When Spidey Met Batgirl

Stacy sighed. "I assumed the cane would have sapped the last of my youthful vanity, but the thought of watching her walk across that stage, Jimbo? Christ almighty!"

Gordon downed the rest of his rum. "Yeah, well, Barbara's already out of college. You think high school graduation's going to be tough? Wait until she's got a job of her own. Then you can bitch, Georgie-boy."

"Fair enough," Stacy agreed.

"Or you can wait until your first partner -- the guy who helped you close your first case -- decides to retire," Jim said. "That'll knock you flat on your ass just as fast."

"I'll keep that in mind, Commissioner Gordon."

"You do that, Captain Stacy."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Howis Gotham treating you?" George asked.

"Gotham's kicking my ass," Jim muttered. "It's got a crime rate that just won't quit and a police force I can't wash clean no matter how many dirty cops I flush out."

"Yeah, but you've got help from high and dark places, or so I hear."

"Oh sure," Jim said. "I've got The Batman, too. Lucky me."

"Could be worse," George told him. "At least you can talk to him without worrying about your badge. At least you live in a town where the higher ups can admit that this strange new breed of crime-fighter is here to stay and that it might not kill anybody if we let them pitch in. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised some of New York's more vibrant vigilantes haven't skipped town to give life in Gotham a taste."

Jim laughed at that. "I'm sure going to Gotham would be a snap, Captain. It'd be getting out that'd kill 'em."

*

"Whoa, hold on, mack," Peter said to the bus station teller. "A ticket out of this shithole ishow much?"

"Sixty dollars, sir," the teller told him again. "Will that be cash or credit card?"

"I gave my money to the hot blonde at the bookstore," Peter blurted out. "I've got maybe 20 bucks left! Can't I just sit on top of the bus or something? I won't slip off. I swear."

The ticket agent just looked at him, puzzled.

"That's a no, isn't it?" Peter asked.

"Absolutely," the agent assured him.

Peter resisted the urge to smash something and stalked out of the bus station as calmly as he was capable. He should have just stolen some clothes out of a laundromat or something. He knew he should have just stolen some clothes even when he was buying the overpriced rags he was wearing, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. Lying to Aunt May was bad enough. Taking the law into his own hands and resisting arrest on a daily basis was second nature to him at this point. But he just couldn't steal. Especially not while wearing that mask. If he did that, he'd become everything theDaily Bugle said he was.

Well maybe noteverything. He wouldn't be a dogfucker. He still couldn't believe that theBugle's publisher, J. Jonah Jameson, adamantly refused to print a retraction on that one.

He thought about asking Aunt May to wire him some money, but he was in no hurry to call her up again. Besides, it's not like she really had the cash to spare. (And when you really got down to it, Peter had no idea what having money "wired" really meant anyway. He'd just heard about it in some movie.)

He tried to remember if he knew anyone in Gotham, but the only person he knew who'd ever lived there was Angela Chen, one of theBugle's staff photographers. She'd left New York a couple years back to chase the shutterbug Holy Grail: a snapshot of The Batman. It was well known that for all the talk heard about Gotham's Caped Crusader and alleged Justice League member, he'd never been photographed. Not even by Phil Sheldon, and that guy had photographed every superhero under the sun. So, of course, Angela came back six weeks later with nothing.

Peter was there when she returned to the office for the first time. Jonah gave her a hard time about getting her job back, but after he went off to tear Ben Urich a new one, Joe Robertson, theBugle's city editor and ranking voice of reason, assured her she still had a place there. "It's not the first time someone's gone off on the search for the Great Black Bat," Robbie told her. "Hell, it happens to all the greats at some point. That kid at theDaily Planet, Jimmy Olsen? I hear he spent half a year chasing that whackjob."

Stepping out onto the streets of Gotham City, Peter thought about it. He had his mini-camera stashed away with his costume. And he had a big advantage over every other photographer that'd ever tried to capture Gotham's great urban legend on film -- unless that Olsen jerk could stick to walls. If he could snap a quick pic of this bat-chump he could sell it to theGotham Gazette and get that bus ticket. Hell, he could probably buy the whole damn bus station with an exclusive like that.

He'd have to wait until night, he figured. It was rumored The Batman only came out at night. Sundown was still another five or six hours away. He'd have to kill some time.

How hard could it be? Here he was, on his own in a strange new city. He was a hip guy at the height of his youth. There had to be somewhere he could go for a good time.

Somewhere cheap.

"Excuse me," he said to one of the less threatening strangers he'd encountered. "Which way is the library?"

CHAPTER THREE: When Peter Met Barbara

The Gotham Public Library closed promptly at nine. There'd been many a night in which Barbara had been all caught up in the middle of what she considered a fascinating project only to get kicked out by security.

"Come on, Miss Gordon," one of the guards had said to her once. "You might not have anyone to go home to, but I do."

Barbara had really wanted to refute the guy's statement at the time, but she couldn't. What was she going to say? "Well for your information, I still live with my dad, and Ido have someone waiting for me,so there!" Yeah. That would have really gotten his goat...

Ever since she'd become Batgirl, however, her late work nights had become far less frequent. After all, what kind of research could be more interesting than cracking skulls that deserved to be cracked? Most nights, she couldn't wait to run out of work and hit the streets and this one was certainly no exception. She was still a little sore from last night's romp with the Riddler's goons, but she was brimming with a whole new zeal.

Batman and Robin weren't going to be there tonight. All of Gotham City was her responsibility. They weren't just putting up with her anymore. They trusted her. Dick's trust hadn't been too hard to come by, considering. At his age, he was ruled almost entirely by his hormones and she'd made the mistake of indulging her weakness for his cocky bravado. But she'd never gone down on Batman, and even if she had, there was still no guarantee he'd trust her any more than he already did. Especially if any of Pixie Boot's secondhand tales of the Dark Knight's encounters with Catwoman were true.

Barbara was actually humming when she skipped out of her office in the corner of the Research Department at 8:55. There was a high stack of books on a table that she really should re-shelve before she took off, but she decided it could wait.

"Unbelievable," a voice said from the stack. "Just incredible."

Upon inspection, Barbara realized that the stack in question was, in fact, the majority of the GPL's collection of Otto Octavius' academic papers. Upon even closer inspection, she found a skinny young man with brown hair and a Gotham University t-shirt hidden behind the high pile.

"Sorry, sir, it's closing time," Barbara told him. "If you hurry, you can probably make it to the check out desk in time."

"I don't have a library card," the guy murmured without even looking up. "I'm not exactly from around here. And where I come from, you can't get a copy of this stuff anywhere."

Barbara looked down at the book in the guy's hands. "What is that?" she asked. "Octavius' paper outlining his cold fusion theory?"

At that, he looked up at her for the first time. When they made eye contact, he seemed strangely startled to see her, even though he had to have known she was there.

"Whoa," he whispered.

Barbara smiled. "Oh, you don't think girls like to read dry science texts, too?" she asked. "How cute."

"Definitely," he said softly, still gaping at her. "Cute."

She turned to leave. "Come on," she sighed. "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

As they made their way to the exit, the guy babbled through an explanation of how he'd lost track of time. "The man might have a weak left hook, but you've got to admit, Otto Octavius was a genius," he said. "Top of his field. If he hadn't gone fat crackers, who knows what he could have done, you know? I've been meaning to read his papers for ages, but like I said, you can't read them back home. Not since he smashed into the New York Public Library and stole them all. There was no stopping him either. He was incensed. Total nutjob."

"I didn't really understand a word of that," she told him.

"Oh right," he said. He looked hurt somehow. He was almost good-looking in a fidgety, twitchy sort of way.

"Look, I understand how it is," she said sweetly as they stepped through the front doors out onto the street. "Time flies when you're geeking out. Especially with Doctor Octavius' research. Most of his radiation stuff flies right over my head, but he's written a lot about computer programming and operating systems that just blows me away. The micro-processors that control those crazy robot arms of his are bleeding edge tech."

"I'm not much of a computer guy," he confessed. "Pretty pricey hobby."

An awkward silence fell between them.

"Well, I'm going to go," Barbara said. "Have a nice stay in Gotham. Maybe I'll see you around if you come back to finish your reading."

He was still staring at her, almost transfixed. "Maybe."

Barbara started down the street toward her car. She made it about half way before she heard someone running up behind her. She spun around, ready to fight if she had to, but it was only the nervous guy again.

"This is going to be really forward and way unlike me," he said, "but I was wondering if you were maybe hungry."

She was actually starving, but she figured she'd just scarf down an energy bar or two before she went out on patrol. Barbara took a good look at the guy. He was totally her type. Or at least, he was just like all the shy, nebbish guys she'd always dated in college. He was young though. A year or two older than Dick at the most. And Barbara was beginning to suspect that she'd chosen the quiet guys in college because she thought she had to. She never thought she'd be of interest to anyone too wild or exciting. She never thought she'd find herself in anything other than a comfortable relationship devoid of excitement. With someone safe. Of course, she'd never thought she was the type to pull off a cape, either.

Things changed.

Besides, this was her night.

"I'm flattered, but I have plans," she said as gently as possible. "And all I really know about you is that you read the work of mad scientists and ramble nonsense sometimes."

"Ha! That's funny!" he laughed, trying not to look too crushed. "She's smart and pretty and funny," he murmured so softly she almost didn't hear him. "Way out of my league..."

"Look," she started to say, completely unsure how she planned to finish the sentence. Luckily, she didn't have to.

"You're probably right," he said softly. "Have a good night."

"You too." She started moving toward her car again.

"Smooth, Parker," she heard him mumble behind her.

*

Peter wasn't completely sure what had happened back at the library, but he'd learned one thing for certain: he was a sucker for redheads.

When he'd looked up at that librarian... When he'd seen those beautiful blue eyes, that burst of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and that brief glimpse of black lace straining beneath her rose-colored blouse, he'd felt like he was tingling. He really thought it was his spider-sense at first. The next thing he knew, he was running off at the mouth like a total jackass.

It has to be because of Betty, he decided, changing back into his costume on a rooftop across the library. They had only broken up a few weeks earlier. Peter had thought he was fine with it, but apparently he wasn't. How else could he explain his behavior? Why else would he have almost put off the search for Batman even more than he had with Doc Ock's papers for dinner with some girl he barely knew? Even if she was gorgeous? And how had he expected to take her out with less than twenty bucks in his pocket?

He was still reeling from the break up with Betty. He had to be. The fact that he hadn't really slept in thirty-six hours probably didn't help either.

Spider-Man was still trying to convince himself two hours later. Gotham was a big city, but it wasn't New York. Spidey'd criss-crossed the town twice and hadn't seen any sign of the fabled Caped Crusader.

"What'd he do, leave town or something?" the wallcrawler wondered aloud as he swung into one of the seedier parts of town. Maybe The Batman really was just an urban myth to scare Gotham's criminal element after all... Not that it seemed to be doing much good from the look of it. Parts of this burg made Hell's Kitchen look cozy.

As if to reinforce his point, his spider-sense began to tingle, leading him toward the burnt out hulking ruin of a warehouse near the pier.

Maybe this night wasn't going to be a total bust after all.

CHAPTER FOUR: The Evil That Men Do

Looking down at the bound form of Batgirl, Killer Moth couldn't help but smile. "I knew I'd get the better of you eventually," he murmured dreamily. "You thought you'd made a fool of me? Well who's the fool now?"

For her part, Batgirl could only struggle against her fetters and wonder how this possibly happened to her. How the hell hadKiller Moth of all people gotten the drop on her? She'd made her mark as a novice crime-fighter beating this chump! And more importantly, when did he learn to tie a decent knot? Her dad had once told her that one of the Moth's earliest kidnapping schemes -- in which he'd abducted the nine-year-old son of a tobacco magnate -- had been thwarted before the cops had even been informed of the ransom demands because he'd tied the boy up with a bow.

The kid escaped while Moth was out getting a Happy Meal.

And now, one of Gotham's premiere vigilantes was writhing against four perfectly tied double constrictor knots that had her bound spread eagle to a cold metal table.

"Not so tough now, are you little bat?" her captor cooed gleefully. "Surprised that the Killer Moth was too much for you?"

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Mothboy," Batgirl said with a smirk. "You got lucky. I had a run in with the Riddler's men last night that left me pretty banged up."

"You think you're hurting now?" the Moth asked, producing a switchblade. "Wait'll you get a load of me, bitch."

For the first time since she'd run into the Moth that night, a cold shiver of fear ran down Batgirl's spine. "What are you doing?" she asked as he stepped toward her.

"Whatever the fuck I wanna do, Bat-whore," he said with a grin as the blade switched open with a stark and startling click.

Batgirl screwed her eyes shut, realizing he was going to kill her. He was going to cut her and torture her to death and dump her body off the pier. This was how her father was going to learn the truth about his little girl. Killer Moth was going to kill her! She was going to die!

The unending dread raced through her as she waited for the blade to sink into her flesh. She was almost relieved when instead of cold steel she felt a clammy hand press her chest.

That relief soon gave way to surprise and revulsion when she opened her eyes to see Killer Moth standing over her, pawing at her breasts. "Oh you slutty little tease," he whispered. "So pretty and helpless."

Batgirl was too shocked to speak. She could only grunt in pain as the Moth forcefully groped her tit, still tender from the night before. "Batty baby likes it rough, huh?" he asked, mistaking her verbal discomfort for passion. "Well if rough is what baby wants, rough is what she gets."

The knife flashed back into Batgirl's sight as Killer Moth pulled the thick lycra material of her costume away from her body and started to cut.

"No!" she screamed, finally vocalizing her shock as he methodically sliced through her suit, exposing her breasts.

"Oh my, no bra," Killer Moth observed, ignoring her protest. "Such a dirty, naughty girl."

Some small part of Batgirl's mind -- the same part determined to deny that this could actually be happening -- wanted to explain to him that the outfit he was so callously shredding had been carefully designed by craftsmen overseas on Bruce Wayne's dime to support her ample frame on its own for maximum comfort and flexibility. But that same small part of her mind shut down when she realized he was now carefully cutting the crotch from her costume.

"I'm gonna let you keep that cute little utility belt," the Moth told her. "It's just so dead sexy. And let's keep our masks on, too. Roleplay always spices things up, don't you think? First I'm gonna fuck Batgirl, and then later I'm going to fuck whatever slutty little nobody's hiding under that cowl."

"Stop," she begged him, tears threatening to well in her eyes. "Just stop!"

"We can't stop now," he said, slicing her panties away. "The fun hasn't even started yet."

The sad truth of it -- a truth she now realized she'd never tell anyone as long as she lived -- was that in the beginning, Batgirl had a bit of a crush on Killer Moth. It was the deep timbre of his voice that had done it for her. It used to make her feel like the timid school girl to his stern high school principal. That crush had steadily subsided after she'd actually fought him -- after she'd seen him crumble into the pathetic wretch she now knew festered beneath all that bluster. And now, watching in horror as he frantically worked off his belt buckle and lowered his ridiculous lavender pants to expose the ugly stub of his stiffening penis, the last faint traces of that attraction were obliterated.

"I swear to God, I'm going to kill you for this," she grimaced as he climbed up on the table, stroking his cock.

"If I thought you'd get the chance to make good on that little threat, I might just say it'd be worth it," he glibly replied, positioning himself between her legs. Batgirl could feel his prick throb against her thighs, and somehow found the strength to fight even harder with her restraints than she already had been. The rope holding her right arm was starting to give a little, but she doubted she could free herself in time.

Killer Moth ran his hands along her waist and up her sides to knead her breasts again. He moaned throatily as he violently pinched her nipples, sending waves of pain and nausea through her. "All the humiliations and beatings you've given me over this last year," he laughed, "and look at you now."

Batgirl felt his dripping cockhead at the edge of her sex and could only whimper as he began to push forward. She just couldn't watch this happen, closing her eyes once more.

No sooner had she lowered her lids than she heard someone shout, "Is this a private party, or can any wacky bug boy drop in?" Killer Moth suddenly withdrew from her. Shortly afterward, there was a less than soft crash on the other side of the room.

When Batgirl opened her eyes, a garish red and blue figure stood over her. It only took a moment for her to register the big white bug-eyes and the web-pattern of his mask and realize who she was dealing with.