other items. It seemed that the Professor was involved in some very complex research.
In one of the more deeply buried files, Batgirl discovered a longitude and latitude. It took her a minute to pull up the nautical charts; when she did, the referenced point was displayed quite specifically. It was almost a mile offshore, situated in an area that contained sand and mostly exposed bedrock. It seemed a perfect location for securing the massive girders that would be required in the construction of an underwater habitat.
It certainly deserved an investigation of the area.
As Batgirl turned to replace the portable vid to its original location, she noticed something odd. She felt strangely lightheaded, almost dizzy. When she stood, the effect worsened.
Gas!!
Batgirl stumbled across the chair, in an effort to get to the window as quickly as possible. The room spun lazily out of control, as objects appeared in duplicate before her eyes. The distinctive click of the doorframe signaled the entrance of another person, but the Dark Angel was focused on reaching the exit.
The spin had grown faster as her hand reached the lock, but the presence was right on top of her by that point. She turned quickly, just in time to see the cudgel descending toward her head. Reflexes slowed by the inhalation of gas, Batgirl was unable to avoid the attack entirely. The towering, dark figure swung the weapon at the back of her skull, but an evading Batgirl caught the cudgel in her shoulder.
Driven to the floor by the force of the blow, Batgirl struggled to rise and defend herself. But she seemed robbed of initiative, the invisible gas having drained her of strength. She could only watch as the masked assailant drew back the arm for another assault., and a second blow connected.
Then everything went dark.
When the Dark Angel awoke, she found herself looking at the ceiling of some type of warehouse. The dull throbbing in her head told her that the cudgel had succeeded in doing its work. The memory was reinforced by the painful lump now protruding from the back of her skull.
As she craned her neck to examine her surroundings, several aspects of her incarceration became immediately clear.
The first fact that distressed her was that she had been stripped naked. Well, almost naked. Her captor had thoughtfully left her with boots, gloves, and mask...and absolutely nothing else. The slightly chill air brought a multitude of tiny goosebumps to her exposed flesh. Still, she doubted that the goosebumps would be the worst of her problems.
Especially since her current pose indicated a variety of possibilities.
She had been laid flat on a steel metal slab, a work surface that was raised above the floor by some three feet, apparently used for metal stamping. Her wrists had been manacled together, and drawn high over her head to the center of the upper end of the slab. At the lower end of the surface, two thick chains arose from the corners of the slab, ending in heavy shackles that locked each booted ankle securely.
Her legs had been splayed embarrassingly wide apart. And I'm sure that's not a mistake, she thought.
Supported from the ceiling, and traveling downward until it stopped just an inch above the tabletop, a one-inch thick steel pole waited patiently. The lower end of the pole had been positioned a mere two inches from the Dark Angel's nether regions. The upper end had been attached to a hinge on the ceiling. Batgirl wasn't too happy about that. The reason for her concern was the direction of the hinge. It traveled parallel to her prone body, not across it.
Which meant that the pole could, and probably would, swing from the toes of her boots toward the cuffs at her wrists, then back again. The only thing that would stop the motion was what lay between the wide-forked legs.
Batgirl shifted uncomfortably.
The lower end of the pole exhibited a pre-drilled hole, a half-inch in diameter. It would appear that something could be secured through that hole. Batgirl was sure that she didn't want to know what that 'something' was.
The Dark Angel began struggling against the chains, pulling and twisting them in an effort to break free. The clanking of the iron against the steel echoed in the dim surroundings as she went to work with a vengeance. If any link was rusted, or a secured hasp was weak, she'd find it...
Several minutes later, a perspiring, panting Batgirl was still positioned exactly as she had been before. The goosebumps had disappeared under the heat of exertion. The chains hadn't.
She examined the wrist locks more closely, hoping that she could use the hidden lockpicks in her thumbnail compartment to work herself loose. There was a major detriment to that plan, however. Her captor had used a manacle that stretched halfway up her forearm. Those cuffs extended for six or seven inches, she thought morosely. Worse still, the two manacles had been locked together immovably, a secured padlock at each end. Batgirl might be able to free the lockpicks, but without the ability to maneuver her wrists so much as an inch, she could never reach both lock mechanisms.
Her utility belt tempted her from across the room. A workbench on the wall displayed the bright yellow belt, with its multiple useful compartments. Her costume was there also, the stylized yellow bat emblem shining back at her from the center of the chest. It might as well have been a hundred miles away, for all the good it did.
She was trying to come up with some alternate plan of escape when the door at the far end of the room swung open. A large, burly man stepped through. He was clean shaven, and wore a black cotton turtleneck with matching black pants. A chiseled face, dark hair, and a heavily muscled frame gave Batgirl the impression that he probably made all the girls swoon. Batgirl was somewhat less impressed, given her current treatment.
"Awake at last, I see..." her mysterious malefactor said.
"No thanks to the crack on the head that you gave me..." responded Batgirl drily.
"You should be thankful. After all, I could just as easily have dumped you out the window. I know that bats fly...but Batgirls? I hardly think so."
"Pretty tricky with that gas," the Dark Angel remarked. "Professor Angstrom must really have it in for me."
The dark face almost smiled. "Nice try, Batgirl. Even moments away from death, and you're still fishing for clues. If it will ease your deep concern, my employer is not Professor Whatshisname."
"I don't suppose..." she queried with hesitation.
"No, I don't think so. Though there is no escape for you, I don't think that giving out my employer's name would be good policy. Still, I suppose I can let you in on at least one little secret..."
"And that is...?" she asked.
"My employer wants to remove you from the picture. And I'm here to take care of that."
Batgirl grimaced. "Hardly confidential information."
"And my employer gave me some very specific instructions on how to complete the task; it's something very special."
"I'm breathless with anticipation..." came the less than enthusiastic reply.
"First things first, though." Her captor reached into one of the many drawers that lined the workbench, and retrieved an item from it. When he turned, Batgirl could see a long leather strap, with a buckle at one end. Molded at the center was a black rubber ball, a few inches across. Light reflected off the bright rubber as her enemy approached.
"Now, I'm sure that I could fight you for several minutes, trying to fit this onto you. That would probably require me to strike you, perhaps even knock you out. So do yourself a favor, and make the smart move here."
Batgirl examined the dangling ball gag as it swayed before her, then she stared at her captor. There was no leeway, no sign of compromise in the flat brown eyes. He would do exactly what he stated, using whatever force was required to achieve his goal.
Batgirl opened her mouth grudgingly, allowing the villain to push the offensive rubber between her ivory teeth. The thing tasted vile. While Barbara adjusted to the intrusion as well as she was able, her captor buckled the strap, pulling it admirably tight.
Now unable to speak effectively, the Dark Angel could only watch as the criminal withdrew and attached the next restraint. A black leather belt was pulled from the drawer, and dangled before her once more. Then the leather was pulled about her midriff, and rolled tight by the buckle. Her waist pressed slightly inward from the considerable pressure that her captor had applied.
The next items displayed were the two leather thigh bands, deep brown in color. Her stretched legs were placed in the restraints, then the buckles were tightly fastened. The smooth exterior of each band pulled hard against the muscular thighs, the rough underside pressing deep into the captive flesh. Exposed on the inward side of each band, a metal ring protruded from the material. Batgirl could only imagine what purpose those would serve.
She didn't have long to wait. When her captor turned to her once more, each hand held an article. From the left hand dangled a coiled elastic cord, much like what would be used on an old-style telephone. The black rubber looped in a tight spiral, with a spring secured clasp at each end.
From the right hand extended the real trouble. A titanium dildo spanned outward from the huge hand, its multiple segmented sections forming convex bulges along the entire length of some ten inches.
"MMMmm-mphhh!!!" resounded from behind the gag, as Batgirl protested the immense phallus.
"Just you're size, I'd say" smirked the felon as he approached. "Let's see if we can fit this into your schedule..."
The next few moments were particularly unpleasant, as Batgirl furiously shifted her hips in an effort to avoid the repulsive object. Her captor aligned himself with the flow of the evasive pelvis, however, and targeted the item for insertion. The two combatants struggled, each trying to succeed with their own agenda, each trying to reverse the intent of the other.
"MMMPPPPPHHH!!!" echoed out of the frustrated Batgirl, as the titanium finally succeeded in worming its way past the protesting labia. The smooth metal slid grudgingly into her deepest recesses, stopping when three inches of the device had achieved envelopment.
"Magnificent!" exclaimed her captor. "That ranks as one of the tightest fits that I've ever seen. Your muscular control of that region is quite impressive...and you're going to need every ounce of it."
"Hmmmph!" shot back Batgirl, angered by the seeming compliment.
The outlaw now took the coiled cord, and secured the first clip to the ring on her left thigh band. The disconcerted Batgirl felt internal motion as the second clip was fed through an open port that had been drilled straight through the base of the dildo. Once the clipped emerged from the tunnel on the opposite side of the phallus, the clasp was secured to the ring on the right thigh band. The coiled cord now stretched between her two parted thighs, supporting the massive dildo at the center of the spiral leash. A light tension applied itself upward on the inserted phallus from the stretch of the cord. It was an unsettling feeling, as the titanium pressed inward based on the pressure generated by the angle of her legs.
"Not quite done yet, beautiful..." remarked the villain. He retrieved another metal clip, with clasps at both ends. Reaching beneath the vigilante, he secured one end to a ring that she hadn't seen on the back of the leather belt about her waist. The other end was secured to a ring-bolt that protruded from the surface of the metal slab, at the small of her spine.
Bastard! she thought to herself. He could have done that prior to the dildo insertion, and Batgirl couldn't have fought back at all. The crazed fanatic had wanted her to struggle while he jammed the thing into her!
The Dark Angel shifted her hips experimentally. There was less than an inch of motion in either direction. She wouldn't be able to twist much, that was for sure.
"And now, the final item..." her captor said with a flourish.
Another drawer opened, and a rounded hammerhead was removed. On one side, a threaded post rose from the metal. On the other, a perfectly flat, circular surface extended outward for about an inch of depth.
Her abductor approached the hinged pole, and pulled it backward from its contact with the titanium phallus. He then carefully screwed the rounded item into the threaded opening that she had seen at the lower end of the pendulum. Once the object had been screwed taut, he gently released the pole. The hardened steel of the hammerhead now rested lightly against the dildo. Her mysterious enemy quietly stepped back to survey the scene.
The beautiful Batgirl, spread taut. The tight leather bands, securing her waist and thighs. The erotic phallus, extending partway into her. And the dangling hammer, ready for its primary target.
It was a fantasy come true.
But time marched on. He had specific orders. Once again he approached the captive.
"Let me explain how your demise will be achieved, my valiant Batgirl. The pole-hammer is operated by a mechanical winch, which I will activate shortly. At first, the hammer will draw back an inch, then release. I'm sure that you've noticed the direction of the hinge. The hammer will tap against your cute little insert, pounding it upward slightly.
"The next time the hammer draws back, an inch and one-half will be achieved before release. You'll probably notice the impact of that a little more. The titanium will disappear a little further.
"On the next release, the pendulum drops at two inches. I'm sure you get the idea. Each pendulum strike will increase the force of the impact between those stretched legs of yours. The dildo will be swallowed up a little at a time.
"To keep things interesting, my boss added a little twist. The titanium dildo is a vibrator as well. Each strike by the hammerhead will activate the vibrator according to the force of the impact, so the harder the strike, the greater the vibrator action. It will act like an internal bell inside of you, ringing loud at first, then quieting down until the next strike. Ingenious, don't you think?"
"HMMMPH!" denied the secured Batgirl, who twisted nervously.
"Oh, one other thing. When you've swallowed the whole dildo, the final strike will ignite the fourteen ounces of L-22 explosive inside. The explosion from the titanium, along with the shrapnel, should put an end to your illustrious career."
"WHMMMPH?!!??" shot loudly from behind the gag.
"Did I forget to mention that part? Yes, the dildo is quite deadly. You can delay the end, however. In fact, you have two things working in your favor.
"The first is the coil that I have attached between your thigh bands. After another half inch or so of dildo penetration, the elastic on the coil will start to pull downward instead of upward, tugging the insert toward your feet. This should help you to extract the dildo a little at a time.
"You'll never be able to eject the phallus totally, of course. The same coil that helps you as the titanium deepens will work against you when you reach back to your starting point. The coil reverses direction, like it is now, to push the dildo back in. Trust me, the phallus is there to stay.
"The other thing working in your favor is you...those powerful muscles of yours. I'd concentrate on straining to eject the invader, before it gets too deep. The further into you it goes, the harder it will be to dislodge. With enough effort, you can probably maintain the status quo...at least for a while."
"MMMPHH!!! MMMPHHHHH!!!" Batgirl screamed vehemently from behind the gag. The madman was planning to detonate a bomb inside her, like some kind of crazed Fourth of July fireworks display. She began struggling intensely, trying to break free of the heavy chains.
"I'd save my strength if I were you. It's going to be a long, drawn out process. But don't worry, I'm going to stick with you right to the end."
The fiend pointed across the room. Batgirl turned her head, picking out the detail that she had missed previously. A small window port appeared on the wall, thick glass supported in the heavy frame.
Oh-no!! thought Batgirl. Bad enough to be placed in a diabolical deathtrap by a crazed villain. But worse still, the fiend was going to watch her right till the end. Any chance she had of freeing an arm or a leg was dashed. Even if she could break free of one restraint, the others would slow her enough to allow the madman to re-secure her. The Dark Angel was pondering what to do when her captor calmly approached a switch on the wall, and flicked it to the ON position.
A few seconds later, Batgirl felt a slight tap to her nether regions. A slight electric thrill went through her, despite her predicament, as the titanium slid upward a quarter inch. A slow, methodical vibration started from within her, as the promised vibrator reacted to the hit.
Barbara realized that she would need to stall for time, hoping for an unexpected turn of events or a reversal of decision by her captor. She focused her efforts on dispatching the vibrator from within her.
The pendulum swung forward again, tapping with a bit more force. Another quarter inch slid inward, the coiled cord now coming to a neutral position. The cord wasn't helping her yet...but it wasn't hindering her either.
Her captor hopped up on one of the workbenches, blandly surveying the scene. Damn! thought Batgirl. He really is going to stay and watch.
Tap! The vibrator was humming more forcefully now, as the titanium was impacted by slightly harder strikes. Batgirl focused once more on ejecting the device, while simultaneously trying to work a leg free. Maybe she would get lucky...and with a free leg, kick and knock her opponent unconscious. Not much hope, but something at least.
Another tap, another quarter inch. Batgirl seethed behind the mask, angry at the position that she had been put in. Angrier still at herself, for falling into the trap. As the vibration intensified, another development began to chill the heroic crimefighter. Despite her focus and concentration, the dildo was just too proximate to her erotic zones. Batgirl's sexual juices were beginning to flow. And that meant trouble.
Another tap, but this time almost a half inch advanced into her. The lubricated shaft, now oiled on the exterior by her moistness, was having an easier time advancing. Though this was a problem, the inverse should also be true: extraction should be easier for her as well. Small comfort to the beleaguered Batgirl.
TAP! The vibrator responded immediately, resonating more forcefully within her. The coiled cord was definitely helping now, and Batgirl managed to dispatch almost a half-inch of the intruder. The buzzing quieted as she finished the effort, but within seconds, the pendulum struck once more.
"UUUHHH!" uttered the Dark Angel as the vibrator kicked into overdrive. Each strike was raising the level of vibration, and the impact against the walls of her love canal were impossible to ignore. She was going to orgasm. It was only a matter of when, not whether. The flow of rumbling deep into her interior was too powerful to ignore.
Another half inch was reversed, before another strike clanged inward. Batgirl was perspiring freely now, the sweat forming rivulets on her straining body. The muscles pulled and twisted against the restraints, as Barbara continued to hope for some miracle of weakness in the metal.
"MMM-nnnp!" rolled out of the gag as the next bang sent the vibrator to a new level of internal impaction. It was vibrating quite wildly now, and Batgirl could feel her muscles tightening in response to the sensual caress. She had now accumulated another three inches of the titanium monster, having slowly reversed about half of each strike. More of the thing was on her interior than on her exterior. And she was close. Close to an orgasm.
The hammer was now falling from a height of some two feet, and the initial impact was almost as devastating as the sudden jump in vibrator action. Batgirl watched in concern as she tried to force the metal outward. The hammer was about to fall once more...
Her captor suddenly jumped off the bench and rapidly leaned over the prone body of Batgirl. At first, Batgirl had hoped that he changed his mind. He was going to stop the hammer blow...
But that had been foolishly optimistic. Instead, the fiend leaned close to her pubic region, staring intently at the engorged labia. He knew! Somehow, he knew that she was close to orgasm, and he wanted to be up close and personal to see it.
Then the hammer fell...
Batgirl jumped in shock as the initial impact drove the titanium almost another inch into her velvety interior. The vibrations exploded out of the dildo immediately, shaking against her interior like a jackhammer. She tried to control the wave of pleasure that rose from her pubis, but the jackhammer was too strong. The flood of sensation crested within her, then crashed forward heedlessly despite her protestations.
"HUUUUHHH!!! UUUUUHHHH!!! MMMMPHHH!!" coughed out of Batgirl as the orgasm smashed through her. Her body jerked and writhed, pulling wildly against the chains as the muscles extended in a paroxysm of pleasure. Rivulets of sweat rolled off the shaking body, splashing the chill metal below. The stiffened nipples pointed rigidly upward, straining to advance even further on quaking breasts.
And during the entire affair, her captor was intensely focused on her love lips as the passion washed through her. He seemed riveted by the twitching labia, as the tiny muscles contracted and released about the prized metal dildo. He was fascinated by the sudden flow of love juice, as her body reacted to the intense pleasure.
Finally, it was over. Batgirl lay panting, trying to recover from the devastating effects. Then she reapplied herself to her mission, working the muscles with the help of the coiled cord to remove the explosive device.
"Well, I think that's my cue to get to a safe distance. After the first orgasm, control of the muscles becomes less sure. You could go any time now."
Thanks for your deep concern, thought Batgirl sarcastically. She watched as her captor exited the room, his face reappearing in the thick metal viewing port.
Batgirl peered down. An edge of fear flashed through her. He was right. There were only two inches of dildo remaining. Only two inches until the explosives detonated her from within. She focused once more on pushing hard to get rid of the device, allowing the cord to help.
The pendulum was taking longer to reach its release point, but the subsequent impact was more intense when it occurred. Barbara had a minute or so to work on the problem.
She fought passionately against the chains, trying once more to break free. Still nothing. Her strength was beginning to ebb also, as time dragged on. Then she saw the flash of the bar as it swung rapidly down...
BANG! Batgirl felt the impact relayed through her bones, as the hammer struck home. Another inch disappeared inside her, the vibrator going wild in ecstasy. It felt as if she were being drilled from the inside out, her entire pelvis shuddering from the vibrations. She rapidly ascended to another orgasm, shuddering and shaking in her bonds as the incredible rush flashed through her. She was totally spent now, and struggled weakly to compete with the titanium intruder. Batgirl realized that the next blow would probably be the last...
The first thump that emanated from the exterior room didn't catch Batgirl's attention. She was more than a little preoccupied. Then the crash resounded, echoing through both chambers, and Batgirl knew that something was happening. Yet she still couldn't tell exactly what.
Then there was silence. Batgirl stared first at the doorway, noticing that the face was no longer in the view frame. Then her gaze returned to the pendulum. It was only seconds away from releasing!
A dark silhouette appeared in the doorframe. As the figure entered the light, a sigh of relief exhaled from Batgirl. It was Melee!
Then, the pendulum fell...
Melee was still too far away to stop the fall of the pendulum. Batgirl, realizing this, applied every ounce of strength remaining to grip the titanium dildo. As the hammer clanged hard against the phallus, Batgirl unconsciously held her breath. It seemed assured that a detonation was imminent.
An instant later, when no explosion had occurred, the Dark Angel peered down at the monstrous intruder. A quarter inch remained on the exterior. Almost ten inches of titanium had been swallowed up inside of Batgirl's private region. That was the good news. The bad news was that the vibrator had kicked into rock-crusher mode.
Batgirl felt as if she were being shaken apart from the inside out. The incredible impacts were jarring her to the core, buzzing so hard that her bones hurt. The vibration was unbelievable, as the slamming impact of the hammer had ignited the most powerful agitation yet. And the pendulum was rising again!
Melee arrived rapidly, unbuckling the gag first.
"Batgirl, are you all right?"
"Sh...sh...shut...off...fff...sw...swwitch..." Batgirl managed to stammer between the driving punches from the dildo inside her.
Melee rushed to the wall, and flicked the switch to the off position.
The ascent of the hammer stopped immediately, and Melee returned to the chained heroine.
"G...get...me...o...out of here..." Batgirl urged, as the vibrations slowly reduced.
Several minutes later, a freed and re-costumed Batgirl was still recovering from her ordeal. She spent the time conversing with her rescuer.
"You're timing is impeccable, Melee."
"Thanks" responded the fledgling crimefighter. "I'm learning from a great coach." Batgirl had shared trade secrets with the younger student on more than one occasion in the past.
"How did you find me?"
"Ummm..." Melee hesitated, "actually I didn't. I was patrolling the Tool and Die Factory, and discovered that the fire escape door had been jimmied. When I prowled the interior, I saw your friend in the outer room, staring beyond the viewing port. Then I saw the chained legs.
"I fired my bolo, which wrapped itself around him. He still put up a pretty good fight, though, considering his arms were pinned to his sides."
"Let's go have a chat with him, shall we?" suggested a mostly recuperated Batgirl.
Batgirl and Melee spent several minutes interrogating their captive, but he staunchly refused to say a word. The two crimefighters could get nothing from him.
A search turned up more tools, a few sets of keys, but nothing that seemed out of place in the basement. They exited the factory with their prisoner. At the moment, the progress led to a dead end.
"Well, we've got him for breaking and entering, and in my case, kidnapping and attempted murder. I think the police can hold him for quite a while." Batgirl said. "I'm going to return to an office that held some clues. I need to finish my search there. Can you deliver wonder boy to the police?"
"No problem" answered Melee. "He's not going anywhere in duranium cuffs."
Batgirl fired a tetherclaw at the nearest rooftop. "I'm starting to think that the tidal wave wasn't natural. Check back with me in a day or so; I might have some leads that we can follow."
Then she pressed the winch, and she was gone.
"Looks like you're going to spend some quality time with the boys in blue." Melee remarked to her prisoner.
For an answer, a wide smile crept across the face of the convict.
"What's making you so happy?" asked Melee.
When the stun-gun fired into the base of her spine, and Melee began twitching and jerking uncontrollably from the powerful electric current, she heard her captive laugh.
Then, as blackness closed in, she heard him say, "Friends."
A second figure stepped from the shadows in the alleyway, and approached the cuffed man.
"About time, Ian" complained the prisoner. "The Mariner's gonna be pissed. Batgirl got away. And she suspects."
"You worry too much, Karl" Ian answered. "We've got bait...and a hostage."
A booted toe nudged the unconscious Melee.
"We'll just wait until Batgirl comes to us. And in the meantime, I'm sure we can think of some way to keep our guest entertained..."
Deep concern was reflected in the piercing green eyes of the Dark Angel as she made her way through the abandoned warehouse on the waterfront. Melee had disappeared during the prior evening, a fact that had come to light from two different events. First, Detective Erica Kane had never shown for work today. Though the female police detective could have been ill, she had not missed a day of work during the last year. And there had been no telephone call.
The more crucial fact, to Barbara's point of view, was that the mysterious villain that the two heroines had cuffed last night had never been brought to Gotham City Police Department. The GCPD had no record of any arrest or delivery by Melee.
That worried Batgirl. Though Melee was quite capable of handling herself, there was no sign of a struggle from the crime scene last night. There were a myriad of possibilities, but the most likely was the abduction of the young crimefighter. Batgirl had already seen firsthand what the fanatical stranger was capable of. Barbara shuddered slightly.
When she reached the rear of the dilapidated building, Batgirl headed for the left corner. Pulling a rusted iron pipe from the wall, she approached several seemingly rotted holes in the floorboards. She thrust the pipe into the third hole, then stepped back.
A low rumbling emanated from the creaking floorboards, as a three-foot section slid back to reveal a narrow tunnel descending beneath the building. As Batgirl walked down the stairway, the floorboards re-sealed above her. Several spotlights snapped on, illuminating the chamber.
Her mysterious benefactor certainly had style. And programming knowledge. When Batgirl had accessed ORACLE more than a year ago, the message had flashed across her session quite specifically. It had obviously been targeted for her. No voice, print only. The address indicated a rather seedy part of town, and the directions were right out of a cloak-and-dagger manual. Despite some very sophisticated search techniques, Batgirl had been unable to trace the source.
The Dark Angel had been sure that it was some kind of trap. She had used every electronic device she owned to scan the area, and access any kind of information possible. Nothing out of the ordinary had presented itself.
Until she scanned the rusted pipe. It wasn't normal rust. Or a normal pipe. In fact, a microtransmitter had been imbedded in the metal, designed to be totally inert until it was inserted into a matching receiver. Sitting in the pile of dozens of other pipes that looked identical, the chances of random implementation were infinitesimally small.
And when Batgirl had placed the pipe for the first time, an explosive batarang was held in one hand, a concussor in the other. No enemy had appeared, however, as the floorboards withdrew.
The first descent was slow and methodical, and her heart skipped a beat when the floorboards closed above her. Then the floods snapped on, and her heart skipped two beats.
Even now, it was as pristine as it had been a year ago. The mini-sub was a pinnacle of technological advancement, and sported every dream that an engineer could have. F.L.E.X radar, duranium/polycarbonate alloy, twin caterpillar drives, the vehicle held it all. The armament was formidable as well, with laser turrets, doppler torpedoes, and voltaic exterior.
The sub must have cost a few hundred thousand credits.
A narrow compartment formed the teardrop shaped center of the sub. Tunneling through the material on each outer edge were the two caterpillar ports, allowing the sub to remain perfectly silent to all but the most advanced radar. Within the central compartment, dozens of controls waited beneath the clear pilot canopy. Stretching outward from amidships of the main body, and sweeping backward at sharp angles, were the two lateral fins that held the dive planes. At the tip of each of these horizontal 'wings', a vertical stabilizer ascended both upward and downward to form the twin rudders. A touch of the flight stick would redirect the sub instantly, allowing it to pivot in any direction with no more than a thought. It was as highly functional as it was beautiful.
She had nicknamed it 'Manta'. An aggressive enemy when enraged, but peaceful by nature. The name fit.
Several more gifts had been received since the arrival of the mini-sub, but none were quite as costly. Each one seemed to have been designed to bring Batgirl's arsenal up to the state of the art. What was suspicious, yet also comforting, was the timing of the gifts. Each donation had been delivered only after the disappearance of the Batman. Was it possible that the Dark Knight had arranged for such a possibility? His own incapacitation? Or even his own demise?
It seemed probable. Batgirl wasn't complaining, just thinking it through. She had benefited greatly from the advanced devices. She had only used the sub once, to familiarize herself with the controls. Other items had seen much more frequent action.
Batgirl removed her slitex costume, leaving herself with just the mask. She placed the outfit carefully into a watertight container, one that she would be bringing with her. Then she turned to the locker on the wall, and removed the dive suit.
The tight, clinging rubber would provide some protection from the cold ocean depths, and of course she needed the dive mask for her oxygen supply. But if her suspicions were correct, she would be able to change back into the slitex once the destination had been reached. Slitex was more resistant to punctures and damage, and was easier to move around in.
Within minutes, Batgirl had squeezed herself into the shiny black rubber. Every curve was molded thoroughly by the snug material, displaying her attributes in finely honed detail. The yellow bat emblem flashed the spotlight illumination as she stood, as did the underwater utility belt. Each compartment of the specialized belt held a useful article for submerged application.
Barbara strapped a diving knife to her left calf, the bright yellow sheathe marking its location instantly in an emergency. Never leave home without it, she thought.
The liquid-ox tanks held enough air for three hours, which should be more than enough time. The tanks stored into a smallish backpack and harness that she donned. Then she retrieved the dive mask. The clear visor on the mask gave her almost a full range of vision, extending for nearly one-hundred eighty degrees. The hose from the backpack clipped into the regulator, and she tested the air supply. There were no problems. Then she boarded the mini-sub.
Once seated, she donned the dive fins and activated the power supply. The console flashed one light at a time, each illuminating a green glow to indicate that systems were ready. When all onboards checked out, Batgirl pressed the release button.
The motorized winches that held the sub just inches from the surface of the water slowly lowered their charge. Barbara watched as the chill liquid bubbled over the canopy, immersing the sub completely.
Then she nudged the flight stick, and the Manta scooted forward to the open ocean.
It was less than an hour later that Batgirl approached the coordinates that had been marked on the Professor's blueprints. She activated the defensive perimeter around Manta, assuring that any attack would be responded to.
As the black wraith whirred through the dark water, Batgirl eased the stick back to climb above the next rocky outcropping.
As the sub rolled down again, the Dark Angel was taken aback by the evidence before her. Angstrom had not only built the biosphere, he had designed it with beauty and grace. It was easily the largest underwater structure of its kind, and the myriad lights illumined the dark waters like a beacon in the night.
Batgirl was duly impressed.
From the main central dome, a half dozen passageways created offshoots to significantly smaller domes. Those would be the living quarters, rec room, kitchen, and other non-research areas Batgirl thought. The blueprints had accounted for more than just science and technology. The plans had contained all of the essentials for normal human interaction. It could support families as well as researchers.
Barbara was still admiring the structure when the four torpedoes targeted her sub from behind. The beeping console warned of the incoming danger, pinpointing the deadly cylinders immediately.
Seems I'm not welcome, she thought.
She pushed the stick hard over, bringing the nose of the sub to a direction that would avail her the most time. The torpedoes had definitely acquired. A few punches on the console brought the laser turrets on line.
The nearest charge was focused by the laser, and a pencil-thin beam shot out of the turret to skewer the hazard before it could connect.
Damn! thought Batgirl. There had been no explosion. The device was still tracking. Whoever's avoiding me knows their technology, she thought. The probable cause was reflective coating on the torpedoes, much like the two that she carried onboard.
They're as well armed as I am, probably better, she thought grimly.
Batgirl punched a button, and an instant later the countermeasures fired. The Dark Angel watched in the FLEX radar as the torpedoes closed. Whether through bad luck, or cleverly planned release, the four hunters were spaced too far apart.
A resounding BOOM! echoed the explosion through the cold seawater as the first torpedo detonated against a rock outcrop, confused momentarily by the countermeasure. If the unseen adversaries were monitoring the torpedoes, it was a trick that wouldn't work a second time.
It was worth a try, however. Batgirl launched a second countermeasure, watching with chagrin as the next projectile blithely ignored the bait. So much for that idea.
Batgirl's fingers flew across the console as she worked on her second line of defense. She was simultaneously veering the sub wildly, trying to present a minimal aspect for as long as possible to the deadly hunters.
<IMPACT: TWENTY SECONDS> the computer announced. The turbines whined as Batgirl pushed the engines to maximum thrust, then beyond. Done! she thought, and punched the launch button.
It was a risky maneuver, but the superheroine had few options remaining. The voltaic charge could only be used when something was in direct contact with the exterior of the sub....a little useless when you were dealing with torpedoes. The two onboard Doppler torpedoes fired simultaneously, each one targeted at the hunters that dogged her.
Manta pulled hard to the right, and down, trying to bring the staggered array of the enemy formation into closer alignment. If she could destroy two of the remaining three torpedoes with just one of hers, the odds of her survival would improve significantly.
A hard climb a few seconds later, as the distance narrowed between the dueling torpedoes. Instead of veering closer, the enemy torpedoes had actually spaced apart somewhat. There was no question, someone was now monitoring the hunt against her.
<IMPACT: TEN SECONDS> responded the console, and Batgirl brought the sub hard to port to align the enemy cylinders once more. The engines groaned in complaint, as the stresses from the rapidly shifting change of direction settled in. But not enough time remained to achieve the desired effect. The Doppler radar of her own torpedoes had accurately focused on the enemy, and the detonation was imminent.
BOOM! resounded through the chill water. Then BOOM! again, as the second defender introduced itself to its cousin. Batgirl glanced at the single image that displayed in the holo-screen. One hunter left. But it would still be more than enough. And the Dark Angel had run out of tricks.
Barbara shoved the stick hard over, and down, bringing Manta skirting across the bottom. Sand and debris kicked up behind the powerful wake from the propulsion, as the torpedo dogged her relentlessly. Another figure had now appeared in the holo-grid. An enemy sub!
This is just getting more and more amusing, thought Batgirl sarcastically. She dodged left and right wildly, trying to confuse her trail with whatever metallic debris might rest on the bottom. But there was none.
<IMPACT: FIVE SECONDS> . From the corner of her eye, Batgirl saw one final hope. The rudders swung the nose around as the sub whipped upward, headed for a rocky outcropping. Within that display of rocks lay the one possibility. An archway presented itself, a narrow bridge that towered in a half loop from the ocean floor. It would be like flying a plane through a stone tunnel, thought the Dark Angel. The only question was, would the tunnel be wide enough...
Batgirl had no time to second-guess her decision. The torpedo was within two seconds of catching her. The Manta rocketed through the opening, Barbara pulling back hard on the stick to drive the torpedo upward into the rock ceiling as it tried to follow.
The maneuver almost worked, as the front of the torpedo plowed into the rock face as planned. But the tip of the right rudder snagged against the rock outcropping, delaying the Manta's escape for a critical instant. Everything happened at once for Batgirl. She felt the sickening crunch of polycarbonate alloy as the rock face mangled the stabilizer. Then the BOOOM! of the underwater shockwave, as the rear of the sub was torn asunder from the proximity of the explosion. The Manta spun wildly out of control, pieces of the sub tearing off and falling to the bottom as it disintegrated in flight. Batgirl was thrown from the cockpit as it crumbled and exploded around her, the concussion knocking her senseless. She was totally disoriented, and bruised, but still alive.
When she finally regained her senses, the nose of the enemy sub was pointed directly at her. It hovered less than ten feet away. Batgirl started to reach for her utility belt, hoping to detonate an ink cloud that would allow her to disappear in the haze.
But as her gloved hand reached for the compartment on her belt, an object fired from the nose of the sub. A heavy metal belt hammered into her, rapidly pinning her arms to her sides as the lead weight constricted itself around her waist. Batgirl knew she was in trouble, and kicked outward with the swim fins in an attempt to reach the safety of the jagged rocks below. She had barely moved three feet when another lead belt fired from the sub, pounding itself into her thighs.
The cloying metal immediately wrapped itself around her upper legs, preventing her from using the full range of motion needed for the escape. The dauntless Batgirl kicked back and forth feebly, using just her calf muscles, until the third belt fired.
The lead fused against her calves, molding them as one, and the captured Batgirl began sinking slowly to the bottom. But her captor wasn't quite satisfied yet. Another belt emerged, hammering into her ankles. Then another. Then another. When the last belt fired Batgirl was already descending rapidly toward the bottom, the excess weight causing her to bounce helplessly amidst the craggy rocks and sand.
Bubbles rose from the regulator as she breathed hard from the capture. The lead gripped her ankles. A band secured her calves. Her thighs strained against the lead. A hip belt bound her hands to her ass cheeks. A waist belt dug into her midriff. There was a belt that throttled chokingly about her neck. But it was the last belt to fire that displeased her the most.
With exquisite aim, the sub driver had fired the lead punishment directly across her jutting breasts, squeezing them mercilessly against her upper torso. The metal had forced a deep groove against the straining rubber, as Batgirl shuddered to take in what breath she could.
The Dark Angel watched as the sub nudged closer. She could barely move from the massive lead weights that were harnessed onto her. She watched as a long, robotic arm extended menacingly from the sub. Dangling from the end of the arm was a thick cable, ending in a large galvanized hook.
Batgirl could only stare as the cable was reeled out, the hook slowly descending toward her position. She watched as the hook bumped against the bottom, and the arm pivoted slightly to starboard. Then the cable was reeled in for just a few inches, the hook rising from the seabed.
The process was repeated twice more before a straining Batgirl discovered what the patient sub driver was trying to accomplish. Attached to her ankle weights, partially buried between the rocks and the sand, was a brass ring. Fused to the ring, a cable extended outward to the bands that secured her ankles.
The fiend! The sub driver was playing some kind 'you catch it, you keep it' scenario. Like some giant arcade game, the hook descended again and again in an attempt to loop itself through the brass ring at her feet. She had become a rubber-suited prize, and the trick was to capture her like some coveted toy.
Forced to watch as the hook repeatedly missed the target, Batgirl struggled vehemently to move across the ocean floor. Each flex of her lead-weighted legs helped her to move the ring, thus avoiding the fate that was planned for her. She tried to discern who was at the helm, but the distance and angle clouded her vision.
After almost five minutes of missed attempts, Barbara felt the telltale clank that signaled the end of the chase. Batgirl had managed to wriggle almost five feet across the sand and rock filled bottom, and was laboring for every ounce of oxygen she could get at this point. Exhaled air burst from the regulator, her chest heaving as far as it could against the tight metal constriction.
Uh-oh!, thought the Dark Angel as she watched the slack being reduced. Then the rubber suited heroine was pulled feet-first from the ocean floor, suspended upside-down like some gigantic fisherman's prize. The cable reeled in with excruciating slowness, allowing the captive crimefighter to view every inch of the sub's exterior as it passed.
When the winch finally shuddered to a halt, Batgirl found herself wafting slowly to and fro at the end of the cable, face to face with her tormentor. A leering smile appeared from the cockpit of the sub. It was an all too familiar smile to Barbara, since she had seen it once before. The man from the warehouse grinned back at her.
Then the sub driver engaged the propellers, and the sub crept slowly forward. Batgirl felt herself beginning to get dizzy, partly from lack of oxygen and partly from the inverted suspension. The captive Batgirl slowly rotated in her upside-down bondage, a perfectly molded plaything displayed from every angle for the amusement of her tormentor. He seemed to take great pleasure in watching the exhaled air bubbles as they clung to her rubber-clad, inverted body on their way upward to the surface.
As the sub finally drew upward toward the moon pool, the punishing restraint took its toll on the already pummeled Batgirl, and she passed out.
Barbara awoke to a hand gently slapping her across the face. As the room sharpened into focus, the details of her newly changed situation started to become clear. She was seated in a wooden chair at the side of the moon pool. She was still sheathed in the clinging rubber wetsuit, but a few additional accoutrements had been added.
Two leather thigh bands had been secured about each leg, locked into position by two small padlocks. Her wrists had been similarly cuffed, the leather tightly gripping the forearm, two more locks ensuring compliance. Draped from the right wrist to the right thigh, and from the left wrist to the left thigh, a plastic coated metal cable extended for about eight inches. At one end, a ring locked the cable to the wrist cuff, while at the other end a similar ring held it locked to the thigh cuff.
The purpose of the arrangement was immediately apparently. Batgirl's arms had been tethered to her legs. She could move freely...as long as she didn't exceed the eight-inch leash. The limited distance meant that she wouldn't be able to throw punches effectively.
To further hobble her movements, her captors had attached two ankle cuffs as well. A twelve-inch cable had been locked into position, providing only slightly more room than the wrists. A well-placed kick had also been eliminated as a form of attack.
At least they had removed the projectile weights, the dive mask, and the swim fins. Batgirl was relatively unencumbered, other than the hobbles.
Three figures had arrayed themselves before her.
On the left, her 'friend' from the sub stood casually with arms crossed over his chest. He seemed bored with the current situation, as if the fun were over for him. He leaned nonchalantly against a girder that traced its way to the top of the dome.
On the right, a slightly smaller man with blond hair and cool blue eyes. He seemed a bit more edgy than the other two, as if anxious to complete some task. It looked like he was high strung, capable of anything if pushed too far.
Standing directly before her, and much closer than the other two, was the man who had been gently slapping her to wakefulness. She immediately identified him as the leader of the operation. Cold, piercing eyes bored into her...yet also seemed to hold a great deal of mirth regarding her current situation. An aura of complete authority surrounded him, a man who tolerated no disruption to his plans or the slightest disobedience. There was intelligence and malevolence reflected in those eyes, a bad combination to encounter. If villain number 2 seemed capable of anything, it was because this man had already thought it up and done it.
"Hello, Batgirl" he remarked in a smooth, silken voice. "Good of you to join us."
"It seems I didn't have much of a choice" she answered smoothly. "After all, you were quite intent on chasing me down."
"Quite so, quite so..." the man replied. "But after that daring feat of submarine piloting, I felt that you had earned the right to meet me.
"Ah, but where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. My name is Arox Kemp. You may call me the Mariner."
"The Mariner, eh? Is that because you're some kind of self-imposed King Neptune?" Batgirl quipped.
The Mariner shook his head sadly. "Really, Batgirl, I thought you would be more respectful of your betters. Especially when they can make your life so incredibly uncomfortable. What's left of it anyway..." he said menacingly.
"I don't believe you've met Ian yet..." Kemp resumed as he pointed to the fidgety blond man. Ian performed a meaningless bow to the captive heroine.
"And Karl, whom you've met previously..." Arox stated. Karl's grin widened significantly, but he made no move from the girder.
"What have you done with Professor Angstrom?" Batgirl asked. "Eliminated him, I suppose, after stealing all this."
"Not so, my dear. The good Professor is alive and well, and has been convinced to help us with our grand plans. But we can discuss all that as we tour the station. I simply must exhibit my pride and joy." Arox turned back to Batgirl. "Let's go..."
Batgirl stood from the chair, tottering slightly as the limitations threw her balance off. Then Kemp turned and walked a few steps forward, stopping just ahead. He was obviously waiting for Batgirl to follow.
Barbara walked forward...or at least she tried to. In the past, she had always been tightly bound by an enemy, or been totally free to retaliate. This partial binding was difficult to grow accustomed to, as it restricted her normal movements without eliminating them. She found herself taking small, mincing steps to keep up. Her arms, which would normally swing free at her sides when walking, were hampered to a very few inches of motion. Without that counterweight during movement, her balance was thrown off as well.
Batgirl shuffled behind the Mariner as fast as she was able to. Several times she fell behind, and discovered the price for delay. Kemp would stop in anger, waiting impatiently. From behind, a whip would appear in either Karl or Ian's hand, and come slashing down between her shoulder blades. After the first stinging blow, Batgirl quickly learned to try and maintain the pace.
She felt ridiculous, forced to walk with such an ungainly gait. And knowing the repercussions for failure didn't help the situation. Which was obviously the Mariner's intent. Two more blows landed upon her before the desired room was reached.
"Welcome to the Data Collection Room, Batgirl. I thought you might like to see exactly what we have planned for Gotham. Step inside please."
Peering inside the room, Barbara saw dozens of different recording devices. Digivids, holovids, audio and seismic recorders, and several other devices. The Dark Angel carefully lifted one bound foot, gingerly balancing as she stepped over the lip of the circular doorway. Then she moved inside.
The Mariner followed, and pressed a playback button on one of the digi-vid recorders. A scene appeared in the monitor.
"What am I watching, exactly?" Batgirl asked.
Kemp responded easily. "The future of Gotham unless they pay my ransom demands. While you were jauntily piloting the sub, I was busy sending an ultimatum to the mayor. Unless I receive ten million credits to an untraceable electronic account, Gotham will become one huge flood zone. Observe."
Barbara watched as the digi-vid displayed a rocky underwater outcropping. A moderate sized, antique submarine had been positioned amidst the rocks, resting on the bottom. Within seconds, a large wave buffeted the area, swirling up sand and rocks in its wake.
"That was the first of four...now watch the second..." the Mariner observed.
The digi-vid played out another five minutes before the second wave hit. This one was significantly more powerful in intensity and duration. Some of the rock overhangs crumbled beneath the stress, and the sub dive planes were actually bent slightly.
"Third wave coming up..." Kemp sounded slightly bored.
The third wave was terrible, smashing into the rocky shoal like a giant fist. Many of the surviving rock shelves crumbled beneath the pounding, and the sub was fractured against the bottom like a children's toy. Sand, dirt, and rock gravel was tossed before the remote camera, obscuring the view for some time. When it settled, the sub was barely twisted, almost bent in half.
"And finally, the fourth wave...what we call the 'Vortex' wave..."
Another five minutes passed...then the resulting devastation was delivered with such awesome intensity that Batgirl was actually shocked. Only a small portion of the effect was visible, as the chaos from the power of the wave threw boulders, stone, and sand everywhere. What told the story was the aftermath when the dust had settled.
The sub had disintegrated. Shards of metal had been torn like pieces of scrap paper from the damaged hulk. What hadn't ripped apart had been smashed flat...as if an underwater steamroller had driven across it. Where huge six and eight foot boulders had stood, now two and three foot pieces remained. The wave had ground them against each other with such wrath that they had been split asunder. No outcrop remained. It was now just a seabed littered with jagged rocks and serrated metal.
"Impressive, don't you think?" asked the Mariner.
Batgirl wouldn't...couldn't...admit it, but it was. A wave like that, aimed at the city, would destroy much of the waterfront.
"Not bad for a petty thief with stolen ideas." she taunted.
The anger that arose in Kemp was immediately apparent. "Obviously, you can't appreciate true genius, even when it's standing in front of you. We have one more stop to make before we check on the progress of the ransom. Let's go."
Batgirl was nudged out of the room, and once again had to shuffle rapidly to keep up. She was led down one of the connecting hallways to an exterior dome, one of the six auxiliary areas that Angstrom had designed. Kemp unlocked the wheel valve, and swung the door open.
As the Dark Angel crossed the threshold, she heard snickering behind her. Once she had moved past the doorframe slightly, she understood why.
"It seemed only fitting to invite your rescuer along," Kemp's voice wafted into the room. "As you can see, we've tried to make her as comfortable as possible..."
The Mariner's last statement was the most vile of lies. If Melee could get any more uncomfortable, it wasn't obvious to Batgirl. The young crimefighter had been affixed to one of the dozen or so exercise devices in the room, and she was experiencing anything but exercise.
Except for the black half-mask, Melee had been stripped naked. Her lycra costume and implement belt had been gingerly folded and placed next to the machine.
Leather straps secured her torso tightly to the workout bench, rigidly fastening her in place. Her arms had been pulled back behind the narrow seat, and had been strapped into position at several locations. A molded harness gag packed a huge object deeply into the stretched mouth, and bolted the head solidly to the bench. Melee could only stare upward in dismay.
Her knees had been bent backward toward her head, the kneecaps nearly pressing against the shoulder sockets. Once there, her ankles had been secured tightly to her thighs by more straps. Two thin bands ensured that Melee could get no relief by pulling her knees inward; leather bindings looped about each knee, stretching them outward to the frame of the workbench. The position thrust her sex violently outward, making it all too available to the fiendish criminals that had ensnared her.
The only way to ease the discomfort of the stringent position was to bring the knees downward, toward the floor. There was a reason Melee did not do this however. A lightweight chain extended from each knee strap toward the nearest associated nipple. At the end of the chain, a nipple clamp had been painfully tightened onto each pink extension.
Melee couldn't lower her legs without yanking harshly on each nipple. It was obvious that she had been fighting against the desire for some time. The trembling thighs quivered from reaction, the movement transmitted along the chain to the achingly stretched nipples. Sweat beaded her brow as she fought to keep her legs in position, but the weight and the effort were all too apparent in the shaking muscles. Melee was not enjoying her accommodations.
She hadn't been ignored by her captors during her rigorous work out. Angry red welts gave testimony to the fact that the kidnappers had visited her repeatedly. They had brought their whips, and applied them steadfastly.
Melee, unable to turn her head, peered over at Batgirl. Pleading eyes petitioned for any type of aid that could be found to ease her discomfort.
Batgirl scuffled across the room as rapidly as she could, attempting to reach Erica and lend what help she could. The Dark Angel hadn't advanced three feet when she was grabbed from behind, and held in position by the two guards.
"Ah, ah, ah..." admonished Kemp. "No help from the home team. Your friend is learning a valuable lesson about what happens when you cross me."
"Let her go!" commanded Batgirl. "She's done nothing to deserve this."
"She freed you, when I had other plans" responded the Mariner. "That's cause enough. But if you ask nicely, perhaps I'll accede to your request."
Batgirl looked to Melee once more. The eyes implored her to end the captivity, in any way possible. When the Dark Angel turned to Kemp, he was waiting patiently for her reply.
But Barbara knew the danger of dealing with a madman like this. Once you started to agree, the requests would become more emphatic, more insidious. Gradually, you would find yourself committing illegal acts as the criminal threatened disclosure of your conspiracy. It was a vicious circle best avoided.
The theory was sound, but watching the reality was quite different.
"Please..." she chewed out slowly between grated teeth.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" the Mariner quipped. "Boys, you may release Batgirl's friend over there.... In fact, since both of them have been hobbled for quite a while, why don't you allow them to stretch their legs?"
Barbara watched as smiles crept into both of the guards' faces. There was an evil intent behind that remark...but Batgirl couldn't discover what.
On opposite sides of the rec room, two changing stall doors opened. Karl exited a small enclosure on the port side, prodding a bound heroine before him. From the starboard side, an identical scenario was reenacted, as Ian pushed a captive crimefighter forward as well.
Arox Kemp watched as the two bound heroines stopped about six feet apart near the center of the chamber.
The two heroines were identical mirror images, yet one was the negative of the other.
Batgirl had been stripped of the rubber dive outfit, and re-costumed in a complex bondage outfit. Black latex boots sported a five-inch heel that pushed the heroine upward to an impossibly balanced stance, the slickly gleaming material stopping at nearly the top of her thighs. A black corset of latex and leather had been crushingly applied above this, the laces tightened mercilessly to reduce and shape the already curvaceous figure. By design, a portion of the corset was conspicuously absent. Pert nipples extended outward from lovingly exposed breasts, which were thrust vehemently upward by the demi-bra.
A black strap had been attached to the back of the corset, and descended downward, squeezing itself between sculpted ass cheeks. The front of the strap ascended again, buckling itself to the front of the tightly fitted attire across the abdomen. It was unfortunate for Batgirl that the band wasn't just two-dimensional.
Directly between the muscular thighs, and buried deeply between the cheeks, hollow thin metal valve stems extended outward from the belt. It was the only evidence of what lay beneath the black leather. Items that pushed deeply upward into the dark detective, both fore and aft.
Slender arms had been sheathed in black latex gloves that rose to the shoulder blade. The arms had then been wrenched backward, fastened until the elbows touched. Cords secured about the midriff held the wrists and elbows in position, allowing little movement.
A black leather collar enclosed the slim neck in a raspy embrace, locking the head forward due to the shape and height of the binding. Banded across the face, buckled at several locations, a black harness gag nullified any would-be comments. Depending from the front of the gag, a pump control had been compressed repeatedly until the mouth was explosively packed from the pressure.
An abundantly displeased Batgirl stared back at the heinous Kemp.
The Mariner smiled cordially as he turned to survey Melee.
Every device, every rope, every covering was identical to Batgirl's. But white thigh boots caressed the athletic legs. Snowy white latex bound the trim midriff. A pure, gleaming white pump gag filled the delectable mouth. Every covering on the fledgling crimefighter was spotless alabaster. Melee was an angel in pure, unwavering white.
And Batgirl was a goddess in gleaming, stygian black.
"Beautiful!" exclaimed the Mariner. "You two model those outfits perfectly. A dynamic, exciting representation of monochrome opposites. Enough of the avant garde artistry, however. We have other things to attend to...like the ransom delivery."
"Boys...?" Kemp prompted.
The two guards led their charges to the far wall. When their captors stopped, an anxious dread settled into both hostages. Batgirl and Melee stood before what looked like normal treadmill machines. As Barbara's practiced eye examined the devices, however, she realized that they were anything but normal.
Oh, they were treadmills, all right. The units had all of the standard controls for speed, inclination, and duration. But the controls were locked within a transparent display case, preventing access to them once they were set. In the center of the display, protruding vertically, was a large digital readout for the current speed. Angled slightly as the readouts were, each captive could easily read both her own and the other's speed. The other vertical protrusions that were easily visible for both prisoners were the red light bulbs mounted to the left of each display. At the moment, the function of the bulbs was a mystery.
Then there were the twin-corded wires that dangled from the front bar, one beneath each side of the control case. Batgirl immediately recognized what hung at the end of those. Nipple clamps. Two on each machine. Well, that explained the not-so-subtle breast exposure on the corset.
The last component was out of place as well, but served no identifiable purpose. Two clear thin tubes trailed below the controls, like those for the air supply in an aquarium.
"Ladies...if you please..." Kemp suggested.
Batgirl wasn't thrilled by the prospect of what was to come, but there seemed to be little choice. If she refused, Karl or Ian would be only too happy to force the situation on her. She looked over at Melee, seeing that the young vigilante had come to the same realization. Barbara cautiously stepped up onto the rubber mat that formed the base of the treadmill.
Karl gleefully approached, guiding her closer to the front bar of the machine. Once there he patiently affixed the nipple clamps, stretching the cords upward to bite into the waiting nubs. Batgirl tightened her jaw against the discomfort.
The Dark Angel watched as Karl now retrieved the clear plastic tubes. He hunched over slightly, fishing between her legs as he positioned the first hoseline. Batgirl felt him press hard against the spigot on the leather crotch band, twisting the tube back and forth as he pushed upward.
Then she watched in disgust as he threaded the second line between her legs, and upward toward her back. Batgirl knew where this was going, and she didn't like it. The shapely cheeks were spread slightly as Karl wrangled the second tube onto the anal spigot that extended from the belt. Batgirl flushed slightly, not enjoying the internal movement caused by the attachment.
Barbara turned slightly, trying to avoid a tug on the nipples while still searching for Melee. Her compatriot was undergoing the exact same procedure. Ian seemed to take great joy in readjusting the tubes repeatedly, to apparently ensure the perfect fit. Erica reacted as stoically as possible under the conditions as the internal components jerked inside her...
Karl and Ian then opened the plexi control boxes, and punched up a series of codes on the numeric keypad. It seemed as if the devices were capable of running any one of several pre-programmed routines. Batgirl watched as the display vid reflected the level. "EXPERT LEVEL 6". Melee's panel was too far away to read, but Barbara guessed that the setting would be similar.
The two guards now stepped away from the treadmills, reforming behind the waiting Arox Kemp. "And now, ladies," the Mariner observed, "it's time for your workout. We must keep those bodies in prime physical condition, mustn't we?"
The two captives glared at their tormentor in response.
"It took a bit of effort to modify the treadmills, but I'm sure you'll appreciate all of our hard work. The idea here is to pace yourself...and to match your partner's speed exactly."
Kemp walked to the front of the treadmills. Batgirl was on the left, while Melee waited uncomfortably on the right. Then Kemp turned and pulled a wall mounted lever. Batgirl and Melee felt the rubber treads shift slowly into motion, gaining momentum with each passing second.
Melee immediately began to advance to the front of the right treadmill, only to discover the first of the many difficulties that the heroines were to face. The process of walking forward when your legs were sheathed in latex boots with five-inch heels was incredibly demanding. She tottered during the first few steps as she discovered her new (and difficult to maintain) center of balance. Each stilletto-heeled boot had to be placed carefully downward, or her ankle would twist sharply from the misalignment. Erica stared at the coiled nipple clamp cables. She didn't want to think about the cost of a sprained or broken ankle.
Batgirl (who had unfortunately been placed in heels like this on several occasions) found the process of moving forward a bit easier to maintain. She glowered at Kemp as she strode forward on the rotating belt of the left treadmill, maintaining her balance perfectly.
When the buzzer brashly interrupted the hum of the motors, Barbara almost stumbled. The left buzzer had only sounded for a second before shutting off. The red bulb now illuminated on Barbara's control panel. Batgirl couldn't immediately attach any significance to this, since nothing seemed to be happening because of it. Barbara could see that Melee's identical light was not lit.
"Mmmm...MMMPHH!" sounded from behind Erica's gag, and Batgirl turned as best she could to determine what was happening. Barbara could still see nothing when several seconds later her own light winked off.
As the Dark Angel tried unsuccessfully to peer over at her friend, she inadvertently lost some speed on the mill. Melee, more confident with her movements now, advanced forward toward the control panel.
This time the right buzzer sounded for an instant...and Melee's red light winked on. Batgirl was pondering what the point of this was, when she discovered the appalling answer.
The Dark Angel watched as a sickly green liquid flowed down the tubes that had been attached to the spigots on her crotch belt. For several moments, there was no effect. Then, deep inside her, Batgirl felt the inserts begin to grow. Like a balloon that was being inflated, the forward and rear dildos puffed outward slightly, pushing aside anything and everything around them. In this case, that was Barbara's interior passages. As the red light winked off again on Melee's treadmill, the increase inside of Batgirl stopped.
"Mmmmph..." slipped out from behind Batgirl's gag as she contended with this new set of sensations. Each step forward was more noticeable now, as the inserts filled her more fully. The gyrating motion of her hips as she swung the five-inch heels forward also created an internal shift that drove the dildos against her interior repeatedly.
Each foot that swung forward pushed the rubberized implants up and down slightly, and back and forth slightly. Batgirl's own locomotion was creating a sexual barrage inside of her.
The ramifications of this assault were still reeling through Barbara's mind when she unknowingly advanced ahead of Melee once more. The left buzzer sounded again...and Batgirl flushed with apology as she watched her own red light kick on.
"MMMPPH!" coughed out of Melee as the illumination finally ended. Barbara realized that she had just increased Erica's discomfort by expanding her friend's inserts. Batgirl tried to ask for a pardon with her eyes, but Melee was staunchly focused on maintaining her balance with the increased pressure.
"Ah, I see that you two have discovered the penalty for exceeding the other's speed. If you don't work as a team, you could both end up becoming packed to the gills."
Karl and Ian chuckled at the analogy. The Mariner turned toward the two guards. "Ian, I want you to stay with our guests until I return. Don't allow either of them to come to any permanent damage, but don't be too soft on them either."
The wolfish smile in Ian's eyes belied that possibility. It was obvious that the Mariner was taking no chances with his prisoners.
"Karl, I want you to check on Professor Angstrom. Make sure that he is working on the precise calculations that I requested."
Karl nodded quietly.
"Ladies, enjoy the exercise!" Kemp shot back from over his shoulder as he exited the room.
Melee could feel the disgusting inserts with every movement she made. Each swing of her right foot pushed the things firmly against her left insides, while the left foot reversed the process. The things were rubbing and squirming inside of her, as each stride relayed the message of her predicament throughout her interior. It was thoroughly debasing; yet at the same time, Melee couldn't help but be excited by it as well. Deep within her core, the thickly shifting dildos caressed and kneaded her interior walls, playing back and forth against their moist silken containment. Perspiration beaded on Melee's brow as the sexual attention accelerated the carnal responses within her.
She snatched a quick glance over at Batgirl. It looked like the Dark Angel wasn't particularly enjoying her stay either. The dark green eyes were locked immovably on the readouts, trying desperately to match Melee's speed at all costs.
Erica turned back to focus also. Batgirl had already set Melee off twice. The fledgling crimefighter didn't want to return the favor if she could avoid it.
Batgirl trained her eyes on nothing but the readouts. She tried as best she could to ignore the churning rubber inside her. It was a distraction she couldn't afford, but one that would not allow itself to be ignored. The sexual excitation was building slowly, almost imperceptibly, due to the unavoidable movement. The Dark Angel wrestled with the urges that slowly rose up to steal away her vigilance.
It had been only sixty seconds since the Mariner exited the room...but it seemed as if an hour had passed. With Melee's focus and help, the two allies had maintained no more than a three-tenths of one mile per hour difference in their speeds. It was especially trying because it necessitated a constant shifting of attention. Neither display was directly beside the other. The heroines had to quickly read one speed, then compare it to the other...then adjust accordingly.
Unfortunately, gagged as they were, no communication was possible. For the first three minutes each heroine had assumed that her own speed was the one that needed adjusting. When Batgirl's readout was slow, and Melee's was fast, each heroine had reacted. Erica had slowed, while the Dark Angel had sped up. The issue had been resolved.
But eventually, the partners had reacted a little too quickly. Melee's readout dipped, and she strode forward to compensate. Batgirl, realizing her pace was too fast an instant earlier, slowed considerably. The inverse reactions made the difference in speed too great.
The right buzzer sounded, startling both heroines. Melee watched in chagrin as her light came on. Then she watched the look of discomfort creep into Batgirl's face as the pressure was applied.
Batgirl heard the buzzer, and knew what was coming. She had no choice but to keep walking as the internal stretch was delivered.
"Mmmmmphh!" slipped out of her gag as an unwilling reaction was pulled from her. The girth of the intruders had expanded significantly. Thankfully, the red light extinguished. Each stride forward was now more potently felt as the increased size made itself known.
So this is what Melee has been feeling, thought Batgirl sympathetically. The sensations were considerably more intense, as the internal friction increased. Batgirl felt a rise in her temperature as the inserts did their work to betray her. Every impact was fired upward on excited nerves. The arousal was quickly becoming more pronounced.
Ian casually strolled past the two struggling women, hands clasped behind his back. Then he turned and strolled before them again, stopping in front of Batgirl.
"So you're Batgirl..." he said casually.
Batgirl said nothing, her eyes boring into him briefly as she continued her enforced stride.
"I've heard you're an impressive opponent..." he remarked.
Barbara knew this wasn't entirely idle banter. Ian was bored. And nothing was worse than a bored male criminal when he had two female captives in his hands.
"You don't look like much of a threat now" Ian said as his arms came forward to rest on the top of the left display case. Batgirl stole another fast glance. Her captor was still making no overtly aggressive moves.
"In fact, I find the whole scenario kind of boring" Ian said, as he casually draped both forearms across the front of the transparent case.
Two sets of frenzied eyes locked onto the smirking Ian as they struggled with the devastating event. The burly arms were 'accidentally' positioned to block the readout on Batgirl's display.
Within seconds, the buzzer sounded. Both women looked at the remaining display. Melee was discomfited by the absence of illumination in the red bulb. Barbara watched as seconds later a grimace broke out on the fledgling crimefighter's face, followed by several deep grunts.
Angry eyes turned to Ian, who stilled lolled about the display as if nothing had happened. Batgirl turned back to Melee to see if she was still able to keep the pace.
The loss in attention had a twofold price for the Dark Angel. The first cost came because the treadmill was moving quite a bit faster than the startup speed. Barbara had unwittingly reached the outer limit of the nipple clamp tether. The tender nipples were yanked painfully forward when the elastic coil could stretch no further. The delicate nubs notified her intensely of their displeasure at being treated so.
"MMMMMPPPHHH!!" coughed out of the gag. Batgirl virtually jumped forward to alleviate the stress.
Melee, still struggling with her own private expansion, hadn't monitored Batgirl's position. She was still striding in place when the buzzer sounded again and the red light on her own machine illuminated.
"MMMPH!" rolled out of the Dark Angel's gag as this new effect was added to her situation, increasing the already uncomfortable predicament.
Melee now saw how far behind Batgirl was, and slowed rapidly to allow her friend to catch up. Another mistake. Erica now repeated Batgirl's error, the springy elastic wrenching forward in response. Melee now let out a shriek from behind her own gag as the pain rushed home. She quickly stumbled forward to avoid further elongation.
Both heroines now tried to monitor the other without the use of the display. Perspiration beaded on both brows as the sexual tingling continued, the strides enhancing the effect. Ian watched in fascination, knowing that sooner or later one of the heroines would hit her sexual peak. In fact, he was willing to bet that the vigilante on the right was almost there...
Melee tried to stem the rush as it advanced, but she didn't have the strength to fight back the passion any longer. It started as a flutter, a repeated pleasurable sensation that signaled the beginning of the end. Soon a tightening muscle contraction gripped the intruders more powerfully, heightening the effect. Then the devastating orgasm blasted through her, electrifying even the most remote nerve endings with a hail of passion.
Melee began shaking uncontrollably, every muscle trembling from the pent up release. Batgirl watched from the corner of her eye as white sheathed legs wobbled uncertainly in an effort to continue. Barbara was sure that Melee was going to fall.
But the dedicated crimefighter managed to control her situation, a long moan echoing from behind the white harness gag as the tingling flowed across her and finally settled down. She survived the onslaught, and continued striding forward.
Ian chuckled halfheartedly as he watched the two heroines playing off one another. Then he yawned, and casually pulled his arms upward in a stretch. The display was once again cleared, allowing the captives to earn their way to self-control.
Almost a minute passed without incident, as the ladies finally found a perfectly matched stride. It was then that the programming changed the workout. The fiendish treadmills increased their speed, and the two heroines found themselves almost running to keep up. Batgirl felt her hips swinging rapidly from side to side as she tried to keep up with the brisk pace. The world narrowed to the digital display, the humming of motors, the churning of dildos, and the placing of feet.
Eventually, the machines slowed again, allowing for a marginal breather. The change in speed would be carried out without warning, surprising the strolling compatriots. It was unavoidable that the buzzers would sound again at these times, providing substantial repercussions.
At three specified points in the program, the angle of the ramp was changed to simulate uphill terrain. The effect was one of the worst for the women. Melee stumbled several times as the angle of her boots required that she support all of her weight on just the toes. It was nearly impossible to stay in step as she planted the tips of her feet on the ceaselessly moving rubber.
When the Mariner finally returned to the exercise room with Karl in tow, only fifteen minutes had passed. For the struggling Batgirl and Melee, the passage of time had seemed like an eternity. Both captives were dripping with perspiration and seemed in danger of imminent collapse. Melee was wobbling perilously with every step.
The grinding legs continued to rub the dildos inside of them. The rubber inserts had expanded several times, and now packed both heroines to capacity and beyond. Batgirl felt as if someone were prying her apart from the inside, both front and rear. Her internal stretching had reached a fever pitch as the dildo enlarged beyond anything that she had ever known.
Somehow, the Dark Angel had managed to avoid Melee's fate...she hadn't orgasmed yet. Whether it was the intense concentration required to remain upright, the pressure of the dildo, or the exhaustion created by the shifting conditions, she couldn't say. She had been held at the precipice, but hadn't been driven over the edge.
Kemp casually approached the switch on the wall, and deactivated the treadmills. A look of relief washed through both crimefighters' eyes as the rubber walkway ground to a halt. Erica, barely able to stand, stepped forward to support her weight as best she could on the control panel. She would have fallen to the ground, but the nipple clamps still threatened painful consequences for such an action.
"Mmm...mmphhh...mmphh..." rolled out of Melee's gag as she unconsciously reacted to the stress of the workout. Kemp walked over, staring slightly upward at the young heroine. He watched for several seconds, taking in the trembling muscles and the rivulets of sweat as they formed and released.
The Mariner then turned to Batgirl. She had performed much better than Melee, and showed fewer signs of fatigue. But the Dark Angel hadn't been with them as long as Melee had...and the boys had certainly taken advantage of the white princess.
Batgirl's chest was heaving strenuously as she recovered from the workout. The shapely breasts rose and fell with rhythmic precision, carrying the nipple chains upward and downward slightly with each breath. Glaring green eyes shot back at her captor, with anger and a promise of retribution. Kemp smiled.
"Well, ladies, you'll be happy to know that I've decided your fate. It's a side project really...something I've been working on for a few years. When we're done, I can guarantee that you won't be meddling in my affairs...
"I would have spent more quality time with you, but that idiot who calls himself a mayor has refused to pay my ransom. It's time that Gotham learns the price for its mistakes. So I'm going to detonate a Vortex wave to see if the city changes its mind...what's left of the city anyway.
Karl and Ian stepped forward, and began to release Batgirl and Melee from the treadmills.
"Oh, by the way Batgirl," the Mariner casually remarked, "Karl retrieved the dive recorder to your sub. Wouldn't want it falling upward into the right hands. He also discovered a second capsule, which seems to have your original outfit in it.
"Fortuitous, really, since I'm going to allow you and your friend to confront your fates in your original costumes. Without the accessory belts, of course."
Batgirl glared over at him sardonically.
Then Karl and Ian led the two vigilantes back to the opposite sides of the enclosure, to be re-costumed for their final encounter.
As promised, the heroines now appeared in their original costumes. Batgirl's utility belt had been emptied of all contents, as had Melee's accessory belt. With hands temporarily cuffed behind them, the heroines were led down a flight of stairs, to an area that looked to be abandoned. It was obvious that Kemp hadn't been maintaining the structure as the design had called for. Signs of rust and deterioration were evident here, in a dome that was relatively new. In front of them, the passageway led to some kind of enclosure that hadn't been clearly designated on the blueprints.
The huge iron doors grated open, revealing the room beyond. The sharp tang of brine wafted across the intervening distance, stinging Batgirl's and Melee's noses with the pungent odor. The guards pushed the prisoners forward, thrusting them into the seldom used area.
Gunmetal grey walls were dripping with accumulated moisture, condensed onto them by the coolness of the environs. Darkened rust flecked off in several places, indicating the extent of disuse. What little light there was came from an overhead fluorescent lamp, which left much of the room in a dingy half-light. Where the light didn't reach, shadows quickly claimed the area, shrouding the floor with pools of darkness. It was a depressing, disturbing area that chilled the crimefighters thoroughly.
Against the far wall of the area, a sectioned off pool had been created. A metal retaining wall rose to a height of about eighteen inches; above that, glass panels rose another foot or so. Batgirl noticed that beyond the glass rose what appeared to be seawater. The water filled the pool to just a little above the brim of the metal retainer; the glass held only an inch or so above that.
The Mariner stopped in the center of the room, and turned to his guests.
"Welcome, ladies, to my research lab. I come here when I'm feeling lonely or depressed because it always cheers me up."
Melee looked at Batgirl with a startled glance. Barbara simply shrugged her shoulders as if to say "When a maniac is involved, who knows?"
"I've decided that a coin toss will determine your fates" Kemp stated, "at least as far as who goes first, that is. Since I know that you two vigilantes would defer to one another and never choose willingly, I'll just make the call for you.
"Heads, and Batgirl goes first... Tails, and Melee gets the honor..."
The Mariner made a long spectacle of pulling a coin from his pocket, and examining both sides. He then gingerly placed it on top of a clenched thumbnail, and flicked it high into the air.
Five sets of eyes were riveted on the coin as it tumbled downward on its way to forever changing the fate of those in the room. Batgirl and Melee stood transfixed, hesitantly awaiting the outcome. Both knew that the culmination of the toss would determine an immediate doom for one of them, and both were reluctant to admit that an edge of fear had set in.
The tumbling coin flashed through the air, reflecting what little light was available. A grasping fist finally snatched the currency in mid-flight, slamming it downward onto the back of an outstretched hand.
Arox peeled back the covered hand slightly, peering beneath to observe the results.
Kemp raised sad eyes upward to the expectant crimefighters. Then he turned toward Melee.
"I'm sorry my dear."
Melee trembled slightly as the pent up anxiety released from tensed muscles. At least she knew.
"But you'll just have to wait your turn..." laughed the Mariner, as he turned a feral smile on the surprised Batgirl. An uncovered hand now showed the coin fully. The head of the coin was clearly reflected.
Before Melee could react to this sudden twist of events, the two guards had grabbed her and were pulling her roughly backwards to the far wall of the room. Desperate eyes locked with Batgirl's, but the green pools showed only stoic resignation.
"You must be insufferably pleased with yourself, tricking us like that," quipped Batgirl.
"Actually, I am" responded Kemp. "I love to disappoint two for the price of one."
The guards removed the cuffs and stretched Melee's arms upward, locking them into place with cast iron manacles. Shapely legs were pulled wide, and clamped in place by identical lower shackles. Melee stood defiantly, spread eagled, fettered to the damp wall.
"Boys, boys, boys...how many times do I have to tell you? Never leave a heroine ungagged..."
Ian quickly retrieved a harness gag from the rucksack. As the guard approached the waiting Melee, the heroine had decided that enough was enough. She clamped her jaw tightly, turning her head away from the grotesque insert.
Foolish, really, thought Kemp. There were a dozen different ways to persuade her, but time was of the essence. The Mariner pulled a machine pistol from his belt, and held it firmly against Batgirl's temple.
Melee turned to lock eyes with the waiting Batgirl. She would have locked eyes with the Mariner, but he didn't even acknowledge her presence. His eyes were locked on the barrel of the gun, and Batgirl's temple.
Twin green agate's shone back at Melee. Batgirl's expression was harder than steel. It was as if she were saying 'Do whatever you think is right...at least it's a clean death...'
But Melee couldn't let it end like this. Not when she had the choice to prevent the outcome. She meekly opened her mouth, wincing as the angry guard shoved the plug violently inward.
The Mariner finally turned his eyes to Melee, lowering the pistol as he did so. There was an unspoken smile in them.
Batgirl hadn't moved during the entire event. There was no outward sign of what she must be thinking or feeling. Surely she must be concerned, thought Melee.
The guard jerked another buckle into place, and Erica's reverie was shattered.
With Melee chained and gagged, the two guards now returned to the center of the room.
"I have something special planned for you, Batgirl...." teased Kemp. Karl now retrieved a single sleeve arm binder from the rucksack. The material looked strangely familiar to Batgirl.
Almost like slitex, she thought; only subtly different.
The glove reflected a golden metallic hue as it sparkled slightly in the dim light of the room. Several buckles and 'D' rings were in evidence along its length, and two shoulder straps would hold it unshakably in position.
"We need to make sure you feel totally secure, though..."
Ian retrieved a wide leather belt from the sack, holding it up for the waiting captive to examine.
"Uuugh..." gasped out of Batgirl as Ian tightened the belt far too snugly into her tensed midriff. The slitex puckered slightly above and below the belt, indicating the vehemence with which the strap dug in.
"Now for the glove..." Arox smiled.
Karl and Ian removed the Dark Angel's handcuffs, keeping a wary eye on their dangerous opponent.
Batgirl continued to stand defiantly as the two guards worked the single sleeve into position, wrestling it upward on unresisting arms. With the machine pistol trained on them, and with Melee staked out on the wall, Barbara knew that the time for defiance hadn't arrived just yet.
When the guards finished, the golden fabric gripped Batgirl's arms in a snug embrace; from the tips of interlocking fingers, to nearly touching elbows, upward to almost the shoulder blades. The twin straps crisscrossed and buckled the sheath in place, ensuring that the union would be unalterable. Batgirl had no real hope of breaking free from the arrangement, not without some kind of help. And the eyes that locked on her were definitely not reflecting helpfulness.
"I think ankle cuffs are all the rage...Don't you, Batgirl?" Arox laughed.
The burly guards pulled twin leather cuffs from the bag. It was a double lock! thought Barbara with chagrin. Batgirl's ankles were first cuffed separately, each dainty ankle sporting a new leather binder that was sure to be the hit of any bondage party. Then the two cuffs were drawn together and padlocked, pressing Batgirl's ankles tightly against one another. Her center of balance was now much more precarious, as the rigid binding ensured minimum mobility.
"You look nice so far..." said Kemp wistfully, "but something is still missing..."
"Maybe you're head behind bars..." responded Batgirl coolly.
"No..." retorted the Mariner, "I was thinking of something a bit more dramatic..."
Karl extracted a rope from the bag; it appeared to be of the same material as the single glove, only spun into a corded hemp alignment. One end narrowed down into a flat strap, with perforated holes along its length. Batgirl watched as the guard began threading the unstrapped end through the ring at the base of her single glove.
"I don't want you to be too focused...so this will help to distract you."
The guard fed the rope downward and forward through Batgirl's thighs. Barbara was all too cognizant of where the other end was heading. She began to struggle slightly, trying to maintain her balance yet keep the guard from making the completed connection. It was hopeless from the start, especially with the other bondage devices already in place.
The strap fed upward through the buckler ring at the front of the waist belt. The guard now snugged it securely, then buckled it into position.
"Really...so hard to get good help these days..." lamented the Mariner to no one in particular. "Karl, I think you can squeeze out at least another two notches, so please do."
"Guuh.." escaped from Batgirl as Karl obeyed the instructions, wedging the cord deeply into her crotch and ass-cheeks.
"Now please finish the arrangement. We have things to do."
The two guards picked up the tightly bound heroine, and lifted her over the short retaining wall, then proceeded to carry her to the center of the darkly pungent pool. Once there, they deposited her feet-first into the icy water, the chill settling into her calves immediately. Karl retrieved a chain that Barbara had not seen at the bottom of the pool. He locked this onto her ankle cuffs, securing her to a metallic post that descended into the exact center of the basin. Then the guards exited the water.
Batgirl looked down into the briny liquid. The acrid smell of salt and vinegar was stronger here, closer to the source. Pieces of kelp and seaweed wafted gently in the pool, swaying gently to and fro in mesmerizing fashion. She turned back to Kemp.
"So you're going to drown me, eh? How depressingly unoriginal." Barbara hoped that a sharp jibe might provoke the Mariner to extract some other fate, allowing the two vigilantes another chance at escape.
But the Mariner was having none of it. He simply laughed.
"I think you'll find it original enough...my dear, sweet Batgirl. You just lack the vision of the complete panorama."
"And what panorama would that be, another maniacal invention?" Batgirl asked.
"Something like that. Let me explain..." answered Kemp smoothly. "First, let's talk about your new mittens. The material is Constrictex, an invention of Wayne Corp that is similar to your 'slitex' in properties. Both the glove and the crotch rope are made of the fabric. It has a high tensile strength, so I doubt that you'll be tearing your way out of it.
"Did I mention the most useful quality of the material? It shrinks when contacted by water!" laughed the Mariner.
Batgirl stared down at the strap, then at the glove, realizing in horror what the end result of that feature would mean. One slip, one stumble, and the salt water would immediately make contact with the glove, shrinking it more tightly into position. It was already heinously taut; after a dip or two in the pool, the pain would become intense. Batgirl envisioned that with enough contraction, her arms would literally be pulled backwards out of their respective sockets. It wasn't a cheerful thought.
If that was bad, the crotch rope was worse. The strap was already digging tightly into her pubic area, neatly dividing the labia below the thin slitex covering. The truncation in length would push the rope much deeper, rubbing it hard against her clitoris with every motion. An added benefit, from the Mariner's way of thinking, was that the entire package would tighten against her body. There would be less and less chance of fighting back as the crotch rope pulled her arms downward tightly against her back.
Still, the Mariner wanted them disposed of. This arrangement would be painful, but not deadly. There was going to be more.
"So what else?" asked Batgirl in a flippant manner, trying to hide the nervousness that she felt. "Piranha? Barracuda perhaps?"
"No, Batgirl, something a bit more special..." answered Kemp. He pushed a button on the wall, watching as a large four-foot panel rose at the far end of the water tank.
Batgirl was stunned speechless when she first got a glimpse of what was approaching her. Up until now, she had been using her mental conditioning to control the nervousness she felt. That control slipped away, and her heart began pounding like a jackhammer as sheer unreasoning terror cut deeply into her.
The abomination that shambled through the opening was so hideous it defied description. In the simplest terms, it was a monstrous clam. Yet it was much more. A huge six-foot shell filled the far end of the pool, the striations and rough perturbations of the shell lending an unearthly appearance.
Huge corrugations rippled across the body of the thing, allowing crusted barnacles to cement themselves in the apexes and hollows. The only soft spot in evidence was the mucous lining where the upper and lower halves of the immense shell closed. A disgusting paste oozed from this membranous lining, dripping slowly into the water below. A horrible intuition flashed through the stunned Batgirl's mind: It's salivating!
Shards of dried seaweed clung tenaciously to the upper half of the shell, while smaller filaments descended from the clamped mouth. The most unnerving aspect of the aberration, though, was the means of locomotion. Six huge legs thrust out of the water at ungainly angles. A hard, chitinous material was obvious even at this distance. The thing had the legs of a giant crab! That they belonged to the abomination was not a question for Batgirl. When the panel had opened, the repulsive horror had scuttled sideways through the panel, before slowly rotating to face the waiting captive.
Now the legs clacked slowly forward, bringing the thing closer to the terrified heroine a few inches at a time.
Batgirl had faced all manner of opponents in her role as a crimefighter, from cold mechanical machines to hotly twisting serpents. But every one of those opponents had some link to reality as she knew it. This...this thing...bore no semblance to any sane, rational thought.
"I can see that you're fascinated, eh? It took me years of genetic research to develop the synergy between the species, but I'd have to say it was well worth the effort..." beamed Kemp.
"...and Batgirl....I do believe he likes you..."
Batgirl turned in stunned terror to the Mariner. His eyes crowed in triumph, and in loving adoration at his prodigy. When she turned back, Barbara understood what Kemp had meant. The shell had opened slightly, revealing a dark pink interior. More ooze dribbled out past the mucous lining.
Get ahold of yourself, thought Batgirl furiously. You've faced tougher challenges. Yeah, sure... At least those didn't have a stomach that could swallow two of me whole...
As the behemoth slowly closed the gap between them, Batgirl began to think more rationally. She began focusing on her hard-shelled opponent, taking note of speed, approach, balance...anything that could prove useful as an advantage.
"Glorious, isn't he?" asked Arox. "He's single handedly defeated any foe that I've placed in the pool with him. Seeing him take on the infamous Batgirl will provide quite a show, eh?"
The Dark Angel had recovered somewhat now that the initial shock of discovery was through. The competition wasn't over just yet.
"I'd rather see him in a casserole," she retorted.
"Sorry, my dear" Kemp responded smoothly, "but if you're looking for appetizers, I'd check in a full length mirror first..."
The Mariner's right, thought Batgirl sullenly. Unless I can find a way to escape, I'm going to end up as tonight's entree...
"Now what would a fiendish deathtrap be without a sporting chance?" Kemp asked. "The chain that secures your ankles is affixed to the post at the center of the pool. It allows you a twenty-foot wide berth on either side.
"If you hop forward regularly, I think you can probably just manage to stay ahead of the hungry clam..."
"And if I fall?" asked Batgirl.
"Well, two things.." answered Kemp. "First, I'd hurry to get back up, since your are being stalked by a man-eating...er, woman-eating...clam and all...
"Second, the Constrictex that binds you will shrink, making your life much more interesting. After one immersion, the tightening will probably be uncomfortable. After two, the word 'painful' comes to mind. And after three or four...well, you get the idea..."
"Gee, thanks..." quipped Batgirl.
"It seemed the least I could do, considering all the trouble you've caused me. I'd love to stay and watch the chase, but I'm afraid that duty calls. I've got a tidal wave to create, and a city to extort. You know how it is. On the plus side, I can return in a few months and retrieve a giant pearl...made out of Batgirl bones!!!!"
All three villains laughed uproariously at the Mariner's joke. Batgirl felt a sour taste filling her mouth.
"Let's go boys..." called the Mariner as he turned to go. But Karl stopped in his tracks.
"Hey boss... I thought you said to never leave a heroine ungagged..."
"Hmmm...so I did," answered Kemp as he stopped. "But in this case I think I'll make an exception. The monitors are going to record all of the action for us to play back later, and I think that I'd like to hear Batgirl screaming. I don't want to forego any detail on the defeat of Miss High and Mighty over there...
"Now back to your stations, we've got work to do..."
The three exited the room, and the huge iron doors clanged shut with a chilling finality. Batgirl looked over to Melee, realizing that she was going to endure the same fate if Barbara failed to escape.
"Melee, are you ok?"
The harnessed head shook up and down twice, nodding affirmatively.
"Can you break free? Any rust on the locks, or weak points on the links?"
The harnessed head turned slowly, scanning each chain separately. After thirty seconds, the gag rotated swiftly left and right. No weak links.
"Any thoughts on Deep Throat over here?" Batgirl asked, trying not to let the nervousness she felt creep into her voice. She didn't want Melee to know that the Dark Angel was totally stumped, and had no idea how to proceed...
Again, the left and right shake.
The monstrosity was now just a yard or two away, and closing fast. Batgirl had no choice but to play the Mariner's game. She hopped forward, advancing her chained ankles as far as she dared.
The results were depressing. With the weight of the chain, and the resistance of the water, Batgirl succeeded in adding just six inches to her prior position. The clam shambled forward again, reclaiming that in only a few seconds.
Batgirl hopped again, and was again rewarded with a six-inch gain. But the monstrosity was intent on its prey, and five seconds later the gap narrowed again.
Another hop. The murky water swirled about Batgirl's ankles, spinning bits of flotsam and jetsam in the wake of her passage. Another shamble, and clacking legs had propelled the thing forward through the brine by another few inches.
Another hop. Another shamble. Again and again. One jump forward as the struggling superheroine increased the distance, one loss backward as the clam reclaimed the advantage. Batgirl desperately needed a plan, but it was hard to concentrate with a two thousand pound behemoth stalking you from behind.
Each cycle added to Batgirl's nervousness. She was gaining no advantage, and each plan that she devised was eliminated as the realities of the situation sunk in. Her mental dialogues produced no clear-cut approach.
Hop. Would a lockpick work?
Shamble. Sure, if I could get to one. The one in my boot would suffice, but I can't stop long enough, and I don't have my hands free.
Hop. Can I kill this thing?
Shamble. Only with a bazooka, and maybe not even then.
Hop. What about balance? Can I tip it over?
Shamble. With a forklift, maybe. It must weigh at least two thousand pounds, probably more.
Hop. Can I get Melee free?
Shamble. Not from here, and not without the items in my belt.
As the internal deliberations continued, Batgirl finally made her first mistake. As the nervousness welled up within her, she tried to compensate by leaping forward with greater distance. Her most recent hop added ten inches to her lead, but the ankles came down too far behind her center of gravity.
Batgirl windmilled furiously, trying to regain her balance with what little leverage she had in her tightly bound situation. A superhuman effort enabled her to correct the error front to back, but now her balance was way off kilter sideways. She tottered momentarily, twisting vehemently in an attempt to delay the inevitable. Then she crashed forward into the briny pool, falling face first into the disgusting water.
The splashdown was spectacular, since Batgirl had built up quite a bit of speed before hitting the water. The chill liquid closed over her instantly, soaking through her slitex costume to drench the supple skin beneath. Batgirl sputtered to the surface immediately, and began to work on regaining her vertical stance. With water that rose to only eighteen inches, this forced her to kneel as a precursor to recovering her position. Then she rose slowly, cautiously... Pushing upward with athletic legs, carefully controlling her balance as she did so. Though it didn't seem like a difficult performance, it was. Any mistake would send her crashing forward again, and would allow her opponent to gain even more ground.
Batgirl focused on balance, excising all else from her mind. Finally, she was standing fully upright once again. She spared a moment's glance backward to see what her headlong dive had cost her. The monster was now three feet away, a shorter gap than the previous four.
Not good, thought Batgirl, not good at all. The only break she'd received was that her splash had created a wave that slowed the thing for a few seconds. It wouldn't move in the presence of strong motions from the water.
Batgirl started forward again, hopping another six inches. It seemed paralyzingly slow after her prior ten inch jumps, but she was unwilling to risk another fall. On her fourth hop, another obstacle began presenting itself...
The Constrictex was shrinking, just as the Mariner had promised. Batgirl could feel a tightening in her upper arms as the fabric compressed inward. Her interlocked fingers felt as if they were being crushed in a vice, so strong was the pressure. Captive elbows now bowed inward, and began pressing against one another with greater and greater force. Each of the complaints from her groaning arm muscles was relatively minor compared to the cord buried deep in her crotch, however.
The Constrictex crotch rope had shrunk significantly, biting deeply between the vertical walls of two carefully balanced legs. The cord rubbed hard at slitex covered labia, pulling forward and back in a sensuous motion with every movement of the captive heroine. Hopping only added to the stimulation. Each forward leap required Batgirl to scrunch down, pump forward, land, then repeat the entire process.
Every step of that process generated additional sensual input from the crotch rope. The scrunching pulled the cord from back to front, parting the labia and rubbing from the lowest nether regions to the high point of the clitoris.
The leap rapidly reversed this process, and generated one prolonged intense stroke as the legs shot forward.
Then the landing repeated the initial motion, as the legs bent downward to accommodate the impact, the crotch rope kneading the sensitive flesh with additional ecstasy.
Batgirl could feel herself getting wetter, and it wasn't from seawater.
It was a diabolical, fiendish trap, and exactly the kind of thing that the Mariner would enjoy. After the stimulation on the treadmills, the Dark Angel was particularly susceptible to the actions of the rope. Knowing that Batgirl was driving herself to repeated orgasms, and had no way to prevent it, was an aspect that would surely appeal to him.
Another hop. Things were getting more difficult now, with each new stroke of the crotch rope adding to her humiliation. The energy for escape was being siphoned off by the constant sexual attention, as her body responded to the intensely intimate contact.
Hop. Still a constant three feet. Batgirl hadn't gained any ground with her newly focused attention to balance, but she hadn't lost any either.
Hop. The slow, methodical bending was a soft, intimate kiss to her nether regions. The rapid forward leap was a lightning bolt of passion, driving deep into her.
Hop. An orgasm was imminent. Batgirl could feel it approaching, building intensity like a tropical storm, electrifying her nerves with sexual heat.
Hop. One loop of her prison tether completed since the fall. Passion, fear, and longing clashed within her as each tried to claim dominance.
The next leap forward brought more than six inches of ground coverage to the tensing Batgirl. The lightning leap ignited the fuse, and the landing advanced the process as an explosive orgasm threatened the struggling heroine. Precariously balanced, Batgirl trembled violently as she fought to maintain her self-control. The sexual tornado was whirling violently across ravaged nerves, while a focused mind staunchly refused any intended release. Animal passion warred with rational logic. Batgirl might have been able to pacify the storm one leap earlier, but now the building torrent would not be refused.
An explosion of passion ignited her nerve endings, every muscle gyrating wildly as an intense orgasm blasted through her overwrought body. Batgirl fought to keep her balance, knowing that another immersion would only accelerate her doom. Gray clouds encroached on the edge of her vision, as tautly restrained muscles vibrated and jerked within their bonds. The twitching body shuddered in place, ripples echoing outward from the bound legs as they shook. An anguished Batgirl stood her ground, waiting for the storm to recede within her.
Across the room, Melee watched as the captive Batgirl suddenly stopped in place, and began trembling violently. She's being forced to orgasm! Melee thought. And as the beautiful Batgirl tried to maintain her position without falling, the clam scuttled forward a little more. She doesn't have much room left, thought the heavily manacled watcher...
"Uuuuhhhh!" gasped out of Batgirl when she could finally allow herself to breathe again. Her desperate lungs pulled in huge gulps of air, replenishing sorely depleted muscles. A glance across the shoulder showed her that two and a half feet remained to the open maw of her gigantic tormentor.
Hop. Shuddering legs reluctantly obeyed the command, protesting at the request to respond so soon. Batgirl wobbled slightly, then steadied.
Hop. Another six inch success, but good ol' clammy was right behind. Batgirl tried not to focus on the increasing ooze dripping from the mouth, or the disgusting scraping sound as the shell ground its way across the bottom of the pool.
Hop. Seven inches. Need to watch that, she thought. Slow and steady. God, I'm tired!
And she was. So very, very tired. Batgirl's breathing was becoming ragged, as the constant exertions took their toll. Forced to maintain a precarious balance, forced to hop forward repeatedly, then the culmination of a powerful orgasm... Each of the numerous efforts robbed her of precious strength. She couldn't maintain this effort forever...perhaps not even for another hour. Her legs were trembling with exhaustion, and the depletion was getting worse. The Dark Angel knew that she needed a plan, and fast, but still none was forthcoming...
Hop.
"Mmmm-Nnnhhh!" Melee cried. The muffled sound should have been "Oh No!" as Erica cried out through the gag. Batgirl had stumbled, and was about to fall...
Batgirl felt her high heeled boot slide on the bottom of the pool, as a piece of kelp acted like a highly polished floor. The two inch slip was enough to destroy her carefully orchestrated dance, and she splashed backward into the icy brine once more.
A submerged Barbara, realizing she was in serious trouble, gambled all of her efforts in a daring move. From an ass and heels down position, she thrust her upper body forward, narrowly avoiding the gigantic snap of the huge clamshell behind her. She dove forward into a kneeling position, but her momentum was such that she couldn't stop without falling forward.
She pushed down hard with a powerful thrust of her legs, springing upward in the same direction that her momentum was already carrying her. The effect was dramatic. One moment the heroine seemed to be tripping forward, and the next she was rocketing upward from the pool. It took three rapidly executed successive hops to reduce her forward momentum, slowing it to the point where she could finally control it.
Batgirl breathed a sigh of relief. It had been supremely risky, but no other alternatives had presented themselves.
The two combatants began their deadly dance once more. Batgirl had completed another quarter circle when the shrinking Constrictex escalated her discomfort. Elbows pressed hard against one another as the fabric tightened its grip; interlocking fingers began to go numb. Pain lanced through the captive shoulder blades with the slightest motion.
And the crotch rope had tightened. What had been an arousing rub quickly turned to an agonized grinding. The shimmering cord now delved deeply between ass cheeks and pouting labia, seeking to split them asunder. Batgirl couldn't bend forward without an eruption of pain and pleasure rocketing upward. Leaping forward generated even more intense results.
Melee watched as Batgirl's hops seemed to slow even further.
"Uuughhh!" echoed out of Batgirl as she landed from the next hop.
"Ooohhhhh!" gasped out of the Dark Angel as she bent forward for another.
Melee could see that the end was near for the valiant heroine. The clam had closed the gap steadily; now only two feet remained.
It was in the middle of the next leap when Batgirl realized her doom. The insidious crotch rope jerked powerfully upward, gouging hard against a still aroused clitoris.
"Gaaahhh!" shot out of Batgirl as the orgasm exploded inside her. Caught in mid-flight, her body rocked with the throes of self inflicted passion. As she landed, the trembling legs refused to respond for that critical second, and she fell forward once more.
Melee stared in horror as she her friend shuddered convulsively, then fell. A tremendous splash echoed through the dimly lit room, followed by a chilling sight; the giant shell had opened fully, and was tilting forward to grasp its prey!
A sputtering Batgirl regained the surface just in time to glimpse the huge shell descending onto her. For a moment, it seemed as if she might escape once more. Powerful legs kicked hard at the obdurate shell, propelling her backward slightly.
But her nemesis was just too close this time. The huge orifice bent down, scooping up Batgirl, the seawater, and all of the surrounding kelp. Then it rocked back slightly, and hundreds of gallons of seawater gushed out of the rapidly closing jaws.
Melee locked eyes for just an instant with the captured Batgirl. Sheer horror blazed from behind the ebony mask as the drenched captive faced the realization of what was about to happen. The Dark Angel was struggling desperately to find some exit from the spongy interior, but could find no purchase in the soft flesh. Then a bone chilling "NNNOOOO!" detonated from within the shell, bouncing off the cold steel walls for several seconds, just as the maw snapped shut.
Batgirl had disappeared from view.
In the control room, the Mariner allowed a self satisfied smirk to cross his face. The daring little crimefighter had put on quite a show, and even at the end had almost made good her escape. But now the drama was done, and the clam would feast for at least a day or so. He could attend to the other one after that...what did she call herself?...Melee. Kemp shut off the monitor, concentrating on the tasks at hand.
A flood of emotions roiled inside Melee as she considered her position. Batgirl was gone, swallowed whole by a voracious clam.
And Erica was next on the menu.
Sadness, despair, fear, and disgust all washed through her. No flash of inspiration came to her. She was going to be eaten by a monstrous mutation, just like Batgirl.
So caught up in despair was the chained Melee, that she almost missed the activity when it occurred. There was movement across the room. As the behemoth turned slightly, Erica could see a pair of black booted feet, securely cuffed at the ankles. Only a portion of the cuffs showed, the padlocks gleaming dully as they clinked against the shell. The booted feet extended outward beyond this, kicking very slowly.
Uuuughh, thought Melee, she's still alive in there. Erica tried to control the bile that rose in her throat. The vision of a still conscious heroine being eaten alive by gastrointestinal juices was not a comforting thought.
Melee watched as the boots continued to twitch. Maybe it was an autonomic nervous function, like muscle tremors after death. The black sheathed feet seemed a bit too animated for that, though. The heels continued to twitch, more rapidly now, until the shell suddenly clamped down with tremendous force.
The twitching stopped immediately.
Erica felt the bile reassert itself, and she forced herself to look away. Maybe the risk of trying to take out three armed assailants was worth it. A spray of bullets would certainly be a cleaner death than what she was witnessing.
If she was given the choice, thought Melee glumly. The Mariner would ensure that she never received that option. Karl and Ian would uncuff only her arms, while they squeezed her into the single glove. Then her feet would be uncuffed from the wall, one at a time...only to be re-cuffed in double ankle binders, and padlocked together. The Mariner was nothing if not methodical, and wouldn't risk the possibility of his prisoner escaping.
Erica turned again to the tableau before her. She was amazed to see that the feet were twitching again, this time violently. The monstrous adversary seemed to be warring with his dinner. The shell rose upward slightly, then slammed down again with added pressure.
Again, the twitching stopped.
Is it possible? thought Melee. No, don't even think it. Even if Batgirl were still alive, there was no way to escape. A two thousand pound clam shell wasn't going to be lifted by a pair of high heeled boots, especially double cuffed ones.
Erica heard the clinking of the padlocks once more. The boots were kicking up and down madly now, the padlocks jingling wildly. The shell was squeezing downward, pressing the resistance out of its meal, trying to quell the insurrection.
The movement, when it came, was so sudden that Melee had to check twice to verify what had happened. In a flash of movement, the giant clam had flipped open the shell, disgorged its occupant, and resealed the orifice just as quickly. A bedraggled Batgirl had been dumped unceremoniously into the briny water...
Batgirl was alive!
Melee watched as the monstrosity scuttled slowly away from its ejected entree. Batgirl was coughing loudly as she regained the surface, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
"MMM-mmrrl!"
"Give me...a. minute...OK?" stammered the recovering heroine.
Now Erica saw what the battle had cost the Dark Angel. Large sections of her slitex costume were missing, dissolved by the powerful acids. Peering out of these gaping holes, the skin beneath flamed an angry red...as if Batgirl had been severely scalded by hot water. The disheveled fiery red hair now appeared to be a bleached blonde in some places, and the shapely torso heaved in and out to recover much needed oxygen to starving lungs.
It obviously hadn't been pretty inside the clam...
Within a few minutes, Batgirl had recovered enough to stand. As she turned slightly, Melee noticed that the Constrictex was almost totally gone, dissolved by the caustic environment. Batgirl's arms were almost completely free; only a thin band of Constrictex held them together at the elbows.
Batgirl flexed her arms, pulling violently outward. The last remaining Constrictex parted, snapping away from her like a broken rubber band. Barbara wriggled out of the remaining shoulder straps, dropping them into the brine below her.
The Dark Angel now sat in the chill water once more, removing a lockpick from the heel of one of her black boots. Within a minute she stood once more, free of the double ankle cuffs, which now lay unlocked at the bottom of the pool.
Batgirl clambered over the retaining wall, still walking a bit unsteadily as she approached the chained Melee. Barbara unfastened the plug gag from her muted partner, and dropped it to the floor.
"How?" asked Erica..
"Actually, the Mariner gave me the answer," responded Batgirl cooly.
"WHHAAAT?!??!" Melee burst out.
"It's true" smiled Batgirl. "He said he was looking forward to returning for a giant pearl made out of my bones.
"As the shell tried to crush the life out of me, that thought came flashing through my mind...a pearl. But a pearl is formed when an irritation imbeds itself in the lining of a clam's interior. The first thing the creature tries to do is expel the irritation.
"I had to wait until the digestive juices dissolved most of the Constrictex. Luckily, Slitex is a material that is much more resistant to acid. As you can see, though, it's not totally impervious."
Melee noticed that the gaping holes in Batgirl's costume were slowly closing, as the slitex healed itself.
Batgirl worked on Melee's chains as she continued.
"Once most of the Constrictex was gone, and I had my arms free, I used my gloved hands to tear at the lining of the thing. The monster didn't seem to like it much, and tried to squeeze the life out of me. It took quite a bit of convincing to prove that I was inedible.
"I also tried to shield my face with my hair as much as possible, since the proteins in hair are mostly indigestible. Did I lose much?"
"No" responded Melee, "but you're going to walk around as a bleached blonde for a while. Looks like the acid discolored it in some spots."
"Well, that's a small price to pay, all things considered. Now we have to stop the Mariner, once and for all."
Erica was now totally free of the chains. Barbara returned the lockpick to the heel of her boot, then stood and turned toward Melee.
"OK, here's the plan..."
The click from the lock mechanism of the doorframe had been incredibly quiet, but the vigilant guard heard it immediately. Ian knew immediately that one or both of the female crimefighters had made good their escape.
The Mariner was in the Control room, while Karl monitored the Power Supply. That left Ian to chaperon the professor, ensuring that the work proceeded as planned. Professor Angstrom worked diligently behind the glass panels, his brow beaded with perspiration as he calculated the sine-wave coefficients needed to produce the Vortex wave.
That accounted for the entire list of authorized personnel on the underwater station. Which meant that someone unauthorized had just accessed the secondary Control room. Useless, really, since primary control could not be overridden without the Mariner's direct consent. Whoever was trying to circumvent the circuitry was in for a rude surprise. Especially when a few hundred rounds of ammo are fired in their direction, thought Ian.
The consummate hunter locked the doorway behind him, then clicked the safety off on the handheld machine pistol. This was going to be fun.
Inside the secondary control room, Melee was hunting for a way to disconnect the primary power grid, to reroute the electrical flow to her station. The long, thin room was about twenty feet long, but only about six feet wide. On either side of her, banks of electronic components towered upward, reaching the ceiling. Several closed-circuit television cameras displayed the telltale stirrings of the ocean bottom, a preface to the initialization of the immense Vortex wave.
A booted foot pressed ever so gently at the door, nudging it open without so much as a whisper. The barrel of the gun pointed forward, ready to shower any would-be attackers who might try to reverse the element of surprise. A broad smile crept into Ian's face as he viewed a lone figure struggling with the components at the far end of the room. There was no one behind the door, and no one between him and the quarry.
Melee had the control panel apart, and one arm was buried up to the shoulder inside the electronic housing as she retrieved the priming wires. She never heard the doorway open silently. She had grasped the red power wire, and begun to pull it toward her, as the machine pistol took aim at the small of her back. She had freed her arm, still holding the red wire, as the hawk-like eyes sighted down the barrel. She grasped the black wire, as the finger began to gently squeeze the trigger.
And she dropped the wire, spinning and crouching, as the Dark Angel dropped on their enemy from the ceiling grid of the room. A shower of bullets buried themselves in the surrounding panels, as Ian's aim was destroyed by the plummeting Batgirl. The gun skittered out of his hand, bouncing across the hard steel plates that comprised the floor of the room. Driven to his knees by the surprise maneuver, Ian struggled upright, and swung a tightly clenched fist at his attacker.
Batgirl blocked easily, countering with a strike to her assailant's midriff, which also failed to connect. He's big, Barbara thought, but fast for someone his size. The Dark Angel swung another strike from the right, but was countered once more. She had left herself exposed on the left flank for a return attack!
Ian was preparing to seize the opportunity, when the instant of recognition struck him. The clever Batgirl had distracted him with the lightning attack, and presented a too easy target, when there was more than one danger in the room.
He started to crane his neck, to determine Melee's exact location, when the boot crashed into the side of his head. Ian sunk once more to his knees, trying desperately to recover from the wave of dizziness that engulfed him. It was far too late, however. A carefully place strike to the back of the neck knocked him unconscious.
"Well, that was calling it a bit close, eh?" asked the previously targeted Melee.
"I'd say we timed it perfectly" answered Batgirl as she handcuffed their prisoner with the recovered belongings from their belts. "After all, he's the one lying unconscious. Now let's go see the Professor. We need to spoil the Mariner's plans..."
In the Control room, Arox Kemp was busy adjusting the height and direction of the Vortex wave. Gotham would pay the price for its tardiness in delivering the ransom payment to his electronic accounts. The huge wave would smash through the shoreline, demolishing the first few blocks with its absurd intensity. Once further inland, the flooding would be incredible, destroying property and goods by soaking them beneath the briny liquid. All in all, it would be a glorious and timely revenge.
Then the ultimatum would be issued again. And Kemp was sure that Gotham would pay the second ransom, after seeing the power that could be leveled against them by the awesome Vortex wave.
"Thank heavens you've arrived!" blurted out Professor Angstrom when he viewed the two shapely crimefighters entering through the doorway.
"Professor Angstrom, isn't it?" asked Melee. "How did the Mariner get hold of this place?"
"Unfortunately" the Professor answered, "I'm much more literate about wave motion than I am about security. I never anticipated that my research could be used for such a terrible purpose..."
"Well, you're not the first to discover what evil is capable of..." answered Batgirl. "Now we need you to shut this thing down, before Gotham becomes the newest flood zone."
Professor Angstrom looked sheepish. "Er...that could be something of a problem..."
"What do you mean?" quizzed Melee. "Can't you just shut down the power supply?"
"Not quite" the Professor responded. "Kemp has already initialized the process from the control room. I've been calculating and administering the needed entry points for added energy. If the wave isn't properly treated, the results are unpredictable."
"What do you mean, unpredictable?" asked Melee.
"What I mean is... we either allow the wave to build and launch, or we need to reverse every step of the process that built it. If we don't one of two things will happen...
"The first is nothing...the wave may die out on its own, the energy dissipating harmlessly into the water around it.
"The second is a catastrophe...the wave will continue to build in an uncontrolled fashion, resulting in a detonation that could be double or triple what the Mariner currently plans..."
Batgirl looked thoughtful for a moment. Her limited knowledge of fluid dynamics had hinted at this possibility. There was a fifty-fifty chance of accidentally destroying Gotham, creating a disaster that was even worse than the one that Kemp had in mind. But she had another idea that held some possibilities.
"Professor, can you change the rotation of the wave? Can you get the molecules to spin in more than one direction at a time?" she asked.
"Yes...I guess that's possible...but what would that accomplish?" he answered.
"Here's what I'm thinking of..." the Dark Angel began...
In the power supply room, Karl was monitoring the rotational speeds and energy applications being applied to the immense wave. He had noticed something odd in the last few minutes, and was debating whether or not to signal the Mariner regarding it.
The angular velocity of the wave had increased. The power of the thing was the same, but the speed of rotation was faster than it should have been. What this meant, exactly, Karl wasn't sure. What was certain, however, was that the wave wasn't behaving the way the Professor said it would. And that concerned Karl.
The burly guard had decided that enough was enough, and turned to access the intercom on the panel across the room.
Standing in front of the control panel, legs slightly spread and hands on hips, was the determined Melee.
"So...you've escaped" said the guard. "I suppose that the Batgirl is free also?"
Melee said nothing, refusing to divulge any information to the enemy before her.
"Doesn't matter, really" replied Karl casually. "Either way, I'll have the two of you back in chains within a few minutes. Then I can discover what you've done."
"You can try..." retorted Melee. "But I think you'll find that you're in for a bit more of a fight this time. Especially since you don't have a friend taking me by surprise."
"We'll see.." responded Karl. The left hand whipped forward, ejecting a flat-head screwdriver at Melee's midsection just as he finished speaking.
But the fledgling vigilante was ready for the surprise maneuver, and twisted her midsection to the left, narrowly avoiding the flying tool. Karl was already rushing her as she maneuvered, rapidly closing the twenty feet between them.
As the distance narrowed, the guard faked a dive to the right, then jerked left. A burly leg came crashing into the heroine, blocked by an outstretched arm that minimized the damage. The force of the blow threw her to one side, however, where she quickly returned the favor.
A feminine leg shot powerfully outward, sweeping beneath the off-balance Karl as he regained his footing from the first attack. A quick leap avoided the leg sweep, while an arm came whipping across in a backhand strike.
Melee's forearm intercepted the blow as it descended, then she grabbed the arm and twisted violently.
"AAAGGH!" echoed from the guard as the internal SNAP! Relayed the message of irreparable damage inside the right arm. But even while the arm was being twisted, a booted foot was crashing into a lycra-encased knee.
"Uuuhh!!" coughed out of Melee as her knee buckled beneath the assault. She dove forward to escape the worst of the blow, but the sprain was all too evident as she tried to stand. Her leg barely supported her weight, and painfully at that. Her opponent had fared worse, however. One arm hung limply at his side, obviously out of commission.
The fighters circled a bit more warily now, each looking to inflict a telling blow without receiving one in return. As Karl reached the intercom panel, his hand darted into a shadowed compartment, returning rapidly with a large monkey wrench.
Not good, thought Melee. She was going to be slowed by her injury, and might not be able to avoid the makeshift club. Karl rushed once more, seizing upon the impaired mobility of his enemy.
Gloved hands narrowly fended the blow, the raking steel banging hard into the backs of her forearms as she deflected the blow to one side. Melee knew that she needed to win quickly, or she had to eliminate this weapon. As Karl swung the device again, she thrust her body beneath the blow, then rapidly sidestepped closer to her opponent. Her knee protested the abuse vehemently, sending a flare of agony up the thigh.
Melee almost fell, trying to ignore the haze of pain as best she could. An arm slipped around Karl's neck as he tried to reverse the swing on his now proximate enemy. Erica had the advantage, however, since her body was now pressed against the guard, with her front to his back. In other circumstances, Karl might have enjoyed the position. But as Melee tightened her grip, and his air supply dwindled, the situation ceased to be amusing to the one armed combatant.
Karl thrust the wrench backward, but quickly abandoned this tact. He couldn't get enough leverage to produce a serious blow. As his airflow constricted further, he lashed out backwards in an attempt to re-injure the already sprained leg of the superheroine.
But Melee was focused now, and she had the upper hand. She used her body weight to increase the pressure, locking the arm around Karl's neck by leveraging it with her free hand.
The two adversaries danced violently around the control room. Karl, trying to shake the persistent heroine with the vice-like grip. Melee, trying to ride the bucking bronco that was trying to fling her away.
...and finally, Melee won...
Karl collapsed, unconsciousness reaching up to claim him as his air supply failed. The guard slumped to the floor, a tangled heap of arms and legs. Melee withdrew the cuffs from her belt, and clicked them on the would-be extortionist. A long sigh exhaled from the black clad vigilante as she surveyed the damage to her aching knee. It would heal with time, and at least it wasn't broken. She sincerely hoped that Batgirl had fared better.
Batgirl had assigned herself the task of capturing the Mariner...
Arox Kemp was busily monitoring the intensity of the wave from the Control room. The huge domed structure looked out upon the ocean depths, and had dozens of banks of hardware bolted to the floor in a seemingly haphazard manner. There were control modules, seismic trackers, energy variance displays, Doppler radar screens, and a host of even more esoteric mechanical apparatus. Many of the cabinets were over six feet tall, and wider still. It was an impressive display of electronic implementation. Kemp knew how to operate only a small fraction of the hardware at his disposal, but that fraction was enough. With the professor's instruction, he had learned how to direct, control, and detonate the vortex wave against a planned target. And that was his only goal.
The fluidic angular velocity display stood silent, which made Kemp totally unaware of the change in rotation. That function was monitored by the steadfast Karl in the Power Supply area. And Karl would surely notify him of any issues.
When the door opened, and Batgirl stepped quietly into the room, it was with a great deal of fortitude that the Mariner concealed his anger. How she had escaped from his pet was a question that he would deal with later. At the moment, he needed to delay her during the one final burst of energy into the Vortex wave. At that point, any conclusion would be academic. The wave would be launched, and nothing could stop it.
"Time to put down your toys, and come along quietly," Batgirl remarked.
In response, Kemp thrust his hand to the counter, the muzzle of an automatic flashing upward at the valiant heroine.
But Batgirl was even faster. The Mariner hadn't even seen the batarang as it left her hand; the black shadow exploded as it crashed into the gun, flinging it from his grasp before he had even drawn it level. The violent tingling in his hand was mute testimony to her accurate aim with the deadly device.
"Tsk...tsk...tsk..." admonished Batgirl. "Such an impolite way to treat a guest. Then again, you haven't been exactly polite up until now."
"And you've been nothing but a thorn in my side..." retorted the Mariner. "And the only way to relieve the pain is to remove the obstruction."
A relay handle came flying across the room, hurled from the spare component bin by Kemp.
Batgirl dodged the handle easily, then leapt across the room to tackle her adversary. Unfortunately, the real intent of Kemp's maneuver had been to buy a few seconds of time. The loaded flare-gun appeared in his hand, and drew a bead on the still charging heroine.
Batgirl dove forward, curling into a somersault roll as the flare blasted from the gun. The nearest bank of machinery exploded into a shower of sparks as the fiery projectile burned its way into sensitive electronics, and smoke began to fill the room.
Kemp watched the dials for another five seconds. The last energy charge had just rolled into the building Vortex wave. Arox smiled in triumph as the meters registered the irrevocable ignition of the wave. It had just launched the first of the three precursor waves. The fourth and final release would destroy the waterfront area of Gotham. Batgirl was too late!
A red-haired flash dove once more between two control panels, a brightly lit flare sizzling the air as it followed. Another shower of sparks erupted harmlessly from the apparatus in the room.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." singsonged the Mariner. "I've still got plenty of flares, and each one is dying to meet you..."
"Don't think so, Kemp" replied the echoing voice of Batgirl as she used the structure of the dome to hide her true location. "One way or another, you're going down."
"Why, Batgirl..." responded Kemp, "don't you realize that you've already lost? The only thing 'going down' will be the waterfront district of Gotham..."
The rumbling beneath his feet was only vaguely disconcerting to the Mariner...and it wasn't until the entire dome began to shake violently that he began to realize that something was seriously amiss. The Alpha wave, first of the four, smashed into the undersea structure, applying tremendous force against the transparent dome. Smaller interior girders twisted out of alignment, too frail to compete with the massive pressure. Mini-subs and radar trackers were torn off the exterior of the structure, as was any loosely anchored component. The misaligned framework for the viewports began to admit seawater in thin rivulets, as the liquid forced its way past the seals.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!??!!!" screamed the Mariner, his rage amplified even beyond the shriek of tortured metal.
Within seconds, the worst was over. The Alpha wave had delivered its charge, a mere ten percent of what the final cataclysm would be conveying.
"What have you done??!" repeated Kemp as the din quieted.
"Why Arox," the haunting voice of Batgirl teased lovingly. "You really should have spent more time studying physics, and less time studying crime."
The flare gun aimed quickly at the location where Kemp suspected the ghostly voice was emanating, but the origin of the sound was hard to pin down. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"The Vortex wave is simply a particle motion accelerator. Change the spin on the particles, and you change the direction of the wavefront. Didn't you know that?" the Dark Angel's voice asked condescendingly.
She was trying to bait him. To get him angry enough to make a mistake. And it was working, Kemp realized. She had already succeeded in destroying his plans, and now she was flaunting the fact. Can't let myself lose control, the Mariner thought.
Kemp almost had her...she had to be hiding just behind those last two control panels. The barrel of the flare gun rose up as he closed the distance. Now, just keep her talking.
"So that's it?" the Mariner asked. "All my carefully plotted maps to aim the wave at Gotham, and you bring it crashing down on its creator? Don't you realize that you'll kill us all?"
Almost there...
"In that case, we'd better leave...Karl and Ian are both handcuffed by now, and aboard an emergency escape pod. If you're smart, you'll turn yourself in. This place might survive one more hit...maybe even two...but it won't survive the final wave."
Kemp had a fifty-fifty chance...spin left or right at the opening between the two banks to destroy the Batgirl. He was a betting man, and gambled right...
The muscular torso bounded forward, spinning with gun pointed to the right...
The flare exploded outward, crackling the air with intense light as it burned forward...
Only by a stroke of immense luck was Batgirl's life spared. Two events coincided to draw the flare from its fatal path. First, Batgirl had been crouching, so Kemp had needed a tenth of a second to realign his aim. Second, the Beta Wave erupted against the structure, with no telltale warning like its predecessor.
Metal girders shrieked and groaned as the lithe vigilante bounded upward, the flare actually grazing across the slitex covered ribcage. The material resisted much of the impact, but Barbara felt as if someone had jammed a red-hot brand against her side. Two gloved hands seized Kemp's forearms, trying to dislodge the weapon before he could reload.
Main struts began to groan loudly, and one of the viewing ports crashed inward with a tremendous detonation. Thousands of gallons of seawater began to surge into the room, smashing into the floor and racing to the walls.
"KEMP!" Batgirl yelled, "WE'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!!"
Forearms twisted to free the weapon for another shot. "NEVER!!" the Mariner howled.
"WE'LL BOTH DIE!!" the Dark Angel screamed above the din.
"AS LONG AS YOU GO WITH ME!!"
The combatants continued their desperate struggle as the seawater began to reclaim what was its own. Electronic devices were exploding in huge electrical squalls as the salt water short-circuited the connections. The current flashed through the water, electrifying the adversaries more than once so that both screamed in pain.
Smaller girders collapsed, pipes bursting under the pressure as the huge framework of the dome began to deform. Ceiling panels plummeted from the connecting hallways, smashing into thousands of fragments as they struck the floor. Walls warped out of alignment, creating an insane pathway of twisted exits. And still the wave continued.
The water now covered twelve inches of the control room floor, and continued to rise as Batgirl and the Mariner continued their deadly duel.
"HUUUHH!" barked out of Kemp, the flare gun ejecting from his hand, as an electrical storm caused his grip to fail. He twisted wildly, and managed to free one arm from the vigilante's grasp.
"AAAAHHHHH!!!" echoed out of the Dark Angel, as she too suffered the jolting current from the dangerously electrified seawater.
The Mariner, who was further from the exposed wires, managed to lock vice-like fingers around Batgirl's throat before she could recover. Once the short circuit ended, Kemp began squeezing in earnest, trying to choke the life out of the valiant heroine.
Another viewing port burst inward as Batgirl fought the deadly strangulation. The water rose more rapidly now, and every few seconds was an inch higher. The wave was diminishing finally...but so was Batgirl's supply of oxygen.
Batgirl struggled desperately, as grey darkness encroached on the edges of her vision. Got...to... stay...conscious... she thought, then jabbed hard with a straightened hand directly into Kemp's elbow. The assaulted nerve failed for an instant, and the lethal fingers released their grip long enough for Batgirl to break free.
"KEMP!" Batgirl screamed at him. "WE'VE GOT TO LEAVE...NOW!!!"
In answer, the madman lunged at her, trying to knock her backward into the water.
As Kemp lunged, a ceiling fixture dropped from above, striking him in the back of the head. The Mariner was driven to the floor immediately by the massive blow.
Thank God, Batgirl thought to herself. Only minutes remained for the structure. Metal continued to wail, as the geodesic dome collapsed beneath the crushing weight of the water around it.
Batgirl felt for a pulse. Thready, but there. The Mariner was still alive. Possibly in a coma.
The Dark Angel began hauling her charge to the nearest escape pod, hoping that the Gamma wave would not strike before she could launch. Barbara watched as two subsonic rumbles signaled the release of identical pods. Melee and the Professor were departing the station with their prisoners, having waited as long as they dared for Batgirl to return. She needed to find a closer exit.
The hatch in the secondary hallway displayed an escape pod, and was just a few feet away. The seawater had risen to Batgirl's thighs, and continued to pour in from the two ruined viewports.
As the Dark Angel approached, she realized that she had only seconds remaining. Water was spilling over the entryway to the pod. If the electronic release failed, the vigilante and her charge were doomed.
Batgirl half-lifted, half-floated the Mariner across the entry port, then dove in through the panel. She quickly swung the door shut, spinning the lock mechanism to cut off the incursion of any more water.
"Here goes nothing..." Batgirl said aloud, then yanked backward on the release lever.
An explosion of bubbles rose around them as the pod gently lifted from the docking bay. At first, Batgirl feared it was too waterlogged to rise. Then she noticed that the pod was indeed ascending. But was it fast enough?
A huge wall of dark water accelerated toward the pod, and Batgirl realized that the Gamma wave had arrived. Then the wave grabbed the pod, shaking it to and fro like a dog worrying a bone.
Barbara and the Mariner were tossed helplessly inside the vessel, banging into walls and bouncing off of struts. For long seconds, the Dark Angel and the Criminal Madman accumulated bruises faster than a stopwatch could track. Then it was over, and the craft ascended once more.
A bruised, dizzied Barbara peered out the viewer to examine what remained of the station. Twisted girders and several more viewports had given way, and a constant supply of air bubbles rose upward as the water invaded. None of the outlying residences had survived. Each had been torn from the moorings, and now appeared as twisted metal that rolled gently across the ocean floor.
When the pod reached the surface, Batgirl resisted the temptation to open the entry. Within seconds, the final wave, the Delta VORTEX Wave, struck. On the surface of the ocean, the effect was minimized. One of the advantages of redirecting the wave, from Batgirl's perspective, had been that the brunt of the detonation would be delivered directly onto the ocean floor.
Still, even at a height of more than one-hundred feet from the bottom, the pod felt the impact of the devastating explosion. A tremendous surge of water boiled upward, geysering from ocean floor like a hydrant. Seawater, rocks, metal struts, and other destroyed items rained down on the surface as if tossed into the air by a giant hand.
Metal clanged against the pod as projectiles fell from above. The pod jolted several times as a larger girder smashed it to one side or the other. The rain of debris continued for almost a minute, as the awesome destructive force of the wave spent its anger on the station. Batgirl was awed at the incredible force that the Professor had managed to generate with his experiments.
Finally, it was over.
Batgirl checked on her prisoner once more. He was groaning, a huge lump protruding from the back of his head. Barbara snapped the cuffs into position. No use tempting the already enraged adversary. Then she spun the hatch wheel open, and determined the extent of the damage.
Three pods floated on the surface. Melee's had taken the worst abuse, several large lacerations and dents marring the once smooth surface. Yet the fledgling crimefighter was waving across the intervening distance, signaling that she was fine.
The Professor waved also, but was somewhat less enthused. A lifetime of experiments and theories had just been destroyed because of Kemp's tampering. Still, they were all alive, and Gotham was safe. It was a fair price to pay.
Batgirl activated the digital beacon to signal the SOS. Gotham Nautical should arrive shortly...and probably never believe the extraordinary tale they would be told. Batgirl stared down at the madman below her. Looks like Arkham will be hearing some tales also, she thought. Though I'm sure that Kemp's version will be quite different.
Then she stretched out in the doorway, allowing the warm midday sun to chase away the chill from the icy depths. She had definitely earned some rest, at least for now.