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Zoey in Distress	By : tooshoes Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 1809 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman or Gotham franchise, nor any of the characters therein. I will in no way profit from this story, except for the satisfaction that comes with sharing it.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Selina’s crib is in the loft above a YMCA. Construction had long ago cut the attic off from the interior of the building, so we climb four stories up the fire-escape, and Selina helps me reach and climb through a small open window.
Her home leaves much to be desired. She has a twin bed with clean sheets and a rather nice couch, but everything else is basically repurposed trash. The floor is a splinter waiting to happen. Partially removed staples litter the edges of the floors and walls where Selina had removed fiberglass insulation.
“Do you have a bathroom?” I ask hopefully.
“Downstairs,” she replies flatly, not at all embarrassed. “We’ll go there in a minute and clean up. I’ve never felt dirtier than I do now. But first pick out some clothes, unless you like wearing that huge towel everywhere.”
The bathrobe is comfy but awkward, and I’m eager to replace it.
Selina had separated the open space of the loft into three rooms using a combination of cardboard and curtains. She opens a curtain revealing a large, makeshift closet with two rows of clothes on hangers.
“These all fit me, more or less, so they’ll probably fit you, too,” she says.
At first, I’m amazed at the size and variety of her wardrobe, but when I look more closely, I have to laugh at some of the outfits. I find a child’s t-shirt of Mickey Mouse that happens to match our size. Another outfit was clearly stolen from a local fast-food restaurant. Selina was a bit of a hoarder with clothes. I doubt she wore half of these clothes even once.
“Hurry up,” she complains as she squirms, as though she’s feeling dirtier by the second.
I’m scouring through Selina’s clothes, looking for any skirts or short-sleeved shirts, but I can’t find any. Apparently Selina hates showing skin under all circumstances. I’m disappointed until I find a sleeveless unitard with a sexy leopard pattern that brings a smile to my face. I can’t wait to try that on.
I fold the outfit over my arm and follow Selina to a corner of the attic.
Boards were removed from this section of the floor, and Selina reaches down and slides a heavy, metal block away, revealing an opening to a locker-room below. Selina drops a rope ladder down and descends.
I follow. I’ve never climbed such a flimsy ladder before, so I descend gingerly, making nervous, girly sounds that grate on Selina’s nerves until she finally walks away.
Once down, I hurry to catch up with her, as though she might get away.
When I arrive at the showers, she ignores me while she removes her dirty clothes.
I’m only wearing a bathrobe, so I toss it aside in a single motion.
The showers at the YMCA were meant to accommodate ten men. Five nozzles line opposite walls of the open space. I drop my robe and step under one of the middle showerheads. The water starts out cold, but I tough it out and step under the stream while dramatically shivering and laughing.
Again, Selina ignores my childish antics as she picks a showerhead as far away from me as possible. She barely moves as the water washes over her.
This is my second shower within the past two hours, but after what I’ve just been through, I feel like I’m washing off a week’s worth of dirt. I rub soap all over my body and lather it up. It feels luxurious.
Selina is not feeling so refreshed. She just stands there, facing the wall shyly, brooding, as the water washes over her.
“Stop looking at me,” she says without looking up.
“Sorry,” I say. I wasn’t actually looking at her. Not much, anyway. But I turn away to give her privacy while I finish up. I sense that she won’t even begin to wash herself until I have left.
Once back in the locker room, I dry off using the bathrobe as a towel before I try on the nylon unitard. It’s a tighter squeeze than I expected, but the fabric stretches very well.
I look at myself in the mirror and gasp at the mess on my head. I shape my hair with my fingers for a moment, sigh, then walk away from the mirror, futilely scanning the area for a lost comb.
As I step out of the locker room, I find myself walking into a gymnasium. Selina is taking her time in the shower, so I take a look around. I turn on the lights revealing a full basketball court with extra sets of hoops along the side. But oddly I see no basketballs.
I walk 30 feet into the gym, away from the showers and the double doors leading into the main building, until I arrive at the only door without an “EXIT” sign over it.
Behind this door, I find mops and brooms and cleaning fluids. Digging deeper inside, I find a box full of folded, white t-shirts. The closet is bigger than it first appears. In the shadows, behind everything, I finally see a crate full of basketballs.
I grab a basketball, and I bounce it a few times, using two hands.
I smile at the memory of when I last dribbled a ball. I was seven years old. That was also the last time I played anything with children my own age. I can barely walk while I dribble, but I still have a childlike enthusiasm lying to me that I’m talented.
“I’m open!” I hear from behind me. I turn to see Selina standing there, smiling. She didn’t even have a bathrobe to dry off with, so her normally curly hair falls straight and wet. She’s wearing a plain, black shirt with black jeans. Her shirt is soaked, so I laugh. Her smile turns into an impatient stare. “Pass it, already!”
“Oh,” I say, as I toss the ball to her, a little higher than I intended.
But Selina steps forwards and leaps and slams the ball into the hoop in a single motion. She appears to pause in mid-air before landing on all fours like a cat.
“Wowzer!” I say, stunned.
“Now your turn,” she challenges while tossing the ball back to me.
I shake my head. “No way.”
“You wuss. Let’s see what you’ve got,” she insists.
I shrug and sigh and jump as gracefully as a turkey trying to fly. The ball misses everything. I crash to the ground, landing on my ass with my legs spread.
“Wow, major camel toe,” Selina says, and I can’t tell if she’s complaining or teasing. “Do you always dress like you’re in a strip club? You should really wear underwear under that thing.”
“Look who’s talking,” I reply pointing at her soaking wet shirt, where her perky tits glow through the black fabric like flashlights. “You’re too sexy for that shirt.”
Selina looks down, gasps, and she immediately covers her chest.
“Aw, don’t hide them!” I complain while laughing hard. “How can you be so shy after we were muff diving like an hour ago?”
Selina glares at me. “Shut up! I don’t want to remember what that perv made us do, but I guess you are fine with that. Is sex all you can think about? How can you be so slutty after what we’ve just been through? After what they did to you in the alley? Does it bother you at all?”
I’m stunned by her venom. She was fun just a moment ago, and suddenly it’s all very serious, and it puts everything into perspective. “Not really,” I reply as I rise from the floor. “It helped me forget for a minute that Daddy is dead, and Marilyn is in a coma.”
Selina’s eyes soften. “Sorry. That sucks. But I don’t know how being hypnotized and raped could make you feel any better. Is it because you’re a stripper?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, bewildered.
“Maybe you are used to all of the fucking and abuse, but I’m not, and I won’t ever fucking accept it,” Selina declares with a haughty stare.
“You think you know me?” I ask, choking anxiously. “You think I fuck everybody I see? You think I don’t have any pride? I only had sex once before all this shit went down and you and your friends fucked me up in the oh-so-respectable Sirens club, before everyone had their way with me, but I thought I could take it, because Bruce was there for me after the explosion, and you were there for me after everything else. But that wine … that potion, whatever the fuck it is, is ruining everything. It’s all gone to shit since I took it, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Damn it!”
My vision is blurry, and I suddenly realize that my eyes are flowing with tears, which is embarrassing enough, but my pussy is dripping as well, soaking into the tights, and that’s just intolerable, knowing that I have no control over my feelings at all. Selina is right; I’m all fucked up. I can’t feel anything without turning into a pathetic, horny mess.
I hate her when she puts her arms around me, eyes full of pity, making me feel even more pathetic. She purrs apologies into my ear, which sends a shiver down my spine, paralyzing me. She wipes my tears away with her thumbs. Her eyes penetrate mine, forcing me to close them, as though I was looking into the sun. I feel her warm breath waft over my lips and nose. She’s moving in for a kiss, but I whisper, “Please don’t.”
Selina hesitates, then she releases me and steps back and says, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK, but I can’t handle any more regrets. Not mine. Not yours.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Selina says, but without conviction, then she looks away and at the ground. “What was I thinking? This is nuts!”
I touch her arm. “You don’t know what you want, do you?”
“You don’t know what you want!” Selina laughs defensively. “I know what I want!”
“You want Bruce,” I offered, stating what had been obvious to me since I had met her at Sirens.
“Yeah, I like boys,” she adds quickly, still refusing to look at me.
“I like boys,” I agree. “But I like girls, too. I think we are more alike than you want to admit.”
My tears are gone now. The tables are quickly turning. My confidence is returning while hers wanes. My sorrows and fears can’t compete with my overcharged libido. She’s still facing away from me when I wrap my arms around her waist, my hands resting on her hips.
“Barbara said the same thing to me,” Selina admits reluctantly. “It wasn’t true. I mean, she wants me, but I don’t want her.”
“Do you want me?” I ask into her ear, while I let my arms inch higher towards her chest.
She shakes her head and holds my arms down. “You’re all fucked up on that virus. You can’t even mourn your dad for five seconds before you are horny again.”
“I know,” I say. My desire is mixed with shame. “But if I wasn’t like this, would you still want me?”
“I never wanted you,” Selina replies with emphasis, but her body is responding in a very different way. “I’m not like this! Maybe your virus is affecting me, too. Maybe it’s contagious. Maybe Jervis is still fucking with my head.”
“Maybe,” I whisper. “Or maybe that’s just what you want to believe because you never thought of yourself this way before.”
“No …” Selina begins and then gasps as my hands break past her paper-thin resistance and fondle her tits. She cups her hands over my hands.
But then she pushes my hands away and tries one last time to resist. I give her a little space to make up her mind.
“No! You don’t understand,” she says, arguing with herself as much as with me. She won’t look at me as she lets her walls drop. “I know I act like I don’t give a shit most of the time, but it’s hard for me. I was a virgin, too, but I wasn’t like you. I didn’t give a crap about ‘love’ or ‘sex’ or ‘romance.’ That’s all bullshit. I know that. But I’m also an idiot. Sometimes I think the right person might come along, and everything will be different. I can’t help myself. But my dreams always turn out to be bullshit. Now, as it turns out, I lose my cherry to some girl who thinks she is Alice in Wonderland. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“That’s not true,” I say as I try to put my arms around her and look in her eyes. “I care about you. I think I love you.”
That was going too far.
“Bullshit!” Selina yells while pushing me away hard. Then she grabs the basketball off the floor and throws it at me. “Fuck you! You’ll say anything with that virus running through your veins.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how I’d feel about her if I hadn’t tasted that wine, but this is who I am now, and this is how my heart is now.
Selina turns around angrily and starts to walk away.
I follow after her, and I keep talking urgently. “I love how your face glows bright red when I say you are beautiful. I love how strong you are, and I love how weak you are. I love how you pretend to be shy. I love how you get angry when you are turned on, like when you were dancing for me.”
Selina spins around like a tiger ready to strike. She gives me a furious shove, and I stumble backward until she pins me against the wall. My knees quiver.
“I don’t believe you,” she hisses as she challenges me with her stare. Her eyes are only inches from mine. Her lips are even closer, breathing heavily, daring me to kiss her. Again.
This time I don’t hesitate. I take the dare. I kiss her good.
She’s determined to show me there are consequences. She pushes me against the wall. If this is going to happen, she’s going to be in control. She says, “I don’t like it when you tell me what to do.”
“Okay,” I say nervously.
“You don’t love me! Don’t give me that shit!” She buries her fingers in my hair and twists it until it hurts.
“O-okay,” I stutter as I fall to my knees.
“I want to spank you.”
I gasp and quiver. “Okay.”
I cry out in surprise as she yanks my hair down sharply, forcing me to bend over until my face lays flat on the floor.
She kneels beside me and strokes my nylon wrapped ass before pulling her hand away, preparing to strike.
A hundred wicked emotions rush through me, as I submit to the inevitable spanking.
Suddenly I hear a distant coughing sound.
Selina and I both glance up to see Bruce watching us from the rafters. I think he’s disappointed with both of us.
In an instant, Selina and I stand and step away from each other and make ourselves look decent.
“How long have you been up there?” Selina demands, apparently unconcerned about how he got up there.
Bruce hesitates then replies, “It doesn’t matter. You weren’t at Sirens, so I came here.”
“Well, you found me,” Selina snapped. “So what do you want?”
Bruce drops from the ceiling. I know if I fell that far, I would have broken a bone or two, but he lands like an Olympic jumper, light as a feather. He talks to Selina as though I’m not there. “Sirens was bombed a few hours ago.”
Selina’s mouth drops, but she doesn’t say a word.
Bruce continues. “So, you hadn’t heard yet. Your friends were both bruised. They are fine, but several patrons were killed, and the bombers escaped.”
“Were they wearing smiley masks?” I ask urgently.
Bruce shakes his head. “Nobody saw the bombers this time, but soon after that, more bombs exploded at Indian Hill and even more at a house uptown being used as a brothel. Finally, an hour ago, three men tried to blow up Arkham, but hospital security caught them before they could do any harm. All three were dressed in white and were wearing those creepy masks. I was there when the cops arrested them.”
“What the fuck!” Selina says. “This must be Penguin’s new crew.”
Bruce shook his head. “Not likely. Penguin was at the Kindling Club when it was bombed. Then he was in police custody when the other bombs occurred. He’s got good alibies.”
“Then who are they?” I ask. “What do they want?”
“I heard Harvey talking with the bombers at the scene. They call themselves the Bright Knights, and they are very self-righteous. They claim that Gotham is sick, and they are simply trying to give it a cure. They say that they are fighting against the temptations that are corrupting the city, and the next attack will be much bigger, against the Devil of Hob’s Lane. When they began talking about aliens and mind control and the will of God, Harvey brushed them off as delusional or high, but they sounded sane to me.”
“And you want me to go with you to Hob’s Lane,” Selina surmised.
Bruce shrugs. “Would you rather leave this to the police? As far as they are concerned, the Bright Knights are only attacking degenerate groups who aren’t worth risking their lives over. They’d rather let the vigilantes and gangs fight for themselves and wash their hands when innocent people are hurt. I have to go because Zoey deserves to know why her dad was killed.”
Selina looks at me, raises her hand as if to say STOP, then she turns back towards Bruce and jumps forward, “OK, let’s go then.”
Bruce turns and runs beside Selina towards the exit signs, leaving me flat-footed.
Belatedly I run after them, calling out, “Hey, can’t I come?”
They pause. Selina says, “You aren’t up to this. We can’t babysit you. You should go to the hospital and be with your mom.”
“I can’t do anything for her at the hospital,” I objected. “It hurts too much seeing her like that. But maybe I can help you catch the people who put her there.”
Selina and Bruce look at each other doubtfully. Then Bruce says reluctantly, “OK, but only if you can keep up.”

***
I’m pretty quick on my feet, but Bruce and Selina aren’t merely running. They are also climbing over fences and jumping between buildings. What does Bruce have against driving a car?
I try my best to keep up with their obstacle course, but I’m no acrobat.
When they get to the river, I’m guessing they mean to swim, but instead, they leap from rock to rock and quickly cross to the other side.
I hesitate on the first rock. The natural bridge they traversed so effortlessly is barely visible under the full moon, and I cry out as I cut my toe and slip and suddenly struggle to keep myself from being carried away by the rapidly moving water.
Bruce and Selina watch me from the other side, and when I finally regain my footing and crawl pathetically back to the shore, Bruce yells something from across the river. Then they both climb up the bank on the opposite side of the river. I watch them until they disappear into the darkness.
Finally, I admit what I already knew; they were trying to lose me.
Now, I’m sitting on a rock, sore, out of breath, and feeling depressed. My leopard skin is soaking wet and sheer. I had mocked Selina when her nipples glowed under her shirt at the YMCA, but now I look like I’m wearing nothing but body paint. I examine my bleeding toe in the near darkness. Besides a small cut, my feet are burning from running on pavement and dirt. My feet are not used to such abuse, and I’m amazed at how easily Selina ran bare-footed, as though she was wearing sneakers.
I look around. There are no bridges nearby that I can use to cross the river, and my friends have now both disappeared into the night. I don’t even know where this Hob’s Lane is.
I start to cry. I do that often these days. Another effect of the drug, maybe. I feel everything too deeply, and I know it, but that doesn’t change how I feel.
I feel lonely. I feel betrayed. I feel horny. I feel pathetic. I feel ashamed.
After a long time sitting on that rock, stewing in those emotions, I start to feel angry.
I climb back to my feet and attempt to cross the river again.
I stumble a few times, yet I continue. I slip, and a rock cuts through my nylon skin into my ass cheek, but I don’t pause even to assess the damage. I keep going.
Finally, I reach the other side and climb the bank and stand under the street lights of Metropolis Ave, looking towards the industrial district of Gotham.
I take a moment to breathe and collect my emotions.
They’ve abandoned me. I’m alone, in the dark. I touch my ass and squeeze a finger through the small hole in the fabric that was cut by the rock. It really stung, but no blood. I hope it doesn’t bruise too badly.
I straighten my unitard where it has bunched up, and I make sure my hair isn’t a total mess. If I think I look good, I will feel stronger, and I won’t chicken out.
Why did Bruce and Selina lead me here? Apart from the street lights, the area was almost entirely in darkness and shadows. This is an industrial lot, and everyone leaves this place when the workday ends. The buildings are extremely large and wide with no way through save for one partially lit path, so that’s where I go.
Although the path is too narrow for cars, it is marked by a street sign. The sign reads “Hob’s Lane.”
I’m relieved because that is the name Bruce had mentioned. Then I feel anxiety for the same reason.
This will be dangerous, I know, but I can’t stop now. Everything in my life has turned upside over the past two days, and nobody could tell me why. The only clue had been those smiley masks. I’m sure I’ll find the answers here, somewhere.
I step nervously onto Hob’s Lane, feeling like I’m Alice again stepping into the rabbit hole. My last walk down a dark, quiet alley in Gotham was nowhere near as nice as Wonderland, so I’m ready to run at the first sign of trouble.
Hob’s Lane is a few hundred yards long with several smaller, dark alleys intersecting the sides, making for a very anxious walk, but the only sign of hostility is a cat chasing a mouse between trashcans.
After walking five minutes, the lane opens up to a very wide street and then it transforms into a pier stretching out into the Delaware Bay. I spin around and see a row of piers and still no lights, except for those illuminating the street.
No sign of Selina and Bruce. No sign of anybody.
I’m beginning to feel defeated when I see headlights approaching from the distance.
I skulk to a pile of pallets beside a long-neglected warehouse, thinking that is a good hiding space, but the car drives slowly by, only a few yards away. It continues to the warehouse, and then further into an open space which I now realize leads to a parking area under the building.
Nervously, I follow behind, stepping quietly, worrying both about making noise and about further irritating my scuffed, bare feet. The driveway leads down one level, and there I find a row of cars and small trucks.
By now the passengers in the car that had passed me have already parked, and I arrive in time to see their shadows climbing stairs into the building.
I follow well behind them. I finally see light above me, splashing into the stairway. I hear the beat of disco music, but I don’t hear any voices or activity, so I think I have a bit of walking to go.
But as soon as I reach the doorway of the first floor and look out, I’m stunned by what I see and hear.
This building may look like a decrepit warehouse on the outside, but inside it looks fancy and exotic. The walls appear to be covered in blue velvet. Strobes and black lights give the interior a party atmosphere not dissimilar to the look inside of the Kindling Club most nights.
But nobody is partying or dancing inside.
Instead, dozens of people are lined up against the walls, their arms folded onto their chests or laps. Several Bright Knights are lined up to my left. Barbara Keen and Renee Montoya stand with others at the far end. And Bruce and Selina are standing to my right, wearing the same clothes they wore when we separated at the river, but now with panicked looks on their faces.
Everyone is silent, standing at attention like soldiers, waiting for orders.
Only one person is moving at all, and I’m not even sure he is a person.
He stands around three feet tall with green skin and a brown robe. He looks more like Yoda than a human. Maybe the Bright Knights are right to think he’s an alien. But unlike Yoda, there is nothing wise or gentle in his appearance. Rather than a cane, he carries a whip. He looks downright creepy, and he cements this impression when he walks up to Barbara, reaches under her skirt and grabs her pussy and laughs like a twisted clown.
Barbara moans but lets him grope her, and nobody intervenes. Everyone stands still like mannequins.
I’m freaking out, and my heart is racing. Maybe Selina is right; maybe this is too much for me. There is nothing I can do here. Maybe if I tell the police, they’ll do something.
I turn around and take a step back down the stairs, when suddenly the green goblin’s voice calls out.
I'm paralyzed. Flustered.
“Zoey, where are you going?” he teases. “Or should I call you Peril? We’ve been waiting for you.”
- 6
- 7
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Zoey in Distress