Robin's Reckoning Pt. 01byQuox©
The following work of fiction is a sequel to a previous story on Literotica called Two or Three written by Mild Mannered Author. His works are excellent adaptations of the DC characters that do them justice. I highly recommend them, and would encourage you to read Two or Three (among his others). This particular story was written with Mild Mannered Author's input and blessing. Both of these stories borrow characters and concepts from DC Comics. DC Comics officially owns all copyrights to all characters mentioned. The following is a work of erotic fanfiction suitable only for adults ages 18 and older. If you are not 18 or older, or are averse to reading erotica, stop reading now.
Further, I'm not too specific about continuity as this story blends elements from the TV show, Justice League Unlimited, as well as the comics. So just relax, and enjoy the read!
It was a still, mid-October night. Most of the time, the financial district in Gotham City is pretty quiet at 2:00 a.m. But on Law Street, that quietness was shattered. Because with the Joker around, nothing is ever quiet. To complicate matters, with him, was the ever-delightful Harley Quinn, the Joker's girlfriend. And in hot pursuit was none other than Batman, the Dark Knight, and his partner Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Inside the Batmobile's cockpit, the two heroic crime fighters watched the Joker's car intently. Joker was in the driver's seat of a crimson-colored 1964 Mustang convertible. It was most likely Harley's pick. She had a thing for convertibles.
Normally, Robin had some kind of witty banter to say about the futility of trying to outrun or shoot the Batmobile, but not this time. This time, Robin was silent wearing a look of contained anger. Tim didn't notice, but Batman gave him a quick glance.
Robin's real name was Tim Drake, an 18-year-old high school student. Years before, Tim was able to deduce the true identity of Batman and even the previous Robin, Dick Grayson. Tim wanted in, and through his persistence he got in. He got more than what he bargained for, though.
Batman reached over the dash and pushed one of the many buttons that lit up the cockpit.
"Battering ram engaged," said the female computer voice from the speakers.
Batman kicked in the afterburner, and the Batmobile's speed instantly doubled. The crime fighting machine slammed into the beautiful Mustang with a loud "crash." The Joker's getaway vehicle careened left and right on the street, but was able to stay in control of itself.
"Damnit! The bat and the brat always have to spoil my fun, don't they?" complained the Joker.
"How'd they know we was here Mistah J!?" Harley inquired while fearfully looking back and fourth between her main man, and the Dark Knight's vehicle which now served as a battering ram.
"I smell a rat, Harl! But we'll deal with that lat--"
"SLAM!" This time the Mustang could not keep control of itself. While traveling at 60 miles an hour, the car started spinning round and round like a top. Thankfully for the two insane criminals, there was enough road to slow down their inertia somewhat. Joker laughed manically as the vehicle spun out of control. Finally, the Mustang smashed into a streetlight, halting its equally crazy adventure.
The Clown Prince of Crime looked back and waved at the Batmoble while smiling an evil smile. "Harley, why don't we run along and split these two closet cases up, kay?"
"You got it!'" said Harley as she reached onto the dashboard and pushed a button. I don't know about bats, but the bird sure ain't no closet case. Harley thought to herself as she did what her "puddin'" ordered her to do.
There was a reason Harley Quinn knew that Robin was no closet case. She had him herself, along with her best friend Poison Ivy. At that time, the two were on the lam after breaking out of Arkham Asylum along with most of its criminal population. She and Ivy needed a code to get into a Lexcorp bank vault to make off with a large stack of bearer bonds. They knew that Robin, who was flying solo for the first time, found out the code, and they had to get it out of him. If they tried torture, Batman would make seeking them out with extreme prejudice a top priority. He'd probably make them both paraplegics if they crippled the Boy Wonder. Killing him would get the same result. Ivy's mind controlling lipstick had no affect. So they tried the only other thing they could think of, pleasure --and a dose of Ivy's "super Viagra" that she concocted. It worked.
It was the closest thing Tim had ever been to rape, and he didn't like that one little bit.
Neither Robin nor Batman ever thought they would have to inoculate themselves from any kind of Viagra-like drug. Ivy's physical attributes were obvious, but Harley's D-cup breasts and smooth skin (with the occasional scar here and there) were more concealed in her red and black court jester's outfit. Coupled with the fact that Tim was a virgin who never so much as kissed a girl, he tried to resist, but he couldn't. He gave them the code, and they gave him their bodies. Tim could still remember the warmth of Ivy's tongue on his phallus, vigorously working his young hungry cock. He could still taste Harley's salty nipple in his mouth while Ivy worked him over with her mouth. And most of all, he remembered what it felt like with his dick buried in the unbelievably tight pussies of Harley and Ivy. The thrill of pounding his cock into Harley's body beneath him, and the exquisite feeling of Ivy's delectable body rising up and down on top of him was too much. It was his first time, and deep down, Tim liked it. That was why he now hated them both with every fiber of his being.
The device activated two rocket-propelled ejector seats. Joker's seat rocketed to the left and Harley's to the right high in the sky. Their shouts of glee echoed into the once-again-quiet night air of Gotham City.
Batman opened the cockpit and stood up, Robin doing the same. Both readied their pneumatic grapple guns. Batman looked at his teenage partner.
"You know what to do."
"Nothing you wouldn't do." With that, Robin fired off a line of de-cel cable in the direction Harley took off into the air. A half-second later, the claw-grapple latched firmly to a surface, and Robin took off towards the sky.
"That's what I'm afraid of." Batman said to no one in particular. He followed suit and went after the Joker.
Meanwhile, Harley unfastened herself from the car seat. She then pulled out a wicked knife from a pocket on the side of the seat. The blade was about five inches long, and the handle was made to fit the contours of a human hand. The handle was red and black striped, with red and black diamonds on either side; just like her costume's color/pattern scheme. Harley broke out into a sprint and got moving.
At the edge of the building, she brilliantly leapt across to the adjacent building looking like a ballerina. When she landed, Harley looked back to make sure she wasn't being followed, but when she turned her head to the front, she saw Robin standing ten feet away from her.
He looked angry, and had almost the exact same scowl that his mentor usually had.
"How's it goin' bird boy? Long time no see." Harley tossed the knife back and fourth between her left and right hand.
Robin's eyes squinted behind the lenses of his mask.
Meanwhile, across the street, Batman was very close to catching up to his quarry.
Joker ran into an alley between two buildings, and jumped to climb over a fence. But Batman was way too fast for the maniac.
With his powerful legs, Batman kicked an empty green dumpster that still smelled of rotten food at the steel-ringed fence. The collision of heavy metal on flexible steel caused the criminal to loose his grip and fall back to the ground. Joker landed on his butt.
Instantly he sprung back up on his feet like a bottle rocket.
Joker turned, and was about to reach into his inside jacket pocket, but the Dark Knight wasn't about to spare him any quarter. In a flash, Batman grabbed the Joker's arm and twisted his wrist. Next, he rose the mad man's injured arm into the air, grabbed a hold of his belt with his other hand, and then Batman pivoted his hips and threw Joker over his shoulder. Joker landed on the concrete ground with a loud "thud!"
"Ouch! Heh, shouldn't you be prancing around like a merry by the docks now? There's a big robbery going on there, you know." Joker taunted.
Batman was back into his neutral stance. His cape concealed his arms and main body.
"I am there."
The crazy person wearing the purple suit opposite Batman was confused.
"Tell ya what kid. You let me go, and we can go another round." Harley stopped tossing the knife and slowly cupped her right hand underneath her left breast. This version of her costume hugged tightly to her skin; leaving little to the imagination.
"Ya know, I Gotta admit, when my guy and I do the nasty these days, I Keep think--"
Robin heard enough. Faster than Harley had ever seen him move, he launched forward in a dive roll, instantly clearing the 10--foot distance between them. At the end of his lunging roll, Robin kicked out his legs as hard and fast as he could at Harley's knees. He had practiced this maneuver many times in the training room, and was able to break a pair of two--by--fours in half. It was actually a tactic navy seals use to disarm an opponent when they themselves are unarmed.
And, "SNAP!" Both of the one--time lovers could hear Harley's left kneecap break. Robin connected indeed with both feet. One broke her kneecap, the other bashed into her shin. The force of the attack kicked her backwards off her feet, and knocked Harley a meter away. It was as if she had a wire attached to the back of her thighs that yanked her off her feet. As she landed, she fell forward with her face down on black roof top. Then the pain transmitted its message from her knee, to her spine, to her insane mind.
"AHHHHHHHHH! AOOOOWW! AH!...AH!...AH!... Huff...Huff... Ahhh! How could you do this to me!?"
From across the street, the Dark Detective and the Clown Prince both heard the remarkably loud scream as if it were right next to them. Both knew that it was Harley's voice, but neither of them had ever heard her make any kind of sound like that. It was as if she was being tortured to death.
Joker was no stranger to the screams of torture victims. In fact, he enjoyed them a lot. But he admitted to himself, that this didn't instill those warm fuzzy feelings he was used to feeling when committing slow murder. And he didn't like it one little bit.
Joker turned sideways towards the direction of the scream. His expression was one of surprise. His eyebrows were slanted down, his mouth slightly agape.
Batman too was surprised by the scream, and his eyes widened somewhat. However, he was way too smart (and knew the Joker too well) to not take advantage of the situation.
Moving like lightning, Batman tossed a poison-tipped Batarang into the Joker's neck. The drugs did their job immediately, and Joker rolled his eyes and collapsed on the ground.
Joker landed with a thud. Wasting no time, the world's greatest detective proceeded to hogtie his enemy from behind; not that he really needed to since the sedative in the Batarang would keep him sedated for at least an hour. But with the Joker, one never takes chances.
Robin was already on his feet, looking down at the Joker's girlfriend with a blank expression on his face. Finally, he spoke.
"Remember you said, 'Second things second, this don't mean anything? Next time I see ya, I'll cut ya to ribbons?' Remember that?" Robin repeated verbatim. He didn't say it mockingly in Harley's New York accent, though.
Harley Quinn sneered at Robin. Pure anger filled her eyes. Robin seemed indifferent to her pain, but then he pulled out a syringe filled with drugs from his utility belt.
Harley's face instantly altered from one of anger to one of trepidation. What was that? Was that poison? Was he actually going to kill her? Ivy and Harley gave him the night of his life, and he was going to kill her for it?
"Wait a minute, what is that? What're you doing?" exclaimed Harley.
Robin took hold of her left wounded leg, and stuck the syringe into her broken kneecap. She gave a tiny yelp, when the needle pierced her skin through her costume.
"Cortizone shot. I figured I owed you that much. In time, your knee will heal back to normal. You won't be crippled or paralyzed."
Indeed, the medicine started to kick in almost immediately after Robin administered it. Harley's breathing slowed and calmed down. She was still clutching her knee.
"Why?" She pleaded. "We gave you the night of your life! It was your first time, and we gave you the night of your life!"
"And I didn't want it to be with you and Ivy, drugged, and under duress!" Robin shouted at her, barely containing his rage.
Instinctively, Robin looked up from Harley. He sensed that the two of them were not alone, and sure enough, he was right. There, standing 30 feet away from them was Batman. Harley tried to scamper away from Robin while sitting down on the roof. She used her arms and good leg to backwards-crawl away from the brutal boy wonder towards the caped crusader.
"Keep him away from me! Keep him away from me! That kid's out of his gourd!"
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, at the Dixon Docks, a group of eight would-be thugs were tied up against a sturdy chain link fence on pier 24, their crime foiled. Attached to one of them was one thing: A piece of paper with the Batman symbol printed on it.
The five-person criminal team consisted of a muscular bald, middle-aged, black man with sunglasses; a large breasted Chinese woman with short denim shorts wearing empty dual holsters on either sides of her breasts; a nerdy white man with glasses, and long blond hair with a pony tail; and a short, lean, Japanese man who wore a white shirt and necktie. The last criminal among them wore a purple suit, had dyed green hair, and also had white face paint. It wasn't too bad an imposter of the Joker. To the average cop or civilian, they might mistake the drugged actor for the real man. But the Bat Family was far too familiar with the Clown Prince of Crime to be fooled.
Of course, Batman was not actually there to prevent this crime; it was his other protégé, Batgirl. Up close and personal, anyone can see that there was a vast difference in body between Batman and Batgirl, but from a distance, it might be possible to mistake the two.
This particular crime was merely a diversion from the Joker's real crime at the financial district. An old tug boat on pier 1 was blown up to smithereens; distracting the police from this secondary crime. They found a number of joker playing cards scattered about the area of the explosion on the dock, in the water, and on the boat.
The five criminals were either sleeping soundly, or awake and in a daze. The black man, the Chinese woman, and the Joker facsimile had bruises on their faces. The nerd and the Japanese man looked like they weren't even touched. Yet, all were firmly incapacitated.
Lately, Batgirl had been experimenting with using nerve strike techniques to incapacitate opponents with minimal damage. Though she preferred the solid crunch of fists and feet on flesh, she had to admit, the techniques were easier on the knuckles. It pleased her that she could exhibit such self control in spite of her violent past.
Underneath the cowl that completely concealed her face, was a 19-year-old girl with predominately Asian features. She had shoulder-length, jet black hair, and she had quite a slender feminine figure. One detail which was disproportionate to the rest of her was her rather large chest, a D-cup. With the extra padding of her costume (similar to how female fencers wear protective padding for their chests) her breasts looked even larger. On more than one occasion, a criminal had been distracted by them. The rest of her was a pretty supple frame, with well-defined abs, and thin hips, unlike the previous Batgirl, Barbara Gordon, who had a more hourglass figure.
Her real name was Cassandra Cain, the daughter of master assassins David Cain and Lady Shiva; two of the most dangerous and deadliest humans on the planet. Either of them could single-handedly eradicate a police S.W.A.T. team in less than a minute using only their bare hands. Although Cassandra could do the same, the difference was that Cassandra wouldn't leave corpses.
She grew up without her mother as part of some twisted deal made between Cain and Shiva. Cain trained Cassandra from birth to be the perfect assassin. She was not taught to read or write; instead, she was taught to read body language only. She was able to read people's movements and predict what they were going to do.
When she was eight, Cain took her to kill a businessman while he videotaped the act. As the man died, she read what he was feeling, realized what she had done, and ran away from Cain. She resurfaced a few years later in Gotham City during the No Man's Land incident when Gotham suffered a massive earthquake and was quarantined from the rest of America. During that time, she served as one of Barbara's information gatherers. When she thwarted an assassination attempt on Commissioner Gordon, both Bruce and Barbara gave her the Batgirl costume with their blessing.
Batgirl took out her grapple gun, fired, and took to a nearby rooftop. From there, she ran across three uneven rooftops, and descended into an alley. She mounted her motorbike, and headed off to Wayne Manor.
Heading North on the Aparo Expressway, starting to pass over Sprang Bridge, the Batmobile was able to navigate without worry of traffic. At this time of night, there were few cars on the road. Inside the vehicle, Robin looked more relaxed. He stared out the window, and watched the streetlights pass by. Even though his pain was lessened somewhat by hurting Harley, Robin was still feeling it.
"Did I mess up again?" asked Robin.
Batman didn't take his eyes off the road, but Tim could tell that he wasn't quite angry, more like he was only slightly disappointed.
"To my knowledge, I have never seen you break a criminal's bones or dislocate a knee before."
"Hey, you were the one who taught me those techniques! Besides, I've seen you do the same thing a hundred times." Robin shot back.
Batman glanced back at Tim. "Yes, but that is me, isn't it?"
At that, Tim sighed in frustration, and looked back out the window.
Bruce looked back at his partner. "Tim. I didn't say you were wrong."
Tim returned his mentor's glance, eyebrows slightly raised. "Does this mean you're not angry with me?"
"A little disappointed, maybe, but not angry. Like I said before, this sort of thing goes with the territory. It's understandable, but you shouldn't make a habit of it."
That helped ease the tension in Robin's shoulders, and his face and posture returned to neutral.
The Batmobile finished crossing the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge at 80 miles per hour, and headed into the Gotham suburb of Bristol. They would be inside their sanctum in a matter of minutes.
Inside the cave, Alfred was wearing his black dress pants, white dress shirt, and a gray sweater over it. The 63-year-old bald British man looked tired, but Alfred could never sleep when Master Bruce and Master Tim were away in the city as Batman and Robin.
The exterior entrance to the Batcave opened, and the Batmobile drove through, and slowed to a stop at the vehicle turn table. Alfred stood up from his chair and took hold of a pitcher of orange juice. He then filled two of three glasses.