This story is the seventh 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 the present.
Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal consumption. No copyright infringement is intended.
The Adventures Of Batgirl
Batgirl: The Vampyre Caper
Chapter 1: The Ultimate Batsuit
Barbara Gordon, Assistant Chief Librarian at the Gotham City Public Library, was sitting at her desk, browsing through copies of some ancient documents relating to the early days of the American Civil War, when her cellular phone beeped.
"Drat!" she muttered, putting down the document she had been reading and slipping off her horn-rimmed reading spectacles, before reaching over for her personal phone. On the illuminated screen, were the words 'New text message received'.
"Now who can this be?" Barbara mused, with a puzzled frown. The lovely redhead rarely received text messages, except the occasional one from her close friend and sometimes lover, Jennifer Goodbody. Since Jenny also happened to work in the library and was probably no more than twenty or thirty paces away from her office, at that very moment, it was unlikely to be her. Barbara quickly thumbed through to the Text Messages Inbox and selected the latest arrival. Her face grew pale as soon she started reading the text that appeared:
Batgirl,
If you wish to learn something that is very much to your benefit, then please come to the back alley that leads off from Hampshire Boulevard (South), tonight at midnight precisely. On entering the alleyway, make your way to the third door on your right and press the buzzer button three times, to gain entry. Come alone or the deal is off. This is not a hoax!
A Long Time Admirer
"Damn! This is really bad news!" Barbara muttered, a deep frown creasing her forehead. "How the hell did the sender know where to send this text message? Does this mean that someone has somehow stumbled upon the secret identity of the Maid of Might? Oh shit, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!"
Just as she bad-mouthed this last oath, Jenny happened to be walking past the open doorway to her office and happened to overhear it. Such language from her boss was unusual enough for the perky young blonde to pause and then step inside the office.
"What's up girl?" her pretty blue-eyed assistant enquired, brightly. "You sounded pretty pissed about something or other."
Barbara quickly exited the text message with a press of a button and covered up her cell phone with the palm of her hand, as she tried not to appear flustered. "Er, um, nothing, Jen," she insisted, shaking her head and forcing a welcoming smile on her full red lips. "Is that a new lipstick you're wearing? That shade really suits you."
Jenny plumped her shapely ass on the corner of Barbara's desk and folded her arms over her shapely chest, determined not to be side-tracked. "Oh, yeah? You can't fool me, Barbara. Something's got you worried, hasn't it?"
Barbara calmly picked up her reading glasses from the desk and slipped them back on, using the delaying tactic to gain control over her inner turmoil. She peered over the top of the frames at her young assistant.
"Well... if you must know, something has, ah, cropped up and I won't be able to go out with you on our regular night patrol this evening," she explained. As Batgirl, Barbara frequently performed her late evening vigils accompanied by her crime-fighting partner, Sparrow, a.k.a. Jennifer Goodbody.
The young blonde's face fell. "Gee, Barbara, that's too bad. You know how much I look forward to our nocturnal adventures. What's so important that it can't keep?"
"Er, it's personal business, Jen. Sorry!" Barbara quickly changed the topic. "Why don't you join Batman and Robin for tonight's patrol and I'll see you in the morning?" she suggested.
Jennifer gave her a sulky pout. "Yeah, okay, but it won't be half as much fun without you," she agreed.
Barbara smiled as she picked up a manuscript from her desktop, suddenly all business-like. "Right. Now, if you could tootle along, Ms. Goodbody, some of us still have a lot of work to get through, before it's time to go home." She watched Jenny snort, dramatically, then stalk out of the open doorway.
Once Jennifer had departed, Barbara re-opened the text message and read it again. The contents did not seem in any way threatening. If the sender really HAD discovered her true identity, then perhaps she could convince him or her of the advantages of remaining silent? Also, she was curious to find out what this was all about. Either way, Batgirl would be paying a visit to that particular Gotham City neighborhood, tonight.
-oOo-
Batgirl approached the rendezvous by a circuitous route, over the rooftops, using her pneumatic Bat-pistol and grappling hook, with the strong nylon line attached, to swing from one tall building to the next. This way, she hoped to avoid any nasty surprises, if this turned out to be some sort of cunning trap. Also, she didn't want to bump into any of her fellow vigilantes and have to go into a convoluted explanation.
She flew through the cool night air with the graceful ease of a trapeze artist in a circus big top, her short Bat-cape fluttering behind her, before landing lightly on the rooftop of the dilapidated apartment block that overlooked the alley in question. Batgirl was clad in the latest sexy variant of her Bat-costume. The clinging, stretch material was so sheer, you could clearly see the nipples and associated dark areolas of her otherwise naked breasts, in the pale moonlight, as well as the brief black thong clinging to her curvaceous hips, which barely managed to cover her nicely padded mons. As usual, her head was covered by a close-fitting combination of Bat-cowl and eye mask, with electronic enhanced hearing fitted into the two pointed bat-like ears that rose up from her headgear.
The Dark Angel shivered in the cool night breeze. Sexy, revealing attire might be useful for distracting villains during close combat, but it provided little protection from their potentially lethal weapons, or the ambient temperature, for that matter. Crouching low, she rose up onto the balls of her feet, to avoid the click-clacking of her high-heels giving away her presence, before moving with the grace of a stalking black panther, over to the low parapet that marked the edge of the roof, directly above the narrow alley.
She crouched low and observed the city streets below for the next ten minutes, using her night-vision infrared Bat-binoculars, to check for any signs of an ambush or other possible trap. Finally, satisfied that all was as it should be, she threw a nylon line over the side of the building. After double checking that the grappling hook was firmly embedded in the stone parapet and the rope was attached to the friction device on her utility belt, she eased herself over the edge, backwards, and quickly rappelled to the ground below.
The Caped Cutie dropped to the street surface, in a defensive crouch, her electronically enhanced hearing tuned for any suspicious sounds above the dull rumble of passing traffic, still fairly frequent this close to the city centre, even at this time of night. She cautiously peered around before rising to her full height and slowly advanced along the narrow side street, her heels reinforcing the sexy sway of her ass. She paused next to the third entrance on her right, searching for the buzzer. The paint was peeling off the dilapidated looking wooden door. It didn't look as if it had been in use for years.
"Ah, there it is," she murmured, reaching out and pressing the small red button, just to one side of the doorframe, three times, before glancing at her watch. It was precisely one minute to midnight. Batgirl failed to notice a miniature camera set into the upper corner of the doorframe, and so was unaware that she was under observation.
Suddenly, a slightly distorted voice came from a small speaker embedded in the door. "Good evening, Batgirl. It is so nice to meet a woman who believes in punctuality, such a rarity in today's hectic world. Please enter!" There was a loud click and the door swung inward slightly.
Cautiously, Batgirl eased open the heavy door. A set of poorly illuminated, narrow stone steps, led down to some sort of cellar. She edged inside, ever alert, and cautiously descended the first couple of steps.
BANG!
Batgirl almost jumped out of her costume, as the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her. "A trap," she groaned, under her breath, "I should've known! Well, there's nothing else for it now... here goes."
She crept down the remainder of the steps into a short hallway. Directly in front of her, was another doorway. She eased it open, her every sense on high alert, and found herself looking into a well-lit room, full of all sorts of strange and weird scientific equipment. Colored lights winked on electronic instrument panels, liquids bubbled in retorts and other glass devices, set over roaring Bunsen burner flames. Several tall metal gas cylinders with pressure valves, were chained upright, near to the doorway.
Batgirl just stood there, open mouthed, hands on her hips.
An old man with a straggly grey beard and long grey hair, wearing a stained, white laboratory coat, looked up from where he was sitting on a tall wooden stool in front of a bench. On the bench, was a color monitor, the screen showing a view of that part of the alleyway where Batgirl had just entered the building. He peered at the Dark Damsel, over the top of a thick-lensed pair of spectacles. "You've arrived at last. Come in, come in!" he called, with a cheerful cackle, waving her over.
The Dark Damsel took a cautious step inside the room. "What is this place and who are you?" she demanded, assuming her classic heroine pose; feet astride, hands on hips, and chest thrust forward, belligerently. If this had been intended to frighten the old man, it failed, miserably.
"Hee, hee, hee! My name is Doctor Zarkhov," he replied, "and this is my laboratory, but you may call me Zarky, if you wish, Batgirl." The man had a distinctly Central-European accent.
"Well Zarky," she sneered, "what's this all about and how did you discover my cell phone number? The last thing I need is some nutty professor getting into my hair!"
"Let me answer your second question first," replied the bespectacled scientist, good-humoredly. "I did NOT know your phone number but, with the aid of some complex computer analysis, I managed to narrow your secret identity down to the two hundred Gothamite women who were most likely to be the Batgirl, employing such criteria as estimated age, height, weight, fitness, vital statistics, etc. I then sent the same text message to all of you, expecting that 199 of you would treat it as a crank call and take no further action. As for the remaining recipient..." He chuckled. "Well, you can see that my little scheme worked."
Batgirl looked at the weirdo with considerable respect in her eyes. "Very ingenious, doctor, but what if someone had reported your e-mail to the authorities and they had sent someone around to investigate?"
"I would have denied all knowledge of it. Claimed that it must have been a hoax."
