Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

When Spidey Met Batgirl	By : littleblackduck Category: DC Verse Comics > Batgirl Views: 29376 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man or Batgirl or anything Marvel and/or DC related. I make no profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
CHAPTER FIVE: Night Creatures
As the clock struck midnight in his office, Norman Osborn felt a murderous rage that -- while not entirely uncommon -- surprised him. In recent years, Norman had taken to particular leisure time activities that leant themselves to a certain amount of anger, but rarely did he feel such contempt while at work. He tried to maintain a certain decorum in his day-to-day life, and to find said tranquility so thoroughly disturbed only served to frustrate him beyond all reason.
The source of Norman's current resentment was simple enough: his four o'clock appointment still hadn't arrived.
It wasn't being stood up that angered him so, because honestly, at the level of power Norman tended to operate, this type of thing happened all the time. Of the seven meetings he'd scheduled with Tony Stark over the last year, Stark had only attended two. These things simply happened. No. What pissed Norman off was the manner in which he'd been kept waiting.
At 3:55, Rita, his receptionist, informed him that someone from Wayne Enterprises had called to say that Mr. Wayne was running late and wouldn't be able to meet him until five. Norman had agreed to postpone for an hour. He had some contracts to sign anyway. Then at 5:15, there was another call requesting to push back the appointment to seven with "unanticipated setbacks" the only explanation Rita had managed to wring out of Wayne's petulant yes-men and sycophants. At eight o'clock, having let Rita go home to tend to her children, it was Norman who took the next call for delay, this one from the man himself, Bruce Wayne.
"Terribly sorry about all this, Norm," Bruce said. "You know how it is. Things get away from you."
"Mr. Wayne, I can barely hear you," Norman seethed into the phone, fighting to restrain himself. "What's all that blasted music and shouting in the background?"
"Oh that," Wayne guffawed in response. "I'm at an opening for a new club I've invested in. Had to put in an appearance. You understand."
That stupid, doped up playboy had brushed Osborn off!
"Have you forgotten our meeting, Mr. Wayne?" Norman asked when he finally found some composure. "You contacted my office last week saying you had a proposal for a joint business venture."
"Well of course I haven't forgotten, Norm," Wayne chuckled. "That's why I'm calling, of course! You should come down to the club! We can talk shop here!"
"I'd rather discuss this in a professional setting, Mr. Wayne."
"Please, call me Bruce, Norm."
"It's Norman, Mr. Wayne, though I'd really prefer Mr. Osborn."
The pampered pretty boy had the gall to laugh at that. "Yes sir, Mr. Osborn," Bruce said, daring to mock him. "I'll meet you at your office as soon as I can tear myself away. Shouldn't be more than twenty minutes... at the absolute utmost..."
"I'll be waiting," Norman roared into the phone, and then slammed it down. That had been about four hours ago.
What a wretched waste of a man! Bruce Wayne had the whole world handed to him. If Thomas was alive to see what his useless son was doing with the family wealth, he'd surely wring the life from that insipid man-boy's neck. "I won't let Harry do that to me," Norman murmured aloud, thinking of his own son. "I'll kill him if he even tries..."
"Kill who, old sport?" Bruce Wayne asked, as Norman's door flew open. "I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. There was nobody in reception."
"Yes, well, we're far beyond Osborn Industries' regular business hours, Mr. Wayne," Norman said, rising to greet him. "Please forgive me, I was just thinking out loud."
"First sign of madness, don't they say?" Wayne asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You might want to be careful."
"I'll keep that under advisement," Norman glowered at him. "Now what do you want?"
"Right to business, great," Wayne replied, taking a seat. "Probably for the best. I really don't have a lot of time for this little get-together. It's starting to get late."
"It's midnight Mr. Wayne," Norman said. "You're eight hours late and I'm not much of a night owl. I have a full day tomorrow. Now, what exactly is the nature of this proposal of yours?"
"Well, as you know, Mr. Osborn, our two companies have enjoyed a lucrative partnership in the realm of pharmaceuticals," Bruce explained. "Wayne Enterprises has pioneered several breakthrough medical advancements, and Osborn Industries has done a pretty decent job of providing us with the raw chemicals we've refined and reformulated to do so."
"That's one way of putting it," Norman muttered. "Go on."
"Well, now that Osborn Industries is branching out into the realm of military defense, I was wondering if there was some way to extend that pre-existing relationship into this new arena."
Norman blanched. "What makes you think we're branching out into weapons manufacturing?"
"'Weapons manufacturing'?" Wayne chuckled. "Oh, Norman, you really are new at this, aren't you? Haven't your marketing boys told you? Nobody likes the term 'weapon'. 'Defense' tests so much better."
"You haven't answered my question."
"Oh calm down, sport," Wayne said with a small sigh. "It isn't corporate espionage or anything shady like that. I was just puttering around on the computer in my office a few weeks ago, taking a fairly dull look at our accounts when I noticed that WayneTech had received a rather large order for our new micro-turbine engines from a company called Emerald Imp Aeronautics."
"I fail to see what that has to do with me," Norman said, his face now a blank slate.
"Well Emerald Imp is a subsidiary of Jade Manufacturing," Bruce explained, "which is a branch of Greene & King Incorporated."
Norman didn't say anything to that.
"Greene & King also owns Plumpkin Demolition," Wayne continued, "which placed an order for some of WayneTech's explosive detonators. And Emerald Imp really improved our second quarter earnings by purchasing gyro-stabilizers for light flight craft. So I just had to look into Greene & King so I could send my thanks to Mister and or Miss King or Greene for all the good business, and how cool was it to find out that the company is an overseas holding for Osborn Industries! So seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, Norman. I would absolutely love to know just what it is you're up to these days. You know, so Wayne Enterprises can help."
The bastard's onto me, Norman realized. He knows what I've been doing.
But how was that possible? How could Bruce Wayne of all people recognize the tangled web of legal jargon and corporate finagling Norman had put together to acquire the materials for the Green Goblin's secret armory? No. There was no way Wayne could know. He was obviously just fishing for something...
"Well, Bruce, Osborn Industries has a vast number of subsidiaries at various locations all over the world," Norman said as evenly as possible. "As I'm sure you're aware, it's impossible for a Chief Executive Officer to keep track of it all. To be honest, I had no idea any part of the company was involved in this type of research or development."
"So you're sure you're not chasing some fat government contract?" Wayne asked, visibly confused.
"I'm really not at liberty to say," Norman told him.
"Huh. So I guess there's nothing to help the old bottom line here," Bruce concluded. "At least, not any more than you already have."
"I suppose not."
"Well, sorry to have wasted your time, then," Wayne said, standing.
Norman rose to shake his hand. "Not at all, Bruce," he said. "Not at all. Let me walk you out."
*
"If you want me to do this, you have to drop your arms," an exasperated Spider-Man explained to Batgirl for the umpteenth time.
It'd taken him awhile, but he'd finally convinced her that he was on her side. But it was starting to dawn on Spider-Man that this truce was more a product of her exhaustion than any genuine trust on her part. She'd been awkwardly pulling her short cape around her body to hide her nakedness since she'd finally climbed up off of him, and she'd kept her distance while he webbed the unconscious Killer Moth to the ceiling. But while he'd caught her eyeing the embarrassing wet splotch on his pants with disgust, they'd wordlessly agreed not to discuss it.
Spider-Man had suggested using his webbing to cover her up as a peace offering. Batgirl had determined he was just out to sneak another peek at her. It had turned into a ten minute argument.
"Look, I'm just trying to help you," he said. "I'm telling you, this isn't going to work unless you trust me and drop your arms. Unless you want them webbed to your body."
"And I told you," she said, one armed clasped over her bosom and the other covering her exposed nethers, "I'm not dropping anything until you close your eyes."
"My eyes are closed!" Spider-Man insisted.
"How can I tell?" she asked him. "That mask covers your whole face!"
"Trust me," he said once again. "They're closed."
She hesitated for a moment, still considering. "Okay," she said finally. "You can do it now. My arms are down."
"Uh, no," Spider-Man said. "They're not."
"And the only way you could know that is if your goddamn eyes are open!" she shouted.
"Well how the hell am I supposed to web you with my fucking eyes closed?!"
*
Alfred Pennyworth had been patiently waiting behind the wheel of the Lexus GS-400 for a mere fifteen minutes before his young charge returned.
"That didn't take very long, Master Bruce," Alfred observed, pulling out into traffic. "I trust you learned everything you needed."
"He's definitely up to something," Bruce growled. "And he's using WayneTech technology to do it. Tomorrow morning I'll have to call Lucius. We're dissolving our dealings with Osborn Industries."
"Ah. Will we be proceeding to the airport now?" Alfred asked. "If so, I should call ahead to make sure the jet's prepared."
"That won't be necessary," Bruce said. "We'll stay at the Park Avenue penthouse tonight. We can fly back to Gotham in the morning."
"You're sure, sir?" Alfred asked. "You seemed worried about being away for too long before we left."
"It's fine," Bruce said. "Gotham's in good hands tonight. And there's something I'd like to do while we're here."
"Shall I prepare your night clothes, then, sir?" Alfred wondered. "The Dark Knight takes Manhattan, perhaps?"
"No, Alfred," Bruce told him. "New York has more than enough extra-curricular law enforcement flitting around. I think I can let one of them take care of whatever Osborn's planning. I just don't want Wayne Enterprises facilitating it any more than it already has. As long as Osborn stays out of my city, he can be someone else's problem."
"A shrewd decision, sir," Alfred agreed. Bruce had a tendency to obsess, taking the problems of the whole world on his shoulders. If he wasn't prone to make the nefarious dealings of Norman Osborn his new fixation, Alfred could only deem it a surprisingly healthy choice. "I do find myself curious, Master Bruce. If The Batman won't be making an appearance in the finer back alleys of the Big Apple, what exactly is the nature of this... 'thing' you'd like to do while we're here?"
The butler glanced up at the rearview mirror, where he saw a smile stretch across Bruce's face. "There was a lovely young lady I met at the club earlier," he confessed. "I thought we could swing over there and see if she'd left yet."
"But of course, sir," Alfred said, steering the Lexus back toward the club.
Bruce reclined in his seat and tried to relax. It wasn't easy, but he was determined not to make Osborn his problem. He found it even more difficult not to rush back to Gotham, but he'd done the math. Between the trip to LaGuardia, waiting for clearance to take off, flying to Gotham and getting back to the manor -- all while putting up appearances as the vapid billionaire playboy -- he'd be lucky to set foot in the Batcave before dawn. And The Batman was a creature of the night.
No. He'd be better off just staying where he was. He had faith that Gotham could survive one night in the hands of his new trusted associate. Batgirl had certainly proven herself.
So he was resolved that there was only one thing he was going to worry about tonight: That sexy little minx Felicia Hardy had better be eighteen.
NEXT: Trust the Man
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

When Spidey Met Batgirl