Chapter Four
Field Work
Barbara awoke early the next morning from a dreamless sleep. To her displeasure, her first thoughts were centered on the footage from the night before. The raw, pornographic footage that was a candid window into her close friend's sex life. Helena Bertinelli was having sex with one of her male students. But she hadn't entered into that twisted relationship of her own volition. No, Helena was being manipulated somehow. Whether it was hypnosis or some other form of mind control, Barbara knew in her gut that it had everything to do with the peculiar ring she now wore.
The ring itself was almost bland, a trait that only added to how strange it was. A simple band of what appeared to be dark, glossy stone. Barbara had no idea what it was made from, only that it was a black mineral that glimmered in the light, catching one's eye even from across a classroom.
That was exactly how Barbara noticed another ring as she passed a fellow teacher in the hall. She quickly turned on her heel, calling out to stop her colleague. Barbara needed to confirm that it wasn't simply her eyes playing tricks.
Barbara's suspicions were proven correct as the black, glossy ring taunted her from its spot on the fellow teacher's left hand. She recognized the woman as the history teacher whose classroom was directly across the hall from her own. Miss Annabelle Jameson, "Belle" for short.
Belle was a short woman, though only an inch or two shorter than Barbara herself, with smooth, lovely dark skin. She had narrow eyes of rich amber and a small button nose. High cheekbones and full lips - painted black - evoked the look of foreign royalty. Her face was framed by a neat bob cut of silky smooth black hair. She could have easily been a model. But Belle was no skinny waif. Her body could only be described as
womanly
. Her hips fanned
outwards
from a narrow waist and poured down into legs that even Zatanna would envy. And judging from the way her blouse valiantly contained the proud swell of her chest, Belle easily gave Power Girl some competition as well.
On top of that, she was dressed to
kill
. A high-waisted black pencil skirt hugged her legs like a second skin with pearl buttons going up the left side. Her top was a chic blouse, white silk and sleeveless. Her boots were black knee-highs with block heels and
gleamed
in the light, recently shined.
Barbara only needed to look at Miss Jameson for half a second in order to conclude the worst. She was a perfect target for the Brotherhood stooges: Young, beautiful, and female.
And in close proximity to their little hunting ground.
Though Barbara had only spoken with Belle a few times since assuming the alias Barbara Morgan, she knew for a fact that Belle hadn't been wearing the black ring last week. Which meant she had been targeted by the Brotherhood
recently
.
"Look who decided to get all dressed up!" Barbara lauded the other woman's outfit with a fake smile. "What's the occasion?"
Belle smiled radiated supreme confidence, as if the compliment was predestined. "No occasion. If you've got it, flaunt it."
"Well, you've certainly got it. Hit any club in downtown Gotham and you'll be beating men off with a stick."
"That's the idea, sister." Belle's lips pursed into a kittenish smirk, her eyes taking on a mischievous glint. "Minus the stick of course."
"Your ring is gorgeous. Where'd you get it?" Barbara inwardly winced at her lack of subtlety.
"Oh, this?" Belle held out her left hand, fingers splayed wide to show off her ring. The devious spark in her eyes was gone, replaced with a glassy, dreamy look. Belle now looked more like a lovestruck girl than a knockout of a woman. "It's a gift. My boyfriend just gave it to me last Sunday. He's got one also, so we match."
Barbara simply nodded. "Sounds serious."
Belle shot her a brief look, her eyes now unreadable as she turned her gaze down at the black, glossy stone.
"It's not that kind of ring." She said after a moment. "But yeah, it's pretty serious. It's supposed to represent our connection. Isn't that romantic?"
"I'm practically swooning." Barbara forced another smile. "Can I see it?"
"No."
"No?"
Belle blinked, pulling her hand back towards her body. She closed her slender fingers into a small fist, the glimmering band positioned right under her chin.
"I mean... You can see it just fine from right there, can't you?"
Barbara had to stop herself from frowning. Pressing the issue now would only cause problems later, she reminded herself. The redhead nodded, bowing her head apologetically.
"You're right. Sorry. Forget I asked." Barbara exhaled softly through her nose, but the frustration still held tight on her mind.
Belle waved her off, snorting. "It's not an issue. Water under the bridge, yeah? I'll see you at lunch."
The other woman turned on her heel and continued down the hallway, hips rocking side to side as if she was on a model runway. Barbara watched her go for a short time before narrowing her eyes.
"Miss Jameson?" She called out to her fellow teacher once more. Belle half-turned to face Barbara, black lips pursed and one brow raised. Barbara jerked her thumb back over her shoulder. "Isn't your classroom this way?"
Belle blinked. "Oh. Yes, I forgot to print out study guides for my second period class. I'm heading down to the computer lab right now. I'm only going to be a few minutes late. Nothing to worry about."
"Gotcha. Take care." Barbara nodded and watched the other woman turn a corner and vanish from sight. She only waited a moment before moving to follow.
The computer labs aren't that way either...
Barbara silently thanked Bruce and his strict stealth training regimen as she shadowed Miss Jameson, completely undetected by her fellow teacher. Barbara prided herself in being a self-taught masked vigilante, operating independently from the Batman in her early years. But she couldn't ignore the value of the Bat's experience, even if it was a pointed mark against Batgirl's independence from Batman.
Tailing the compromised Belle Jameson eventually brought Barbara outside. Crisp, early morning air carried the chill of the Gotham Autumn season. Barbara couldn't take advantage of the indoor school environment to stay out of sight anymore, so she had to maintain a distance between Jameson and herself. She followed the young, beautiful teacher to a secluded walled garden near the Kane Memorial Library - the smaller of the school's two.
Putting her training to good use, Barbara moved to a higher vantage point. Climbing was second nature to the redhead this many years into her crime-fighting career. She found a comfortable perch on a high oak branch within seconds, maintaining visual contact with her mark all the while. She couldn't help but smirk, finding some small satisfaction in performing Batgirl duties while dressed in civilian garb. Though she made a mental note to change before heading back to class - her blouse and pants now caked in dark smudges.
Barbara watched Miss Jameson take a seat on a lonely wooden bench under an old tree, brown and orange leaves covering the stone walkway. The entire garden was empty save for Belle, the occasional raven, and Barbara herself. A moment passed, then another, with Belle sitting patiently while casting glances from one direction of the stone path to the other. She was waiting for someone, Barbara guessed.
I need to find out who.
Finally, both Belle and Barbara hood footsteps, Belle herself visibly perking up at the sound of heels clicking against stone. A figure moved briskly and with purpose from the opposite end of the path Belle had arrived from, obscured slightly by the garden's tall, decorative bushes. Barbara saw Belle's lips curl into a smirk, the dark-skinned beauty standing to greet-
"Miss Flores. Glad you decided to show up." Belle teased, giving her fellow teacher glance over. Her voice was teasing, flirty. Barbara recognized the recent arrival.
Rita Flores. Five feet, six inches tall. Thirty-two years old. Hired to Kingston Academy's faculty last year. Teaches twelfth-grade biology.
Barbara blinked. She squinted her eyes, taking a moment to make sure she was seeing things - and hearing things - correctly. But her mind was not playing tricks. She was witnessing exactly what she was seeing. Miss Jameson was having a secret rendezvous with... another female teacher?
"I got your text," Miss Flores said, holding up her phone in one hand. The other hand was resting on her hip, her posture evoking half-hearted irritation. Her voice was similar, her words colored by mock displeasure and real excitement. "You have got to be the most impatient
chica
I've ever met. You couldn't wait until tonight?"
Miss Jameson clicked her tongue. "Please. You couldn't have said 'yes' fast enough. You look great by the way. He's going to love it."
Barbara had to admit that Miss Flores did look great. Not quite the fashion-oriented beauty of her present colleague, but the latina had her own worldly sense of style. Cute, black wedge heels. Tight blue jeans that hugged her lovely legs and sumptuous rear-end. V-neck sweater that was neither too tight or too light, with just the right amount of melding to the contours of Miss Flores' body to both signify her femininity and hide it away.
Barbara briefly felt pity for the boys who attended Kingston for having their hormones being constantly on alert thanks to the likes of Miss Jameson, Miss Flores, and even Headmistress Kaplan. But then she remembered that the boys of Kingston were the culprits here.
Meanwhile, Miss Flores made a small pose for her friend, smiling at the compliment. "You should see what's under this. Been looking for an excuse to dig it out of the closet. And it's nothing compared to what I've got prepared for the ceremony."
"It better be slutty. Lace?"
"Silk. Cost a fortune but it'll be worth it when I see the look on his face."
Ceremony. What ceremony? And what kind of guy does a woman like Rita Flores buy silk for?
"And speaking of
him
..." Miss Flores continued, glancing at her phone. "Where exactly is the man of the hour?
