She stepped out of the shower, the steam swirling around her as she reached for the towel. The soft fabric brushed against her skin, warm and comforting, as she dried herself with slow, deliberate movements. The weight of the night still lingered, but in this moment, there was a fleeting sense of peace. She walked to the bed, the cool air of the room caressing her damp skin, and slipped under the covers, her nude body sinking into the mattress with a sigh of relief. She curled into a ball, the darkness of the room a stark contrast to the vivid memories that played in her mind. It was the same every night, no matter how rough or successful the night was, it always flashed across her closed eyelids when she tried to sleep. The weight of the mattress cradling her exhausted body, Batgirl felt the familiar tug of sleep pulling her under. Everything inside and outside of herself seemed to fade away as her eyelids grew heavy, and with one final breath, she surrendered to the darkness. Sleep came quickly, but it was far from peaceful. In her dreams, the city twisted into a nightmare. Towering reptilian creatures with smoldering genitals prowled the streets. They moved with a predatory grace, their eyes glowing with sadistic intent as they carried away her coworkers, friends, and what remaining family she had left. She even saw her father, who had been dead these past eleven years. She watched the scaly hulking beasts carry off her loved ones from a rooftop, but couldn't save them no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't rescue them she realized because she was getting fucked. She looks behind her, expecting to see Richard making love to her from behind but instead saw Killer Moth, clutching her hips and raping her, finally finishing what he started two years ago. In her dreams she screamed, and she tossed and turned throughout the night.
Five hours later Barbara's alarm rang, waking her from a restless sleep. The nightmares lingered in her mind, twisted images of Gotham consumed by predators. It wasn't the first time she said dreams like this by a long shot, and knew it wouldn't be the last. She sat up, her breath steady, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool beneath her feet as she stood, her movements deliberate. She reached for her clothes, the familiar fabric a comforting change from the cape and cowl. Dressed in jeans and a purple blouse, looked herself in the mirror for any obvious bruises. On occasion she has had to hide bruises with makeup, can't have people wondering why Barbara Gordon looks like she's always getting in fist fights. Confident that none were visable, she grabbed her purse with a batsuit hidden in a secret pouch and turned off her lights. Reaching the bookshelf, she pressed the hidden switch, and the panel slid open with a soft click, revealing the narrow stairway that led to the secret entrance. The air was cool and damp as she descended, the sound of her footsteps echoing faintly against the concrete walls. At the bottom, she paused, listening for any signs of intrusion, before slipping through the concealed door that blended seamlessly into the alley wall. She stepped into the crisp morning air, the city already alive with the hum of daily routine. She was on her way to work but needed to make a very important stop first.
She made her way to the pharmacy, its neon sign blinking as it struggled to stay on. With a deep breath, she pushed through the doors, the bell above them ringing out sharply. She eyed the aisles before her, lined with rows of neatly arranged products, each one a silent promise of solutions to life's many complications. She silently made her way through the store until she found what she came there for.
As she stood in the aisle staring at the row of morning after pills, she was brought back to the moment he erupted inside her, his seed filling her every internal crevice. She had stopped taking her birth control after the breakup, not seen much of a point in continuing to take it. Letting him cum inside her was reckless, but it had felt so right. But everything good has a price, and today the price was $49.99 plus tax.
It was a routine purchase, one that thousands of women made every year, yet for her, it was a reminder about a rare loss of control for her. She glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, before quickly snatching the box and making her way to the checkout. The cashier, a bored-looking teenager with a pierced nose, barely looked up as she scanned the item. "That'll be $52," she muttered in a monotone voice.
She tapped her card on the reader as the cashier dropped the package in a brown bag. The receipt buzzed out of the machine, a thin strip of paper that she took with a quiet nod. Turning on her heel, she pushed through the door, the bell jingling in her wake.
She made her way to work, the Gotham City Library, a place where the musty scent of old books and the dimmed lights offered a sanctuary from the chaos of her dual life. As she pushed through the library doors a familiar sense of peace enveloped her. The soft murmur of patrons and the occasional rustle of pages turning created a soothing background noise. She greeted Pamela, Anna, and Shannon, her coworkers who had helped her transform the library into a vibrant hub of community activity.
She stepped into her office, the clean and well organized room greeting her with the promise of solitude. She opened the mini fridge tucked into the corner and retrieved a bottle of water, the condensation cool against her fingers. With a deep breath, she opened the package and retrieved the morning after pill. The nearly weightless pill resting in her palm was a stark reminder of that night's unexpected turn. She placed it on her tongue, the taste bitter, and washed it down with a long chug of water. Turning on her computer, the screen flickered to life, casting a pale glow over her face. She navigated to the Gotham Times website, the headlines reflecting the chaos from the last couple of days —"Arkham Asylum Breach: Lock Your Doors" and "Arkham VS Gotham." Scrolling through the articles, her eyes lingered on mentions of the Grayson's Pub incident. The police took credit for the bust of course, but she was used to being kept out of police reports and headlines.
Then she found what she was looking for, a full list of escaped inmates. Nearly 300 were still at large as of this morning, including a lot of heavy hitters from the Asylum. The list of escaped villains read like a recipe for her worst nightmares: the Joker, Poison Ivy, the Riddler, Two-Face, Bane... each name brought a shiver down her spine, memories of past battles flashing through her memories. As she scrolled through the list of escaped inmates, each name hit her like a blow to the gut, but one in particular made her blood run cold.
Killer Moth.
Finding out he was loose filled her chest with a moment of panic, her memories threatening to bring her back to the most traumatizing moment of her vigilante career. She could still smell his knockout gas, the horror she experienced when she awoken, and the violation that followed. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the sanctuary of her office faded away, replaced by the darkness of that night.
She clenched her fists, the memory of Killer Moth's touch still burning in her mind. Before him, she had only known Richard's gentle touch, their intimacy a treasured part of her life. But Killer Moth had taken that innocence, leaving scars that went far deeper than the physical. She remembered the struggle, the fear, the helplessness as he treated her as sexual object. The violation was more than just a breach of her body; it was a pride crushing humiliation and a reminder of the extra perils that faced female vigilantes.
She sat back her chair as the persistent memories burst through the fragile barriers she tried to confine them with, her worst defeat now flashing across her minds eye.
April 16th, 2023
Batgirl swung through the Gotham Night towards a jewlery store. Her police scanner had alerted her to a silent alarm going off, and she was close enough that she knew she'd beat the police there. She arrived just in time to see Killer Moth walk out of the jewelry store, a bag full of stolen merchandise in one hand and his moth gun in the other.
"Hey Walker, heard you got let out early for good behavior!" She remarked as she landed a few feet in front of him, putting her hands on her hips as her cape fluttered behind her. "Picking up a felony theft with weapon enhancements while on parole?" She tsk'd at him while shaking her head. "The Judge won't like that.'
"And who's going to turn me in? Batman-lite? Get fucked, Batcunt." His free hand flipped her the bird as his jetpack road to life, shooting him up into the air.
With practiced precision, she shot her grappling gun, the hook expertly wrapping around one of his boots . She braced herself and was then carried away by his momentum, swinging behind him as he tried to shake her loose. She reached in her belt with her free hand, her fingers closing around a batarang. She pulled the batarang back, trying to aim for his jetpacks fuel line, hoping to take this fight out of the sky and onto the rooftops. She took her time, completely unworried by a Gotham supervillain only slightly more dangerous than Condiment King.
However, just before she could throw the batarang she realized too late that he was aiming his mothgun behind him, pointing it between his legs and towards his intended victim. She immediately tucked her batarang in her glove and prepared to evade his primary attack, cocoon straps fired from his moth gun. However, instead of binding straps a noxious cloud started billowing from the tip of his gun. She was taken off guard and pulled in a lung full before she could hold her breath. Fuck, knockout gas! When did he upgrade his-- Her thoughts trailed off and her eyes rolled back in her head as her gloved hands went limp, letting go of the line 17 stories above the ground. The last thing she felt before losing consciousness was Killer Moth's hands snatching her out of midair as she was plummeting towards her doom.
She awoke some time later, shaking the fog from her head and trying to remember what had happened. She tried to get up but immediately realized that she was restrained to a chair, her ankles tied to the chair legs and her wrists tied behind her back. Suddenly, the events of the night came back to her and she remembered she had been in the middle of a fight with Killer Moth. She panicked and struggled against her restraints but to no avail. Her mind raced as she looked around, trying to figure out where she was, noting that it looked like the interior of a factory. Likely his new base of operations she thought, wondering why he brought her here until she noticed how cold her body felt.
She looked down and everything in the world stopped, her blood turned ice cold and she bit back a scream; her breasts were exposed. Her vagina too, the pervert had cut her suit open from throat to taint! Did- did he rape me? Is he going to rape me? She closed her eyes and mentally assessed herself, taking inventory about what may have happened to her. I don't think I was raped and it doesn't feel like my mask was disturbed. Where's my belt? She looked around and spotted a table five feet away, with her belt on it along with an ominous black bag.
She readied herself to try and hop with the chair over to the table and try to figure out how to get her belt when a burst of hope shot through her: The batarang! It's still in my glove! He missed it! She started tugging at her ropes, trying to slip her fingers into her glove and retrieve the razor sharp batarang. But before she could, she heard a door open behind her, followed by the sounds of approaching boots. She twisted her head, trying to look behind her while halting her attempts at retrieving her batarang. She raised her head and set her jaw as Killer Moth walked around her, making her very conscientious of her exposed flesh.
"Good evening Batgirl! I hope you don't mind the alterations I made to your suit, I think they fit you much better than all that depressing black you usually wear. Gives you a much more... perky appearance" came his voice from beneath his emotionless helmet as his gloved hands reached out and pinched her right nipple.
"Keep your fucking hands off me!" she spat at him, struggling against her restraints. She was aware that her struggling made her exposed tits bounce, and she didn't need to be a detective to know that he was staring from beneath his helmet. She hoped that they could distract him long enough for her to get her batarang free.
"It's not my hands you have to worry about" he said smugly, his hands traveling down to the waistband of his pants he pulled them down slowly, his below average penis springing free and bouncing happily. Her eyes locked onto it against her will, the sight of it and it's implications making her stomach churn. He pulled his boots off, followed by his pants. He then walked over to the table and opened the mystery bag. He rummaged around in it and when she saw what he had in his hands she started struggling violently against her bonds, panic threatening to overwhelm her.
"What's the matter, Batgirl?" Killer Moth asked laughingly. "Are you afraid of having fun on the job?" In his hands, he held a vibrating dildo and a bottle of lube.
"You- you stay the fuck away from me, you fucking psycho!" She yelled at him, failing to keep the panic out of her voice. She watched as he applied lube to the dildo and kneeled in front of you. He held the vibrator up in front of her masked face and turned it on, the slender silicone jumping vigorously to life.
"See, I'm not a bad guy, Batgirl." She could hear the smile on his voice as he spoke. "I'm going to have you do some favors for me, but I want you to have fun while you do it!"
She struggled as she watched him guide the glistening vibrating dildo down to her lap, and clenched her eyes shut as she felt the foreign object getting pushed into her most private and intimate place, the violating vibrations immediately buzzing her clit. "Get it out! Get it out you fucking bastard!" she demanded through gritted teeth, trying to shut out the unwanted reactions her body was having to the vibrator. She'd been so busy with her nocturnal activities that she hadn't made time for any intimate time with Richard lately, and now she was paying the price.
He then stood up, stroking his hard cock. "Now, you're going to open that mouth of yours and suck my dick."
"I'll open this mouth to bite it off" she snarled at him, trying to sound more defiant than she was feeling right now. He chuckled as he walked towards her, his free hand reaching out and grabbing the strap of her mask under her chin. "NO! STOP! ANYTHING BUT THAT!" She yelled, the thought of one of Gotham's biggest joke villains exposing her identity was too much to handle while trying to control her body's betraying reactions to her vaginal intrusion.
He reached into his belt and unsheathed his knife, her eyes glued to the glistening steel as she immediately quieted her protests. He leaned forward, his grotesque moth mask inches from her sweating face. "Either of my dick goes in your mouth or this does" he threatened, tipping his head towards the razor sharp knife. "Or maybe I'll just pull this mask off and take a couple pictures for the Gotham Morning show, still plenty of time to give them the biggest scoop in the city." He then raised the knife and pressed the side of it against her throat, the cold steel chilling her sweating skin. "Your call, I'm good either way."
She glared at him, her eyes slightly trembling as the vibrator did its work on her. "Fine." she muttered, resigning herself to the violation. She looked him in the eyes as she opened her mouth, fighting back tears of rage. He grabbed the back of her masked head, pushing it forward as he thrusted into her open mouth. She felt his hard dick slide over her tongue, silently grateful that it wasn't big enough to block her throat. She closed her eyes and forced herself to wrap her lips around the intruding dick and to start bobbing her head up and down on it, trying push through the horrifying reality of what was happening to her.
As the masked criminal added sexual assault to his already lengthy list of crimes, Batgirl finally succeeded in pulling the batarang from her glove. She started sawing through the rope immediately, but it was slow and tedious work because of the angle. Worse, the vibrator was getting to be too much, The unwanted sensations were becoming more than a distraction, more than a humiliation. She could feel an orgasm building within her and needed to free herself before that happened. It was one thing to be assaulted, but to orgasm during it? She used the energy being built up to double down on her efforts to get him off in her mouth, not wanting his filthy seed in her mouth, but not wanting him to get ideas to put it somewhere else.
She kept bobbing her head up and down on his dick while sawing at her ropes, her movements syncing up with each other and forming a rhythm that she focused on maintaining. Don't cum, don't cum, don't you fucking dare cum while being raped! she desperately tried telling herself, but it was no use. She was too close to a forced orgasm. Sensing this, he reached down and grabbed her nipples, rolling them between his fingertips as he felt her tongue glide across his shaft. The added sensation pushed her already confused body over the edge and the inevitable happened. Her body seized up and she stopped sucking and sawing as an intense orgasm exploded through her, shaking her legs and making her groan with a mouthful of dick.
He watched her as she tried and failed to hide her orgasm, taking intense pleasure at the humiliation that this was causing her. He then pulled out suddenly, giving her masked face a little slap. "See? I knew you would enjoy yourself. It's not rape if you enjoyed yourself!"
Her eyes blazed with fury at that. She spit on his feet, trying to get the taste of his dick out of her mouth. "Fuck you Drury, I'll cut your goddamn dick off and shove it up your fucking ass for this!" Why does it feel like I just cheated on Richard? she miserably thought. How can I tell him this without revealing who I am? How could he let me keep doing this if it means his girlfriend gets sexually assaulted by criminals?
He slid the knife back under her chin, it's sharp edge pressing ever so slightly against her vulnerable throat. "Fuck me? No no no, Batslut, fuck you." He knelt in front of her and started sawing at the ropes of binding her ankles to the chair legs. "Now, I'm going to free your legs but not your hands. I'm going to take you over to that table, bend you over, and see if that pussy feels as good as your mouth. Be a good girl, and there's a small chance you'll keep your mask on throughout this. Give me trouble, and I'll rip that mask off and send pictures of your naked face to every news agency from here to Metropolis."
The blood drained from her face at his words. She was hoping he'd finish in her mouth and that would be that, she didn't want his disgusting prick anywhere her vagina. She tried to control her breathing and to not succumb to turning into a hyperventilating mess, sawing through the ropes binding her wrists as he focused on freeing her ankles. He finished sawing through one, and started on the other. She had to hurry and finish before he did, otherwise he would see what she was up to when he bent her over the table. After that she could kiss her secret identity good bye, no way he would let her keep her mask on during her rape. He finished sawing through the rope binding her other booted ankle, standing up and brandishing the knife. "Get up, hero. Make this easy on yourself. Just relax and go with the flow and enjoy it."
She only needed a few more seconds, but complied with his demand to stand up, making sure to bounce her breasts as she did so, desperate to keep his attention away from her backside for another few seconds. His eyes unashamedly stared at her perfect tits, his free hand reaching up and gripping one roughly. "I suppose I should make room for my dick, shouldn't I?" He reached between her legs, his gloved fingers pushing into her vibrating pussy. He grabbed the vibrator and slowly pulled it out of her, the silicone toy glistening with her cum.
It was at that moment that she finally finished slicing through the ropes, just as he switched it off. Wasting not a moment, she gripped the batarang and swung it towards his helmet, punching it through an eye lense and directly into his right eye. He never saw it coming. He dropped the vibrator and the knife, his hands flying up to his face, blood seeping down his mask as he shrieked in surprised pain.
Her fury was unleashed on him, everything he did to her and everything he was going to do screaming through her mind as she attacked. Her fists and feet were yellow blurs as she delivered blow after blow, kick after kick to his body. She had never fought naked before, her breasts bouncing almost painfully around as she struck him repeatedly. She finished it with a mighty kick to his balls, her yellow steel toe boots smashing directly into his genitals. He dropped to the ground, curling up in a ball and held his crotch with one hand and his masked face with the other, sobbing in pain. She knelt down next to him and grabbed the batarang protruding from his face, wrenching it free with a mighty yank, his shriek of pain filling the factory. She then grabbed his small and limp dick, stretching it out as she held the razor sharp batarang against its taut skin.
"If you EVER tell anyone what you did to me I'll fucking kill you! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! Tell me you understand or your pathetic dick is coming off right goddamn now!" Her hands were trembling with rage, but she kept the sharp metal pressed against his stretched out dick.
"I- I won't s-say anything!" He blubbered, his voice echoing inside his helmet. "Just please don't cut my dick off!" She released his filthy little pecker and pulled his helmet off. His face was a bloody and snotty mess, his right eye clearly destroyed. She looked at him with bottomless hate and for a moment believed she would bury the batarang in his throat. The moment stretched for what felt like hours as her principles waged war with her wrath, every fiber of her being screaming for his death. I can't change what he did to my body she realized. but i can change what he takes from my soul. With that, she broke his jaw with one well-delivered punch. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.
She backed away, her breasts rising and falling as she panted. She stood and tried to cover herself, but her ripped uniform wasn't hiding any of her secrets except for her identity. She gave up on it, needing to get out of there but there were some loose ends to tie up. She found a bathroom connected to the room she was in and rummage under the sink, finding a bottle of Windex. Her mind's racing a mile a minute, she sprayed Windex on his crotch, his fingers, the vibrator, and on any spot where her saliva may have hit. This was now a crime scene and she needed to make sure that Barbara Gordon's DNA couldn't be added to the evidence. She retrieved her belt and snapped it around her waist, it's rough fabric rubbing against her bare belly. She pulls a pair of batcuffs out and restrains Walker, making sure they were as tight as possible.
She used her grappling gun to launch herself through the open skylight that Moth must have brought them through, landing on the roof and assessing her location. She quickly saw that she was on the corner of Witcham and Elm, and used to comm unit in her cowl to report Killer Moths location to the police. She then swung off into the night, sticking to dark rooftops and moving as fast as possible to get home. The moon was the only peeping tom she encountered thankfully, and she dropped into her appointment. She immediately ran to her bathroom, grabbing the mouthwash with shaking hands. She swished the cool, burning liquid in her mouth over and over, trying to eradicate the memory of the taste of his dick. She brought to the bottle with her into the shower, turning the hot water on full blast and nearly scalding her skin. She then leaned against the wall of her shower and slid down, her tears mixing with the hot water running down her face.
September 3rd, 2025
She had never told anyone about that night, had tried to carry on like it never happened. It wouldn't be until much later when she realized how much it caused her to withdraw from her social life, especially from Richard. If it wasn't the catalyst for the breakup, then it was certainly what pushed it over the edge. She spent more time as Batgirl after that, building her confidence back up and doing her best to move on.
She knew she should talk to someone and properly deal with the trauma, but she use her secret identity as an excuse, not wanting Barbara Gordon to be tied to that night in any way shape or form. She shook her head as if to physically dislodge the memories that clung to her like psyche. Killer Moth's freedom was a cloud looming over her, something that would unsettle her until he was back in Arkham. She hoped Batman would find him first because she didn't trust herself to show restraint again.
After her workday comes to an end, Barbara made her way back to the Clock Tower, the weight of the city's chaos weighing heavily on her mind. She entered the apartment, automatically flipping on the police scanner. As she listened to police bulletins she began to strip out of her work clothes, the soft fabric of her blouse and skirt falling away to reveal the toned physique beneath. Staying in her purple bra and panties, she walked over to her exercise equipment. She moved through a series of rigorous exercises, curling dumbells for bicept day. The familiar ache in her muscles was a comforting reminder of her discipline, her body a finely tuned instrument ready for the night ahead.
A police report came in that immediately grabbed her attention, stopping her exercise regime in its tracks. "All units, we have an all-points bulletin: Two-Face and his gang are attempting to rob the Bank of Gotham on the corner of Finger and Kane. Suspects are armed and considered highly dangerous. Repeat, all units—" Barbara turned off the scanner and unsnapped her bra, sliding it off as her suit came with built in support. With practiced speed, she slid the black bodysuit over her toned body, then pulled on her yellow boots and gloves. She checked her belt even though she stocked it herself before wrapping it around her waist. She attached her cape onto the clips on her shoulders and pulled her dark cowl on, finishing her transformation from librarian to hardened vigilante. 37 seconds... that's a new record! Not wasting a moment, she exited through the roof passage and started swinging her way towards the Bank of Gotham.
The wind whipped through her red hair, her cape billowing behind her as she swung through the city. She arrived in less than ten minutes, landing gracefully on the rooftop across from the bank. She slid open a hidden panel revealing the miniature monitor embedded in her glove, pulling up the bank’s blueprints from the bat computer. The ventilation system on the roof—tight, but doable. With a silent exhale, she grappled across the street and landed on the banks roof. She made her way to the vents and pulled out her mini torch, quickly cutting through the bars.
Batgirl’s lithe form twisted through the narrow ventilation shaft, her gloves muffling any sound as she pulled herself forward inch by inch. The metal groaned faintly beneath her weight, but the chatter of Two-Face’s men below drowned it out. Through a slatted grate, she watched them haul duffel bags of cash from the vault, making their way to the front of the bank. Caught them just in time, they'll be gone in 20 seconds.
Batgirl’s fingers curled around the compact tear gas grenade in her belt, the cool metal casing pressing into her gloved palm as she pulled it from her pouch. Below, Two-Face’s goons moved with excited urgency, bringing duffels stuffed with cash with them out of the vault. She held her breath, counting the seconds—three… two… one…—before flicking the grenade’s pin with her thumb and opening the vent. It hit the marble floor with a soft clink, rolling to a stop between two thugs just as the canister hissed, spewing thick clouds of searing mist.
Batgirl pulled her gas mask on and dropped from the vent in a silent blur of black and yellow, her boots landing squarely on the first thug's shoulders. His knees buckled as she drove him face-first into the polished marble floor. His companions didnt notice, they were too busy coughing on tear gas. She took advantage and sent a spinning heel kick, breaking another goon's jaw with a wet snap. The gas burned their eyes as they tried to see who was attacking them, trying to aim at a whirlwind of precision.
Batgirl pivoted on her left boot, driving her right knee into a goon's solar plexus as he fumbled for his pistol. His breath exploded from his lungs just as she snatched the falling gun midair, using its weight to crack across another thug's temple. She worked her way through the remaining men, blinking through noxious fog—their weapons raised in shaking hands.
Batgirl's knuckles stung through the armor on her knuckles as the last goon's head snapped back from her punch, his body slumping against the teller's counter. The acrid gas swirled in thinning tendrils around her, the air clearing as she looked around for the absent boss. Her boot squeaked against the marble as she spun toward the vault. The vault door stood open and it had been thoroughly looted, but Harvey was nowhere in sight.
She caught movement with her peripherals and instinctively ducked just as gunfire rang out. The bullets ricocheted off the vault door's steel frame, sparks showering Batgirl's cape as she rolled behind a toppled security desk. She could hear his uneven footsteps advancing, his ruined half-lips stifling coughs from the remaining tear gas.
"Long time no see, Batgirl," Two-Face's rasping voice echoed through the ruined bank lobby, his scarred lips twisting into a grotesque smile as he stepped into view. "I was hoping for Batman tonight—got a score to settle for sending me to Arkham last year. If he had minded his goddamn business I would currently be in control of all of the territory between the Entertainment District and the Bowers." His free hand flipped his coin across his fingers with a practiced motion as his other hand aimed his gun at Batgirl's cover. "But you'll do just fine to send him a message."
"Harvey, it's 2025. If you want to send someone a message, just text." Batgirl quipped as she vaulted sideways as Two-Face's Desert Eagle spit lead at her. The bullet punched through the security desk where she’d been crouched, sending splinters of wood and paperwork exploding into the air. She tucked into a tight roll, cape whipping around her, and came up behind a marble column—barely thicker than her torso—as another shot spiderwebbed the polished stone where her head would be. Her breath came fast but controlled, muscles coiled like springs as she discarded her gas mask and pulled a flash grenade from her belt.
She pulled the pin and tossed it around the pillar she was hiding behind. She heard Harvey curse right before it went off, giving her a few crucial seconds to finish this. She immediately raced out from behind her cover and darted towards the blinded criminal. It would have been more than enough time, had it not been for a goon who wasn't as unconscious as Batgirl had thought.
Batgirl twisted mid-roll as the goon's blood-slick fingers clamped around her ankle, her momentum yanked to a brutal stop. Her ribs slammed against the marble floor, knocking the breath from her lungs. The semi-conscious goon tried to talk with a broken jaw as he held onto her, dragging her backward. She drove her yellow boot into his nose with a wet crunch, finally putting him down for the count. She rolled into a crouching position just to see Two-Face's Desert Eagle leveled at her head.
"Up," Harvey rasped, his ruined lips curling as his vision cleared. Batgirl's muscles locked—one wrong move and the .50 caliber round would turn her brains to paste against the vault door. She raised her hands slowly as ahe stood up. "Very slowly toss your belt to me," Two-Face's voice slithered through clenched teeth as his thumb cocked back the hammer. Batgirl's fingers trembled—not from fear, but from the coiled fury burning in her gut—as she unbuckled the yellow utility belt. She let it drop to the marble with a heavy thud. She kicked the belt towards him, waiting for any opportunity to get that gun away from him. Never taking his eyes off of her, he used his foot to slide the belt behind him. "Now turn around, put your hands behind her back. No funny business, you're good but not even Batman is good enough to dodge a bullet at this range." She reluctantly complied, turning around and placing her hands behind her back. She felt the cuffs tighten around her wrists before Harvey turned her back around sharply. She immediately began working her hidden lock pick out of her glove, but it would take time. Time I might not have.
The banks lights caught the ruined half of his face, the scar tissue glistening like melted wax as his lips twisted into something between a grin and a sneer. His good hand lifted the silver dollar between them, the scarred side catching the light. "Now that i have your undivided attention, its time we let the coin decide your fate. Heads, I peel that cowl off and parade you through the streets for every camera in Gotham to see." He positioned the coin on his thumb. "Tails... tails I put a bullet through your brains and a second one through your heart."
Batgirl's pulse hammered in her throat as Two-Face's thumb flicked upward, sending the silver dollar spinning into the air between them. Time stretched out—the coin tumbling end over end, reaching the height of its trajectory before galling towards his open palm. Her muscles tensed, calculating the distance to his knees, the angle needed to disarm him before the coin hit his hand—but the gun's muzzle never wavered from her forehead.
The coin slapped onto Two-Face’s scarred palm with barely a sound. His mismatched eyes flicked down—one pupil dilating, the other milky and unblinking—as his lips twisted into a grotesque grin. "Heads." The word brought both relief and anxiety, it meant she wasn't going to die here but now she faced the very real prospect of being marched out of the bank with her mask off. Batgirl’s breath hitched as his free hand—knuckles mottled with old burns—reached for her cowl. The Desert Eagle never wavered, its barrel jammed between her breasts. "Say goodbye to your secret identity, you fucking bitch" he rasped, fingers curling around the edge of her mask.
A sudden a howl of pain tore out of Harvey's half-ruined mouth, surpring the dark damsel. Batgirl's eyes snapped toward the source of his pain: a razor-edged batarang had buried itself in Harvey's gun hand, the Desert Eagle slipping from his spasming fingers in a spray of crimson. She didn't hesitate. Batgirl's knee drove upward into his groin with surgical precision and followed by a devastating head butt. His coin spun out of his hand as he hit the ground, unconscious.
Batgirl turned to see Batman, who must have silently made his way into the bank while Two-Face was preoccupied with her. As he approached her his eyes flicked from her beltless waist to her utility belt. Batman's voice was low and sharp, cutting through the tension in the air. "It's a good thing I didn't know you were here. I would have assumed you were capable of handling Dent and his goons" he growled, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to Batgirl. "I would have gone to one of the dozens of other emergencies happening now, and you'd be getting paraded around Gotham without your mask on." His words were laced with a mixture of anger and concern, each chastising syllable stinging her pride. Batgirl stood still, her wrists still cuffed behind her, feeling like a scolded child. She knew he was right, but the sting of his reprimand made her feel like a rookie again.
She looked up at Batman, her voice steady despite her embarrassment. "Well, I wanted to make sure you had an opportunity to lecture someone, I know its one of your few joys in life" she remarked as she turned around, shaking the cuffs at him. "Now, do you think you could take these off? Unless I'm in my bedroom I'm not a fan of wearing them." As soon as the last word left her mouth she snapped her mouth shut in regret. She was still a bit shaken from her close call and it had slipped out in her attempt to lighten the mood.
To his credit, Batman ignored her as he freed her. Batgirl let out a soft sigh of relief, her fingers instinctively rubbing her sore wrists. "My hero," she murmured, avoiding eye contact as she retrieved her belt. She buckled it back onto her waist and turned to leave. "Thanks for the save, Batman. Keep me in the loop about any leads on Robin and I'll do the same."
Batgirl stepped out of the bank, the cool night air helping her clear her head. She watched Batman swing away into the night, his silhouette merging with the shadows. She turned her gaze back towards the bank and tapped her comm unit in her cowl. She called in an anonymous tip to have Harvey and his men picked up. But before she pulled her grappling gun to leave, the vans that Two-Face and his gang had arrived in caught her attention. They were black security vans with Lex Luthors logo on them, state of the art and difficult to steal. Why did he go through all the effort to steal them?
Batgirl approached the van with heightened vigilance, her eyes scanning every inch for signs of traps or hidden dangers. The LexCorp logo gleamed ominously on the side panel, a warning to those who knew of his ruthlessness. She pulled out a burglary multi-tool from her utility belt, compliments of Batman. He had designed it himself, created to strong arm their way through security systems. She set to work on the lock, noting that there didn't seem to be any signs of forced entry. A thought bubbled to the surface of her mind but she quickly tried dismissing it. Could Luthor have GIVEN him these vans? But why would he work with someone as low on the totem pole as Dent? And Harvey would know better than to steal from Luthor.
The lock took longer than she expected, making her nervous about the arrival of the police. They were stretched to their limit but they'd still make Dent a priority, so she had to move fast. Batgirl finally popped the lock and slid the van door open, the interior lights popping on to illuminate all of the hardware inside. She stepped inside and let out a low whistle. Lex Luthor spared no expense on these things. There was hi tech equipment, military grade rifles, and a computer with three monitors. She powered them up and immediately understood why Two-Face had the Lexcorp vans: the Lexcorp mainframe had illegally hacked nearly every street, business, and cellphone camera in Gotham, and these security vans had direct access. That's why they weren't expecting company... they knew where Batman and the police were. I was at home when they got here so they had no clue I was in the area.