Girls of Gotham

He still had time to back out of it.

The thought kept chiming in Dick’s head like a clock that had struck infinity, but he knew his misgivings wouldn’t come to anything. Bruce had backed out of doing what Dick was doing and it had gotten him killed—continuously catching criminals and putting them in Arkham and watching them bust loose again.

Maybe it had satisfied the madness in Bruce to have an endless supply of windmills to till at, but Dick had the perspective to see it wasn’t a viable strategy. No long-term.

Jason’s way wouldn’t work either. Dick didn’t dispute that the Joker deserved to die, but after that the line got fuzzy. Overgrown with complications. Did Poison Ivy deserve an ending, with her noble intentions? Or Harley Quinn, with her trauma? Two-Face, with his opposing sides—a new man that deserved death taking up half the body of the old friend that deserved saving?

No, choosing who lived and who died… that way laid madness.

What was needed was time. Time for Gotham to heal. For Arkham Asylum to become a real institution. For Blackgate to be purged of corruption. For the police department and the education system and the journalists and the politicians to all be made whole. There was no time when life was one crisis after another. Even Bruce, the best man Dick had ever known, couldn’t get any headway with his vast fortune when he was always playing defense.

For Dick to have a chance in this game, there were players that had to go in the penalty box.

Dick looked at what once had been Victor Fries’s freeze-gun. Wayne Tech resources, New Genesis technology, and more than a little tinkering by Cyborg had reduced it to the size of a samurai sword, with a folding grip that collapsed in to let him carry it all on a shoulder strap.

With it, he could freeze anyone solid: use the Batwing to pick them up and hoist them back to the Batcave, where he’d literally put them on ice. In cryogenic suspension until maybe a few decades from now, when Gotham was better equipped to handle the needs of your average supervillain.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

There was still time to back out of this… so Dick decided to stop the clock. Tonight, he would put his plan into action. And he wouldn’t stop until Gotham’s Most Wanted list was topped by Condiment King.

***

Technically, it could be said that the Riddler was the first to find out about Dick’s plan, but he never knew what hit him. The freeze-ray iced him for the foreseeable future in his obnoxiously god-awful Matthew Lesko fit, self-consciously looking like Rodin’s Thinker as he pondered his next crime.

It made Dick wonder if the place he intended to rob would still exist by the time Riddler was thawed out.

So really, the first two to get the news were Riddler’s henchwomen, Echo and Query. That was the other half of Dick’s plan. A disturbing number of Gotham’s villains had fanatically loyal gun molls like those two. Their masters actually reined them in. He didn’t want them on the loose, going on mindless crime sprees like Harley Quinn. And they didn’t deserve to be frozen; it was the Riddler that weaponized them.

(Matter of fact, Riddler didn’t either. Dick was simply worried that anyone as brilliant as him would move in to fill the void left by his more amoral rivals leaving the scene.)

What to do with them? Dick had always had a way with women. He could seduce, tantalize, tease with the best of them. It occurred to him that if he gave these henchgirls a compelling distraction from the plight of their masters, they wouldn’t go on the sort of rampage that Harley was known for. And it wouldn’t be much of a chore to play around with them, either. For whatever reason, henchgirls were almost invariably beautiful.

Echo and Query were no exception. They looked enough alike to be sisters, with similar statuesque heights, heart-shaped faces, creamy skin, and long legs. Query had long blonde hair, while Echo’s dark hair was cut short. Echo had fuller breasts, jutting out from her slender chest without regard for gravitation. Query was no slouch herself, but her clothes didn’t seem to emphasize her chest the way Echo’s did.

They weren’t in their usual costumes: the green unitards with purple fishnet stockings that made them as wanted by the Fashion Police as Riddler. Their crimes were more of opportunity than Riddler’s fixation. He wore his green suit near constantly. Echo and Query were in civvies. It was one more in a pile of evidence that they could be reformed, or at least redirected. Given a fixation that wouldn’t result in any blown-up buildings or totaled cars.

“Don’t shoot!” Echo cried, holding up her hands.

Query hid behind her—not afraid, just willing to use the other woman as a human shield if it came to that.

Dick flipped up the grip on his modified freeze-gun and returned it to the holster on his back, where it was comfortably out of the way of his acrobatics. Looking more like a poster tube than anything else. “Riddler’s the only one I was planning to put on ice. He’s going to be staying that way until the next Game of Thrones book comes out. You’re going to need a new boss.”

Query sneered at him from over Echo’s shoulder. “Dirty copper!”

Emboldened by his apparent mercy, Echo fixed Dick with her own scowl. “Dirty cop wannabe!”

“If I were a cop, you’d already be on your way to the prison showers,” Dick told them. He took a step toward them and they jerked back, intimidated. “I know you two can handle yourselves in a fight, like any good mook. Maybe you would even be a challenge for the Signal or one of those other newbies crawling out of the woodwork. But let’s face it: I don’t need a freeze-gun to handle you two.”

Fear set in. For whatever reason, putting the kibosh on the Riddler had taken away their usual suicidal bravado. They nearly trembled as his shadow fell across them.

“Are you going to arrest us?” Query asked.

“I should,” Dick mused. “But like I said, I’m not a cop. And without Riddler to make plans for you, you’re not much trouble, are you?”

“No, no, no trouble,” the two said in a flurry—amusingly, Echo nodding her head in agreement with Dick while Query shook her head that no, they weren’t trouble.

“Still, letting both of you go seems irresponsible. And not really fair to poor Eddie. You are all the same gang. Doesn’t seem right to punish him and no one else.”

“So what are you going to do?” Echo demanded, frazzled, on edge to the point where she just had to shout something out.

Dick smiled. The excitement, the thrill that came with fear was exactly what he wanted them to feel. It was an aphrodisiac. They weren’t as deathly afraid as Batman would make them, not repulsed, but instead drawn to him. Their wide, fright-filled eyes traipsing over his body, each perfect muscle outlined by his skintight suit, assaulting them with his glorious physique.

Their breaths came hard and fast, lust forcing its way insistently to the forefront of their minds no matter how they tried to keep thinking of weaseling a way to freedom. Seeing how their nipples popped through their tops, Dick was convinced they would masturbate about being so close to him, if he did let them go.

“Let’s strike a deal: I’ll let one of you go.”

“Which one?” they demanded at the same time.

Dick’s smile widened. He reached down to find the hidden zipper that would spare the women long minutes of searching and brought out his hard cock himself. “Whichever one of you makes me come,” he said plainly.

Both their eyes widened. Used as they were to a certain coarseness in the criminal underworld, the reputation of the Bats was one of absolute professionalism, bordering on inhumanity. Despite their striking, well-proportioned handsomeness, they verged on being sexless, or at least taboo. Lusting after them was a forbidden fruit.

Nightwing was the most approachable of the lot, even something of a tease with his penchant for getting close to women, talking in a low voice he had to know was seductive, charming them far more than he intimidated. But actually seeing his erection was as much a shock as its actual size.

Query had to clear her throat, trying to compose herself at the sight of his long, meaty endowment. Even now it was hardening further, feasting on their helpless attention, responding to the arousal they couldn’t help but feel. It was a feedback loop, spinning faster and faster. Dick was in control, but he happily let the roller coaster ride go on.

Echo found her footing faster. In the heady rush of seeing Nightwing’s cock, of being propositioned by him, she forgot the dignity-draining fact of being coerced. All that mattered was that she had a shot at this Adonis-like figure that had haunted her fantasies since she’d first embarked on a life of crime… and assuming he knew how to use that powerful club of his, he’d be everything she had dreamed of.

She surprised Dick and her girlfriend by strutting right up to the man, forgetting her fear except as a tinge on how turned on she was. She even smiled like the seductress her exquisite body clearly qualified her to be. “Nice hardware, Ace. Hope you know how to use it.”

Dick returned her fearless display of teeth. “Yes. It, and you.”

“And how are you going to use me?” Echo challenged, her heart pounding.

“Up,” Dick growled. “I’m going to use you up, little girl. And you’re going to love every second of it.”