When Spidey Met Batgirl | By : littleblackduck Category: DC Verse Comics > Batgirl Views: 29375 -:- 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 ONE: Before Sunrise
It wasn't an easy climb up the trellis. Barbara Gordon had been Batgirl for little over a year, and as the nights wore on, she'd gotten better and better at scaling the trellis to her bedroom window after a late-night patrol. It'd gotten to the point where she could scale the twenty-foot expanse in thirty-seven seconds without making a sound -- the silent element being essential to maintaining both her secret identity and good relations with her father, Jim. After all, if the recently appointed police commissioner were to investigate a mysterious noise outside of the modest Gordon estate only to find his daughter playing Dark Damsel vigilante dress-up at fifteen feet, it'd spell curtains for her crime-fighting career. Suffice it to say, it was probably a good thing that the Commissioner was out of town at a police convention that week. On that particular morning, as an early spring dawn broke over Gotham City, Barbara was a little too banged up to make a quiet entry. About three minutes into her ascent, as she reached the half-way mark, it occurred to her that she really should think about moving out sometime soon -- a thought that had been occurring to her more and more in the last few months. She was twenty-three years old, and as much as she loved her dad, it was probably well past time she got out on her own. She sighed with relief as she climbed through her window and tumbled to the bedroom floor. After a few moments rest, she pulled her cowl off in a huff and shook out her long scarlet locks as she rose to her feet, thoroughly exhausted. She'd broken up one of the Riddler's less than daring raids on a rooftop restaurant. The brainteaser-obsessed megalomaniac and his assorted henchmen had put up a much tougher fight than she'd expected. She examined her cape to find it riddled with bullet-holes -- no pun intended. Edward Nygma's shots had come pretty close to tagging her. He was a better marksman than she'd given him credit for -- not that it had added up to much. After wearily pulling off her yellow boots and gloves, Barbara carefully peeled off her black lycra leotard, wincing every time the fabric brushed against her various sore spots, the sorest of which was her left breast. One of the Riddler's men had elbowed her in the tit when she wrestled him to the ground. Barbara sighed, realizing it was the most action she'd gotten in quite some time, and sighed again at just how pathetic she had to be if she was actually equating a life-and-death struggle with second base. Stripped down to just her boy-shorts, she flopped down on the bed -- an action she immediately regretted as little shock waves of pain exploded through her body. She remembered that young couple at the corner table of the restaurant who'd made out through the entire fight, so engrossed in each other they completely missed the fact that they were being robbed. Only in Gotham. With her new nightlife, she didn't think about men too often, but at that particular moment, when she felt so worn out and tender, it was hard to remember what made being Batgirl so worthwhile. She was sure that a good night's sleep would leave her refreshed and once more capable of connecting with the joys of crime-fighting, but as she drifted off into a well-deserved slumber, Barbara wondered if those two lovers were somehow better off than she was. She was a strong, independent woman. She didn't need a man for shit, but there were times when she wanted one. Unfortunately, the only guy who'd shown any consistent interest in her in the last few months was that little squirt Robin, the Boy Wonder. He was a cute kid and all, but a kid nonetheless, and she was really beginning to regret their occasional dalliances -- like that kiss in the subway station when they were fighting Blockbuster, or that quick little blow job she'd given him after he'd helped her take down The Scarecrow. She just knew the smarmy bastard was bragging about it to his silly little friends in the Teen Titans. Because even if he was eighteen, the Boy Wonder was just that. A boy. And Barbara wanted a man. But there was no telling when -- if ever -- one might drop into her life. * Okay, Spider-Man thought to himself as he tightened his grip on a weakening web-line. This has gone on long enough. In the three years since the bite of a radioactive spider had sent him crawling up the walls, Peter Parker had been thrown into some impossible situations, each more ludicrous than the last. But as he looked down at the blanket of clouds below him, he figured it'd be quite some time before he blundered his way into a state of affairs any wackier than this. It started off the same way most of his nights came to an end -- that long and lonely swing back to his house in Forest Hills after a night 'trolling for a little Spidey-crime-bustin' action. He'd been making a bee-line for the Queensboro Bridge when his spider-sense alerted him to a disturbance. And that's when he ran afoul of the Vulture. Now at this point in his career, Spider-Man had sparred with Adrian Toomes about a dozen times, and since he'd thoroughly trounced him again and again, he figured he was looking at a ten-minute scuffle at the most. Boy was he wrong. The Vulture had always been a fierce, tenacious fighter, especially for a man of his advanced years, but that morning, the old thief fought with a dogged determination that caught Spider-Man off guard. And at the inevitable moment in every fight he'd had with the Vulture -- the one where the wallcrawler hit Toomes with a web-line so he could get dragged through the sky for a bit -- Spidey was surprised when the crazed codger skyrocketed straight up, hauling him up to an altitude he'd never thought the Vulture's flying rig capable at a speed he couldn't believe. Once they'd broken through the clouds, Toomes had started heading in a direction Spider-Man could only guess was vaguely northward at a stiff 90-miles per hour, tossing idle threats and peppering profanities back at the web-slinger every couple of minutes or so. Spider-Man, worn out as he was, had no idea how long they'd been at this. He tended to lose all sense of time in the middle of a fight. He'd often be surprised to find that the super-powered tussles he'd thought had lasted hours had actually been about five minutes and sometimes, vice versa. But however long the Vulture'd been towing him along, one thing was certain: it'd been long enough. "Christ on a bike, Vultchy!" Spidey shouted, hauling himself up the web-line toward the old man one arm-length at a time. "Can we take it down a couple thousand feet? It's pretty nippy up here and I'm freezing my tight and well-toned little toosh off." "I'll flay you, you shit!" the Vulture shrieked back. "I'll tear out your guts!" "I'd check the batteries on the ol' hearing aid, Mr. Magoo," Spider-Man told him, finally getting a hold of the old man's feet, "'cause I don't think you heard me." He grabbed at one of the Vulture's wings, tearing a chunk of it free from his costume. "I said down!" Surely enough, the aged supervillain and his nemesis dropped down into the clouds, exchanging punches and insults as they were bombarded by stinging droplets of frozen water. "I can't fucking believe this!" the Vulture screamed. "I know," Spidey replied. "You'd think they'd be all soft and fluffy, but no -- Clouds hurt like a mother..." "You're going to get us both killed!" Finally bursting through the last of the cloud cover, Spider-Man took his first look at the ground below since this whole miserable mess had started. He was grateful to see skyscrapers and buildings teeming with urban life. He was sure they would have flown out of range of New York by now. "Aren't you going to do something?" the Vulture asked as they continued to plummet. "Oh now it's up to me, right?" Spidey mock-fumed. "Fine! I'll knock you out, then hope I can snag a building with a web-line before we hit pavement." The old man didn't even get a chance to blurt out a confused "What?" before Spider-Man's fist caught him in the nose. "Finally, a little peace and quiet," the web-slinger muttered, as he tightened his hold on the Vulture so he could focus on the task at hand: surviving the next thirty seconds. The closer they'd gotten to the city, the faster they were falling, and the more Spider-Man realized just how unfamiliar his surroundings were. They were dropping over a part of New York he'd never seen before -- maybe Harlem. Whispering a quick prayer, he fired a web-line to the tallest building in range. The constant blare of his spider-sense was a sure sign that a little assist from The Big Guy couldn't hurt as much as the cold facts of physics. The line went taut, and Spider-Man -- still gripping the Vulture with his other arm -- screamed as he and his unconscious passenger swung over a busy city street in a wide arc. If not for his spider-strength, his arm may have just been torn off. As it stood, his shoulder was wrenched out of its socket. Blacking out from the pain, Spider-Man lost his grip on the web-line at the apex of his swing, sending the two of them on a collision course with the plate glass store front window of Wayne's World o' Beds. Spider-Man came to five minutes after his fall had been miraculously and implausibly broken by a stack of mattresses and the body of the Vulture. "That was uncharacteristically lucky," he murmured as he disentangled himself from the Vulture's broken limbs. The sound of sirens blared in the distance and his spider-sense began to tingle as he popped his shoulder back into place with a grunt. By the time he made his way to the front of the store, two squad cars pulled up. "GCPD?" Spider-Man said, reading the emblems on the police cruisers as the officers climbed out of their vehicles, training their side-arms on the bruised and shaken hero. "Where the hell am I?" "Welcome to Gotham, freakshow!" one of the cops shouted at him. "Now keep those hands where we can see them!" NEXT: Escape to New YorkWhile AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
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