Gotham: After Dark (closed for LitShark, Princesssexci, SweetP4U and myself)

[Homerun2611]

“Ohhhhhh…..ahhhhgggg……fuucckkkk!”

Don’t let your imagination run away with you, it was not those kinds of groans.

Through eyelids that didn’t want to separate, darkness turns a bright orange, as lashes flutter.

“Good Morning Mr. Wayne, rough evening Sir? For over 30 years, Alfred had treated Bruce Wayne with the same formality. When he turned 21, Bruce tried to lower the formality, but Alfred, his truest, dearest friend and confidant, would have none of it, and so it was. The only time Alfred would break form was when Bruce was at his most petulant, most irresponsible, and he would be sat down and talked to like a boy needing a father, which in many ways, Alfred was. Bruce loved him dearly, although the men never spoke of such things, the feelings and caring ran as deep as the sea.

Bruce looked down at his torso, it had indeed been a rough night. A band of thugs had surrounded two women just as Bruce Wayne had left a local night club. In matters of seconds he had switched to his hero/vigilante persona.

Typically this type of situation would have been easy, but there was something different about this group, they wore odd masks, and seemed to be working under someone’s direction. These women weren’t random victims, they had been selected for a reason, both in their late 20’s, attractive daughters of some of Gotham’s other most influential citizens. Party girls, who lead lavish lifestyles and held little regard for anyone other than themselves.

That didn’t matter, Bruce was not judging ethics or lifestyle choices, but the band had been ready, well armed, and in the process of freeing the women, and running two off, while restraining three until the police arrived, he had received cuts, deep bruises and assorted lacerations up and down his body. Morning was when he took inventory, and Alfred, damn near an MD after all he had done with Bruce, was ready to begin the healing process.

It always started the same. A cryogenic bath, to slow the blood flow, remove as much inflammation as possible. The deep massage of overly tight and stressed muscles, and finally the application of ointments, mostly East Asian, techniques learned while part of the League, and lastly any necessary bandaging. In 60-90 minutes, billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne was a new man, or at least one fuck of a lot better.

“Master Grayson will turn 21 in one week Mr. Wayne, the invitations to the gala have been sent, but the time has come Sir.” Bruce’s shoulders slumped. He and Alfred had discussed this many times. Bruce was not getting any younger, but what he did was important, the city depended on him, even though many despised him and found his methods deplorable.

“Have you decided the role, the persona?” Bruce didn’t even look Alfred in the eye as he answered. “I hate to do this to him, this is no life, if I’d ever realized I never would have …”

Alfred had heard enough, “Hush, you are feeling sorry for yourself, you would have done exactly as you did. You knew there would be costs, all soldiers know there will be costs in battle, but there is a greater purpose, and you, and now Master Grayson need to serve that purpose.”

That was it, short and to the point, that was Alfred. Bruce nodded. “Robin, I have chosen Robin. I have brought enough darkness, this city needs light and hope, like spring time … so Robin.” Alfred smiled, he liked that choice very much.

The night of the gala, it would be black tie, Mardi Gras masks, gave just a bit of intrigue. 200 had been invited, another 200 would end up there, it always happened, and Bruce rarely had anyone turned away.

Bruce would not have a date. He preferred to mingle, but there was little chance he would spend the night alone, it was more the appeal of the opportunities the night might provide that had a smile on his face as he tied his bow tie, and slipped on his mask, simple, black, more Zorro than Batman, but it would suffice, he looked good, he always looked good.

The Wayne galas were the social event of the season, one to two per year, and this was a very special one, Dick Grayson had no idea how much his life was about to change! As Bruce looked in the mirror, as calloused and bruised as his body and soul were, he still had some of that hope he had held since a little boy. Was this a new beginning, Robin at his side, or was it simply the same old story, or perhaps, even worse?

 

[Sweetp4u]

The Unknown Woman - 11 years ago

It’s all gone. A blank slate in a wrecked body, without name or date and without recollection of just how she ended up in the ICU. A lone witness said it were a group of young men, perhaps college students, maybe just gang related, it is unknown as the one witness wouldn’t stick around to say much of anything. Beaten, seemingly robbed as she was without identification, and so much more that no one wanted to tell her all that had been done. Fine scars from a sharp instrument had sliced here and there from breasts to hips, back and front that left no doubt it was sexual in nature. All of which she has no memory of.

Her first few coherent thoughts and memories are of a dark hospital room, a pair of voices discussing her condition and need of physical and possible psychological therapy. The next memory was a dark shadow with the loveliest of red hair speaking to her in such a sweet soft tone, coaxing her to drink and swallow. Helping her to rise enough from her rest, and disoriented state to choke down some hard almond shaped item. A pill? The doctors know best, being her only thought as she lay back with aid and tenderness, kissed softly to the cheek and whispered not to tell anyone she had visited. Who could she tell? She did not know her name, and she did not know the shrouded redheaded woman either.

At some point in the night, she seized badly, convulsing wildly until her heart gave out and this unknown woman lay dead for thirty-two minutes, long enough to be marked down as deceased. You can imagine that It was startling for the nurses and doctor when just past the break of dawn that fateful Sunday morning she jerked upright in her bed, gasping for air, and very much alive. A woman who was thought to not walk again, to be badly scarred for the rest of her life, began to recover, exponentially. Studied for weeks, given her choice of a name and given aid from the City of Gotham for a ‘home’ and a job became Selina Kyle.

Given a shit job at a school as a janitor, a shit-box in the slums of Gotham, for a supposed home. Learning from her medical file what had been done to her, victimized, and left destitute, without her birth name, and no family. The new ‘job’ was born out of necessity more than anything. Go hungry long enough, you adapt, or you suffer. A year of trying to do things the right way proved fruitless and, in the end, homeless and fired from said shit-job, she found she had some skills along the way. No montage of events to go over, that’s silly and overly done. Lithe, stealthy and apparently acrobatic were but a few things discovered once woke up and free of the doctors.

Cat burglary wasn’t her first choice and this Batman running around the city doing as he pleased just seemed the theme of Gotham was disguise yourself, she opted to literally become that Cat. At first it were a means to survive, to eat and have a roof over one’s head, but when you see suffering daily, see the injustices imposed from the wealthy onto the poor, it just tends to piss you off.

Present:

No? It does me. Don’t think me to be some heroine here, I have become accustomed to food in my stomach, a roof over my head.. Blackmail gets you far too, I am now an archivist in the Gotham Library, at least by day. By night, that is a whole different story. With a coveted invitation in my snow-white gloved hand, the limousine cruising slowly as it winds with the rest of the elite pulling one by one up Wayne Manor’s immense driveway, I have my sights set on these self-righteous, self-serving elites and their jewels. No doubt just one ring could feed the shelter’s residents for a year. My target tonight is one fat banker, a Mr. Drummond, who I was told (by my boss) is in attendance tonight.

 

[Sweetp4u]

Third call in four hours, if it is a full moon, I don’t know but it feels … off. Glancing up, it’s foggy, an inky darkness just beyond the rotating red and blues lighting up the scene. Why did I give up smoking? I could use one right now, with a warm cup of coffee. These docks are always so damned cold at night, these smaller warehouses barely warmer than the outside air. This one had no power, but someone had been here, and from looking around at the melted candles, a full twenty-four or so hours. Someone staged up the room with some flood lights, candles and what looks like some sort of stainless steel table where our unknown was laid out to be discovered.

“Time of death, Bill?” CSI is on scene, as is the coroner. My old patrol partner slash trainer, Jimmy isn’t too far away. Giving me a brief hard look before returning to his conversation, he does that every time we cross paths. Often, I wonder if he is expecting me to read his mind with the way he stares at me, maybe it’s something else entirely. Not that I care. The body is covered in a white plastic sheet, luckily the air is without the stench of death. Perhaps there are small favors to these cold docks after all?

“Can’t really tell until I get him,” he lifts the sheet up and reveals a gruesome sight. What looks to be a man, from the hair cut, is without facial skin. ‘This took time, and from the blood, I can say this man was alive through all of it.” He waves his free hand down the body and back, dropping the sheet back over two staring brown eyes. “He’s like that from head to toe.” Bill adds, pulling some small bags from his medical kit.

“Looks like work of the Joker..” Jimmy is just behind me, I didn’t hear him approach but stiffen at the name tossed out there so casually. He’s reading notes in his hand held note pad, looming behind me, tucking a thumb into his service belt until the leather grinds a bit under the strain of him pushing out his chest, straightening his back… I wonder if he practices that move in the mirror before patrolling?

“The Joker is …” What can I say? He’s dead? We don’t know that. He is gone? So many C.I.’s say word on the street is that the Joker is dead, but also probably in witness protection, on vacation.. The rumors keep on flying, but one thing seems certain, the Joker isn’t out and about killing. He wouldn’t … How the hell would I know what any of those psychos will and won’t do? “Said to be dead, Jimmy.” There is a hard edge to my tone, it is a sore subject with me, and he knows it. But James Barnes is always crediting the Joker with everything non-sexual and disturbingly fucked up being done. This is just too… tame?

“Last case of skinning someone alive was that club owner, what was his name?” Jimmy being Jimmy again, not letting shit go.

“Stop saying that, Officer Barnes.” I say in a low tone, I don’t want to scold my old partner nor hard shut down his yap but I will. “We don’t know that. We investigate, follow the evidence. A skinned person isn’t exactly a M.O. exclusive to the Joker..” A heavy sigh rushes out, now he has ME saying this shit out loud. “Jimmy..” I try that infamous mom-tone I adopted from my own mother and hope he will shift his narrow mind to broader prospects. “We know who this guy is?”

“No. Even his hands, fingers, and toes all of it, peeled off like a damned orange. No wallet, but we got people looking through recent missing, might get lucky. Bill can do dental when he gets the body back to the morgue.” We all know the run down; Jimmy just loves to hear himself speak. The third damned call and it’s just gotten to be dark. The creeps and loons will be running wild in this darkness and cloud covering the moon light. I had heard from gossip at work that there is some big party tonight that has all the heads of everything, who are the everyone’s of Gotham occupied at Wayne manor. I expected some high-end robbery to be going on all night, but this was unexpected. No one I know of off the top of my head fits the size of this guy on anyone’s radar of would-be hits. Wonder who this guy pissed off to the point of being skinned alive? Usually rats were made examples like this, I am sure if I ask around, I will find out who this guy is.

“Oh, they found a pawn ticket in the trash, it’s been bagged.” Jimmy lifts a pencil and points to the CSI in the far corner packing things into a box.

“Thanks.” Moving away from the table and victim, I will go see what I can get off the team. Might just be a simple murder and nothing to do with the gangs. I am never that lucky, but hey, it can happen.

 

[princesssexci]

Barbara pinned her hair and took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror for what seemed like the billionth time that evening. It was Dick’s 21st birthday and she’d been invited to his birthday party if you could even call it that. More like extravaganza.

But what did could anyone expect when the birthday boys adopted father so to speak was fucking Bruce Wayne?

Quickly, she text her dad to let him know she was headed to the gala. She was 21 years old but he still liked her to check in with him. Such was the curse of being commissioner Gordon’s daughter.

Headed to the party. Please dont ask me to let you know when I get home. I don’t even live with you anymore. *insert eyeroll emoji*

Honestly, this was probably why she didn’t have a boyfriend. She wondered if her dad would be there acting as security. God, she hoped not. That would be embarrassing!

It hadn’t taken her long to arrive at the Wayne manor though. She briefly fladhed her invitation to the security guard outside. Was that what he was? She didn’t go to alot of fancy parties like these.

The blue dress that she wore hugged her curvy body and was probably not something her dad would have approved her wearing even if she wasn’t a child anymore. It was such a good thing that she’d moved out 6 months ago. Barbara held tight to the gift she’d purchased Dick as she glanced around in awe.

It wasn’t like she’d never come over before but she’d never attended an event like this.

She’d bought Dick a skydiving certificate to go with a friend. He seemed to be the adventurous type plus all the hints he kept throwing her when she asked what he wanted for his birthday.

It was something along the lines of some awkwardly cute and cheesy one liner that would make any girl blush and when she simply laughed and playfully hit his arm, he went with

“What is that skydiving thing in those suits that basically make you a bird, so you can soar?”

and

“C’mon Babs, people hurl themselves off the side of a mountain and fly around like a glider, until they finally soar around and come to the ground? Like a bird, like a bat or a robin!!!”

Which only threw her into a fit of giggles.

That was why she bought him the tickets and then just to be cute a glass robin paperweight that she bought off etsy, since he seemed to like the bird so much.

She glanced around looking for Dick or even, dare she think it Bruce Wayne who was just an enigma himself as she stood in a corner feeling slightly out of place.

 

[LitShark]

One Week Ago, Nanda Parbat.

The ordinarily tranquil serenity of the Lazarus Pits was upset by the whirring of hydraulic pistons and the high-pitched beeping of trucks backing up. A long, metal box was driven by forklift across the stone, cave floor.

Clad all in black, members of the League of Assassins moved efficiently to arrange harnesses and chain pulleys around the edge of the supernaturally glowing pool of opaque green. Overseeing it all was Ra’s al Ghul, his cloak forest green, threaded with real gold, his hair was shock white and pulled back in a long ponytail that reached the idle of his back. His arms were crossed over his muscular and well-defined chest as his eyes followed every motion of the men around him.

More beeping, echoing cacophonously within the ancient cave walls around which Ra’s and his associates had built a towering monastery, his sanctum was now being infiltrated. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Remember why.

“Father… a word if you please?” his daughter spoke respectfully but not timidly, as she had been so often instructed.

“Yes, daughter. What is it?”

“I respect your wisdom, your years on this planet and the perspective that gives you, father—"

“Just spit it out!”

“The Lazarus Pits can heal many things, but this man has been dead for days. They do not bring back life from death. Nothing can do that.”

“Good thing I have you here to explain the Lazarus Pits to me, the Demon Head who has lived for hundreds of years.”

Talia looked at her feet.

“Forgive me, Father. I have made a fool of myself.”

Ra’s sighed, turning to face his daughter for the first time. His right eye twitched at the sight of her, she kept her black leather bodysuit zipped so very low. It was a distraction tactic that he himself had taught her, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that a father wants to see from his daughter.

Before he answered her, Ra’s reached out and pinned the edges of her collar closer together, tugging the zipper up between her generous breasts to just under her chin. Now he could talk to her. She looked down at his hands, blushing.

“I only wish you might trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing and that it’s your interests that I’m also looking after.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Tell me, daughter. Have you heard the old stories about other immortals, besides myself. Creatures of the night, who feed on the blood of the living.”

“Vampires?”

“Just so. I have come into possession of something very rare. The blood of an ancient. I believe that when mixed with the Lazarus fluid, this vial may be the cure for death itself!” Ra’s raised his hand, he was holding a glass vial capped in ancient brass fixtures.

Talia’s eyes went wide in shock and horror.

“But you don’t know what that could do! The creature that is made from such an abomination—”

“Will be a powerful weapon.”

“The Pits! If you foul the waters, they might—”

“I have thought of this. Do not worry, daughter. Trust that I have considered everything. Please, it is a critical time,” Ra’s shrugged his cloak higher onto his shoulders and turned away from his daughter, “I have no more time to spare on your nagging questions. Do your part. Nothing more.”

Talia bit her lip to stop it from trembling. So many times cheating death had made her father colder than a grave. She reluctantly took the vial from his hand.

“As you say. Forgive me for overstepping.”

The sound of her heels retreating into the vast corridors of their stronghold, Ra’s watched as the metal box was opened. A dead body was carefully lifted by masked assassins, already wrapped in bandages.

Talia emerged from a different tunnel at the side of the pool. She gave a resolute nod to the assassins who lowered the body into the green liquid.

“Talia, make sure everything goes according to plan. Everyone else, be on your guard. I have a flight to prepare for, but do not let any detail be overlooked. Consequences will be harsh for anyone found to be in dereliction of duty.”

Ra’s turned on his heel.

He resented leaving this vital work behind, but there were other matters which required his attention far away. Despite the lesson he’d given her, he knew that Talia was equal to the task—even with an uncertain outcome.

*-*-*

Tonight, Gotham City.

Ra’s arrived to the masquerade bare faced.

He’d often told the Detective and others that masks were a thing meant to go unseen, not a spectacle for the eyes—but like so many of his teachings, the Detective never quite learned that lesson. Instead, Ra’s wore a classic tux that was fitted to his body just hours prior and a black silk jacket.

Nonetheless, he carried a mask with him, a Japanese style Oni mask on a braided rope around his waist. It was painted mostly white, with a wide red smile and green hair.

Ra’s greeted Pennyworth fondly as he entered, the butler had never betrayed him, so Ra’s tried hard not to take out his frustrations where they were undue. Besides, he was here in the spirit of reconciliation and collaboration.

“The Detective?” Ra’s asked, glancing around at the room of masked faces.

Pennyworth just shrugged.

Whether the butler was being coy or if he was unwilling to convey that information was unclear, but immaterial.

“Then bring me a Scotch, on the rocks and let him know that I’d speak with him. As soon as might be convenient.”

It was then he saw a beautiful woman in a blue dress that looked like she was poured into it. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her—which was one of Ra’s least favorite feelings. Despite his age, he prided himself on maintaining an almost encyclopedic catalogue of specific recollections and acquaintances.

That was when he remembered.

What a cruel cudgel was time.

He’d last seen her as a child, barely worth his notice—but now, she was visibly a woman. Younger than his own daughter, she was the daughter of the Police Chief, Gordon. Barbie—or something equally incipit.

Nonetheless, he wished to know her better.

He took the Scotch when Pennyworth returned and also took a glass of champagne from a nearby table. He strode confidently over, offering the glass.

“You’re the Commissioner’s daughter, aren’t you? I’m Ra’s al Ghul, a friend of the Wayne family. Would you care for a glass? You’re much too vibrant to have yourself tucked away back here from everyone who might otherwise behold you.”

 

[princesssexci]

Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy

Poison Ivy stepped into the gala or well she wasn’t Poison Ivy today. Ivy was put away for the time being. Good behavior and all that jazz. She’d been released from Arkham Asylum about three years ago. Her and Harley had hooked up, well—more than hooked up.

After she’d managed to convince the blonde that her ex boyfriend more than toxic Ivy had thought that she and Harley had even been dare she even think it —-in love but that was just a fools game.

Love was for the weak minded and Ivy had almost weak. Not only had Harley still been battling with the mental damage the Joker had done to her but because of that it was hard to know when she was talking to good Harley or bad Harley.

Good Harley being Ivy’s Harley

Bad Harley being… the unconventional Harley who talked to the voices in her head not so much the Joker who was long gone and dead but just…the voices.

So Ivy had broken up with her. She’d heard that Harley had been arrested and taken to Belle Reve. She had too many friends in high places in Arkham Asylum and then something about killer squad or suicide police or some stupid shit like that. Whatever. It wasn’t Poison Ivy’s problem.
in fact, as stated. Ivy didn’t exist tonight. She pushed her red hair behind her as she sipped champagne. Tonight she was under the disguise or rather she was herself Pamela Isley.

Her green dress unlike most of the women didn’t hug her curves. It was short though, reaching just above the knees snd flowy. That was too much like Ivy and she was trying to not be so obvious. It was bad enough she was wearing green.
“Now where is our host, I wonder…” She murmured quietly. The only one she recognized so far was Selina, though she didn’t make it terribly obvious.

Well, Pam could go say hi couldn’t she? It would be rude not to. She took another slow sip of her champagne passing by an older gentleman and another red head, the commisoners daughter? And was that Ra’s
Goul with her?

Bleh, men. It wasn’t that she hated men. No, they had their uses just there were some
men like Ra’s who could be so… predictable.

She was almost tempted to go save the poor thing.

Almost. If she seemed to need help then Pam would come back later but she wasn’t exactly a hero, now was she? There ere plenty of other men or women around to play knight in shining armor.

Making her way just a tad bit closer towards Selina, she did indeed look gorgeous but Pam wouldn't bother her.

Nooo, she had other plans. Plans to ensure that everyone had just a bit tooo much fun with the right or maybe the wrong person. Call it being bitter after having no girlfriend or boyfriend but Pamela Isley wanted to shake things up tonight.

oOoh, It was going to be a fun night wasn’t it?

 

[Homerun2611]

“Damn it, Alfred!“ Young Dick Grayson was struggling and frustrated, perplexed by the most puzzling contraption he could remember. The jacket of his brand new tux lay on the bed in front of him. He was looking into the mirror one moment, the next, looking down onto his phone, as he looped the one end of the strand of silk into a loop, looped end pointing up, and where he was trying to follow the instructions of how to tie a real bowtie.

Alfred had just walked into the room, curious as to why young Master Dick was taking so long to get dressed and come down to the event that was dedicated in his honor. He was clearly frustrated, while Alfred was quite bemused. “Not as easy to be an adult as you thought, is it Master Dick?”

Dick Grayson, newly turned 21 years old that very day, stuck his tongue out at the man who was far more than his dedicated servant, he was grandfather, uncle and mother, since Dick’s real parents had died. “Why is he making me do thist? I have clip on ones right over there.” He pointed to his closet that was really a small room, all clothes custom tailored, just as in his adoptive fath… parent’s room.

Bruce Wayen had taken custody of Dick Grayson the night his paren’s died in front of both of them. However, even a year later, when Bruce was finally able to officially adopt, he never let Dick refer to him as father. “I’m not your father, you had one of those and he was a good man. I will be your teacher, your benefactor, your mentor and friend, but that is all I can or deserve to be.” Dick had appreciated it at the time, but now it seemed odd, this man was his everything, and somehow calling him Bruce, didn’t seem to show the proper respect.

“I don’t want to do this….” Dick stomped his foot, he was nearly as petulant as Bruce, but both had grown up, or at least for the last several years, in privelige. Dick had graduated from the very prestigious Pomona, only two months earlier, May 15th. Pomona, home of the Bruce Wayne Performing Arts Center, had been selected because it allowed Dick to have the education Bruce demanded. Liberal arts, well rounded, and focused on a greater world understanding. He was able to craft his own major, International Economics. Of all his time in College, only two semesters were spent on the Pomona campus, the first and last. One semester had been spent at Yale, one at Oxford, England, one at the London School of Economics, one at The University Queensland, Australia, one at Tsinghua University, Beijing, and one at the Sorbonne in Paris, where Master Dick Grayson learned to whip up a soufflé or prepare chicken coq au vin that would make Julia Child drool like a Saint-Bernard. As a result, Dick spoke six languages fluently, and had never spent anywhere long enough to get to know anyone well, or get in any real trouble. He was about as sheltered and naive as the son of a billionaire playboy could possibly be.

Oh he led a life of luxury, Bruce had taken and taught him to ski, double black diamonds were cake, hang glide, he had surfed the big waves in both Hawaii and Australia, scuba dove in the Great Barrier Reef, they had even scaled Everest. But party, a woman, that had been left off the schedule, as had any discussion or knowledge of Bruce’s other persona.

Alfred looked at the closet, “Oh dear, yes, thank you for reminding me.” Off he went and confiscated all the simple clip ons and crumpled them into the pocket of his own jacket. He looked into the forlorn face of the birthday boy, “Come here …“ And moments later Alfred was deftly tying it perfectly, ”Do not tell Mr. Wayne I did this…”. He gave Dick a wink, “but we can’t have Ms. Gordon waiting too long, or she might find other company?” Dick Grayson went beet red, “What do you mean … I’m not …. other company … how …” His shoulders slumped, “How did you know?”

Never had Dick dated, but Barbara Gordon had been over, and Alfred had seen how he looked at her, and how she looked at Mr. Wayne. He also picked up Master Grayson’s spiral bound notebook that had some, very, shall we say interesting, and some might call provocative, others pornographic, sketches of what Ms. Gordon might look like, sans clothing. Of course this was all in Dick’s imagination, but Alfred was happy that at least his art classes had paid some dividend.

”Off with you… this is your first night as an adult, go easy on the champagne, the bubbles create quite the hangover! And Master Dick, I would find Ms. Gordon, quickly.”

 

[princesssexci]

“You’re the Commissioner’s daughter, aren’t you? I’m Ra’s al Ghul, a friend of the Wayne family. Would you care for a glass? You’re much too vibrant to have yourself tucked away back here from everyone who might otherwise behold you.”

Barbara looked up at the sound of the familiar yet unfamiliar voice then turned to look over at the salt and peppered haired man standing behind her.

“Yeah.” She said answering his question on if she was the commissioners daughter. It was how most people referred to her. It usually got her in a lot of trouble.

Her dad had a lot of enemies and she wasn’t looking to be the damsel of distress tonight despite the fact that he’d just said they were friends. Barbara Gordon glanced at the champagne glass and then back at him.

“Oh no thank you, I’m actually waiting for the birthday boy—man himself. I wanted to have his first drink with him…well as a 21 year old.”

Fuck, where was Dick?

She glanced towards the entrance for the billionth time almost rolling her eyes. He was probably kicking and screaming since he hated black tie events.

Barbara hated them too but still if she could spend a few hours in a tight clingy dress then he could man up and wear a suit and tie.

Eventually she glanced at the older man and decided since he was her dad’s friend she’d at least be polite. “But I’m Barbara.” she eventually added. “How long have you been a friend of the Wayne family?”

 

[Homerun2611]

Bruce Wayne

Barbara was not the only one looking for Dick to make his appearance, however Bruce had other obligations as his ward was readying his appearance. This was a Wayne affair and his estate could handle 500 easy, without anyone feeling the slightest bit cramped. Extend into the gardens, the maze, the various pools and fountains and that could rise into the thousands.

So, while the guest list was exclusive, he also did not mind the inevitable extras that made their way in, as no one would leave hungry, thirsty, or having lacked in celebration. And while the house had elaborate security, the only place, truly off limits was the batcave and that was only accessible from a private elevator to which both Bruce’s or Alfred’s retinal scan and fingerprints were necessary to enter. The official guest list numbered 350, the expectation of attendees 450-500, and often the greatest entertainment came from those uninvited, but celebratory crashers!

There were different bands, different types of music spread throughout the estate, different vibes where Bruce and his “guests” could find whatever vibe they may be looking for that night. He did not have a date on his arm, but there was no shortage of both single, and supposedly taken women who were not potential playmates for what the evening might bring.

He noticed Ra’s from across the room, he was already engaged in talking to Barbara Gordon, he also saw the Commissioner himself just entering. He wondered if they even knew each other was invited? But of course they must, but indeed they didn’t.

Right now Bruce was being the Bruce the public wanted, not the one he enjoyed. He was gracious and welcoming, making just enough small talk to make people feel welcome, but not enough to show his boredom. His body was tingling, often not a good thing. He felt hunger that had gone at least a few weeks absent sating, that would end tonight.

Alfred texted, saying Dick would be right down, “tie problems” and that made Bruce laugh. He was about to go see Ra’s, he knew his former mentor wanted a few minutes, and out of respect he would not refuse. But it was then he saw a vision in white, a vision that kicked in a distant memory, a good memory, interrupted as he tried to remember the details.

“Mmmm….“ He liked this feeling, a hunter, eyeing prey. The waiter walked buy, sterling platter with crystal flutes of Cristal. He took two and watched her… waited until she moved into a secluded spot … and then he followed.

 

[Sweetp4u]

Selina Kyle – Wayne Manor


Huge. This place is just massive… Glad I don’t have to clean it. Moving through the gathering crowd, everyone seemed poised for something, clinging to the entrance room rather than spreading out. Of course the lines are long and seemingly each new arrival is far more glamorous than the last. Pecking order bores me as much as these ‘events’ do, preen and strut peacocks.. Preen and strut. A small clutch in hand, I move with little hindrance, as more than half thus far are without mask. Did they not read or just not care for the theme? It mattered not, I came in full flowing pretty regalia. I play my part, blend in, smile sweet like, notice the old Rolex.

Finding a quiet corner feels good, no one to ask me too many boring questions, or tell me stories of their boring lives and extravagant spending of one-upmanship. I am not in their outer circle, let alone that inner ring. I know only one or two people, guess at a few guests on who they might be. Standing back in the curve of spiral stair and little hidden alcove, I must say that this Picasso is one ugly painting. A three year old could do better, in Crayola no doubt. The mask hides much of my face, thank god because I have to have a most unpleasant expression on my face right now, this thing is just…

I hear him before I can scent the man moving relatively close behind me. Unsure who it is approaching, I relax and ease myself into a more natural pose. Senses spread and seek, his scent hitting me before his body’s warmth. Masculine for sure, but who? A flute comes around me, his breath ticking my shoulder, the curve of my neck. He smells of richness, his size does feel to dwarf me, and I cannot help the smile that blooms. No, I won’t turn around though my senses are tingling with temptation to turn on the distracting charms, I am curious, playful and most importantly, getting my self in order to square off with whomever this is.

 

[LitShark]

Re: Barbara

Ra’s gave no outward sign, but he was annoyed. To decline an offering from the Demon Head was no small matter. It was not an exaggeration to say that grave and powerful men had shuffled off their mortal coils for less brazen acts of disrespect—but he had to remember that she was barely more than a child. She had no idea to whom she was speaking or the deference he was due. Nor did she know the ocean of blood which had wept from his blade. Nor the ease with which he could pass judgement and take a life with little more than a word.

Youth is wasted on the young.

“Ah yes, the circus boy,” Ra’s visibly rolled his eyes and twirled his index finger in the air when he said the word ‘circus,’ “I’m sure it takes him a little longer, having to drag his knuckles behind him when he walks.”

Ra’s didn’t even realize how naked his disdain for Dick Greyson was in that moment. Having a massive network of international informants, Ra’s was aware that the Detective was grooming him as a successor. Ra’s still intended Bruce as his successor, so he had decidedly resentful feelings about him passing along the secrets of the League of Assassins, when Bruce’s own training was still incomplete in Ra’s’ opinion.

It had been a tactical mistake to chase after this young, pretty thing. The awkwardness of holding the champagne glass was beginning to enrage Ra’s. He set the glass down pointedly on a nearby table. He took a deep breath, coaxing back his temper.

“Nom-yo-ran-gi-quo,” Ra’s chanted quietly, slowing his heart, reclaiming his calm.

“Ahem. I have known Bruce for a great many years. I knew his parents by acquaintance, as I did some business with his father,” Ra’s stopped there.

Truthfully he’d known and interacted with the Waynes of Gotham for at least five generations, but the chasm of the age difference between he and Barbara Gordon was already noticeable enough without confiding that he was hundreds of years old.

“I hope to secure his partnership on a new venture tonight. It’s why I’ve come to this event. My social circle is more…” brutal, ruthless, clandestine, efficient, bloody, “rustic than Bruce’s Gotham crowd. But I suppose that’s why I was drawn to you. You’re not like all these rich sycophants and socialites. You have a sincerity to you that stands out among this crowd of pretenders.”

 

[Homerun2611]

Dick Grayson - Wayne Manor, Birthday Gala

Dick finally was making his way down, embarrassed to be late, but the tie had been almost a half an hour battle. A battle that at best was called a draw by Alfred’s interference. However his man servant’s last words were now the command on his mind. “… And Master Dick, I would find Ms. Gordon, quickly.”

Looking quickly to his left and right, everywhere except where his feet were actually taking him, he was in search of the woman who had increasingly been obsessing in his mind. “Oops…” Dick had just run smack dab into a broad set of shoulders, “… Sorry” He said as Bruce turned around laughing, two full flutes of champagne in his hands, which he somehow managed to avoid spilling a drop.

Bruce had his own plans, but took a moment to put his arm around his ward. “I hope you haven’t already started drinking…” He looked down on the embarrassed Dick. “No … I’m sorry I’m late Bruce, it’s just …”. Again Bruce laughed, “I know, those bows can be quite the gauntlet.”

Dick struggled to look Bruce in the eye, as he truly was on a mission, only then did he see Barbara, and at first his heart sank as she was speaking to another man, but then upon closer inspection did he realize the man wasn’t just old, but in Dick’s world, ancient. Did men that age even think about women any more? If only he knew just how wrong he was. “Who’s the great grandpa with the ponytail, talking to Barbara? Shouldn’t we find him a nice bench somewhere?” Dick was making a joke, but Bruce did not laugh.

When Bruce followed the direction to which Dick was pointing he couldn’t help smile. He knew the libido of Ra’s had scarcely diminished over the centuries, but there was a more important point. “Grandpa as you refer to him, is perhaps the most dangerous and powerful man we will entertain here tonight. Be wary of him Dick, and you must learn not to judge by appearance, or you will be sorely prepared for the situations we will encounter.”

It was a vague reference, Bruce well knew, but Dick’s training was going to begin tomorrow, but tonight, he would rather his ward no lock horns or get on the bad side of Ra’s Al Guhl. Bruce himself had spent the last several years teetering there himself, a position he knew he not only had but must take. Dick was not prepared to be there also. “Do not interrupt him, he will move on soon enough, just stay on the periphery, and if you do speak with him, show respect…”

Dick looked at Bruce, but knew better than to question, he moved down and to the side, behind and to the side of Ra’s and tried to make eye contact with Barbara….

 

[Homerun2611]

Bruce Wayne - Wayne Manor, The Birthday Gala

Alfred had followed Dick down and after Bruce had finished their conversation Alfred Pennyworth came up beside him. “He’s just a boy Sir, he’ll learn.” Clearly Alfred had overheard his and Dick’s conversation. “You could go pull Mr. al Guhl away?” Bruce knew that, and he would make sure he spoke to Ra’s soon, but he did not want to lose sight of the woman for whom he held the second flute of champagne.

“I will meet with him, and if he asks, just let him know that there was something that couldn’t wait, I believe he will understand.” That brought Bruce to his other thought. “Where is Tank performing at?” Alfred had to think, “I believe Mr. Tank is performing in the study and smoking lounge, he wanted a darker, more intimate setting.” Bruce nodded, so did he. “Good, please let him know, I will be there shortly, and when I walk in, I want the next song to be Slow.”

Alfred was confused, “You want a slow song Sir … “ Bruce could only laugh, “No Alfred, I want the song entitled SLOW, I believe he will understand why when he sees the woman I plan to have with me.” Alfred knew Master Wayne did not have a date, nor had he seen any woman yet at his side tonight. So when Bruce walked away, and slide behind the staircase, he smiled, at the target of Mr. Wayne’s purshit, he would need to listen in and see what this song was all about.

Bruce moved as quietly as he could, approaching from behind. He wanted her to sense him, but not feel him, first his presence, than his breeding, and when he tried to wrap his arm around her, offer her the flute of champagne, he unintentionally brushed her bare shoulder with the underside clasp of his platinum cuff links.

Still not touching he leaned in to whisper into her ear. “I usually don’t wait four years to get the dance a woman once promised me, is that why you’re here tonight … you felt guilty for making me wait so long?” He held out the glass invitingly, if she didn’t take it, he would offer to feed it to her. He inched even closer still not touching but watching her breathing. “I looked for you … even considered finding a way to dispose of, I believe it was Tommy McDonald you were with that night? I even tried to find you, but with only Selina to search on, that was difficult.”

Bruce was making it clear he remembered. It had been a party, she had only been left alone a moment and he had swooped in, again he had offered a drink, and they had momentarily found a place apart. As the drink progressed, they moved closer, talking so close their lips were practically brushing. He had asked her to dance, she had accepted, only to have her “date” return. Bruce knew that night, she had been a date for hire, for if not on the job, he was quite certain he could have stolen her away. Tonight he was hoping, she had no such constraint ….

 

[Sweetp4u]

Selina Kyle

He speaks, offering me a drink and the baritone of his voice is most pleasing. A faint smile and offering taken, I sip as he continues to linger near to me. His cologne rich, his timber low and his body feels like he could lift me easily, I resist again to look back at him, but as he speaks, he reminds me. A summer night downtown, a benefit? Fundraise? I forget the event, but not the bland man who hired me to accompany and to impress his peers with. I remember him, a charmer with silky words and strong hands. Coaxing me to relax enough to enjoy the event, the sights and sounds, music and drink. He wooed and charmed until I agreed to a dance… A dance promised, much later in the evening after all the speeches and check books, a dance we never had.

Catty me wants to tell the man that this painting is just ugly, put the billionaire playboy in his place? Doubt it would stumble this man’s stride, do I remember him? Yes. I learned who he was at the end of that night, on the way out the door in the tight grip of one displeased ‘date’. When was it, five years ago now? Perhaps a little longer than that. He did not like the way Wayne was looking at me, nor the smile I was throwing back. Had I known the flirty handsome man was Bruce Wayne, I would have never been so bold. Was I trying to reenact some princess movie? No. I had my eye on a Juivier diamond that had been around the neck of this old Matron at the time. Heard it was taken by someone to use in some scientific experiment gone wrong. Maybe it was Freeze?

Tonight, I am alone. As I turn and fix my green gaze on his smiling face, I can feel that sizzle once more and I just have to. I cannot resist, he is just too delicious looking not to toy with, and with hands like that? No doubt he can pet me quite nicely, when and if I want his touch of course.

“I remember you,” the smile, both dimples appear as I look only to his face and smile. I was right, yet he feels like he has grown a little bit since we met the first time. Filled out quite nicely, I approve. Eyes shift shades between green and blue, gloved hand tilting drink to lips once more, “You never gave me your name either..” Play it coy, play it innocent with just a hint of bite if he gets too close without my permission. “Selina Kyle.” Hand held out in a manner that suggests perhaps he should use those lips now, “Would you like to cash in that rain cheque then?” A teasing smile as I watch him bend to my lift hand. This is unwise, to be at his side brings attention I do not relish, and it does pose a problem in getting to that banker. Perhaps it will work out for my benefit in the end? If not, well a lady could do much worse than this handsome playboy’s hands on her.

 

[Homerun2611]

Bruce Wayne - The Wayne Manor with Selina Kyle

How many women have a body so good, you recognize it from behind after, what was it 3, 4, couldn’t be five years could it? I hadn’t even realized I had spent that much time looking at her, studying her, etching that body, that profile, that ass into my memory. That is not like me, a big devotee of the many fish in the sea with a relevant time horizon of potential relationship defined in hours, if not well chosen minutes, in dark places. A philosophy that has served me well, hedonistic sex and no strings. Particularly true when the fisherman is a billionaire, single who was then 30, now 35, and looks like… well … me!

Slowly but deeplay inhale, there is a scent that emanates from your body, it is more than the perfume, Chanel No 5, I think? But that is not the scent, more hormonal than fragrance, but whatever it is, is firing every synapse possible from my brain, my olfactory, to my cock. Holding glass in hand, arm wrapped around you, caressing with out touching, watching as you sip, only from the side, those lips, that tongue… how do you drink sexy? Yet, that is exactly what you do.

Part of me wants to growl, grip and take … and fuck! I’ve been here what, 45 seconds? Reminding of promises made, unfulfilled, a history never written. Perhaps tonight will be different? No promises necessary, let bodies act on natural impulses, yet we linger, not moving, but certainly not retreating, the concept of honoring personal space, simply irreverent.Thankful for one thing, that I was otherwise unaccompanied, but the promise of waking with the stinging of scratches deeply embedded within sated flesh, was bringing a whole new outlook on this party.

I see your eyes looking at the Picasso, “Some would say interesting, others ugly … it is not meant to be a glorification of the exterior, but the flaws and facets and dimensions we all try to hide inside. Of course if I want to enjoy the beauty of woman, the last place I’d want to look is a fucking painting … not, when there are so many more interesting and pleasurable ways to explore such.”

As you turn and deep black eyes, stare into green. Ah yes, the eyes, more colors and complexity than should be allowed. “I remember you …” A statement of fact, but a bit of a tease, I want it to be a tease, and so how I take it. “Hopefully fondly, of course we only talked, flirted as I remember … I’d hoped for more .. I still do.” Closing the gap between us.

“You never gave me your name either..” Smiling, “True… I’m Bruce Wayne, this is my party, my house …” Head lifts up in direction of previously discussed artwork. A chuckle, “My ugly painting… and up at the top of this staircase we have used for our reintroduction is my master bedroom… in case you get tired .. or simply don’t want to go home tonight, and sleep is the last thing you want?”

Not one to hide intentions, no matter how illicit, it is best to not only get cards out on table, but make certain we are playing same game. “Selina Kyle” Comes the rest of the answer to the riddle I could not solve. “I won’t forget, I didn’t before, but was lacking key information.” Taking offered hand, and letting tongue lightly brush knuckle before pressing to soft but hungry lips.

“Would you like to cash in that rain cheque then?” Hand takes yours in mine. There is a band playing here, a jazz combo, smooth as people do some derivation of a waltz. “I’d like that… but there is a different band playing in my study, that I think we might enjoy more.” Not turning, not wanting to catch the eye of Ra’s, I will tend to him soon enough. Now it is time to tend to more urgent needs, initiate the quenching of a too long lingering thirst.

Hand moves from yours to small of your back, guiding you, taking you, and as we enter the dimly lit room, the smell of tobacco and marijuana lingers. It is a a room that encourages indulgence, and as Tank sees us enter, I spin you tightly into hold… I hear the music I requested begin to play …my intentions could not be more clear.

 

[princesssexci]

Re: Barbara; Ra’s A Ghul & Dick Grayson

Barbara flushed some at his words and tucked a stray red hair from her pinned bun. Any other time she would’ve been flattered that an older guy was paying her attention like this.

Not that she threw herself at older men on a regular basis or anything. She was here for Dick and plus she was pretty sure Mr. Al ’Ghul had just called her best friend a monkey.

That didn’t stop her from flushing at his compliment. She glanced around noticing the masks and cleared her throat. She should probably put hers on. “I take it you aren’t a fan of the circus. That was incredibly rude by the way.” she said, point blankly about the comment of Dick using his knuckles to help walk.

Barbara lifted the mask and tilted her head,”Is it because I’m not wearing my mask?” she was actually surprised that security had let her through without it on. “That caught your attention?”

The mask was a dark blue with silver glitter.

“annnd are you saying Im more rustic then everyone here?”

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Dick edging around them almost circling and had to bite back laughter when he made eye contact with her.

“It seems like Im being summoned though.” Barbara paused and then glanced at Ra’s Al Ghul. “Maybe we will talk again though.” she wasn’t sure if that was invitation or just her being polite.

She glanced over at Dick again trying to will him over so that she wasn’t being rude. As if someone heard her plea, a gorgeous mocha toned woman with red hair walked over, green mask with a mixture of pink and green sequins on the mask as Barbara made her way over to Dick.

“Look at you all dressed up and fancy. What took so long? Did the necktie strangle you in the process of putting it on.”

Idly, she glanced over in the direction of where Ras Al Ghul was and then quickly moved her eyes back to Dick.

Pamela (Poison Ivy) & Ras Al Ghul.

Pamela had ended up wandering around the room seeing who was with who and really it all pretty boring. She’d almost been tempted to capture Dick Graysons attention but what fun would that be.

“Rejected by the Commissioners daughter? Thats gotta hurt.” Pamela’s eyes glided over the older man.

“She clearly doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Idly she looked over her pink nails. The disguise she had was only going to last for so long.

Though it wouldn’t have surprised her if Ras Al Ghul could see right through her. It was a shame that the pretty little red head had gone over to the Wayne’s warden. She was considering having a little fun with the baby bat but the night wasn’t over.

“I will gladly take your glass of champagne though, if it is still being offered?”

 

[LitShark]

Talia al Ghoul, Gotham Docks

The towering cranes hummed as the black, metal shipping container was lifted from the deck of the ship and moved onto the bed of an eighteen-wheel semi-truck, also black. Talia stood with her arms crossed behind her back and her black bodysuit unzipped low once again. She watched every detail, her men on the rooftops, the incompetent crane driver, the lewd dock workers making crass remarks about her body.

Nothing escaped her attention.

“Keep it level!” Talia shouted at the crane driver for what must have been the fifth time.

The moron stopped the crane arm abruptly, causing the heavy container to swing outward wildly, the corner hit the bed of the semi and the suspension groaned in protest—though nothing seemed to be broken.

“Hey, Sweetheart! Why don’t you go settle down, let the professionals handle this. Maybe put that mouth to a better purpose,” the crane operator shouted back, encouraging more laughter from the other dock workers who were either doing nothing or doing something that was indistinguishable from nothing.

“Put some clothes on, maybe,” one of the Nothing Men joined in the chorus of shouts.

True, it was cold out, low fog rising up from the wet concrete, making the ship look like it was floating—but Talia’s tactical, Polyweave bodysuit was built to be stab and puncture proof, to move with her body without obstruction, not to imitate a fleece vest. She’d suffered these imbeciles long enough and decided to introduce herself.

Three long strides launched her from standing to spring boarding off the tire of the crane to land astride the door to the crane’s cockpit. With a flash of light, reached in the open window and tucked a straight blade under his chin. The broad line blood ran freely in a stream down to his fat, hairy chest. If you threaten with a knife, make sure to leave a mark. She knew this before she knew how to walk. He wasn’t dead, but he knew how sharp the blade was.

“A professional? You think that pushing and pulling these levers makes you fit to look down on me? I am a professional in the art of death and you are trying my patience. The contents of that crate is something so horrifying that your pea brain cannot imagine. If you vex me again, I’ll cut your throat open and pull your tongue out through the hole. Now, move that crate onto that truck like your goddamn life depends on it, because it does.”

The rest of the offload progressed without incident.

*-*-*

Ra’s al Ghoul, Re: Barbara & Pamela

Ra’s chuckled at Barbara’s reluctant defense of her friend. She called him out for being rude, which was probably true.

“Of course I enjoy a circus—it’s a wonderful way to watch animals perform,” his smile didn’t falter, “no, it was not your mask, nor did I mean to paint you in such a light. You are without a doubt, a cosmopolitan young woman. Good evening.”

Ra’s nodded in parting, as though he had not been rebuked in public. His heart was racing from outrage, but he gave no outward sign. Sooner or later, he would find the opportunity to seek revenge on Barbara Gordon.

He smiled when Pamela approached, as well. He squinted for a moment, trying to place her.

“Doctor Isely, I presume. I read your paper on the paralytic properties of the Themyscerian Ghost Orchid, in my research your paper above all others . There was a photo, but it hardly did you justice.”

Relieved to be speaking to an adult, Ra’s leaned forward to lay a gentle kiss on the back of Pamela’s hand before sliding the crystal stem of a full glass into it.

“It’s true, I don’t love how that went, but I’m ill accustomed to dealing with people who don’t worship me like a God. With your intellect, I’m sure that you understand. Looking as lovely as you do, don’t your detractors get lost in the petals—so often overlooking the thorns?”

 

[Sweetp4u]

Selina Kyle - Bruce Wayne (in the den with the rope..)

“Mr. Wayne..” Your hand is at my back, your toothy smile so bright and wide, “What ..” an indecent proposal, “.. a generous offer.” Such the playboy, reports did you a disservice, as you are far more wicked than implied. Selina Kyle, the Archivist, would blush and be flustered, awed by all of this, and so I do so. At least the blush can be done on queue. Outrage would be the smart route, maybe even smack you for such an obscene suggestion as that. A difficult choice, but I have a mission and your attentions aren’t going to hinder me. A shy glance, a smile and slim arms fit to curved figure, hands lifting hem so that I can walk, seemingly shrinking at your side.

Everything around us feels rich, and lush. From leather to lighting, down to the fern coming out of one corner of your ‘modest’ den. Eyes flit and glance but never linger, from vase to the rug sitting center room. A room that was obviously cleared of furnishings, based on the faint imprint of missing legs dented into rug and carpet. In the corner is a band, piano, a large man with a smile almost as wolfish as yours. The music begins the very moment you take my hand, turn me to face you and slide that overly confident hand around my waistline to press to that small bare spot at my back.

“Mr. Wayne..” A stutter of words, flushing cheeks and that has nothing to do with faking a damned thing. You’re pressing in closer and toying at the small of my back, that spot that generally makes me growl and dig my fingernails into a person. The song is completely inappropriate for us, not knowing you had this requested, I am hearing these words play and watching you swoop on in like a professional gigolo. “I do not see..” What is his name? My mind should know this answer, as I read it once.. some where, some years ago. “Chip?” No that’s not right and I can tell that by the look of confusion on your face, “Brad? No, that’s not.. Your ward?” A crooked smile lifts, was I baiting you? Maybe a little.

“The birthday BOY.” A young man barely a few years younger than I, though some days I feel several hundred years old. We don’t always land on our feet, let’s just leave it at that. Fit to you, shifting feet as we spin almost too slowly, your suit doing little to keep my imagination in check. You are built very well for a spoiled rich boy, an overly confident rich .. man, who thinks he’s got a chance. I want to chuckle and taunt you, but the librarian wouldn’t be so bold as all that, now would she? Such dark eyes, so focused on me, watchful like a hawk or .. cat with a mouse. You’re .. Searching your face, “You are making me blush, Sir.” Chastises in soft laughter and growing smile. You are more focused than I first thought, Your eyes on my every move, expression and I wonder are you committing me to your memory with how intently you stare?

 

[princesssexci]

Pamela Isley - Ra’s Al Ghul Wayne Manor Party

“Doctor Isely, I presume. I read your paper on the paralytic properties of the Themyscerian Ghost Orchid, in my research your paper above all others . There was a photo, but it hardly did you justice.”

Pam smiled behind the glass of champagne that Ra’s Al Ghul handed her and she so graciously took.

“Well of course, silly machinery could never capture my beauty.”

Pamela flicked her eyes over to Barbara and Dick, watching as they flirted like highschoolers.

“It’s true, I don’t love how that went, but I’m ill accustomed to dealing with people who don’t worship me like a God. With your intellect, I’m sure that you understand. Looking as lovely as you do, don’t your detractors get lost in the petals—so often overlooking the thorns?”

“Hm…”was her only response as her mind drifted to a former psychiatrist for the briefest of moments. “if thats the case, I usually dispose of them. They tend to end up being weeds anyways. No matter, the party should really start to bloom. “
She pulled out her phone and went to an app as she sipped her champagne. “If you’re still looking to play with the commissioners daughter I could probably have that arranged, distract her little friend. Otherwise, I certainly don’t mind being your date for the night or at least until one of us gets bored.“

The distraction would be coming pretty soon. Her flower group would slowly start to infiltrate the party and the room would fill with a beautiful aroma, beautiful yes but had the side effects of shedding clothes. It was a cheap party trick but distraction enough.
~~~
Harley Quinn - Some alleyway in Gotham


“What do you mean we should just kill her? We can’t just kill Amanda Waller. We have no one to pin it on.” Harley mumbled to herself or it seemed like it was to herself.

Well, technically it was but you couldn’t tell her that. The voices were starting up in her head again. She was pretty sure it started when she heard about the Joker being dead….

Or maybe it was before then? Was it when she was with Ivy? God, time just seemed to smoosh together.

Being part of Suicide Squad hadn’t exactly help kill her bloodlust either. If anything, it helped fuel it. Sure, from time to time she would have her moments of ‘No we can’t do that. Thats bad, we aint gotta kill that person just because Amanda wants us to.’

But that was because Amanda was a bitch. And one thing Harley hated more than her ex’s …was a bitch.

A random party invitation blew across her and she picked it up.

“A party for Dick Grayson? Well that ain’t fair! How come I wasn’t invited. Im loads of fun.”

She paused as she shoved the invitation her bloodied bag, glancing at the dead body she was walking away from. It was probably illegal to steal that chicks invite but she wouldn’t need it since she was dead, right?

“I can too sound like I’m normal.” She said to the imaginary Joker in her head. She stood straight and adjusted her crop top. “Hello, my name is Harleen Quinzel. I graduated from…” Shit what college did she graduate from? “college with a PDH in Psychiatry.” Harley even lost her silly Harley Quinn accent.

She almost sounded Pre-Joker Harley.

“Haaa! Im just kiddin. You dont need a Pdh to become a psychiatrist. Stupid voices.”

God, she was lonely. This was a bit depressing. She had no Joker and no Ivy. Her suicide squad was gone, she’d pulled that damn tracker out of her body so Amanda Waller couldn’t find her this time but who knew how long that was going to last.

She was tired of playing the good guy. It was boring. How Batsy did it every single fucking night was almost impressive. Now, she was seeking help. It was stupid to want to bring him back —- the man who made her this way.

Part of her hated him for it. She had a good life and probably could’ve been something great but she let the Joker seduce her away from her lifestyle.

She’d heard someone talking about the ‘the pit’ and how it could bring someone back to life. She just needed to know how to do it.

“What do you mean talk to Talia Al Ghul? Who the fuck is that?” Again, she wasn’t talking to anyone and it was probably a good thing no one was around to witness her psychotic break. She’d be back to normal soon. “Alright, alright…lets go find ourselves a Ghul then. Heh. See what I did there?” Harley laughed to herself as she spun her bat around as she went on her search.

And then if there was enough time maybe she’d go crash a Wayne party!

 

[Homerun2611]

Dick Grayson & Barbara Gordon - Wayne Manor Birthday Gala

Despite having been under Bruce Wayne’s protective care for seven years now, Dick had attended very few of the renowned Bruce Wayne parties. During the times Dick had been away from school, Bruce had tried to travel, and show Dick the world, enjoy time alone, and usually supplement the schooling with introductions to adventure and even danger that would help Dick become as strong of body as he was of mind.

Dick was also painfully inexperienced in the entire male/female dynamic. While Bruce was a well known cocksman, Bruce had never even heavy petted. Barbara was as much or more friend, buddy, than girlfriend, something Dick was eager to change.

He found himself biting his lip, and tapping his foot as he watched her with the older man. “C’mon Grandpa”, he whispered to himself, petulant and impatient. He wanted to find a way to tell Barbara what he was feeling, see if the feelings might be mutual. He made eye contact with Barbara a few times, even making a gesture with his head, and making a funny face, hoping to make her laugh and hasten her departure.

It was fine to be polite to the elderly, but really… give it up old man! Yet, as Barbara was about to come over, a stunning brunette moved in, and Dick was almost certain she was flirting with Father Time. He must have a cock down to his knees, ran through Dick’s mind, although he didn’t really know what that meant. He had heard that tupe of explanation in the past from friends, who hadn’t won some girl’s favor, and needed some rationalization.

Dick really didn’t understand why that would be appealing, wouldn’t a big cock just hurt? While he had never gotten a review from a woman, his own at nearly seven inches, seemed like a nice size for a woman, or at least he surely hoped.

Barbara was already teasing him, “Look at you all dressed up and fancy. What took so long? Did the necktie strangle you in the process of putting it on.”

He scowled, “I don’t know why I had to wear this thing ..I’m sorry I was late and forced you to be stuck with that relic over there.…”. Dick watched the brunette, she was clearly flirting. Little did he know how much her little trick aligned with his goals for tonight, to boldly go where young Dick had never gone before! “I mean he’s really old, right? Bruce said he’s dangerous, but how can that be… he’s ancient .. and what is with that ponytail?” That was enough about him, Dick turned his focus to Barbara.

”You look hot tonight… “. He took a step back and let his eyes eagerly rake up and down her tight fitting dress. He saw the items in her hands, “Did you bring me a present … I kinda had a present I was hoping for?” This was about all the game Dick had. “Let’s get a drink and go find someplace where I can open your gift… You wanna cum up to my room and then we can go find one of the bands where the music is actually from this decade!”

Dick reached out to grab her hand, hoping she wanted to find someplace they could be alone for a few minutes too!

 

[Homerun2611]

Bruce Wayne & Selina Kyle - Wayne Estate Birthday Gala

Bruce wanted her, he had wanted her that night, and sensed it was reciprocal but she was on the job. Tonight no similar issue was evident, and so the feeling of frustration he had felt that night, only manifested itself into greater desire in the moment.

Everything about her filled him with want, likely nothing more, but lust was the only emotion he was looking to sate. Yet, there was something quite different, one moment a flirtatious comment, the next almost complete aloofness, as he watched her eyes constantly scanning the room. She was more than feminine, she was almost feline, a sense that at any moment she might rub up against his leg, and the next while seemingly extending a paw to play, scratch you and be gone.

For some that would be a turn off, for him it was a challenge, yet despite what he was feeling, her desire to join him that night, to test what their equally sculpted and attractive physiques might feel copulating, he was unsure if his desire would be fulfilled.

Yet she felt good in his hands as he guided her from one end of the mansion to the other, his study, large and now absent the rich mahogany furnishing it usually held, was serving as a den if inequity, serenaded by a man who provoked the most sensuous of intimacy.

”I hope you don’t mind me being so forward….” He said as he took her into hold, tight hold, bodies pressed and grinding type of hold, the only type of hold a song like this would allow. “… I am not a patient man, so four years is a record, one I would love us to shatter and realize the tragedy of having waited so long to act on something that seemed so right?”

It was presumptive, no doubt, that she had felt that same spark that same attraction that night, and part of the reason she was here, with him, in exactly this position, was a similar wonder of what might have been? Of course Bruce assumed that it was purely on his own talent to seduce that he might win the lady of the evening, pun intended, and not that he might be assisted by a certain botanist with a kinky goal for tonight’s party goers.

She didn’t give him much, at times he felt her body react, knowing at least momentarily he had hit the right spot. If she gave him the opportunity, there were spots galore that could enjoy his considerable talents. She was fumbling a bit, the timing curious, “I do not see..Chip?… Brad? No, that’s not.. Your ward?” A crooked smile lifts, crosses her lips, was she teasing, even making him jealous … “The birthday BOY.”

Turning and twisting, a release and a catch, a shimmy down and back up, turning you so you face away, and pulling your ass back and guiding your one hand above your head as his breath is felt on her neck, his lips, almost nibbling her ear as he whispers. “You want Dick…”. Hangs in air as hand on waist pulls you back to feel his growing attraction to your embrace. “Of course, happy to introduce you … or do you already know Dick, and just looking to get reacquainted?”

 

[Sweetp4u]

Selina & Bruce

“Mr. Wayne..” The smile lifting is shy, sweet and a bit of false surprise with your bold moves and not-to-subtle innuendo. “Is it not Mr. Grayson’s birthday party? My driver has his present waiting outside, I did not want to bring in the first edition Tom Sawyer without knowing where…” Oh you are so dangerous, with your hands stroking me, your prick wedged into my ass and growing bolder as it’s growing harder. You are presumptuous indeed. It is not so easy to play coy with a man who knows my former ‘choice’ of profession. He assumes once a slut, always a slut or so it seems. Reaching red nails stroke the nape of you, toying at your short dark hair, tickling with the slow sway of hips and grinding my ass to you.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Wayne?” Now I chuckle, I cannot help it. I felt that twitching flex of your dick, speaking of.. as if on cue, here comes your puns. “I believe I have found plenty of dick already.” Of course, it’s not Grayson, he is nowhere in sight. Does that stop me from pressing myself to you? No. I know what you want, I knew back then what you wanted too. It’s obvious in those dark eyes staring down at me, undressing me. How many women have you had; I wonder if there is a woman present here that you have not slept with. Unless they are too young or too old, I would venture to guess it’s a high number. Always the player…

Sinking slow, I rub down that immaculate suit and hard body under it. Song reaching it’s end, before the next sensual number begins to play, you hired this man to sing in here, to lure whomever you desired into these thoughts, I am sure of that. I wonder too, what are your plans tonight? Some wild no-strings sex with whatever sexy woman that takes you up on your offer? Of course, no-strings is the best kind of relationship out there. Too many questions lead to too many disappointments. Hit it and quit it, a motto I like probably as much as you. My thoughts are all over the place and not on the job.. sighs.

Focus, Selina!

Turning about, green eyes fix on you, smiling with each smooth step, each time my adulating hips rub against that hard tube resting inside such a dark black suit. Fingers shift into jacket, unbuttoning the one holding it closed, where my fingers and nails can reach in and scrape at your pristine white shirt and hard abs under it. “You going to reintroduce me, Bruce?” Sharp gaze on your expression, the manner your lips curve as I use your name for the first time, maybe the tone in which It purred from my lips? Mine growing as yours spreads, I can pick up your scent under that cologne finally. You need a shave, but perhaps later.. tomorrow would work. “I may consider your offer,” and I turn back around, press my back to you once more and tug one hand around me, to hip and closer, lower towards that hidden vee between flexing, shifting thighs. “Depends on how the night goes, I do have an early morning tomorrow.” Grin spreading, your fingertips so near my little kitten, are you tempted to rub at me yet?

“Would be rude to vanish before the birthday celebrations, greeting guests and such. Now wouldn’t it?” I turn to peer at you over shoulder.

 

[princesssexci]

Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson - Birthday Gala


“I don’t know why I had to wear this thing ..I’m sorry I was late and forced you to be stuck with that relic over there.…”

“Oh I’m sure that was a sight to be seen, watching you get ready.” Barbara teased, it was partially her flirting and partially her just being playful. Since they’d never been more than friends she didn’t want to embarrass herself.

Besides, Barbara was pretty fickle herself when it came to men. While she liked Dick, he’d never made his intentions known. She had also secretly been looking for Bruce, even if just to talk to him for a few minutes.

“He wasn’t that bad to talk to. I probably could’ve been a bit nicer.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced over where the girl in green seemed to hold Ra’s Al Ghul’s attention now.

“I mean he’s really old, right? Bruce said he’s dangerous, but how can that be… he’s ancient .. and what is with that ponytail?

‘He certainly seemed to move on quick. Maybe he didn’t like me as much as he made out.’ She thought to herself almost bitterly.“Um, yeah. Wait—he’s dangerous?”

He hadn’t seemed dangerous just really bored. She actually didn’t know why he came to the gala if he didn’t seem to like Dick.

“He said he was a friend of my dads. You don’t think he’d hurt my dad because I didn’t take his glass of champagne, do you? Maybe I should go an apologize?”

She glanced over at Dick whose eyes seemed to be stuck on the girl in green and Mr. Al Ghul. It caused her to stand straighter and push her chest out some as if trying to grab his attention again. She cleared her throat.

”You look hot tonight… “ Dick said finally giving Barbara her attention. She still held his gift which he must’ve noticed too.

“Thank you, Dick.” The compliment wasn’t as ‘you have a sincerity among you that stands out among the crowd’ but Dick Grayson finally seemed to be taking notice of her as more than just his best friend. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Did you bring me a present … I kinda had a present I was hoping for?”

“Oh you did?” She glanced down at the sky diving tickets in the envelope and the small box that held the robin paper weight; hoping she hadn’t fucked up. “Well I hope what I got you fits your birthday list.”

“Let’s get a drink and go find someplace where I can open your gift… You wanna cum up to my room and then we can go find one of the bands where the music is actually from this decade!”

“Obviously, but don’t you have to mingle and stuff?” What was wrong with her? Why did she feel nervous all of a sudden? She glanced around, it didn’t seem like there were a lot of people their age though. “Did Bruce just invite his associates to your birthday party?”

 

[LitShark]

Ra's al Ghoul, Re: Pam, Dick, Barb, Selina & Bruce

Ra’s smiled confidently, Dr. Isely was a lovely woman indeed—but she was no twenty-something flavor-of-the-week. Were he to pursue Dr. Isely in any meaningful way, he would need to give her his undivided attention, which at the moment was not on offer.

“It is a tempting offer, Dr. Isely. If I were here to socialize, I would be all-too pleased to entertain you until the sun broke on a blue dawn, but alas, I am here for business. As such, I suspect you and I should each mind our own,” a less mature young woman might have thought he was being “rude,” but Pamela was intelligent enough to understand that he suspected her reasons for attending Dick Greyson’s birthday party.

It hadn’t been much, an extra glance at the door, the thoughtful pauses, the way she emoted casual confidence but was poised to leap at the slightest provocation—Ra’s too was a detective, and if this event was doomed to go “pear shaped,” he would need to do the one thing he’d hoped to avoid.

He’d need to interrupt Bruce talking to a woman.

The woman was not known to him, which made Ra’s overlook her as a threat—a tactical mistake resulting from incomplete information. Such things are quite vexing for individuals who trade in the secrets of others.

“It isn’t often that I wish to be contacted by anyone, but I’ll give you my card. Feel free to use it,” Ra’s handed a paper-thin card of black steel, the edges were razor sharp and his card had the weight to be used as a makeshift shuriken in a pinch.

From most angles, the card looked completely black, but from straight-on, metallic green printing caught the light: Ra’s al Ghul, “FIXER” and a pager code. Old school.

“If you ever need it, you’ll be glad to have it,” he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her wrist softly, “I’m off to go cut in. Wish me luck.”

Ra’s reluctantly left Pamela’s company.

As he crossed the room, Ra’s stopped to greet the birthday boy whose tie was on backwards.

“Dick, happy birthday. I can’t stay long so I wanted to pass along my well wishes,” Ra’s extracted a long, rectangular box wrapped in black paper with a black bow, as he handed the box to Dick he reached forward, unknotting his bow tie with a single pull and retying it again properly.

It was an old-school power move. Feign kindness while undermining their confidence. In seconds, the tie was almost too tight around his neck—but the bow was flawless, symmetrical and done to the correct side so it wasn’t visibly obvious that someone had tied it on him rather than him tying it himself.

“Thanks so much for having me,” Ra’s clapped his hands onto Dick’s shoulders with enough force that it might have folded a dirt bike in half, “you’re looking great.”

Ra’s flashed a smirk over his shoulder at Barbara, passing between them on his way over the darkened study where he'd seen Bruce retreat to with a companion.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Bruce,” Ra’s bowed his head respectfully as he interrupted what seemed to be an increasingly intimate moment between the host and his blonde guest, “madam, I promise not to keep him long. But I have urgent business to attend tonight and I can’t stay much longer, I was hoping I could borrow you—only briefly to discuss some business.”

Ra’s glanced at Selina.

“Privately, if possible.” Ra’s let those words breathe for a second, “last time I was here you had a walk-in humidifier with some pre-embargo cigars and your best Scotch. Might I trouble you for a moment? I wouldn’t trouble you with this if time weren’t a pressing issue.”

 

[LitShark]

Talia al Ghoul & Joker - Crime Alley

The ticks from the arc welders rang out in time with blue flashes of light, reflected off of the windows and brickwork of the network of back alleys and courtyards, affectionately known as “Crime Alley” to local Gothamites. The shipping container had been unloaded and panels of cyclone fencing were being welded around the container, effectively creating a barricade to prevent anyone or anything from doubling back, over or around the metal shipping container. The welds ensured that there was no way to bypass the fences.

Talia’s face was expressionless, watching the work. It wasn’t often that she felt afraid—but the looming opening of that container terrified her in ways she hesitated to admit, even to herself.

“Preparations are completed, Sifu,” a ninja, clad all in back bowed to her dutifully, “at your command.”

“Take up the spears, everyone get in position. Make sure that thing goes into the alley.”

“Yes Sifu!” the team of killers answered in unison.

At intervals, long spears were leveled through the holes in the welded fences. When Talia deemed everyone ready, she pulled the pin on several smoke grenades and dropped one on each side of the container and another on the top, bathing the black-clad assassins in shadow and smoke.

“Open the crate,” Talia called out, exciting a chorus of mad giggles to echo from within.

Assassins pulled chains on both sides and the heavily shielded door groaned as they swung outward. They cracked the brick as they struck the brick walls on either side of the alley, further blocking anyone from trying to flank their way around the container. Talia and the assassins stood in tense silence as the laughter continued.

There was no joy in the laughter. It was more like shrieking. It was the laugh of someone who laughs at pain—experiencing more pain than the mortal mind was meant to endure.

After a while, the laughter stopped. The silence that followed was tangibly thick.

Just the hissing of the grenades and a faint dripping from a city that always seemed to be wet.

Footsteps…

Harsh, ragged breathing as the thing in the container moved closer to the opening…

The faint groaning of an assassins glove as he tightened his grip on the spear…

“Heeeere’s Joker!” Joker sprung upward from the opening and using the edge of the roof swung himself up onto the container, only to be confronted by a line of spears.

The Joker was hideous, even for himself. His eyes were bloodshot as if every corpuscle and vein had burst within both orbs. His yellowed teeth were overshadowed by new, white fangs that grew over the top of his incisors. He snarled at the spears, glaring through the smoke at Talia.

“Who are you? Why have you done this to me?!?”

“We are the League of Assassins. Our leader did not wish you to be dead, so you are not.”

“Hunger… the hunger!”

“Further down the alley you will find a skinless corpse waiting for you. Plenty of blood to sate your new appetite.”

“I’m a vampire…?”

“Something like. You have been revived by a combination of the blood of an ancient undead and the Lazarus Pits. You will thirst for human blood. Sunlight will be uncomfortable, but it will not harm you. You are mostly a man. For the rest… you never seemed to cling too tightly to your humanity in the first place.”

Joker laughed loudly at this. He thought it was a joke.

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone…” Joker hummed, calculating what it would take to dismantle this barricade and make a meal of Talia.

“The city is at your disposal, you may go in peace… but do not attempt to bite the hand that brought you life.”

“I was rather starting to enjoy hell, ha-ha!” Joker mused, “fine, fine, I’ll follow your little rabbit-run. But if I see you again—”

“You won’t.”

Just like that, all the ninjas and Talia were gone. Vanished like Batman so often did from boring conversations with Jim Gordon. Joker laughed loudly, running on all fours toward the skinless corpse they had left him to feed on. The barricade was left and abandoned. He’d learn to hunt for himself. Just like hunting and killing a bicycle, he mused inwardly.