Batman Porn Story: Scarred Souls – Chapter 3

Batman Porn Story: Scarred Souls – Chapter 3

Chapter
3

Victory
and Loss

From
her perch atop a nearby office building, Cobra watched the old
warehouse through a pair of nightvision binoculars. The warehouse was
dark except for a thin slice of light coming from one of the windows
on the top floor, but the binoculars showed her two guards stationed
near the small entrance on this side, armed with what looked like
rifles. The binoculars were part of the equipment that the Batman had
given her, including a small wireless headset that fit easily under
her hood and a light climbing rope. He would have given her more but
she knew that this was how she worked best. Her job right now was to
watch the entrance, making sure that no one got past without her
noticing. The Batman was watching the other side of the building,
where he could keep an eye on the people within through an open
window. The idea was that they would be able to see the killer if he
came to finish his job tonight and could trap him within the
building, using the final Miazza boss as bait. She was supposed to
check in with him in a few minutes but so far everything had been
quiet. They had alerted the police and several SWAT teams wait nearby
for the signal to come in and round up any thugs and take the killer
into custody. Now it was just a waiting game. She concentrated on her
job, though. She was a professional. She knew that she would be
distracted if she thought about him. But she couldn’t help the warm
feeling that came over her every time she even thought his name.
After tonight hey could go home. Her mission would be finished and
they could love each other without holding back and keeping secrets.
It still seemed hard to believe. It was as if they had found the
other half of themselves. The other side to their coin. If they only
made it past tonight.

A
voice crackled over the radio.

“Bat
to Cobra. Come in. Over.”

“Cobra
here.”

“How
does it look over there?”

She
picked up the binoculars again, sweeping the over the ground around
the warehouse.

“All
quiet here. Looks like”

She
stopped and passed the binoculars over the entrance again. Both
guards were now lying prone on the ground. She could tell even from
where she was that both of their necks had been broken.

“Hang
on, both guards are dead! The killer is inside. Repeat, the killer is
inside!”

His
voice was calm on the other side.

“See
if you can follow him. I’m going in the window. We’ll catch him
somewhere in the middle. Bat out.”

Dropping
the binoculars, she uncoiled the rope at her waist and swung swiftly
down to the ground. Making sure the coast was clear, she sprinted
across the empty street and slipped through the door past the dead
guards. It was dark

inside
as she made her way quietly down a small hallway and out into the
maze of crates that filled the warehouse. Suddenly, the overhead
lights came on and she was forced to shield her eyes until they
adjusted. She was only still for a few seconds but in that time a
group of thugs came jogging around the corner, talking into a radio.
They hesitated when they saw her but the thug in the lead recovered
quickly.

“Get
her!” he yelled, pulling an automatic from the back of his belt.

She
jumped, pulling herself over the edge of the crate next to her just
as two bullets thunked into its sides. Taking a step back, she then
jumped forward, flipping over the heads of the gang and landing on
the shoulders of the leader, knocking him to the ground. Then she was
up and moving again, kicking the legs out from beneath the closest
thug and smashing her fist into his jaw as he too went down. Blocking
a punch from another thug, she sent a foot into his gut, ducking just
in time to avoid a bat that yet another had swung at her head. She
dropped him with a roundhouse kick to the head and turned just as
several bullets ricocheted off the floor near her feet as the last
two thugs backed off. Then another group came running around the
corner and she flipped up onto the crates again as more bullets
whizzed past her head. They were yelling and talking into radios as
some climbed onto the crates behind her. She took off running,
jumping gaps and following the maze of crate tops. More bullets
whizzed past and she dropped down onto the floor between the crates,
sprinting off in another direction. Now the whole warehouse was
alight and there were shouting thugs all over the place. As she ran,
she looked up at the office rooms on the catwalks above. One was lit
and she could see the shadows of people fighting through the window.
She turned a corner, running in the direction of the elevator that
ran up to the catwalks. Now it sounded like the whole gang was after
her as she reached the elevator platform. Several more bullets pinged
off the wall in front of her as she vaulted over the railing to the
elevator control box. Smashing open the cover, she reached in and
ripped out a handful of wiring. Then she started climbing, using the
rope to reach the first of the supports for the elevator shaft.
Having the elevator out would force the thugs to go to the opposite
end of the warehouse in order to climb the stairs and hopefully would
buy her time. More gunshots echoed nearby and several bullets buried
themselves in the metal strut close to her head. But then she was up
and over the catwalk railing and running towards the lighted office.
Then she stopped. A dark figure was creeping slowly towards the door
of the office. It was the killer. Slowly, she followed. Trying to be
as silent as possible. But he had heard her and, spinning around, he
stuck a small tube in his mouth. Then something stung the side of her
neck and reaching up, she pulled a small, feathered dart from where
it was buried in the fabric of her costume. The man smiled
triumphantly as she walked slowly towards him. He was dressed all in
black, like she was, but he wore no mask. Strange tattoos were
printed across his face, making him look like a goblin or something
out of a story. She stopped a few feet away and stared straight at
him. Then he spoke.

“And
you must be the Cobra.”

She
nodded. He grinned.

“I
really must say how convenient it was of you to appear in Gotham like
you did.’

“Why.”

“I
thought that would have been obvious.”

She
just stared at him.

He
sighed and continued. “Well, you did make for a very handy
cover. Imagine how coincidental. Someone with a name and style so
perfectly suited to my work who just happened to show up at precisely
the right time.’

“Who
are you?”

He
bowed. “Sanji Crow, professional assassin by trade.”

She
was angry but she kept it slow, knowing that he was getting careless.

“Why
are you killing the Miazza?”

“Just
a job. Man has to make a living you know.”

“How?”

“Ah,
wouldn’t you like to know. Well, for you I shall make an exception.
With these little darts. So small but so very poisonous. Snake venom,
which, by the way, is currently is running through your veins.”

She
didn’t move. She wanted very much to make him hurt. To make him feel
for what he had stolen from her. But still she waited.

“Any
minute now,” he continued. “You should feel your heart
speeding up. Feel the air being cut off.”

He
reached out and touched her face.

“Pity.”

The
moment had come. Lightning fast, her hand shot out and caught his,
forcing it away from her. He swung at her and she flipped him over,
using his arm as a pivotal point. But he knew martial arts as well,
and pulled her over with him. They rolled apart and jumped to their
feet. He looked shocked.

“I
don’t understand. What”

She
came at him again. Punching and kicking in combinations so fast that
he could barely keep up. Then he recovered and she was forced back a
few steps as he replied in kind. Then a bullet pinged off the catwalk
nearby, making her hesitate. The thugs had reached the stairs and
were running along the catwalks towards them. In her moment of
distraction, Crow got through, landing a strike on her face that
knocked her down. She rolled, just in time to avoid the knee that
came down where her head had been. She jumped to her feet, spitting
blood from a cut lip. But now she had the advantage; he was on the
floor and she was standing. She kicked out, knocking him over but he
rolled to his feet again. But this time, when he punched, she just
simply caught it. Then, grabbing his elbow, she flipped him again.
This time she felt the bone snap as he went over and when he landed,
he did not get up.

“What”
he gasped. “You were supposed to the poison. It”

She
reached up and pulled off her mask. And his eyes widened in
understanding when he saw her eyes clearly for the first time.

“So
that’s”

A
hail of bullets pinged around them, drowning out what he was saying.
She ducked, curling up in the shelter of that corner of the office.
She looked back at Crow. He was still. His eyes were open but no
breath moved in his chest. A small trickle of blood trailed slowly
from the corner of his mouth. She backed away, getting to her feet
and sprinting the rest of the way to the office and jerking the door
open. The Batman was inside, dealing with a group of about ten thugs.
At lest twenty more lay on the floor around him but he was still
moving as if he had just started. In the corner was another man, too
well dressed to be a thug. He had to have been the last boss and he
was busy reloading a small pistol. But she didn’t have time to worry
at him. Grabbing a gun that had been kicked near the door, she ran
back out side. The thugs were close and the catwalks creaked as they
ran in a group towards her. Ducking around the corner, she took aim
at the bolt holding the struts that supported the catwalk. She fired
once and it shattered, that catwalk sagging to one side as the strut
swung free. Then she took aim and the second and fired, the catwalk
swaying even more as another strut gave way. Then there was only one
left. She took aim and fired. The bullet ricocheted off but the bolt
remained intact. The catwalks were swaying violently now as the crowd
drew closer. She took aim again, taking her time and trying not to
rush. Then she fired again. The bolt shattered, but the strut
remained where it was. She fired again, not bothering to aim but the
hammer of the gun clicked on an empty chamber. Then the first of the
thugs came around the corner and she backed away as they took aim.
But then, with a violent screech of metal, the last strut tore free,
swinging the portion of the catwalks, which held the gang, down,
dumping most of the thugs on the ground. Several guns went off and
she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked over to see a wide cut
where a bullet had plowed a path through the outside of her arm. But
other than that she was fine and she had been able to buy them more
time.

She
ran back to the office, clamping a hand on the cut to help slow the
bleeding. Inside it was much the same as she had left it. There were
only five thugs left, but the Batman seemed to be moving slower. Then
she saw the blood. There was a long rip in the material over his leg
and the surrounding material was stained dark. But none of the thugs
had any weapons that would have caused that kind of injury. Then she
saw the boss. He had reloaded his pistol and was carefully taking aim
at the Batman. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord. Vaulting
over the prone thugs all over the floor, she landed directly in front
of the boss. He hesitated for a second when she appeared, but before
she could do anything, he moved the gun towards her and pulled the
trigger. She paused. Her mind had registered the shot, had heard it,
and she saw her body jerk and the bullet hit. But she couldn’t feel a
thing. He pulled the trigger again. She heard the shot again and felt
her body jerk in response. But somehow it didn’t matter.

Then
she moved, her left hand snapping up under the barrel of the gun as
her right hand came down on his wrist. She heard the crack as his
wrist broke and caught the gun as it flew up into the air. Then she
pointed it at his head. And she hesitated again. This time for a
different reason. The first time had been because something very
important had happened. She had recognized him. Kneeling on the floor
in front of her, his eyes on the gun, was the man whose face she
remembered very well. He had been there that day. That hot summer day
when she had sat on her porch and watched as he had pulled out his
gun and shot her father. Twice, right in the stomach. He was older
than she remembered. But then, that had been twenty years ago. Now
she hesitated for another reason. She was trying to resist the lure
of the power she now held. The power over his life. Over whether he
died right there, right then. She toyed with the idea of shooting him
twice, right in the stomach. Of watching him take forever to die.
Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Disarming
the last thug with a punch in the gut and laying him out cold with
another to the jaw, the Batman relaxed his fighting stance. He was
tired, there had been too many of them for him to avoid every blow.
And once the boss had gotten in that shot to the leg, his mobility
had been seriously reduced. He blocked out the pain, taking stock of
the room around him.

And
then he saw her. Her arm was trembling, the fingers wrapped tight
around the trigger of the gun she held. He could see the fear on the
face of the man kneeling in front of her. And he knew what was
happening. He had been there.

“Aasia,”
he said softly. The world was quiet around them. All that existed was
the two of them, the gun, and the choice.

“Aasia,
put down the gun.”

He
could see her shift her grip ever so slightly. But she said nothing
and didn’t move. He kept talking, trying to reach through to her.

“Let
him go. We caught him. It’s over. Let him go and lets go home.”

Her
hand shook even more and he could tell that she was fighting an inner
battle over this.

“Please.
Let him go.”

Her
hand jerked and the shot rang out. His eyes followed the path of the
gun to the new smoking hole in the wall behind the boss. The man
looked like he was about to faint. Then she dropped the gun, threw it
away from herself as if it was poisonous to touch. Then she turned to
him. And fell.

He
ran to her, ignoring the screaming muscles in his leg and gathering
her up into his arms. Her face was white and he realized that her
mask and hood were gone. He touched her face, brushing the hair back
from her eyes.

“Come
back to me, Aasia. Come back.”

He
felt warmth seeping into the fabric of his costume and looked down to
see the large spreading dark stain in the fabric of hers. The stain
was centered around two small holes just beneath her chest and even
as he watched it spread further.

“Aasia,
please come back.”

Her
eyelids flickered. Reaching up with one hand, he pulled his cowl and
mask savagely off his head, bringing his face close to hers.

“It’s
me. Come, on. Come back.”

Her
eyes opened and he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful.
Her voice was soft and shaking.

“I
didn’t -didn’t”

He
reassured her quickly.

“No,
no you didn’t. You came back. You let him go.

“I’m
not – not a k-killer.”

He
could feel the tears filling his eyes, blurring his vision and he
blinked them away so that he could see her better.

“No,
not a killer. You were never a killer. I never thought you were.”

Her
breath was getting ragged and a small trickle of blood appeared at
the corner of her mouth.

“I
lo”

He
stroked at her face, squeezing her in his arms, and trying to keep
her with him.

“What
is it, baby? It’s ok. What is it?”

He
could hear her struggling to breathe.

“I
love -lo – love you.”

The
tears came then. He knew he was losing her. In one last attempt to
keep her, he pressed his lips to hers. And he could feel her
returning the kiss for a moment. And then she was gone. He pressed
his cheek to hers, holding her tight as if would never let go, the
tears pouring down his face to drop on the eyes now closed forever.

The
boss, the only other conscious person in the room, heard a sob, a
sound of a heart as it tears into pieces and lies bleeding as the man
in black held the woman to him and rocked back and forth. Then he
took his chance, crawling as quietly as he could towards the door. He
moved quickly, disregarding the bodies of the unconscious bodyguards
as he made his break for escape. He was almost at the door when he
heard a sound behind him. He froze, the terror creeping into a cold
knot in the pit of his stomach. Then he turned, slowly. The Batman
was standing over him. The boss knew who he was. What criminal
didn’t? He knew that he didn’t kill. And he knew that no one had ever
seen his face. But here was the demon himself, unmasked. And there
was no mistaking the death in his eyes. They were dark and hot with
fury. Like chips of ice that could burn his very soul. He waited for
something to happen. For the man to move, for him to say something,
anything. A long moment passed. Tentatively, the boss opened his
mouth to speak. Then with a roar, a wild animal sound that was more
like a scream, the man picked him up by the front of his suit and
hurled him with inhuman strength against the wall. He struck with a
force that knocked the breath from his body and blacked out.

When
he awoke again, he was being carried, handcuffed, in a stretcher to a
waiting ambulance. As the medics carried him around a corner, he
could just see several SWAT men looking at a large man-sized hole in
the wall and shaking their heads.

Alfred
was worried. Master Bruce had come home, but he could tell that part
of him hadn’t. Something in him had died that night, and he could
see it in his eyes. He had refused to let him dress the wound in his
leg and even now still sat staring out into the abyss of the Batcave.
There was nothing he could do, Alfred knew that. But he also knew
that Bruce would recover. He knew he would throw himself into his
work with all of his soul. The Batman was so much a part of Gotham.
He was the other side to the twisted, darkened soul that was Gotham.
He could only hope that the good side would win out in the end.

Bruce
looked up through the crevice in the ceiling of the cave. Overhead,
the Batsignal shone brightly in the cloudy night sky.

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