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, and 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 nor will it 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.)
Night settled over Gotham City like a darkened shroud as Barbara prepared herself for the evening's vigil. The thin slitex costume was smoothed carefully into place, molding itself perfectly to every peak and valley of her exquisite figure. The utility belt slid comfortably around her hips, clamping in front beneath the emblem of the bat. Every compartment housed a useful or deadly product, some for defense, others to ensure a successful attack. High-heeled boots were snugged upward, stopping high on the calf before being zippered tightly into place. The elbow length gloves were stretched into position, and carefully arranged to ensure that lockpicks and blowdart were readily available if needed. The mask was fitted last, partially covering the cheeks and forehead, shielding the identity of the experienced vigilante. In the years since the Dark Wars, Batgirl had opted for the simpler mask. She never really regretted the decision, since the new mask was lighter, more flexible, and allowed her keen senses to be used more effectively.
The Ninja 900 rocketed out of the hidden tunnel, Batgirl shifting easily to maneuver the bike through the serpentine alleyways. Within minutes she had arrived at The Depot, an abandoned building that was generally the starting point for her nightly rounds. The bike rolled forward easily into a niche that was somewhat hidden from view. Batgirl set the security to "Ally" mode, enabling any one of several nighttime vigilantes to retrieve the vehicle if needed.
Barbara had a running list of active trustworthy associates; unfortunately, the list was very small. Fighting crime was a dangerous game, and more than a few names had been crossed off permanently. The ones that remained, like Melee and Nightcat, made up the dedicated few that were willing to pay any price to see the city released from the grip of crime. With Batman's fate in limbo, the spread of illegal activities seemed to hasten every day.
Batgirl fired the tetherclaw, and was quickly on the rooftop. Another pull and she swung silently to the next building, reeling in the line to account for the greater elevation. And so it went, as she flitted from location to location, watching for any signs of nefarious behavior.
The two thieves that were her first encounter of the night were intent on the rear window of the jewelry store. Big Mike had discovered that the jewelers kept the daily receipts on premises, which had immediately convinced Treeg that the place was a cherry, ripe for the picking. Closely examining it for any sign of alarms, Treeg silently lifted the window and slid inside. He had no idea that a sharp green set of eyes was focused on his every move.
Big Mike watched the alleyway for any signs of disturbance. There were none. None that he could detect anyway. The first sign that he had of any trouble was the high-heeled boot crashing into his collarbone, driving him downward into the pavement. Stunned by the suddenness of the assault, Big Mike had no idea how many assailants he was facing. When he recovered his senses to see just the one, a leering smile crossed his lips. A woman, alone, and weighing only about a hundred pounds. In the dim light, Mike hadn't recognized the telltale Bat emblem.
Mike charged forward in a bear hug, only to receive a jolting blow to the back of his neck as he passed. The world seemed to swim dizzily for a second before his eyes, then righted itself. The attacker was poised, unhurried; that was a bad sign. A tree-trunk leg swiftly shot out to cripple the woman, only to be caught, stopped, and twisted painfully. Mike dropped to one knee, trying to recover from the sudden agony in his thigh. That was when he noticed the bright yellow emblem on the waist belt, dimly reflected in the half-light.
His stunned, terrified expression turned dazed then blank as the boot connected at high speed with his temple. The moment of hesitation and surprise had cost him the battle. Batgirl stared down with little remorse at the petty thief. Then she snapped the cuffs in place.
"Mike! Hey, Mike!" came the whispered call from the open window, not too loudly for fear of attracting attention. Mike was sitting on a crate in the alley, with his back to the window. Treeg stuck his head out of the window frame, in preparation to climb out of the jewelry store.
He was a lot faster at recognizing his assailant than Mike had been. The burglar's stare connected with the belt, then turned upward to the cat-green eyes, just as the karate chop connected with the back of his neck. Treeg slumped unconscious immediately, dropping the stolen jewelry to the ground below.
Batgirl dragged the second criminal to the first, and interlocked the handcuffs. Where one went the other would follow; and since they were back to back, a long hike seemed unlikely. Barbara activated the police locator, then placed the digivid next to it. The events on the recording would be more than enough proof to convict these two.
A quick tether to the roof, and she had resumed her vigil once more.
As Batgirl swung past the Gotham First National Bank, she almost missed the oddness that caught the corner of her eye. She looped back to examine it again. In the side alley, almost at the very end, was a hole in the ground. One that shouldn't be there, she thought.
Batgirl landed quietly next to the opening and listened intently. No sound arose. She affixed a line to a nearby lamppost, and quickly descended.
The blackness was almost complete. She slid her nightvision lenses into place, pressing them to her mask lightly. Now a dim glow lit the tunnel. There was no one in evidence. The Dark Angel examined the walls of the tunnel, realizing that it had been an underground walkway at one point in the past. The walls were fairly smooth, but the material was old, and seemed in danger of crumbling.
Barbara quietly examined the floor. The powdered dirt and gravel that had fallen into the tunnel displayed footprints that led to her right. She stepped gingerly over the rubble, careful to make no noise.
It was almost five minutes of traversing the tunnel in complete stealth before Batgirl uncovered her quarry. A light shone ahead, and she had to remove the lenses to prevent any blinding effects. A huge giant stood in the tunnel, holding a lantern in his right hand. What appeared in front of him was another hole, this time in the foundation of the bank itself. The tunnel had looped to the far side of the building, and the newest hole was situated directly on the side leading to the vault. Fortunate, if you were a thief.
Barbara took a moment to examine the floor of the tunnel, since the dust had accumulated more deeply here. There were three distinct sets of footprints here, appearing to be one huge male and two females. She would need to approach the situation cautiously.
Batgirl removed the blowgun from her glove. The distance was prohibitive, though; the giant was just too far away for a clean shot. She'd have to move closer.
Like a silent wraith, Batgirl hugged herself to the wall, staying in the shadows as much as possible. When she was ten feet away, and at an optimum distance, she stepped away from the wall and prepared to fire.
Unfortunately, as she released her pressure on the wall behind her, a section of almost a foot square came tumbling down behind her. The giant whirled rapidly at the sudden noise, just as the blow-dart fired. In a twist of incredibly bad luck, the lantern blocked the dart completely, the small projectile clanging uselessly off of the metal exterior. And the giant was now all too aware of her presence.
For just a moment, Batgirl was stunned by what she saw. Almost seven feet of powerfully muscled frame arrayed itself before her, ready to dispatch any adversary. A heavily jowled face shone with anger at the intrusion, the mouth grimacing and baring mottled brown teeth. But the surprising thing, from Batgirl's point of view, was the third arm.
The right arm held the lantern. A left arm was closed into a fist. And another left arm was open handed. Barbara hadn't seen that from her previous angle, and she wondered what manner of creature faced her.
"What we got!??!" grunted the thing. "Cop?!"
"Not exactly," answered Batgirl. "I don't suppose you'd like to turn yourself in?"
For an answer, a huge ham-fist swung at Batgirl, as the giant rapidly closed the distance between them. The dark crusader backpedaled rapidly, easily avoiding the clumsy blow.
"You go down!" he yelled, and charged the readied Batgirl.
Barbara saw the charge coming, and deftly maneuvered herself to the thing's right side to avoid the double coverage. When he was almost in grasping distance, she pivoted, and dropped to one knee, thrusting forward a toned leg. Grabbing the hand before it could grab her, she pulled forward.
The giant, unprepared for this, flung forward into the outstretched leg. He crashed to the ground in an immense heap, while Batgirl flung herself upward and delivered an incapacitating kick to the neck.
Only the kick didn't incapacitate. The groggy giant stood, obviously in pain, and faced his opponent more warily now. Barbara was somewhat taken aback by the strength of the thing. That blow should have put him under for hours.
The two foes circled each other, both looking for an opening in which to strike. As Batgirl faced the opening of the tunnel, she caught a glint of reflected movement. Unable to ignore another possible threat, she slid her eyes sideways to examine the entrance. But there was no one there.
That instant of concentration was the moment the giant picked to attack once again. He lunged forward once more, this time with two left arms facing his rival. Batgirl was expected to dive to his right again, at which point he would bring the readied fist around to crush her.
So Batgirl did exactly the opposite. She whirled to the giant's left, pushing the two hands toward the inside of her body, ending up back to back with her opponent. Then she dove to the floor, landing on her hands, and kicked viciously upward and back with her powerful legs.
The giant, taken off guard again, crashed headfirst into the side of the tunnel. Barbara quickly resumed her stance, waiting to see the effect of this latest attack.
Amazingly, the giant stood again. A glazed, unfocused expression appeared in both eyes though. As Batgirl watched, the three hands slowly unclenched. Then the giant wobbled. Then the giant fell...headlong, smacking facefirst into the packed earth of the floor.
Wheeew! thought Batgirl. Quite a hardy specimen.
She approached slowly, anticipating a feint. But there was none. The thing was out cold. Now she could proceed into the foundation of the bank, to discover what the remaining partners were doing.
Batgirl had just stepped forward once, when a sharp sting jabbed into her leg. She whirled like a cat, preparing for any attack. At first, her light adjusted eyes failed to pick up anything. But she knew something was there.
The room started to spin lazily, when Barbara finally realized her nemesis. Crouched into the wall, and blended perfectly in coloration and shade, was a woman. Batgirl spared a glance at her leg, and saw the deflected blow-dart sticking out of her thigh. The costumed crimefighter realized that she had about five seconds of consciousness left...not nearly enough.
Batgirl took one half-hearted lunge at her enemy, but missed entirely...then she crumpled unconscious to the ground, a victim of her own devices.
Chamelea smiled at the heroine below her. Batgirl wasn't the first to fall prey to her blending abilities, and she wouldn't be the last. But right now, she had to wake Ogre and get all of them out of here...including the crimefighter. They needed to know if the valiant Batgirl suspected the complex plan that was being worked.
The Ringmaster was going to be pissed...
Batgirl awoke to a splitting headache. When she tried to move an arm to comfort her aching head, there was resistance. As the spinning room finally came into focus, Barbara realized that her enemies had carted her off somewhere.
She was inside a large canvas tent, bound at both wrists and ankles atop a huge rubber ball. Stretched spreadeagled, Batgirl surveyed the surroundings while she tried to work herself free. Within the structure, a huge fifteen cannon rose proudly from the floor, large enough to fit a person inside. Several hoops and pedestals sat on the ground, decorated with vibrant stars and moons. A large tricycle sat unmoving, too ample for any child. Pennants and veils hung loosely over several chairs.
It was a circus tent! She was bound to a huge ball inside a circus tent. Batgirl pulled at her chafing wrists, in hopes of freeing the cuffs from the surface of the six foot sphere. Though the rubber extended slightly, it did not give way. I can't reach my utility belt, she thought. The imbedded thumb compartment held a lockpick, seemingly Batgirl's next best bet. But as the Dark Angel examined the metal struts on the ball, she realized that there was no keyhole. The struts had been jammed into grommets by some implacable force. Barbara grimaced when she thought of who might have that kind of strength. An aching, bruised giant...who was probably still recovering.
As Batgirl tried to decide on some other course of action, the tent flap swung upward. A tall, cadaverous looking man entered the tent, followed by the giant. Then the invisible woman entered...at least it looked like her...Barbara couldn't be sure with the fully visible version.
"Batgirl, isn't it?" asked the thin man.
"As a matter of fact, it is..." she answered blithely. "And you would be...?"
"You may call me the Ringmaster" he answered. "I have heard of your exploits in Gotham City, and had intended to avoid your company. Now it looks like that is impossible. Truly a shame...for you."
"Ringmaster, eh? And I suppose these cohorts of yours would be performers in your nefarious acts?"
"Actually, yes. You'll be meeting the others shortly. Ogre you already know."
The giant that Batgirl had defeated earlier had a nasty looking bruise across his forehead. He growled at the captive vigilante, and appeared to wish for nothing more than the chance to tear her arms off. The Ringmaster must have made some dire threats to keep him at bay.
"And Chamelea you also met, though I know that you probably didn't get a good look at her."
Chamelea was currently standing before a large partition that stood upright. As Batgirl watched, the lithe woman suddenly began to disappear into the backdrop. It was almost an instinctual ablility, her skin and thin clothing immediately taking on the appearance, color, and texture of the material behind her.
This is an adversary that I'll have to be very cautious with, thought the restrained heroine.
"And now, Batgirl," continued the Ringmaster, "I'd like you to tell us exactly what you know about our plans."
"And if I refuse?" queried Barbara.
"I could spout off the usual gibberish, with dire threats and all that...but I think we're both too experienced for that.
"We'll just have to inject you with veritaine." he said nonchalantly.
Uh-oh, thought Batgirl. The criminal knew his narcotics. Veritaine was one of the most powerful of truth drugs, and would be hard to deny. Barbara had trained in mental conditioning and focus for avoiding such disclosures, but she knew that refusal of veritaine would be a fifty-fifty shot at best. It was that powerful.
"OK," answered Batgirl. "You win. I know exactly nothing of your plans."
The Ringmaster laughed. "Well done! A bit too simple though. I think we'll use it just to verify your admission."
Barbara knew this was going to be the result. Were she in his position, the need to know would be overwhelming, especially where criminal intent was involved.
Chamelea approached with a long syringe containing the sickly green fluid, and jabbed it into Batgirl's right thigh. It stung briefly, then began to fill her with warmth in that leg. Within minutes, the world around her was hazy and unreal, as if in a dream. She knew what was happening, but she couldn't seem to fight it.
"Now we may begin..." the Ringmaster echoed. "How did you discover our crime scene?"
Batgirl saw no harm in answering truthfully...best to save her efforts for later questions.
"Hole...in ground..." she said dreamily, "saw it...from corner of...my eye..."
"And what did you discover within the hole?" the Ringmaster asked.
"Brute...giant...slow...and clumsy."
Ogre grew incredibly angry, and began advancing on the helpless Batgirl. A harsh look from the Ringmaster stopped him in his tracks.
The Ringmaster knew all these facts already. He was trying to ascertain if Batgirl would be forced to tell the truth yet.
"What do you know of our plans?"
"Nothing...saw tunnel...into bank...nothing else..." Barbara groggily answered.
"What do you suspect?"
Uh-oh. Even in her half-dream state, Batgirl recognized this as trouble. Though she didn't know the truth, she suspected much already. An internal struggle commenced, as Barbara tried to fight the drug...to keep from answering.
"WHAT DO YOU SUSPECT!?" the Ringmaster barked.
"Electronic master...debit cardss...only thing worthwhile..." Barbara bit her lip as she realized she was unable to hold back.
The Ringmaster looked angry. In that moment, she knew that she was right. Somehow, despite awesome security, he had gained access to the master debit card. With the proper codes, and that card, he could move massive credits from one account to another, with no trace of the transactions. He and his crew could steal millions and never be caught.
Still, he had to have the codes. And there were two separate ones required, held by two separate bank officials. The game wasn't over yet.
"Who else knows where you've been?" the Ringmaster prodded.
"No one...work...alone..." Batgirl answered.
"Hmmm..." the Ringmaster mused. "That's helpful."
The Ringmaster stared off into space for several seconds, as Ogre and Chamelea watched. He was obviously deep in thought. Then he turned and strode to Chamelea, and whispered into her ear. When once again he returned to the bound vigilante, a smile shone on both of their faces.
"Ever been on the high wire, Batgirl? Ever walked a tightrope?"
"Once...long...time...ago..."
The smile dimmed slightly, but was still in place. "Chamelea, you know what I expect. When the drug wears off though. After all, we need our little crimefighter at the top of her game, don't we?"
They both laughed, while Ogre looked vexed. Barbara was sure that her future was looking dim...
An hour later, inside the main circus tent, seven carnival performers had gathered round the Ringmaster as he introduced the newest addition to their entourage. He pointed a skeletal arm upward to pinpoint the audience's attention.
Atop the high-wire, Batgirl had been gloriously displayed in an ignominious fashion. The vision of the heroic crimefighter was stunning; Chamelea had outdone herself. Black tightrope slippers had been snugged about Barbara's dainty feet, providing no-slip coverage. On the front of each fitted covering, placed horizontally across the toes, was a stylized yellow bat symbol peering up at her.
Batgirl's perfectly toned legs had been squeezed into a pair of incredibly tight pantyhose, made of a durable nylon/spandex combination. The intensely reflective material mirrored back every ounce of light, highlighting every supple curve of the shapely legs contained within.
The black spandex thong gripping her waist revealed virtually all of her rearward charms. The sculpted ass-cheeks jutted outward on either side of the deeply buried rear band, accentuating the rounded hemispheres. The forward panel provided only slightly more coverage, neatly hiding her closely cropped pussy hair before rising upward in a sharp 'V' to the trim waist. Decorating the front of the jet-black material were several small yellow bats, arrayed in random fashion down to the base of the crotch. The bright yellow insignia glittered back with a metallic sheen, the flecks of material in them adding to the display of reflected light.
From the waist to the neckline, Batgirl had been completely stripped of any covering at all. Conspicuously exposed breasts had been sprinkled with metallic glitter, which clung to every valley and hilltop of the proudly displayed chest. Every motion joggled the firmly thrusting breasts slightly, diverting all attention to the glistening globes. Even now, the slightly chill air brought the buoyant nipples stiffly to attention, heightening the desire of the males below.
And some of the females as well.
A stygian black leather collar rose from the base of Batgirl's throat right up to the chin, allowing only minimal head movement. Padlocks on either side of the restraint ensured that it would stay in place for quite some time.
Twin black stretch gloves adorned each arm, rising to mid forearm. The gloves flared out sharply here, an overt statement that they were intended to grab the attention of the audience. Another stylized yellow bat was imbedded on the outer edge of the flaring material, running parallel to the encased forearm.
Twin handcuffs had been secured about Batgirl's wrists, and were now clamped loosely about a tightrope-balancing pole. Given a few seconds, she could slide the pole in either direction, allowing it to glide through the restraining metal. But her captors were not about to let that happen; at least not yet.
They had left Batgirl with her mask, but other than that she appeared to be a highly desirable, half-naked carnival performer. With a sense of stylistic integrity, Batgirl had been tightly fitted into a circus costume that befitted her namesake. The spotlight revealed every contour of her awesomely displayed body.
The ringmaster smiled as he drank in the lascivious eyes of his entourage. Yes, she would perform an amazing show. A shame, really, to have to kill her. But business was business, after all.
"Ladieees, and gentlemen" he barked. "Atop the high wire, a heroic avenger who will thrill and astound you! She's bad... She's beautiful... She's...Batgirl!!!"
All eyes were trained on Batgirl as the audience politely applauded, several members throwing cat-calls and wolf-whistles up at the waiting heroine.
"And now, with no training from us, she will astound you with her ability to balance perfectly...for the rest of her life!"
Several stunned gazes appeared from the entourage. There were smiles as well.
Marvella, one of the seven in the audience, turned to the Ringmaster. "What do you mean? You're going to kill her?" she asked in disbelief.
"Of course," answered the Ringmaster smoothly. "She knows too much, and we can't afford to let her go free."
"I never signed up for murder..." stated Marvella flatly.
An angry gleam crept into the Ringmaster's eye. "Don't push me, Marvella. Otherwise, there might be room for another spectacle tonight."
Marvella looked shocked, then angry. "Well, I'm not going to stay and watch this. Go ahead and have you're fun, but do it without me." She turned and stalked out of the tent.
The Ringmaster returned to his audience. "A bleeding heart. So noble, yet so misguided. Shall we continue?"
There were several anxious nods.
"As you can see, Batgirl holds a balancing pole. I'm sure her athletic abilities include tightrope walking. But this time, she'll need to do it with a twist..."
Ogre removed a metallic cable about six feet long, which sported a loop at either end. His second hand withdrew two padlocks from a bag on the platform. His third hand held a set of keys.
The giant unlocked the first padlock, and looped it through a ring at the back of Batgirl's throat collar, hidden from view beneath her flowing red hair. Then he looped one end of the six-foot cable through the hasp, and snapped the padlock shut.
Batgirl could see immediately the Ringmaster's plan, and she didn't like it at all.
Ogre unlocked the second padlock, and secured the other end of Batgirl's cable directly to the high wire. When the lock snapped shut, the viewers below finally understood.
Batgirl was chained by the neck to the high-wire cable. Once she moved to the center of the tightrope, any mistake would drop her off the wire, snapping her neck. At the other end of the wire, atop the far platform, Barbara could see Chamelea smiling.
"And now friends, let the show commence!!!" thundered the Ringmaster.
Ogre withdrew a leather whip from the bag, which sported multiple strands of possible abuse. Batgirl stared at the whip, then at the eyes of her adversary. There was no question that he would use the device. There was a smirk, a gleam in his eye. He wanted to pay her back for his earlier defeat. He'd be only too happy to whip me to death, Batgirl thought to herself.
Barbara decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and placed her left foot gingerly on the thin cable, preparing to step out upon it.
"Too slow!!" grunted Ogre, and snapped the tendrils across Batgirl's naked back, jerking the strands backward in perfect time for maximum effect.
"AAAAaahhh!!" exploded out of Batgirl as agonized fire leaped across her back, igniting it with pain. Impatient, she thought through the haze; and a damned expert with that thing! The crowd below laughed. She stepped forward smartly, avoiding any future misunderstandings. The welts would heal---if she lived through this...
Batgirl stood cautiously on the cable, using the pole to help maintain her balance. Now the purpose of the cuffs became clear. She couldn't rid herself of the pole without threading it out of the handcuffs. This eliminated any quick retaliatory attacks that she might have planned.
And any effort to lose the pole now, while she balanced precariously on the wire, would disrupt her critically maintained position. She would fall...and left or right wouldn't really matter at that point...both would be deadly.
So the Dark Angel performed for the critics below. She carefully placed a foot forward, then another, slowly traversing the wire. Once she had reached the center, she reversed the motion, carefully treading backward once again. Below her, the entourage greedily drank in the view of a death-defying Batgirl, incredibly displayed, and in imminent danger of self execution.
Ten minutes passed, as Barbara carefully tread the wire in either direction. The crowd was starting to lose interest in this game, and several looked bored...
Batgirl couldn't afford to focus on them, however. Her whole world had become the tightrope. She narrowed her concentration to include its every movement, every imperfection. One foot...then another...back...then forward.
Another five minutes passed. The Ringmaster looked impatient. As more seconds ticked away, his ire grew. It appeared that he needed to be somewhere, and Batgirl simply wasn't dying fast enough.
"Impressive, Batgirl," he finally called. "I hate to spoil the show, but my troupe and I have a little appointment, and I need them all."
Here it comes, thought Barbara. That could mean one of two things...an instant death, or a prolonged one.
"So we'll just see if you can balance until we get back. It shouldn't be more than a few hours."
Barbara let out an internal sigh of relief. They were leaving. She had a chance.
"Ogre, Chamelea... Please see that our newest performer avoids the platforms at all costs."
Batgirl watched as Chamelea descended a few rungs on the pole. Two clamps appeared in her hand, attached to thick electrical wires that descended to the floor below. Chamelea clamped one of these to the metal platform. The other one was then clamped to the high wire on which Batgirl attentively stood.
Barbara couldn't afford to turn her head within the crushing neck collar, but she presumed that Ogre was performing a similar task.
"Batgirl," the Ringmaster called, "I'd stay away from the platforms if I were you. Any attempt to use them will provide...please excuse the pun...shocking results."
It was a ground wire, Barbara realized. Any touch to the metal platform would complete the circuit, sending the charge from the landing, to the cable, then to the ground. And directly through me, she thought morosely.
Chamelea smiled at Batgirl from the ladder, then blew her a kiss.
Not today, thought Batgirl. But I'll be giving you more than a kiss when I get free.
"Let's go troupe" called the Ringmaster. "You each know what to do, and we're late already."
Batgirl waited another three minutes, carefully treading the wire, until she decided that they were truly gone. Then she made her move. Just in time, she thought. Though she couldn't afford to admit it, especially to the Ringmaster, she was bone tired. It took tremendous focus, energy, and concentration to remain balanced on the thin cable. Batgirl made it appear that she could remain balanced indefinitely, but that was a necessary lie. Barbara felt like her arms were about to drop off, and her legs seemed as if they would cramp at any second.
The Dark Angel had formulated an escape plan within the first sixty seconds atop the wire. Unfortunately, her plan required that no audience was present to stop her. With Ringmaster's troupe now gone, she went to work.
Batgirl intentionally overbalanced her body to the left side of the cable. She snapped the pole upward to correct her stance. The pole was high...too high. So high, in fact, that it slid directly through the handcuff links, plummeting to the floor below.
Now overbalanced to the right, Batgirl allowed her feet to slide off the tightrope. She dropped like a stone, but managed to snatch the tightrope in gloved hands as it passed at that level. Barbara now hung below the cable, gripping it with both hands. She released her right hand, and removed the flaring circus glove with her teeth, dropping it to the ground below. Barbara pushed hard on the thumbnail, and a lockpick snapped into position from the hidden compartment below.
Suspended by one arm above the hard packed earth, Batgirl proceeded to pick the lock located on the far end of her neck cable. There were ideal conditions, and there were ideal conditions, she thought. And these definitely didn't qualify.
It took almost a minute to pick the lock. By the end of that time, Batgirl's acrobatic manipulations had exhausted much of her remaining strength. Barbara was seriously concerned about whether she had the energy she needed to escape this death trap.
Still, the alternative was a drop of some thirty feet to the ground below...an excellent impetus to keep going.
The Dark Angel worked the tightrope, slowly traversing hand over hand, closing on the platform at the far end. When she was within inches of Chamelea's landing, Batgirl stopped. She forced herself to snap back into maximum focus.
Between the underside of the platform, and the thin tightrope cable, two inches of space existed. Two inches. An unimportant point to the Ringmaster. Now a lifeline to the Batgirl. The remaining three feet of cable could be traversed hand over hand, but Barbara would need to be exceedingly cautious. Fingers inserted between the landing and the cable courted an electrifying death. Any touch would be disastrous.
Batgirl began the last three feet, carefully stopping after each handhold had been achieved. Each release of a hand swung her slightly, and she had to wait to become perfectly motionless again. Then she repeated the process.
When Barbara finally reached the clamp on the wire, and released it, a huge knot eased from her shoulders. Then she swung onto the ladder that was affixed to the tent pole, and carefully climbed down. She was safe at last.
And for the next ten minutes, she reveled in just resting...and breathing...and recovering.
Once Batgirl had recovered some of her strength, she used the pick to eliminate the locks on her neck collar. Then she removed the skimpy circus costume, and redonned her slitex outfit. Barbara felt more at ease immediately. The stylistic spandex of the circus garb was overtly provocative, displaying her body like a like a cheap harlot for the amusement of the crowd. She had felt belittled and demeaned while wearing it.
The Ringmaster had placed the Batgirl attire in a neatly folded bundle on a table nearby, never thinking that it would be needed again. He had even left the utility belt untouched. How thoughtful.
As Barbara redonned her costume, she replayed the recent events in her mind, trying to determine what the intent of this sinister circus was. The Ringmaster had alluded to the fact that Batgirl's suspicions were on target. Still, he seemed hesitant...as if there were more. The Dark Angel had to discover what else was developing.
She carefully peered out the entrance of the tent. There was no one within sight. Batgirl almost lifted the tent flap at that point...almost. Then she remembered her first meeting with the vixen called Chamelea. If anyone had been left to guard the compound, it would have been her. The strange woman's abilities made her nearly impossible to detect, a perfect sentry for the area.
Batgirl removed her night-vision lenses from the case, and once again pressed them to her mask. It had been fortuitous for her enemies to have the lantern at the break-in. Had she not removed the lenses due to the blazing light, she would have picked up on the body heat of the blending Chamelea prior to the attack.
A slow, methodical scan of the surrounding tents continued to reveal no presence. Batgirl now crept stealthily out of the tent, and made her way to the nearest enclosure. She entered the tent flap and scanned the room. It was her previous holding cell. The six foot rubber sphere was intact, the metal cuffs pulled outward by the powerful Ogre. The other circus paraphernalia in the room was unlikely to be helpful, but she inspected it briefly anyway. Nothing appeared hidden.
Two tents left. She navigated to the next tent using the canvas as a protective blind, holding her body against it as much as possible. Best to take no chances. This tent revealed much more to the practiced eye of the dark vigilante, and immediately stood out as the probable base of operations for the thieving endeavors. The portable link pads would connect with each city mainframe, while the small collapsible desk help hard copies of blueprints and designs. The expert hacker in her took over, and within minutes the plans of the Ringmaster's crew were laid out before her.
For all intents and purposes, the circus was exactly what it appeared to be. A large, well-funded traveling entertainment that situated itself on the outskirts of each city and performed. What was not apparent to the average starstruck viewer was the undercurrent of crime that flourished beneath the facade.
The entertainment was more than just that; it was an illegal courier operation. The schedule and timing of the visits to various cities happened to coincide with several large thefts that had taken place. Upon arrival to the next city, which many times wasn't proximate to their last location, an inordinately large amount of funds flowed to the coffers. And in many cases, it was just too much money to be supported by ticket sales. The electronic credits had been modified to appear as if they were individual transactions, but deeper probing revealed lump sums that had been split out for accounting deception.
The Circus was taking requests; they were stealing, delivering, and getting paid well for their efforts. And the thefts had gone on for years.
More recent log entries displayed a change in venue for the troupe. Several new members had been added, including Marvella, Mistress of the Mind. Purported to be able to transport objects through will alone, she had what seemed to be a form of telekinesis. The dossier showed that her ability had limited weight restrictions, a few pounds only.
Chamelea was also a recently joined member of the cast. Her abilities would be incredibly useful for any planned larcenies.
The Squirrel, able to ascend any surface, no matter how slick. The Marksman, an expert shot with any thrown or fired weapon. Ogre, able to lift almost any amount of weight. The list went on and on. Ten different personalities, including the Ringmaster, woven into a Circus of Crime. And Batgirl had inadvertently stumbled on their plans.
The Ringmaster had been building up to the ultimate heist. The blueprints had pinpointed the tunnel beneath the bank. It seemed obvious that Ogre had cleaved his way into the bank. Chamelea had sauntered right past the digicams, which missed the movement entirely due to her invisibility. With primary defenses now shut down, the most formidable defense was the only one that remained; the laser grid. The thin beams would immediately disintegrate any object that touched them, and each grid allowed only two square inches of unprotected space.
Controlled with multiple failsafes, any disruption would release prozon gas as well as alert the authorities. Nothing, and no one, could possibly release the grid or get through it without authorization.
So the Ringmaster hadn't even tried. If you have an immovable object, use an irresistible force. Marvella had psychically transported the thin credit chip, moving it without touching the beams, the walls, the sensors, or the floor. It had almost surely floated right through the security grid, never touching any of the lethal fortifications, right into the hands of the waiting Marvella.
It was brilliant. But the battle was only half over. The credit chip couldn't be activated for banking transfers or removals without two security codes. Only the highest level of supervision at the bank held the codes. One, the president of Gotham Central. The other, a Computer Security Manager. Without those two codes, the chip was worthless. And since the bank would discover the theft in the morning, the Circus of Crime had to accomplish their objectives tonight.
There was another reason as well. Once the larceny had been uncovered, the credits would be electronically recovered from the receiver. The Ringmaster had thought this out also; the transfer was set to purchase precious jewels, untraceable and worth millions. Easily sold and fenced as well. Once the recovery took place, the jeweler would be out the millions of credits, while the circus troupe relaxed on a warm beach somewhere, untouchable.
Unless Batgirl stopped them. And there were eight hours left to do so; eight hours till the bank opened and discovered their loss.
Which gave Barbara the edge, at least in one respect. The thieves had to move tonight, and they had to obtain the codes. The objectives and timetable were set. Now all she needed was to know which target would be struck next. She would already be too late for the first, after her high-wire recovery.
Batgirl was deciding what her next move should be when the thought struck her: Why does the Ringmaster need every member of the troupe? She used the link pad to retrieve detailed layouts of the city, and concentrated on the residences of the two officials. The president had a manor that was built like a bank vault, with multiple security and scanning devices at every turn. The CSM had something a bit more modest, and much more assaultable.
It had to be the president first, she thought. He would present the greater of the challenges that the troupe faced, even with Veritaine in their possession. The Ringmaster would need every edge that he could gain to assault the manor. And there was one other thing; Barbara had almost forgotten the article that had appeared a few days ago in the Gotham Gazette.
She pulled up the document rapidly on the link. Jennings, the CSM, was out of town on a business trip. Further file recovery from ticket manifests turned up another fact. His private jet wasn't scheduled to return until 2:00 AM, at which point a Technica limo had been booked to return him to his home.
The Dark Angel rapidly searched the desk. Within a few minutes, she had uncovered a device that confirmed her hypothesis. Her eyes lit on the EM disruptor, hidden beneath a drawer, taped to its underside. She grasped it and sealed the device in a compartment on her utility belt. The thin metal apparatus, incredibly illegal, and intolerably expensive, would generate a pulse of EM radiation that would disable any electronic device.
Just the thing to use if you wanted to disable a high security vehicle, even one as vaunted as the Technica line.
A slow smile lit upon the Dark Angel's face. This also meant one other thing. The Ringmaster and his crew would need to return to the fairgrounds to get the Disruptor. They had to come back to their home turf. And hopefully, they would feel very confident in doing so.
She had work to do.
Chamelea was the first to flip open the covering on the tent, and peer inside to see their lynched adversary. Only Batgirl wasn't lynched. She wasn't even inside the tent. A startled shriek, and a call to the Ringmaster, who came running into the tent to see what had transpired.
From her hidden position at the edge of the trees, Batgirl watched as the entire crew quickly flooded into the tent. All were anxious to see what had happened to the Dark Knight Damsel.
Just a few seconds more...Batgirl thought.
Then she touched the stud on her utility belt. A thunderous crack rolled across the meadow, echoing off the nearby trees. Smoke poured out of the opening to the tent, billowing across the dried grass.
Done!
Barbara approached the scene cautiously, alert to the fact that these performers had some very unique abilities. She had taken no chances. The concussor grenades should have knocked them out instantly, since Batgirl had placed more than a dozen around the outskirts of the tent.
In the unlikely event that someone repelled the effects of the grenades, several paralyzing gas pellets had been planted right at the entrance to the tent. Anyone approaching the exit after the detonation of the concussors would trigger the gas, and be knocked out immediately.
With something like the Ogre, you never knew what was possible.
Batgirl waited for a few more seconds while the paralyzer gas dissipated, then she opened the flap...although very cautiously. She was gratified to see that nothing assaulted her from within. The unconscious bodies were strewn across the floor, in various degrees of surprise or flight.
Barbara stepped into the tent, and located the Ringmaster, who was down for the count. As she surveyed the scene, the bottom dropped out in the pit of her stomach. There were only nine performers! One was missing!
Batgirl hadn't had time to count the rush of bodies into the tent, and had taken the only avenue of opportunity that she had. She couldn't delay the triggering of the grenades...not if she wanted to be sure of capturing them all in one spot.
Now one thief was still loose. The Dark Angel didn't know them all by sight, so the only definite exceptions were the Ogre, Chamelea, Marvella, and the Ringmaster. The others weren't familiar to her yet, and she couldn't determine their abilities by sight alone.
Batgirl crept silently to the doorway, making no sound whatsoever. She lifted the flap with the most cautious of efforts, moving it no more than a slight breeze would. As she scanned the desiccated grass between the tent and the trees, her eyes finally pinpointed the gun barrel. In that frozen instant of time, her pupils widened slightly in shock, and she prepared to dive forward to the opposite side of the tent. The muzzle flashed brightly, before she had even willed her muscles into motion. She felt the sting of the dart to her abdomen as her body began to uncoil for the spring.
And she felt the hazy wash of disorientation within a few seconds, as a burning pain roared through her midriff, ascending both upward and downward on her anguished, writhing body. The tall, stocky man who entered the tent laughed as Batgirl writhed in agony, her body rolling across the dirt in an effort to expunge the fire inside her. It took almost a full minute before the darkness closed in, and Batgirl suffered terribly during each and every second of the process...
When the Dark Angel started to regain consciousness, she was more than a little dismayed at the change of events. Her bleary eyes focused on the Ringmaster first, talking in animated discussion with her tormentor. It had to be the Marksman, she thought. The aim on that dart had been perfect, catching her in full extension even as she moved to avoid. And the tent flap had been open no more than an inch or two...far too narrow a gap for a normal person to acquire a target.
Barbara looked down at her suspended body. She had been attached to a Circus Assistant's Wheel. The surface of the wheel was divided into pie-segments, each brightly colored in vibrant shades that attracted the eye. Small metal posts arrayed themselves along the outside edge of the platform, about three inches apart. It was all too obvious that the device could rotate, spinning in a circle along with the unhappy occupant. The posts would facilitate that motion, like a giant wheel of fortune.
Her wrists and ankles had been clamped securely to four points near the outer edge of the brightly decorated wheel, arranging her in spread-eagled fashion. A thick leather belt encircled her midriff, helping to secure her further.
Chamelea had obviously been at work. Batgirl once again wore the highly exposed, tautly fitted circus costume that had been made for her. They had left the slippers off this time, but the collar, thong, and Lycra pantyhose were all squeezed perfectly into place. The taut, lithe body strained against the bindings for several moments, hoping that an error would free her. None had been made. She remained clamped stoutly in place, unmoving for now.
The other members of the troupe were scurrying to collect and pack the remains of the show, since the festival had terminated in Gotham as of last night. They had obviously gotten the first code, based on the smiling jibes and happy demeanor. Only the Ringmaster looked vexed. His plans for Batgirl had failed, and she had nearly captured them all. The Ringmaster didn't like to have his plans fail. That was obvious.
As the packing of the items in the main enclosure completed, the background performers exited the tent to pack the items in their own. Only one other member of the group paid any attention to the now conscious Batgirl. Chamelea smiled from across the arena, then spun and exited the tent.
When the Ringmaster finally turned to Batgirl, the look on his face was grim.
"So, you escaped, eh? I should have known better than to underestimate your abilities. This time you won't be quite as lucky."
"What do you mean?" asked Batgirl.
"The Marksman has agreed to handle the situation for me. I'm sure that you have uncovered my other pressing appointment, so I'm in something of a rush. It wasn't very nice of you, stealing my disruptor."
"Well now, that's amusing...a thief, outraged at being robbed..." jibed the Dark Angel.
"You haven't seen me outraged, Batgirl...and you should hope that you never do. I've given the Marksman carte-blanche to do whatever he wishes...as long as the story ends with your death."
The Marksman threw a wan smile at the suspended heroine. He was obviously looking forward to the encounter.
The Ringmaster turned to leave. "Try not to upset him, my dear. I've seen him kill a housefly with a thrown knife at twenty paces...so I doubt a bound female will present a problem. Let him do the job quickly, and your suffering will be minimal."
The tent flap lifted, and the cadaverous man exited. The Marksman approached.
"Hello, Batgirl."
"Marksman. I don't suppose it bothers you that you'll be committing murder?"
The Marksman laughed. "Not particularly. You'll just add one to the counter. Shall we begin?"
"Could I have a day or two to think about it?" inquired the bound heroine.
Another laugh. "Don't think so."
The Marksman turned and approached a crate, some thirty feet distant from Batgirl. He knelt down, lifted the lid, and removed several items. Barbara was unable to distinguish what they were, since the cover of the crate blocked her view.
The performer then returned to his waiting charge.
Barbara thought quickly, trying to resolve a solution to her dilemma. "Quite a shot you made, through the tent flap. I'll bet I could do better, though."
For an answer, the Marksman pulled a large black ball gag from his pocket, and forced it with some effort into Barbara's mouth. Then he methodically buckled the leather strap, cinching it tightly behind her head.
Batgirl stared fiercely at her captor. Her one avenue of hope...appealing to his pride...had been effectively silenced. The calmly rational eyes of her tormentor stared back dispassionately.
"Clever, Batgirl. But I'm not going to free a dangerous adversary, just to assuage my tempted pride.
"And as you can see, I'm of the firm belief that superheroines shouldn't speak unless spoken to...and not even then! I have one other present for you...would you like to see what it is?"
Barbara stared into the lifeless eyes of her opponent. Whatever it was, the bound heroine probably wasn't going to enjoy it.
The Marksman methodically removed two chains from his pocket. At one end, each chain held a clamp with a thumbscrew. At the other, a lead weight, similar to what would be used on a salt water fishing line. It didn't take too much imagination to see what the Marksman had in mind.
Her opponent smiled, then reached up with the first of the clamps toward Batgirl's left breast. Barbara fought hard against the restraints, trying to either break free of the bonds or at least make the attachment more difficult.
"Mmmmpgggh!" seeped from around the gag, as Batgirl moaned from the pressure being applied to her now captive nipple. The Marksman compelled the thumbscrew further, until the tension of the first clamp was intense. Then he released the arrangement, and the weight swung rhythmically from the base of the chain. The captive nipple, squeezed in its vice, followed obediently in whichever direction the chain commanded.
The Marksman smiled. Then he repeated the process.
"Ggmmphh!" Batgirl was not quite as amused. Those things hurt!
"Very nice, Batgirl. Very nice indeed." The Marksman's hands reached up, and placed themselves on the shapely hips. Without a word, the hands slid downward and back, sculpting the ass-cheeks, rolling slowly across every curve that presented itself. Once the rearward hills had been thoroughly examined, the hands retraced their way back to the hips.
Two index fingers now slid beneath the black spandex of Batgirl's circus thong, stopping at the first joint of each digit. The hands crept slowly downward, with infinite patience, the tips of each index finger never exiting from beneath the fabric. As the hands slithered to the nexus of the muscular thighs, the fingertips gradually wormed closer to Batgirl's most secret area.
The Marksman locked eyes with the seething Batgirl, as the indexes curled across her pubic hair. Then, a slight electric thrill shuddered through the restrained heroine as the invaders brushed both left and right labia simultaneously, sensuously traversing their outer edge before moving slowly on.
A broad grin stretched onto the Marksman's face, and Batgirl hated him for it. The smug bastard just wanted to get a rise out of her, to see whether or not he could.
The fingertips pulled outward, stretching the spandex to its limit. Once again the eyes locked with Barbara, and the world seemed to stop momentarily. Then the fingertips released, and the elastic material snapped violently back into position, crashing into the waiting body.
"Uuuuugh!" coughed Batgirl, as pain and surprise raced through her. The Marksman laughed loudly, then turned and walked back to the crate.
"I'd love to stay and play with you all night, Batgirl, but the Ringmaster was quite specific. I need to finish up and dispose of the evidence before leaving Gotham. So we really need to avoid getting sidetracked."
Barbara threw a sour look at the Marksman. By 'evidence' he meant 'body'.
Batgirl's reverie was shattered by the flying blade of steel as it flashed towards her. The blade thunked heavily into the thick wood. Barbara turned her head. The flat of the blade was an inch from her eyes, fired from over thirty feet away. The Marksman was good. Very good.
Another blade ejected from his hand, and another rumble rocked through the platform. Her right breast this time. Less than an inch. Barbara's anxiety was building rapidly, as each steel incision encroached on her unprotected flesh. The left leg next, the flashing dagger stopping two inches from the thigh. Batgirl could only stare in trepidation as each blade accelerated across the tent.
After the ninth blade, the Marksman stopped. Barbara knew this was far from over. She tried to reach a restrained hand downward, but the knife that had imbedded near her elbow was much too far away, serving only to tempt her.
"Now you see why they call me the Marksman. I never miss a target. Especially one as beautiful as you." Her captor now reached into the crate, and retrieved several balloons.
"What fun would a knife throw be, without a little added spice?"
The Marksman returned to his captive, and tied the balloons into place, one at a time. The inside and outside of both legs displayed a balloon, at the juncture of the knee. Two more lightly touched the outer edge of each breast, below the outstretched arm. The seventh and eighth balloons nestled between her head and upper arm, one on each side.
Which left the ninth balloon in the Marksman's hands. It displayed two wide strips of tape, dangling from either side of the balloon in an 'X' shape.
And when the balloon was pressed to her chest, and taped into place between the two naked breasts, Batgirl understood what the sequence would be. The first eight balloons would be a warmup for the act...and the ninth would be the grand finale.
"MMMMPPPHH!" Batgirl yelled, twisting in an effort to dislodge the bright red intruder strapped to her chest. The balloon gentled bobbled, but did not release its grip.
"Not quite challenging enough, though..." remarked the showman. He reached up, gripping one of the many metal posts in a forceful hand. A distressed look reflected briefly in Batgirl's eyes...then the hand pulled powerfully downward. The Circus Wheel began spinning rapidly in place, carrying the unfortunate Batgirl along with it.
Barbara's mind was racing as she tried to break free of the bondage, knowing she had only minutes to live.
"GNNNN!" echoed out of her as the Marksman's 'gift' added considerably to her discomfort. As the spinning platform quickly rotated her body through three-hundred and sixty degrees, her orientation to the ground changed accordingly. One second she was upright, viewing the Marksman face to face. The next she was upside-down, viewing the leather boots of her captor. But the free weights that attached to the end of each nipple chain had no such restrictions. In both cases, they remained pointed at the ground. No matter what angle the heroine attained, the weights obeyed the demand of gravity and persisted in pointing downward.
The effect was dramatic. The captive nipples rolled painfully in a circle, chasing the fixed position of the lead weights. From Batgirl's more subjective view on the platform, the weights pulled outward in a huge circle, like someone spinning a bucket at the end of a long rope. Her imprisoned nipples followed like obedient puppies, pulling painfully along each radial line. First toward her toes, when she was upright, tugging painfully downward. Then toward her right side, stretching fully outward. Then above her head, when she was upside-down, yanked straight upward. Finally, to the left, pulling externally to her side once more.
Then the process repeated...
Worse still, the rotating chains would occasionally get snagged on the targeting balloon atop her chest. The restriction would eventually clear as her angle increased, but it was the way in which it cleared that presented the issue. The entangled chain would finally roll free of the balloon, allowing the weight to drop vertically downward to its normal position. The clamped nipple would then snap outward, wrenched mercilessly by the falling weight.
It was most unpleasant.
"GGGAAAH!" echoed once more from the gag, as Batgirl dealt with this unexpected assault. She focused briefly on her spinning assailant, who had returned to his position across the tent.
POP! A knife exploded the first balloon, the one on the outside of her left leg.
The Dark Angel hadn't even seen the throw of the blade. Her mind was somewhat preoccupied at the moment, with a building desperation for the need to escape.
POP! Right breast this time. An inch away.
POP! POP! Two flashing blades, just a second apart...and two more balloons gone.
POP! Then, just a few seconds later...POP! Only two balloons remained. Barbara had reached a crescendo of desperation, and the fear that she finally confronted was that of her own demise. She couldn't see an escape from this deathtrap, with the determined Marksman watching over her...
POP! POP! The final two display balloons exploded loudly...as Batgirl felt her anxiety peak. Only the target on her chest remained. The spinning Marksman was lining up the final shot...
"MMMMPPPHHH!" shouted Batgirl through the gag, hoping to argue with her adversary.
"Sorry Batgirl...but we have a strict time schedule to keep...and you're delaying it."
Batgirl watched in resigned alarm as the final knife flung outward from the Marksman's hand...
The moment was frozen in time, as Batgirl recorded the events forever. The flashing blade closed rapidly on the bright red balloon, aimed with perfect precision. The restrained torso would receive the cold steel, directly between two ribs. The event that had been set into motion was irrevocable, and there was no way to stop it...
So no one was more amazed than Batgirl when it didn't happen. The knife thunked harmlessly to her left, burying itself upright in the spinning wood of the platform. The Marksman looked thunderstruck, knowing that he couldn't have...shouldn't have...missed. And by Barbara's account, he was right. The dagger had been aimed perfectly.
As the showman strode angrily to the platform, he was oblivious to the mysterious knife that hung unsupported behind him. When he stopped, the phantom wielder of that blade brought the hilt crashing down on the back of the Marksman's head, and the master dropped to the ground immediately, unconscious.
Batgirl, still bound to the spinning platform, was trying hard to understand what had happened. It was when the tent flap lifted and a woman ducked into the room when the answers finally began to reveal themselves.
Marvella crept into the tent, looking nervous and guilty. She bee-lined for the revolving heroine, gripping the posts repeatedly until the whirling Batgirl finally came to rest. Then she unbuckled the gag, and removed it.
"M-Marvella...I presume...?" queried the still woozy Batgirl.
"Yes. I know that I'll probably regret this, but I can't allow them to kill you. The Ringmaster always made it sound exciting and glamorous...being a professional thief. But I never wanted to hurt anyone. Moving objects with my mind is one thing...but murder is quite another."
"You made the right choice" answered Batgirl. "...and you just saved my life."
Marvella released the bonds on the Dark Angel one by one. "What's going to happen now?" asked the psychic.
Batgirl answered as she climbed down from the Circus Wheel. "If you'll turn yourself in, I promise to do everything I can to reduce your sentence. But you'll have to answer for what you've done."
"I guess I knew that. At least I can live with myself. What about the rest of the troupe?"
"I'm going to contact the authorities, and have the ones who are here rounded up. They aren't expecting any interference just yet. But I've got to go after the Ringmaster, before he can obtain that second code." Batgirl now removed the targeting balloon strapped to her chest, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor.
Marvella sighed. "All good things come to an end... Batgirl, you need to know that the Ringmaster has Ogre and Chamelea with him. Chamelea will blend until the car is right on top of her, then appear and make it look as if she was struck. When the limo stops, the Ringmaster intends to use the EM Disruptor to disable the security defenses. Then Ogre will tear the doors off, and Jennings will be theirs..."
"Thanks, Marvella" the Dark Angel responded. "At least now I know the plan. Any idea where this all goes down?"
"The limo will have to pass Wilshire Boulevard to exit the hoverport. It's an ideal location for an ambush."
Batgirl retrieved her slitex costume and redressed. Then she handcuffed the Marksman, securing his arms around one of the circus poles that supported the main tent.
"Thanks again. You'd better hide for the time being, in case sleeping beauty here wakes up" she said as she nudged the Marksman with a booted toe.
"I will" answered Marvella. "Be careful, Batgirl. The Ringmaster is vengeful beyond belief."
"I'm discovering that...." answered Batgirl, as she turned and exited the tent.
It took Batgirl almost forty minutes to reach Wilshire Boulevard, arriving just before 2:00AM. If the hover-jet arrived on time, then the Limo would be passing this area in approximately twenty minutes or so, given the need to deplane and recover belongings. That didn't give her much time to prevent the conclusion of Ringmaster's plan.
Barbara knew that Chamelea would be a focal point to the operation, so she started her search with that in mind. Without the abilities of blending, the limo wouldn't stop after accidentally 'hitting' a pedestrian. The plan would be foiled before it began.
Batgirl withdrew her night vision lenses, and scanned the area. Within moments, she had picked up the heat signature of the she-devil Chamelea. The woman was blended against the wall of an alley, just a few hundred feet from the turn that the limo would make.
The Dark Angel didn't stop there, however. After her last experience with the Marksman, she wanted to be sure that each member of the troupe was accounted for.
The Ogre was easy, mostly because of his large body size. He waited in an alley almost directly across from Chamelea, where he tried to skulk in the darkness. Unfortunately, a seven foot giant just couldn't skulk that well, especially in the narrow confines.
That left the Ringmaster. It took Batgirl several more minutes to locate his heat signature, and it was by coincidence that she did so. Her peripheral vision caught just a glimpse of the telltale yellow outline, flashing briefly behind the locked doorframe of one of the buildings.
Barbara now gleaned what she supposed was the plan. After Chamelea was 'struck', the limo would brake to a stop...its back end lined perfectly with the doorway in which the Ringmaster stood. Once the EM Disruptor was fired, there would be no calls for help. The Technica would be defenseless.
It was a simple, but effective plan...and would succeed unless someone intervened...
Chamelea was watching intently for the Technica to round the corner, so she almost missed the scraping sound behind her. As quiet as she was, Batgirl simply couldn't avoid all of the trash in the alley, and a slight jarring of waste had been enough to alert her enemy.
Chamelea spun to stare at the poised crimefighter, who seemed to be looking right past her. Good, thought Chamelea. She doesn't see me yet, but she suspects that I'm here. The cautious thief sidled along the wall of the heavily darkened alley, remaining perfectly silent.
Batgirl seemed to be straining to listen, as if she knew something was happening, but couldn't be sure what. Chamelea was now in prime position to attack the heroine from her flank, surprising and subduing her before she could recover.
The mysterious performer leaped outward from the wall, elbow braced for a crushing blow to the small of Batgirl's back. The crippling strike would incapacitate her opponent momentarily, numbing the legs for precious minutes while Chamelea finished the job.
So when Batgirl whirled, extended, and pulled the elbow forward, Chamelea was shocked and totally unprepared. She crashed headlong into the opposite side of the alley, stunned momentarily. When she rolled over to defend herself against the braced vigilante, the swiftly traveling boot was already in motion. It connected underneath Chamelea's chin, snapping her head backward into the wall once more. The blow was sure and true; the mysterious thief slumped unconscious immediately.
The invisible woman formed a bright yellow outline within the night vision lenses that the Dark Angel still wore. The unfortunate Chamelea hadn't stood a chance.
"I hope you can blend in with prison gray," remarked Batgirl, as she snapped the handcuffs on her opponent.
Ogre never saw the scuffle that had occurred across the stretch of boulevard. He had only one task to concentrate on, and he didn't want to fail the Ringmaster again.
When the dart sunk into his left thigh, he let out a growl that split the night air, and turned rapidly to see the nuisance crimefighter before him.
A slow smile crept across his face. It would take more than a tiny dart to overcome the powerful Ogre...
Batgirl braced herself for the battle. Many of her most useful items had been removed from the utility belt by the thorough Ringmaster. She had no illusions that her last hidden tranquilizer dart wouldn't be sufficient to down this monster. Still, it should give her an edge.
The Ogre charged, and Batgirl spun to her right, and ducked beneath the attacking behemoth. Once on his flank, a quick downward chop was deployed to the back of his neck. But the neck was so high, that the angle was all wrong. It barely stunned the brute.
Batgirl had taken an instant too long to backpedal away from the mostly failed maneuver, and two ham-fists from the left side crashed into her, knocking her completely across the alley. Stunned, she rolled instinctively when the mammoth foot came crashing down to where her chest had been. Pain erupted along her side where the blows had struck, testament to the brute force that the Ogre possessed.
Batgirl rolled and snapped upright, trying to ignore the agony that screamed in her torso. When the monster charged again, she did the unexpected...she waited for the blow.
At the last possible second, she jumped upward, grasping the rungs of a fire escape ladder. As the brute barreled forward, both of her legs snapped forward into the chin of the approaching adversary.
The blow rocked both opponents. It was like trying to stop a truck with your booted feet, thought Batgirl. Ogre had received much worse, however. He knelt in the alley, temporarily dazed, spitting blood from a cracked lip.
This time the Dark Angel used Chamelea's trick. She leapt upward, and brought an out-thrust elbow smashing down on the back of the giant's neck.
He crumpled immediately, down for the duration of this battle.
"The bigger they are..." observed Batgirl, snapping cuffs into position once more.
As Barbara approached the exit to the alleyway, a sixth sense warned her of danger; more an intuition than an identified threat. Batgirl dove to the right on instinct, scrambling behind a Dumpster for protection. A section of the brick wall where she had been exploded into fragments, as the projectile ricocheted off of it.
This time, there were no holds barred, thought the shaken Batgirl. That bullet had been meant to assassinate. Only her instinctual dive had prevented that. It had to be the Marksman...though how he had gotten here so quickly, Barbara could only guess.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." the expert called from the end of the alley. A rifle barrel pointed directly at the Dumpster, ready to pounce on any movement from behind it.
"Don't you want to see which of us is the better shot, Batgirl?" the Marksman taunted. "We never got to finish our last contest, so it's only fitting that we do so now..."
Still no answer. It had been almost a minute. The clever vigilante must be planning something, the crack shot thought to himself.
"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to give yourself up..." the Marksman exclaimed. "If you don't come out by then, I'm going to start shooting with duranium tipped bullets." And if you do come out, the performer thought to himself, I'll shoot that much sooner...
No movement betrayed the heroine's location. The Marksman prepared to shoot through the metal of the Dumpster, to drive his quarry into flight.
As he raised the scope to his eyes, he caught the flash of movement behind him. The blow caught him by complete surprise, felling him in an instant. The gun fired haphazardly, the shot burying itself harmlessly into the pavement below. He never got a chance to see the open sewer covers, one behind the Dumpster, and one situated in the next alley over. This was Batgirl's city, and she knew its passageways and exits better than anyone.
As she approached the prone villain, a white Technica limo rounded the corner, then accelerated and continued on its way. Batgirl had won.
"Nice shooting Tex...." she exclaimed, as the third set of cuffs clicked into position.
After the limo had disappeared from view, applause echoed off the surrounding buildings, startling the Dark Angel briefly. She whirled and crouched, to discover the Ringmaster standing patiently across the street. He was clapping.
At his feet, wrists tied behind her back, and legs bound together by rope, Marvella slumped in an unconscious pile.
"Well done, Batgirl! Well done! You would have made quite an addition to our Circus of Crime, if only you had the proper temperament. Now it looks as if all of our schemes have unraveled, with you as the culprit."
"And you're next in line to go down..." glared the Dark Angel.
"I still have a trick or two up my sleeve, vigilante..." chided the Ringmaster. "For instance, though it's inexcusably crude, I have this..."
From his jacket, the Ringmaster retrieved an auto-fire 12mm pistol. He pointed it at the prone Marvella.
"I wonder..." he continued, "...if the valiant Batgirl would allow even a criminal to die, knowing she could stop it..."
Batgirl grimaced, but said nothing.
"You have ten seconds to cross the street and kneel with your back to me, or Marvella will receive her reward for the betrayal to her troupe."
Batgirl's mind raced furiously with decisions. The Ringmaster was too far away to get a batarang into play. She was lamentably out of concussor grenades. The blowdart remained; but she would have to be ten feet away, and face to face with the villain, before she could take a clean shot. Her only hope, she realized, was to take the Ringmaster down with a surprise offensive maneuver once she got close enough.
And the chances of a successful attack at close range, with a loaded gun pointed in her direction, were slim to none.
Batgirl began crossing the street, approaching the Showman's position.
"Hands on your head, if you please, Batgirl," the voice echoed out.
Batgirl reluctantly placed her hands behind her head, disabling her further from any quick evasion attempts. When she was ten feet away from her opponent, she began angling her approach to align Marvella on the Ringmaster's left side. The move would at least give her some room for a confrontation, without risking the life of the psychic.
The Ringmaster was too intelligent for that, however. He extended the gun outward, pointing it at the prone Marvella.
"Nice try, vigilante. You've already spoiled by plans twice. I don't intend to give you the opportunity for a third attempt.
"Now if you'll be so kind as to kneel, with your back towards me."
Batgirl, realizing she was much too far away for even a lightning attack, pleaded for her ally's fate. "Ringmaster, at least let Marvella go. She didn't do anything to thwart your plans."
"Ah, but she did..." the Ringmaster answered. "She freed you. And that was enough to dictate her fate."
Batgirl was now kneeling on the pavement, hands on the back of her head, with her back to her opponent. Not an ideal position for a reprisal, she thought.
Barbara heard the footsteps of the Ringmaster closing on her position. Just a few feet more... Batgirl lashed out backward, using her fist to strike the kneecap of the standing adversary. The Ringmaster howled in pain, anger suffusing his body at the betrayal.
Unfortunately for the Dark Angel, the Ringmaster's blow had already begun; and though the aim wasn't perfect, it was close enough. The butt of the gun crashed into the top of her head. A wave of dizziness was rapidly followed by darkness closing on the courageous heroine.
I'm not having one of my better nights, Batgirl thought to herself as she regained consciousness. Captured three times in an eight hour period, by maniacal criminals intent on my demise.
And this third time looked to be the worst, she thought.
As the nausea and dizziness cleared, she found herself looking down onto the floor of a factory. The bound Marvella had been tied to a chair, but was still slumped unconscious. The victorious Ringmaster smiled up at her, obviously overjoyed at her current predicament. Her slitex costume appeared on the floor next to him, crumpled into a disarrayed pile along with her utility belt.
Which left the gallant heroine with her boots, her gloves, and her mask...and absolutely nothing else. Batgirl realized immediately that her naked body had been displayed for a punishing eradication, based on the current positioning of the metal framework arrayed against her.
She was secured by metal cuffs at the wrists and ankles. No keyholes appeared to her practiced eye, indicating magnalocks were in use. Her lockpick would be totally useless against the internal magnetic catches.
A metal loop had been welded onto each cuff, allowing the cuff to be slid onto a pole if needed. The Ringmaster had done just that. The four loops had been slid onto two poles, one on either side of her, placing her in a position where she was standing upright between them. With arms held high over her head, feet placed slightly apart, she presented quite a sight for the leering adversary below. Those poles were two inches in circumference, much too thick to bend with anything short of superhuman strength.
A wide metal belt had been squeezed tightly into her trim waist. Another magnalock, with a loop on either side of the restraint. The belt was also attached to the poles, but with a slightly different connection. A powerful industrial spring had been bolted onto each loop, with the other end stretching outward and bolted to the pole. Batgirl shifted her hips experimentally. There was no movement horizontally; the springs were just too powerful. Vertically, she could bend up and down without difficulty.
Her legs were spread just twelve inches apart. Not painful really, at least not yet. It was what appeared between her legs that raised the level of concern in the bound vigilante. A long pole extended upward from the base of the frame, rising up for a total length of over two feet. The base of the pole was fastened into a rotational socket, allowing it to turn slowly about the central axis. The apex of the pole had been cleaved and re-welded, and now sported a huge chrome dildo which had been polished to dazzling brightness. Expanding outward at multiple ports on the dildo, small rubber 'fingers' about a quarter of an inch long, and the same size in width, thrust from the surface of the metallic monster. The tip of the phallus rested just five inches below newly exposed superheroine labia.
Batgirl could readily imagine where the fiendish device would be headed shortly...and the powerful springs were going to make it impossible to avoid.
Both the top and the bottom of the framework were similar in design. A large metal beam was affixed above her, four huge bolts fastening the support immovably to the shaft of a powerful electric motor. Below her, the arrangement was identical. The two bars on either side of her had been secured to those beams by means of thick metal collars that were circular in design. It appeared that the bars to which Batgirl's wrists and ankles were bound could move inward and outward along the horizontal axis of the support beams.
That wasn't good news for the now struggling crimefighter, who was searching desperately for any weakness in the diabolical arrangement.
"Welcome, Batgirl, to your death..." the Ringmaster announced.
"A bit early for that statement, don't you think?" retorted the Dark Angel.
"Not particularly..." the showman responded smoothly. "I seriously considered shooting you in the back of the head, and being done with it. But considering the pain that you've caused me, I feel that it's only fitting to return the favor."
"Gee, thanks..." quipped Batgirl dryly.
"So, would you like to learn about your own demise, or Marvella's?" her nemesis asked.
Barbara just glared, refusing to be baited.
"Let's start with yours then... You are currently in the Millicent Taffy Company, one of the fallback positions for my schemes if we failed with the limo. As I examined the taffy puller machine, I realized what a wonderful punishment device it could become...with just a little work.
"Naturally, I fashioned the modifications, just in case I ever needed them. The machine was originally designed to stretch the taffy into ever lengthening strings of ribboned candy. The entire frame rotates around a center spindle...which is where your torso is currently...to accomplish the final product. The taffy loops around the outside of the bars to which your wrists and ankles are fastened. Each rotation of the machine is designed to spread the bars a bit further, to elongate the candy once each cycle. Now it will perform the same function on you."
"How creative" quipped Batgirl. "But I'm not exactly candy..."
"Indeed," the Ringmaster answered. "Taffy will stretch indefinitely...but you won't. I image that your arms and legs will eventually be torn from their sockets. It will be exquisitely painful, of that you can be assured."
Batgirl gritted her teeth, but said nothing. She continued to pull at the bars, hoping to find some weakness.
"The little toy beneath you will help to ensure that it's not all boring...as the bars stretch further with each rotation, your body will sink a little lower to accommodate the tension. Within ten minutes of activation, I think you'll meet your chrome friend for the first time.
"After a half hour, you'll have an in-depth relationship.
"By the time the one hour mark is reached, the drill will be 'bottoming out' if you know what I mean... Then it will be a race to see which demise claims you first...the stretching of the rack or the internal pole insertion."
Batgirl yanked viciously on the restraints, partly to break free, and partly to diffuse her building anger. The Ringmaster was going to claim the final victory, unless she could find a way to escape the vengeance of this master criminal.
"At least let Marvella go.." Batgirl grated between clenched teeth. "She's one of your own."
"She was, until she betrayed us. I'm a compassionate man, however. I'm going to allow her to die with the bomb explosion."
"WHAT BOMB EXPLOSION?!?!!" Batgirl gaped.
"Why, the one underneath her chair. Didn't I mention it?"
Batgirl glared in anger. He was deliberately taunting her, throwing her off balance.
"If she moves," the Ringmaster continued, "the bomb goes off. If she doesn't move, the bomb still goes off...with a timer. But don't worry Batgirl...I've made sure it's heavy enough that she can't move it using her mental powers. As an added precaution, she was injected earlier with one of your sleep darts. One way or another, you two will perish."
"And I suppose you'll be off gloating about it with some of your allies?" Batgirl asked.
The Ringmaster gave her a sad, disappointed look. "Really, Batgirl...I expected better of you. On the million to one chance that you escape, I really can't have you traipsing after me, can I?"
The Ringmaster knelt beside the unconscious Marvella, and punched a few buttons on a squarish device below her. A red light illumined, blinking balefully across the room.
"Enjoy the ride, Batgirl. I'm sure you'll find that it stretches you to new limits...in more ways than one!" the Ringmaster laughed as pressed an activator on the wall, then exited the room.
The captive Batgirl felt a slight rumbling below her, then the entire frame began to slowly turn clockwise about the central axis...with her imprisoned body following along for the ride...
Barbara could feel the massive electric motors humming through the framework that she was attached to. The subsonic rumbling was transmitted along the metal struts, softly shaking everything that was attached, including her. The vibrations echoed throughout her restrained muscles, singing a dirge of awesome power and dreadful finality.
Within the first few seconds of rotation, one thing became immediately apparent; the raw power of this machine was not going to be defeated by brute strength. This didn't prevent the courageous crimefighter from trying, however.
Batgirl twisted in her bonds, trying to snap one of the welds on her cuffs. When this failed, she tried desperately to pull her torso out of position, to rend one of the springs. The shapely hips moved almost a half an inch toward the left, the tremendous strain reflected clearly in the eyes behind the raven mask.
No good, Batgirl thought. A half inch. I can't even move myself out of position from that disgusting dildo.
The rotation had just reached the halfway point of its first pass, the aperture between the bars attaining their maximum distance for this round. Barbara made a mental note of the distance between the toes of her boots. She was going to need it for comparison.
The keen mind was rapidly analyzing every aspect of the current situation. The imprisoned heroine didn't like the answers that kept coming back.
The lockpicks wouldn't work. The powerful motors couldn't be overcome from her ground zero position. And the factory wouldn't open for three hours, which was two hours more than what was needed to end her career forever.
This isn't looking so hot, the Dark Angel concluded.
The first rotation completed, the motors grinding forward to increase the stretch on the parallel bars. As the framework swung round to face Marvella, maximum aperture was again reached. Batgirl examined her booted toes, and estimated the gain in distance as a quarter of an inch.
Not bad, at least not yet. But a quarter of an inch an hour from now would be agony beyond description, as taut muscles reached the limit of their ability to comply.
I 'd better come up with a plan soon, Batgirl thought furiously, or I'll be needing a much simpler costume...
The Ringmaster entered the hovercar, removing the EM Disruptor from his pocket. He still had one chance. Though the estate of Jennings had some fairly sophisticated security, the EM should even the score and allow access to the master thief. Then a quick shot of Veritaine, a commute to the bank, and the exchange to precious jewels could still be his.
Better yet, there would be no parties to split the proceeds with. The showman hadn't freed the unconscious Ogre, Chamelea, or Marksman. And Batgirl would probably have notified the Enforcers...which meant that the rest of the troupe was most likely in custody.
"Ah well..." said the Ringmaster aloud, "I'll be hard pressed to find ways to spend the millions of credits, but I can give it a good try."
He chuckled as he set the nav-comp to access the address.
Batgirl was just reaching the ten-minute mark inside the factory. The framework pivoted about the axis, as constant and unflagging as the change of seasons. The Dark Angel continued to writhe and twist in the bonds, hoping to uncover some weakness.
And things were getting a bit more urgent...
True to the Ringmaster's prediction, the chrome dildo had just started to reach the restricted labia. During the last rotation, Barbara had felt the chill metal as it brushed against her pouting love lips, a soft kiss with a promise of things to come.
Batgirl struggled more violently...
As the framework revolved foreward once more, the Dark Angel pushed upward on outstretched toes. The affection was avoided this round, but Barbara couldn't hide the truth. The foot extension would buy her a few rotations, no more. There was no avoiding the persistent shaft as the stretching became more pronounced.
As Batgirl stared at the dreaded thing, another terrible aspect of her predicament suddenly struck home. Barbara had thought that the shaft was fixed, and that her body would slowly rotate around it. As the meeting drew nearer, the captive heroine realized that the central dildo shaft was slowly spinning...IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION!
The framework spun slowly clockwise...but the dildo was spinning counterclockwise! The speed of the thing would be effectively doubled inside her, as the two ships passed in the night. Then they'd start over, again and again.
"MARVELLA!" Batgirl yelled. "MARVELLA, WAKE UP!"
But the slumped psychic remained unresponsive to the calls, still drugged. Barbara knew that the darts normally lasted about two hours. The circus woman had probably been injected by the Marksman back at the fairgrounds. If that were the case...and it was a mighty big if...then the transport and bindings would have absorbed about forty minutes. Another ten while Batgirl fought her duels with the rest of the troupe...and fifteen or so to bind and arrange the Dark Angel in her current pose.
That left Batgirl with about five minutes or so to wake the drugged ally...and to escape with her...before the machine tore her apart.
If the drug had been administered at the fairgrounds.
If they had used only one dart.
If the bomb beneath Marvella didn't go off first.
And if Batgirl could even figure a way out of this deathtrap.
There were an awful lot of 'ifs'...but Barbara didn't have many other avenues open to her at this point...
The framework swung round once more. Batgirl had now used up the reprieve she had gotten by extending to her toes. The chrome pressed lightly against the lips once more, coaxing them to open.
Batgirl pulled hard at the springs again, as the frame eased, but the powerful tensioners allowed no play. The pressure was actually stronger as the Dark Angel dipped downward, since the springs were more fully stretched at that point.
The next rotation forward, Batgirl felt her labia begin to part, reluctantly obeying the demands of the applied pressure from the chrome deviant. Despite her aversion, the lips began to respond to the repeated touches, blossoming outward and moistening.
The motors continued to rumble...
"Aaaahhh!" gasped out of Batgirl as the metallic invader finally plunged home on the third rotation. An inch of the thing had popped inside her, as the stalwart lips ultimately succumbed to the insistent device. The cool surface turned slowly inside her, before the easing pressure eventually allowed her to free herself from its company.
But the next plunge was achieved all too soon.
"Ahh!" echoed through the room, as the Dark Angel exhaled in reaction. She was more prepared sexually this time, but the chrome was now penetrating deeper into her core. The rubber fingers had just reached beyond the protesting labia, and the vibrantly flipping motion was indescribably erotic.
The nodules bent and twisted with every intimate curve inside her, hugging every angle as it presented itself. They carried the thrumming vibrations of the lower motor directly into her most personal space, reverberating every nuance of the steel directly into the tightened walls of her love canal. More juices flowed as her body reacted to the sensual incursion.
Another six rotations, as the seconds ticked by.
"Huuuhh...Uuuh...Ahhhh!" gasped out of Batgirl as the device continued to drill in reverse order inside her. She was rapidly approaching her first orgasm, and there seemed to be no way to stop it. Barbara wasn't even sure she wanted to. The orgasms would at least take her mind off of what the final outcome would be, unless Marvella awoke. The sexual gratification would be the most compassionate part of her chastisement, considering what would happen to her limbs.
The stretching of her limbs hadn't reached critical levels yet; it appeared to an outward observer that Batgirl was simply performing some slow moving 'jumping-jacks'. Her body would bend outward into a spreadeagle position, then return to an upright stance. But each rotation, her crotch dipped a little lower than the previous round, while her limbs spread a bit further apart. Barbara estimated that she had about forty minutes left before her arms and legs had reached their final limit.
As the framework spun to the fore, the Dark Angel was penetrated more deeply by the insistent rubber nodules. She felt the wave of ecstasy cresting within her, as the grommets rubbed furiously against her tight velvety interior.
"GAAAAAHHHHH!" echoed loudly off the surrounding walls, as Batgirl shouted aloud with surprise at the intensity of the powerful first orgasm. Her trembling muscles jerked spasmodically in the grip of the sexual nirvana, the shuddering body losing control as the passion embraced her totally.
"AAAHH...Aaaahh...aaaahhh!" exhaled out of her as the magnitude diminished slightly, and she could once again control her muscles. Perspiration accumulated on the exterior of her stretched body, as the heat from her struggles was joined by the heat of sexual bliss. Tiny rivulets rolled down her legs, their motion arrested by the top of her boots. Other rolled across the flat belly, stopping when the waist belt was encountered.
"MARVELLA!" the recovering crimefighter yelled again.
Still no answer.
And the framework continued on...
The vehicle was halfway there. The Ringmaster had been thinking about the events of the evening as the distance shortened. Best to take no chances. He linked to the comsat, and sent an anonymous message to the Enforcers, indicating where the Ogre, Chamelea, and the Marksman could be found. How he had seen the whole thing. How Batgirl had captured them, then taken off after someone else.
The Enforcers would take the three into custody. Then they would leave the scene, never realizing that their darling Batgirl was just a few hundred yards away, being torn limb from limb. It would be hours before anyone discovered that, and the Ringmaster would be long gone by then.
The digital timepiece on the factory wall displayed bad news for the slowly succumbing Batgirl. She was barely able to read it...between the perspiration that rolled into her eyes, and the brief intervals where she blanked out. It displayed that more than thirty minutes had elapsed.
The act was nearing its conclusion. Barbara had orgasmed six more times, as the chrome invader twirled defiantly inside her. Even now, despite the haze of pain, Barbara could feel another orgasm building. The rubber grommets were insidious, unstoppable.
It may not make any difference, the Dark Angel thought. Each time I've called to Marvella, there's been no response.
But surrendering was never part of Batgirl's mode of operation, and she wasn't going to start now. As the framework rotated forward, and her limbs stretched achingly outward, Barbara tried for what might well be the last chance.
"MARVELLA!!" No answer. Damn!
"MARVELLLLAAAA!!!!"
A groan issued from the slumped performer!
"MAR-VEL-AH!!!!!" Batgirl barked into components.
A groggy psychic slowly lifted her head. "Wh...Wha...?"
"Marvella, can you hear me?" the Dark Angel repeated.
"B...Batgirl...?"
The framework had spun once more, and Barbara now had her back to the performer, but she continued.
"Marvella, listen closely...Don't try to move! There's a bomb beneath you that's motion sensitive. If you move too much, it will explode. If you don't move, its still on a timer. Do you understand?"
Marvella, though still groggy, answered. "Yes..." Then the performer stared in awe as the metallic frame slowly revolved to the foreward position, and she could see what had been done to the valiant Batgirl.
The crimefighter had been stripped mostly naked, left with her mask, and only her boots and gloves to shield her from an insidious device. As the metallic apparatus revolved, Marvella stared in horror at what was happening. A chrome dildo had been positioned directly beneath the stretching Batgirl, and it appeared that the heroine couldn't avoid it.
NO! Marvella thought. She watched in dismay as the metal phallus pressed hard against vulnerable labia, then plunged forcefully into the unwilling aperture. How long has Batgirl been rotating like that, the psychic wondered. It was obvious by the perspiring, pain-inflicted body that it had been much too long.
"Marvella...listen...listen closely..." strained Batgirl as the maximum aperture stole across her. "I can't take much more of this... I have about five minutes left before this machine pulls me apart... And I need your help..."
"What can I do, Batgirl?" asked Marvella. "I can't move, or we'll both be killed."
"Can you move my utility belt, using your mind?" the crimefighter asked.
Marvella stared at the Batgirl costume, now heaped in a pile next to her. She concentrated, straining somewhat with the weight of the belt. Then, slowly, the belt disentangled itself from the pile and floated free.
"Good" Batgirl called. "Now I need you...neeed..."
Marvella watched as another max was reached. Batgirl strained mightily, pain etched in her face, teeth gritted. Then the pain subsided as the motors rumbled on, and the Dark Angel continued.
"...Need you to flip open the second compartment on the left. There's a red button beneath the panel. Can you push that with your mind?"
Marvella concentrated once more, closing her eyes. The panel flipped open, then the red button sunk slowly downward, clicking quietly.
"Done," the psychic answered.
"Great. Now, for the last part. I need you to float the belt over to this machine, and as the lower support beam passes, drop the belt onto it."
"What's going to happen?" Marvella asked.
"The energy pack is overloading, and in about sixty seconds it will short circuit. The belt will send a powerful electrical surge through the motors, hopefully shorting them out."
Marvella stared in horror once more. Batgirl had deliberately left something out. "But that means you'll be electrified also!!!"
"Can't...Can't be..."
The psychic watched as the stretching got worse. It was obvious that Batgirl had run out of options, and this was the only viable one left.
"Batgirl?" No answer. The crimefighter had blacked out momentarily from the pain, Marvella realized. I've got to hurry.
The belt slowly lifted from the floor, hovering over the lower support beam. As the beam swung into position, Marvella let go with her mind. The belt dropped perfectly, weighted so that half of it was draped on either side.
Marvella didn't have long to wait. The dazed Batgirl was groaning, having just started to recover, when a crackling sizzle erupted from the belt.
"AAAAAAAAAAAIIIEEEHHHH!!!!!!!!" burst out of Batgirl as the powerful electricity jolted into her. Her body began shuddering uncontrollably within the restraints, jerking crazily to and fro. Blue tendrils of energy flashed across the motors and bars of the frame, and a sharp CRACK! split the air.
Marvella heard several sharp clicks as the energy flow died out. Then she watched as an unconscious Batgirl fell forward off the machine, and slumped to the floor. Not only had the electricity shorted out the motors, but the powerful magnetic fields created during the process had disabled the magnalocks. Batgirl was free!
Only one thing, Marvella thought to herself. Is she alive? That jolt had been incredible.
Could even the Dark Angel withstand it?
The Enforcers arrived at Wilshire Boulevard quickly, the scans indicating that one of the perps was nearby. They closed on the location, discovering a stocky figure unconscious in the alleyway.
Next to him, a set of broken cuffs, apparently torn apart by brute force.
Across the street, Team Two discovered a second set, also torn apart.
The Ogre and Chamelea were gone.
"BATGIRL!"
"BATGIRL!!!"
This time it was Marvella's turn to become panicked at the turn of events. A timed explosive device clicked quietly under her chair, and no one knew how much time was left. In a strange twist of destinies, it was now Marvella who needed Batgirl to awaken, or pay the consequence.
A groan issued across the room, then another. An aching, disheveled Batgirl rose slowly to her knees, then remained there. She spent several moments just recovering her senses.
"I thought you were done for..." a relieved Marvella proclaimed aloud.
"So did I", answered Batgirl. "The boots and gloves protected me somewhat...but the waist belt really applied a charge. My midriff feels like I've been run over."
"Not to pressure you too much, Batgirl...but could we do something about the bomb?"
The Dark Angel stood somewhat shakily, then walked to the chair and knelt beside the device.
A second later, Marvella heard two beeps, and Batgirl stood once more. The bomb had stopped its incessant clicking.
"Quite a night, eh?" Marvella asked as Batgirl untied her bonds.
"It's not over yet" answered Batgirl. "The Ringmaster is still loose, but I think he's in for a surprise."
"What do you mean?" asked the psychic.
"I'm sure that the master showman couldn't resist the temptation of millions of credits" Batgirl answered. "I'm sure he's going to try to take down the CSM by himself. To do that, he'll need to use the EM Disruptor to nullify the security grid. He never got a chance to use it on the limo."
"So?" asked Marvella.
"So..." continued the Dark Angel, "When I first had the Disruptor, I rewired it. When the Ringmaster presses that button, the electron pulse won't fire forward, it will fire backward. He'll get an electrical jolt bigger than mine. That should knock him out for hours. And I want to be there to pick up the pieces..."
Marvella laughed. "You really are amazing, aren't you?"
A wry smile crossed Batgirl's face. "And you're pretty heroic. Maybe I can convince you to become a superheroine someday. That psychic power could be incredibly useful in my line of work."
"Hmmmm.." Marvella mused, "something to consider anyway. But for now I need to pay my debts for the harm I've caused. I guess I need to finish that first."
Batgirl had finished freeing her ally. Now she redressed in her costume.
As the two exited the building, Barbara spied the Enforcers detaining the Marksman. The Dark Angel turned Marvella over to them, though somewhat reluctantly. A few whispered words with the psychic, then with the Captain, and Marvella was detained as well.
The vigilante had just discovered from the Enforcer the news regarding the broken cuffs. Barbara suspected that she hadn't seen the last of Ogre or Chamelea.
She had also discovered that Jennings Estates security grid had reported an attempted burglary...and that the thin, cadaverous looking man had been knocked backward by some kind of explosion in his hand, and was now in custody.
Batgirl climbed aboard the Ninja, and accelerated smoothly away. She was looking forward to seeing the Ringmaster again...but this time behind bars. The Circus of Crime had finally performed its last show...thanks to the efforts of the remarkable Batgirl.