This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to date.
Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended.
The Adventures Of Batgirl
Batgirl: Sex Bomb
Chapter 3: If The Noose Fits...
Thursday, 12:44 pm
Phil parked up the black and white in the first available parking space, then walked back the fifty yards or so, to the gaudily painted entrance to The Pink Armadillo. The gay bar looked busy enough, with a healthy sized lunchtime crowd filling the place and the pounding beat of loud pop music cutting through the smoke-laden atmosphere.
He strode through the doorway, into the relatively dimly lit interior, his leather service-issue boots clunking on the wooden flooring. The general hubbub died down, as he walked over toward the counter, as all eyes turned to check out the uniformed newcomer. Phil casually glanced around the room. The place was full of men, mostly in pairs, with a few of them holding hands. Two guys were dancing, intimately, over by an old-fashioned jukebox.
Phil swallowed, nervously. He figured he was probably the only guy in the place, who wasn't wearing makeup and he felt a faint tingle of apprehension run up his spine.
"What can I do for you, officer?" enquired the barkeep, a big, bald-headed, powerfully built guy, who obviously worked out a lot. He was wearing a pair of tight denim jeans and a black leather vest without a shirt beneath it. A nametag on the vest, just above his left pectoral, proclaimed his name as 'Hans'. His muscular arms were covered in an intricate pattern of tattoos. He continued to dry and polish a glass tumbler on a cleaning cloth, while he eyed the tall, blond policeman up and down, obviously liking what he saw.
"Er, has anyone been asking for me?" Phil enquired, going red around the ears, not quite sure where to begin. The note could've been some sort of gag played on him by one of his fellow officers, but he didn't think so.
"It depends on who YOU are, Big Boy?" the bartender replied, a broad grin lighting up his ugly features.
Phil found himself blushing even more. "Officer Phil Thackeray, GCPD," he replied, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. Phil didn't regard himself as being homophobic, but there was no way that he was going to do anything that might encourage the advances of this obviously homosexual person.
The guy's eyes opened wide and he placed a hand on his waist, as he deliberately struck an effeminate pose. "So, you're Officer Thackeray, huh? Yeah, there wuz a couple of guys in here earlier, askin' after you, handsome. Claimed they had some important information for you!"
Phil's eyes lit up. "What sort of information?"
"Search me, officer? I ain't their confidant. Never seen either one of 'em before today."
"Are they still around?" Phil asked, trying to keep the note of excitement out of his voice.
"I think they may still be out back? Through that door over there!" The bartender nodded toward a closed door at the rear of the smoke-filled room. It had the words 'STAFF ONLY' stenciled upon it.
"Thanks!"
As the policeman turned and headed for the indicated doorway, he didn't see the barkeep press a small red button, just under the lip of the counter, or the smug, knowing grin on his ugly mug.
As he opened the door and stepped through, Phil kept his right hand hovering over his holstered service pistol, just in case. He found himself in a narrow, dimly lit hallway, with a couple of doors leading off from it, on the right-hand side and another closed door at the far end, no doubt leading to the rear yard of the premises.
"Hello, is anyone there?" he called out. There was no answer, just the muffled sound of the music filtering through from the smoky room he'd just left.
"Anyone here?"
There was still no reply.
Phil didn't like the look of this and considered calling in and asking for some backup. Pulling out his service pistol, he gently tried the handle of the nearest door. The door was unlocked. He eased it open a few inches and stuck his head inside the room.
"Anyone aroun..." His words were cut off, as the heavy butt of a gun slammed down on the back of his skull and he slumped to the floor, unconscious, with just the briefest of groans.
A giant of a man stepped from alongside the doorway and stood astride the motionless policeman, who was sprawled out on the carpet, face down. Blood was already starting to seep out of nasty looking wound on the back of his head.
"The plan worked like a dream, Shorty, just like the boss said it would!" the big man chortled, addressing his companion, a puny, undernourished type, wearing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt, white slacks and a black derby perched on the back of his head, who had just watched the scene unfold.
"I still don't like it!" muttered Shorty, shaking his head and staring up at his tall but somewhat overweight partner, Bull. "Kidnappin' a cop ain't part of the original deal! At some point, we shall have to bump this guy off."
"So?"
"Cop killers are always hunted down, no matter how long it takes," the short guy replied, darkly.
"You've been readin' too many cheap detective novels. By then, we will be long gone, and rich beyond our wildest dreams. I figure we've really fallen on our feet, this time."
-oOo-
When Officer Thackeray hadn't reported in for more than an hour, Dispatch tried to contact him, without success. Like most other dispatchers, police dispatchers were usually civilians employed by the department. Their duties included monitoring the location of on-duty police officers and dispatching the appropriate type and number of units, in response to calls for assistance.
Fifteen minutes later, with still no response, the female dispatcher reported her concerns to her immediate superior.
Two hours later, the empty cruiser was located and a city-wide hunt for the missing officer was immediately set into motion.
Thursday, 4:20 pm
