Birds of Prey Episode 1 Birds in a Cage - Chapter 7 Batgirl Retruns

Discussion in 'Birds of Prey' started by L'Espion, Dec 20, 2018.

  1. L'Espion Active Member Author

    Blog Posts:
    Birds of Prey

    Episode 1 Birds in a Cage

    By L’Espion [email protected]

    Chapter 7 Batgirl Returns

    The modified Suzuki Hayabusa screamed through the night. Barbara had not bothered to watch the video clip Kovalchuk had sent her of Selina’s torture session; at least not to its completion. The first few minutes of watching the screaming Catwoman writhing in agony had been more than enough. A strange feeling had come over her. It was anger, but a form of anger she had never before experience. It was as if she had been dipped into a vat of liquid nitrogen; filling her with a chilling rage. In an almost trance-like state she had stepped away from her bank of computers, gone to her locker and pulled out the bat costume.

    Zinda had watched her in silence, waiting until she had completely transformed. “Ya’ll up for this?” she had asked.

    “As much as I’ll ever be,” Barbara had answered.

    The former Blackhawk had simply nodded and moved to Barbara’s place at the console. It didn’t occur to Barbara until she was halfway out of the underground garage that Zinda knew nothing about computers, and not much more about the internet. “Well, it’s all or nothing anyway,” she muttered. “I’m going to make that Russian thug wish he’d never heard of Oracle.”

    She didn’t really have a plan; not that it seemed to matter. Huntress, Canary, and Catwoman had all had plans and none of them had worked. Maybe, just maybe, direct action would work where subtlety had failed. She really didn’t care anymore. If she had to sacrifice herself to save the three captive women, then so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time she had risked death, capture, or worse to save others.

    She tried to turn the throttle up one more notch, but the immensely powerful bike was already hurtling along at death-defying speed. It would take her only minutes to reach Kovalchuk’s waterfront hideout.

    She had to slow down a bit as she careened through the low-rent industrial area near the Gotham waterfront. The streets were older here and subject to sudden twists and turns, but she hardly slowed as she screeched around each corner. She took a rise at over two hundred on one of the few straight stretches and then hurled into a long open area of pavement just a few blocks from the warehouse that was her target.

    And it was her target quite literally. She slowed only slightly as the massive structure came into view. A couple of blocks long, forty feet tall, and a block deep, the building presented a solid, windowless wall as she hurtled toward it. Just seconds away from it she touched a stud on the handlebar of her bike. The heavy machine shuddered under the recoil of the modified chain gun built into the bike and several hundred depleted uranium rounds hammered into the wall.

    It exploded in a spray of concrete and steel, leaving a hole large enough to drive a semi-trailer through. Slowed by the massive recoil, Batgirl and the bike roared through the opening in a cloud of atomized concrete and high explosive residue. The phrase “Bat out of Hell,” could not have been more apt.

    She found herself in the center of a large open space surrounded by hundreds of crates and boxes. Here and there the various containers had been broken open, spilling their contents onto the concrete floor. The strong odour of their contents revealed that a good deal of it consisted of stolen or contraband liquor. What was also revealed were a dozen or more of Kovalchuk’s goons. They were in a considerable state of confusion over her sudden arrival and she intended to give them no time to recover.

    She gunned the powerful engine of the Hayabusa and turned the front wheel sending the bike into a screaming spin. At the same time she pressed down on the firing stud and sent hundreds of rounds in all directions. For a moment she forgot her superheroine principles about not killing or injuring criminals. Because what she had also seen was the steel cage hanging twenty feet above the floor and the three naked and helpless women trapped inside it. It drove any consideration she might have had for Kovalchuk and his goons completely from her mind and she continued to press the firing stud until she ran out of ammunition. By that time the interior of the warehouse had been rendered into a scene from hell.

    The air was thick with smoke with smoke from dozens of fires that had flared up in every corner. Exploding liquor bottles added to the conflagration, and wild shooting from Kovalchuk’s men increased the mad confusion. “Time to get out of here before I get killed,” she muttered. But first she was going to get what she had come for.

    She was almost beneath the cage containing the captive heroines. She yanked out one of her specialty batarangs, one designed to cut through metal. If she threw it just right it would blast the lock off the cage without harming anyone inside it. However, just as she cocked her arm the cage began to move, sliding toward the far end of the warehouse. At the same time the automatic sprinklers finally activated, dousing the warehouse in a dense spray.

    Barbara was quickly soaked to the skin, but the heavy downpour turned out to have a positive side-effect in that it cut visibility to just a few feet. It made her an almost impossible target for the men attempting to shoot her. At the same time it also meant that she could no longer see the cage clearly enough to find the lock with her batarang. She followed the sliding cage, motoring along the warehouse floor. Now slick with water it threatened to topple the heavy bike. She had to do something fast before the cage got to wherever it was going. As it passed over a pile of boxes she had a sudden flash of inspiration. With a quick flick of her wrist she sent the batarang flying toward the heavy chain supporting the cage. There was the bright flash of the explosion and then the cage plummeted toward the floor.

    As she anticipated the boxes intercepted the cage, preventing what might have been a fatal fall for the women inside it to something that was merely bruising. The cage teetered on one edge for a second and then slowly rolled over on its side, its weight collapsing the pile of boxes. With a thunk it dropped to the floor, landing door-side down, effectively trapping the women inside it. Barbara could still get them out given enough time, but time was something she no longer had.

    “Look out!” The cry came from Huntress who was clinging to the bars of the cage and apparently unhurt.

    Barbara turned just in time to see one of Kovalchuk’s men pointing a rifle at her . She dove off her bike just in time to avoid a flurry of bullets that would have cut her in half. But it was only the first installment as several more thugs joined in, blazing away without the least regard for the safety of anyone else in the building.

    Zhopy! Stop shooting. You’ll hit the other sluts. Take the bitch alive.” The command came over a loudspeaker and the voice was unmistakably Kovalchuk’s. However, Barbara had her own ideas about being taken; alive or otherwise.

    The cessation of gunfire gave her the chance to use her own weapons and martial arts skills. Although intended to take down an attacker without killing him, her weapons were nonetheless effective.

    She used her smoke bombs first, scattering several of them in the direction of her attackers. She would have preferred to use her tear gas pellets as well, but did not dare in such close proximity to the captive women. She followed this up with a salvo of batarangs, using every one she had except for those containing explosives. They took down several of the men charging toward her and a couple of bolas took down another two. And then she was left with her martial arts skills.

    She had fought before since her recovery, but never against such heavy odds. However, her hundreds of hours of training and conditioning now paid off. She hit Kovalchuk’s thugs like a whirlwind, dodging punches, baseball bats, kicks, and numerous attempts to tackle her while striking back with everything she had. One after the other her attackers went down until she was facing only three.

    These were the more skilled of her adversaries; those with some martial arts skills of their own. During the battle she had dealt each of them several punishing blows without being able to take them out. Now they circled her cautiously, each looking for an opening.

    It was a game Barbara could not afford to play. Not only was she tiring quickly, but time was not on her side. Kovalchuk had not shown up and almost certainly he would eventually arrive with reinforcements. She had to try to force the issue before they arrived.

    She had one more trick up her sleeve, or rather in her utility belt. Her climbing line was still in place, although the crossbow used to launch it across open spaces had been lost in the fight, she could still use it as a weapon. She snapped out the line with whip-like speed encircling the legs of the man to her left, and before he could recover jerked it tight, pulling him off his feet. The remaining two opponents chose her moment of distraction to launch a simultaneous attack.

    They came at her from opposite sides, but when they arrived she wasn’t there. Instead they almost slammed into one another, and then a black-clad demon tore into them and with a flurry of kicks and punches took them out of the fight. It took only a few moments more to deal with the man whose legs were still tangled in the rope.

    For a second Barbara stood panting, her adversaries scattered around her. Incredibly no one hand landed a single punch on her. Water continued to pour from the ceiling sprinklers although the fires had been extinguished. The air, however, was still thick with smoke and clouds of water vapour. Barbara ignored all of this. She still had to free the caged women and might have only seconds to do it. She dashed over to the cage and took out a set of lockpicks, only to discover that the lock and door were on the side of the cage that was pressed against the floor. On the other side of the bars the captive women crowded forward expectantly, but there was nothing she could do to release them. Somehow she had to roll the cage over, but she wasn’t given the chance.

    She didn’t hear the sudden expulsion of air as the dart was projected toward her, but she felt the result. The dart pinged off her shoulder, deflected by the tough Kevlar of her costume. She ducked her head as another zipped past her cowl. They were coming from a windowed area at the end of the warehouse and in her exposed position it was only a matter of time until one of them struck her in a vulnerable area. She almost cursed aloud. She couldn’t stay where she was. Leaving the three heroines in the cage was almost unthinkable. But she didn’t have any choice. Abandoning her rescue attempt, she headed at a run toward the back of the warehouse.

    She zigged and zagged as she ran, making herself as difficult a target as possible and it seemed to work. Another two darts flew past her, but neither came as close as the first two, bouncing off the concrete wall as she neared the staircase. She hit the metal staircase running, taking the first five steps at a single bound. It was a long way to the top, some eighty steps to a door forty feet above the floor. No doubt there was an elevator somewhere in the building, but she was not about to look for it. She was halfway up in seconds and then she realized that the slugs she had fired from the Hayabusa had done more than just blow apart a few packing cases and tear a truck-sized hole in the warehouse wall.

    The staircase shifted under her feet, throwing her off balance as it began to tear itself away from the wall. With an acrobatic twist of her body she managed to regain her balance. Already more than halfway up, she had little choice but to continue even as it began to collapse under her. She struggled toward the top, her attempts to reach the door now a panicked scramble. She was almost there when the staircase crashed down. With a last desperate lunge she caught hold of the edge by her fingertips. Forty feet above the floor she dangled at arm’s length. And then the door she had being attempting to reach slowly opened and she found herself staring into the twin barrels of a sawn-off shotgun.

    Kovalchuk grinned down at her. “Well my little lapochka, this is a pleasant surprise. For a moment I thought I was going to have to kill you.”

    Barbara stared unflinchingly into the barrels of the shotgun, but she was completely helpless. A slight increase in the pressure on the trigger and Kovalchuk would splatter her head like a watermelon. She hung on to the ledge in front of the door by the tips of her fingers while forty feet below her the harsh concrete floor waited. “Cuff her,” Kovalchuk ordered.

    Barbara tried to avoid what happened next, but her position was not exactly conducive to avoiding anything. She hung helplessly while woman locked a leather bondage collar around her neck. This was followed up by snapping metal cuffs to each wrist and attaching them to rings on the collar. The activity almost caused her to lose her grip, but she held on until the woman was finished.

    “Well done, Marga,” Kovalchuk said. “Now get her up and watch her feet.”

    Barbara’s gut clenched as she realized she had fallen into the clutches of the man who had brutalized and raped the other three women prisoners. The fear gave her strength as she was pulled up through the doorway by Marga and another of Kovalchuk’s men. As Kovalchuk had warned she tried to strike out with her legs, but her captors were ready for her. A fist was slammed into the side of her head, staggering her, and a boot slammed into her belly. It gave her captors enough time to tether her legs.

    “Don’t hurt her,” ‘Kovalchuk admonished. “At least not too much; I’ve got such delicious plans for the shlyukha.”

    Barbara was forced to her knees in front of him, forced to stare up at her captor. “You little bitch. You’ve done more damage that the other three cunts combined.”

    “Three dead, twenty wounded, so far,” Marga chimed in. “We’re still counting.”

    Barbara swallowed. She had not meant to kill anyone. It was a violation of the heroine principles she had always espoused. She knew that other crimefighters did not share her views on that, but Batman did and she had modelled her life after his.

    But there was nothing she could do about that now, and it wouldn’t have happened if Kovalchuk had not imprisoned and violated her friends. She stared defiantly upward, her eyes locking with those of the crime boss. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done, Batbitch,” Kovalchuk vowed. “You’re going to be so sore when I’m finished with you that you won’t be able to walk.”

    “Boss,” another henchman interrupted. “The fire department and the cops are here.”

    “Get rid of them,” Kovalchuk snarled. “Give them double the usual amount.”

    The henchman nodded and quickly disappeared. Kovalchuk returned his attention to his most recent captive. “How many more of you bitches is Oracle going to send against me? By now it should be obvious that he’s simply adding to my collection.” He stared hard at Barbara. “It’s time to get started. You’re going to wish Oracle was here instead of you.”

    Barbara tugged at her chains. She had a bit of play in her restraints, enough that she could freely move her hands, but with her wrists connected to the neck collar that movement was restricted to only a few inches. It left her helpless to stop her captors from stripping off her armoured costume. They started with her gloves, boots, and belts and then went about removing each section of her costume, unzipping zippers and unlocking clasps, until she was clad only in her filmy underwear. Standing before her captors wearing nothing but her cowl, bra, and thong, she felt incredibly vulnerable and Kovalchuk was going to show her just how accurate that feeling really was.

    “By sheer good fortune my interrogation room is still intact,” Kovalchuk jeered. “And you and I are going to get good use out of it, starting right now.”

    Kovalchuk personally escorted Barbara to the room in question, hauling her along with a chain attached to her collar. She couldn’t help noticing how he continually glanced back as he led her, his eyes fixing on the smooth motion of her quivering breasts. “So firm they hardly bounce,” he observed. “I am going to enjoy fondling them.”

    Barbara suppressed a shudder and then almost froze as Kovalchuk walked her across the threshold of the interrogation room. It contained numerous machines, most of which were equipped with shackles. Anger and fear surged through her as she identified the machine Selina had been strapped to when she had been electrically tortured. Kovalchuk followed her gaze. “That one is for later, pizda. For now I want you here.”

    He motioned to one of the few machines devoid of shackles, a set of parallel bars set one behind the other. They looked very much like the exercise bars Barbara frequently worked out on in her home gym. She quickly found out what else they could be used for.

    She was pressed back against the first bar, a man on either arm holding her there, and Kovalchuk personally attended to her shackling. While she was arched back against the first bar he locked each of her ankles to the second bar and then did the same with each of her wrists. With the bar centred in the small of her back she was arched back sharply, the front of her body fully presented to her captor. With a slow grin, Kovalchuk slowly unbuckled his belt, dropped his trousers and shorts, and presented his throbbing erection to her. “Ready for this, malysh? You’re going to get it whether you are ready or not.”

    “No. Stop” Barbara protested. The words burst forth almost before she could hold it back. She felt shame as the words left her mouth, but it was too late to take them back, and there was nothing she could do as Kovalchuk ripped off her thong, stepped forward and rammed his rigid member hard into her. He had not made the slightest attempt to prepare her and he split her like an axe splits kindling, parting her labia and entering her with a single brutal thrust.

    A scream she could not hold back burst from Barbara’s lips. It was part pain and part terror, but mostly it was shame at being captured and adding to Kovalchuk’s collection. It was a thought that occurred to Kovalchuk as well.

    “How many more of you… uh, heroine cunts, is Oracle… uh, going to … uh throw … uh, at me?” He got the sentence out in between deep thrusts that took him completely inside her. “Soon…uh, I’ll…uh, have…uh, a complete…uh, set.”

    Each movement of the crime boss’s body slammed Barbara’s arched back against the steel bar. But even worse, painful as it was, the deep penetration and continual hammering of her nether region had stimulated her womanly juices as well as her womanly passion. She bit back a moan and then gasped as an orgasm rippled her abdomen. She tried to hold it back, but her body betrayed her, a fact that did not go unnoticed.

    “You really are a dirty little slut aren’t you? The good little heroine getting off while being raped. You’re not much better than a costumed whore.” He snapped open her bra, cupped her quivering breasts, and bit down hard on each of her nipples. Barbara screamed loudly each time and then moaned in shame as Kovalchuk continued to pound her. The brutal rape lasted almost an hour, and left her much sorer and bruised than she had been during her battle with his minions. When he was finished his prediction was proven correct. Barbara could barely walk as she was once again handcuffed and led from the room.

    “Put her with the other cunts,” Kovalchuk ordered, as Barbara limped from the room. “Tomorrow we’ll question all of them together. It should be most interesting.”