As always, both comic book logic and crazy sex fantasy rules are in effect.
*****
"And you're sure there aren't any notes?"
"Positive," Selina said, tapping her fingers along the edge of the table. "This is all there is, unless Batman kept a diary on the computer somewhere."
"No, it's bizarrely clean. Almost like he didn't want to leave any trace for some reason..." Barbara Gordon trailed off and stared down at the gathered papers. She shifted her wheelchair back just slightly and then forward again, the way that she tended to do when she was thinking deeply.
Since she'd already done everything she could, Selina instead stared at the woman across the table from her. She liked Barbara well enough, and they'd worked together before, but she still wasn't sure if she liked Barbara's presence with them. Unlike Selina and the out-and-out villains among them, Barbara had a stubborn moral code. She might not really have joined them, instead just pretending while she bided her time to gather enough information.
Or maybe Selina was still just pissed that Barbara had managed to knock her out with a blowgun. She had to admit that the evidence didn't suggest that Barbara was working against them: specifically, the way she screamed when Superman fucked her.
Poison Ivy had actually been even more suspicious, apparently nursing some kind of vendetta against Barbara from her Batgirl days. After letting them argue for a while, Superman had taken both redheads to his room and fucked them silly. They'd gotten along fine after that, but Selina still wanted to be suspicious. Though her mental image of Barbara impaled on Superman's cock was making it difficult to imagine her as a spy.
Superman himself sat on the third side of the table. He'd barely been part of the discussion, possibly pondering deep thoughts. Well, his expression looked incredibly serious, but he might also be distracted by the enthusiastic blowjob he was getting. Harley's head bobbed up and down in his lap, bells jingling. Selina realized that Harley had changed her outfit again at some point, but Selina wasn't sure when.
She smiled as she realized the sight of Superman fucking one of them had become so common that she mostly thought about Harley's costume. She leaned her head into his field of view to catch his attention. "You're sure Batman didn't say anything else about these 'Writer' beings?"
"Nothing more than I've told you."
"You know," Barbara said thoughtfully, "when I searched 'Writers' on the computer, I actually did get one hit."
Selina hissed. "And you didn't say anything about it?"
"Because it didn't lead to anything. But your diary comment got me thinking..." Barbara quickly wheeled from their planning table to the wall of computers. Selina joined her and tried to keep up with the flurry of commands she was entering.
"What's this about? Don't tell me Bruce really kept a diary, covered in little bats and everything..."
"Of course not. But his suits and the Batmobile do track some data on his activity and he does organize it according to his cases. It's useful for getting back up to speed if he's sent through time, or loses his memory, or... you know, now that I think about it, that kind of thing happens a lot more often than you'd expect." Barbara shook her head sharply, sending her red locks flying. "Never mind that, that's not important."
A map of Gotham popped up on screen and data began detailing it, cases and conflicts. Selina examined it carefully, but it looked like Batman's usual work. "What does this have to do with the search you mentioned?"
"You see, Bruce had a label for 'Writers' among his case files. But if you look here..."
"...it's completely empty." Selina frowned, then her eyes began flickering back over the map. Most of Batman's activity was clearly labeled: investigations, stopping minor crimes, conflicts with supervillains... but some of them were oddly blank. "You think he left an indirect record of his investigation?"
Barbara glanced over her shoulder with a smile. "Exactly. Now, many of the unlabeled data points will be under different security, or simple patrolling... but I'm willing to bet that some of them belong to this empty Writers category."
"Because Bruce didn't want to draw attention to what he was doing."
"But he wanted to leave some kind of trail that could be decoded by someone who knew his work well enough. This has real potential. Thanks, Selina."
"I'll have to make random yet somehow insightful comments more often, then."
They exchanged a smile, but at that moment screams of ecstasy interrupted them. The sounds themselves weren't that uncommon, yet they still turned to look. Superman had bent Harley over the table and was railing her from behind. Though Selina bit her lip at the sight of his cock entering her, Barbara frowned.
"Aww, don't ruin our map..."
"Moved it." Superman inclined his head to the side and Selina saw that everything on the table had been moved to a different one.
"Oh, right. Super speed takes some getting used to."
Superman didn't seem angry. He kept thrusting into Harley, but his eyes moved thoughtfully between them and the largest screen. "Ignoring the points you think are patrolling, are there any clusters of them near our territory?"
"Good question." Barbara tapped briefly and then frowned. "What do you know, there are. Do you have some kind of theory?"
"No, but we've been ready to expand the area we protect for a while. Where is it?"
"To the northeast, you'll see that these sixteen blocks are... hmm, it looks like they were recently taken over by the Ventriloquist. Odd, I don't see what that gains her. She's been sticking to her own territory ever since things went bad, this isn't like her."
"The Ventriloquist is a woman? I remember a little old man."
Barbara shook her head and pulled up a photo of a leggy blond in a red evening gown. "He was killed some time ago, but the dummy was taken over by Peyton Riley."
While he looked at the picture, Superman began thrusting harder into Riley. Her arms gave out and she fell onto the table, gasping. Soon after he pulled out and came all over her back. He brushed her hair out of her face affectionately, then turned his attention back to the picture.
"Alright, then, we're expanding to control the Ventriloquist's territory. I assume that's manageable, Selina?"
She nodded. "Like you said, we've been ready for a while."
"Then consider it done." In a flash of red and blue, he was gone.
That left the Batcave filled with nothing but Barbara's typing and Harley's recovering breaths. Selina wandered back to the table and slid her finger through some of the thick cum before bringing it to her mouth. Was it supposed to taste that good? Harley murmured happily and then abruptly pulled her down into a sloppy kiss.
At that moment Barbara cursed. Selina managed to pull away long enough to look toward her, but didn't see any obvious reason for it. "What's wrong?"
"I kept looking into why the Ventriloquist might have changed her tactics, and there's a good reason. But now it's too late to tell Superman."
"Well, you could call him. He'd hear you."
Barbara chuckled. "That's true - this really does take some getting used to. But now that I think about it, I don't suppose it really matters. Two villains aren't much different than one to him."
Selina smiled. "When he's fighting them, anyway. Fucking is a different matter. Now stop typing and get over here."
X X X
Superman floated over Gotham, scanning the boundary between the edge of his territory and the next. It wasn't an exact line, of course. There were a few heavily fortified regions of Gotham with clear lines between supervillain domains, but he didn't think walls and armed guards would make people feel safe. So there was an ambiguous area where criminals were careful but occasionally still threatened civilians.
Even that space, though, was far better than the surrounding regions. Many had no access to working power and he could sense crimes being committed in many a dark alley. He sped past and stopped a few to keep busy while he scanned the Ventriloquist's territory.
According to the map Peyton Riley controlled a small region to the northeast of his part of Gotham. She had more or less kept order by not overreaching, which was why her acquisition of new territory from a local mob was all the more surprising.
He scanned it for anything remarkable that would have deserved investigation and came up with nothing. But it was while looking over that region that he found her. Apparently she'd set up a new base in one of the warehouses there instead of remaining in her old hideout. That was a fortunate stroke of luck, since she was undefended except for dozens of men with guns.
When he burst inside, sending the pieces of the door bouncing throughout the room, everyone in the warehouse turned to stare at him. They turned to a low couch in the back, yet their eyes ignored the beautiful woman and instead focused on the puppet sitting in her lap.
"Kill 'im, ya lunkheads!" Somehow the dummy managed to pull a miniature machine gun from just behind him and began firing. All the gangsters dutifully turned and unleashed a rain of bullets.
While the bullets bounced off him, Superman got a good look at Peyton Riley. She wore a blood red evening gown that barely contained her large breasts. It was slit far up the thigh, revealing lusciously long legs. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and obscured one eye completely - a quick burst of x-ray vision revealed that it was horribly burned. She sat on an expensive-looking couch in back, as if she was in charge of the operation, yet she lowered her eyes subserviently as the bullets flew.
It looked like she carried the same dummy as the old Ventriloquist, a grim little miniature gangster called Scarface. If he remembered properly, all the gangsters treated him like the boss and ignored the real mastermind. Scarface's mouth was open as if to yell as his plastic fingers clenched the trigger of the gun in his hands.
Well, Riley was the only one he was interested in. Superman flew around the room grabbing the gangsters, careful not to brush against any of the bullets frozen in midair and accidentally deflect them into someone. Once they were all in an unconscious pile next to their guns, he swept in front of Riley, melted the dummy's gun, and waited for her senses to catch up.
