}RP"Batgirl & Supergirl"( FF )[2/3]

	Opening the laptop that Bruce had left her,
Batgirl quickly logged on to the secure link with the
massive Batcave computers.  Nimble fingers played
across the keyboard as the files on the Crimson Rose
filled the screen.  Waynetech was the fourth largest
computer software company in the world and in
each program was a sub-routine that allowed
Batman access to any system that used it.  If there
was a clue as to where to begin her search, it would
be there.
	Quickly, the costumed adventurer read the
information on the woman who so wanted her dead. 
26 years old, the Crimson Rose had been born
Sumiko Tabuchi in a small village on the island of
Hokkaido, Japan.  Daughter of an American soldier
and his bar girl lover, she had been left to grow up in
the streets after her mother had simply gone out one
day when she was 16 and never returned.  By the
time she was 18, the lithe teenager was already
responsible for a half dozen murders and had
acquired a reputation that impressed the local crime
lord enough to accept her into his organization. 
Speculation was that the old man had also taken her
as a lover but the only fact that was sure was that
within two years the old man was dead and she was
queen of his organization at the age of 20.  
	By 22 she had branched out into the world of
international assassination and for the last four years
had been one of the premier killers for hire.  Sumiko
had acquired a taste for the finest things in life as
well as a fatalistic belief that everyday might be her
last.  It was an important aspect of her personality
according to Batman’s notes added to the bottom of
the file.  If anything, she was more apt to hide in
plain sight than hole up in some hidden bolt hole.
	The file also contained one of the few
photographs of the Crimson Rose.  Taken back in
the days when she was just Sumiko Tabuchi, she
looked to be about 16 in the picture.  Even then, the
eyes held both a fierce defiance as well as the spark
of hidden intelligence.  If you took the time to really
look at them, you wouldn’t be fooled by the outer
appearance -- that of a street urchin.  
	Reading over Batman’s personal notes once
more, Batgirl reflected how good it felt to be in
costume again.  It had been a long time.  One
thought led to another and she recalled the night she
had worn it for what she had then believed would be
the last time.
	
	It was one of those nights were nothing was
going right.  She had just ended her relationship with
Robin days before and had gone on patrol alone. 
Responding to a silent alarm at the Gotham
Museum, she had interrupted a robbery in progress. 
The two low caliber thugs who had tripped the
alarm systems went down without her breaking a
sweat. She had just finished tying the two of them
up when the lights went out.   	
	“Who’s there?”  Batgirl called out as she
spun around in the dark.
	The only response was a soft feminine laugh. 
Followed a moment later by the muffled sound of a
pair of boots hitting the floor. Batgirl turned in the
direction of the noise but before she could do
anything, a blinding light exploded in her eyes.
	Batgirl’s disorientation only lasted a few
seconds, but it was enough for the new arrival to
grab her from behind and slip a silken cord around
her wrists, pulling it tight.  She heard the laugh once
more and then the overhead lighting came on once
again.
	
	Illuminated by the twin rows of track lighting
that covered the opposite walls, her assailant stood
revealed.  Clad in a skintight dark purple jumpsuit
that looked like it had been literally poured onto her
body, the intruder also wore a tight fitting cowl with
small cat ears.  Up to this moment, Batgirl had only
seen her in pictures, but there was little doubt to her
identity.
	"You're the Catwoman!"  she said in an
excited voice.
	"Congratulations.  Did you figure that out all
by yourself?”  Catwoman laughed.
	Confidently, the purple clad huntress strode
over to where Batgirl had left the inept thieves. 
Slowly she shook her head and lamented on the
sorry class of criminals these days.
	“Wouldn’t you just know it.”  she said as she
walked over to the large glass case where a priceless
and rare Egyptian cat emerald was on display.  “I
spend over a week casing this place. Then two hours
hiding out after closing in a very uncomfortable
spot.  Finally an hour bypassing all of the alarms,
only to have one of these idiots trip the last of them
less than ten seconds before they would’ve been
inactive.  Some days you just can’t win.”
	Picking up one of the flashlights the bungling
burglars had dropped, Catwoman swung it in a wide
arc and smashed open the display case.   
	“Sometimes the simplest solutions are the
best.”  she grinned as she reached into the case and
picked up the gemstone.  
	Dropping her prize into a small bag attached
to her belt, Catwoman moved over to Batgirl,
stopping when their faces were only a few inches
apart.
	“I hear you’ve been screwing the junior
Batman.”  she said.  “I admire your taste.  He’s both
cute and a pretty nice fuck.”
	Batgirl didn’t know what to answer.  Her
only thought was that if public knowledge of her
relationship with Robin had reached that far, then
she had ended it just in time.
	“I was his first, I don’t know if he told you
that.” she whispered in Batgirl’s ear.  “So every time
he gets you off.  Every time you feel his tongue in
your pussy.  Think of me cause I’m the one who
showed him how it was done.”
	Then without warning, Catwoman grabbed
the back of Batgirl’s cowl and pulled their faces
together.  Batgirl was startled by the abrupt feel of
Catwoman’s lips against her own, then by the even
more unanticipated touch of her tongue as it invaded
her mouth.
	The kiss was endless as Catwoman seemed
to radiate more lust in a fully clothed kiss than many
lovers did naked in bed.  Barbara was only dimly
aware of the feel of the feline fatale’s hands as they
cradled her lycra covered breasts. 
	“It’s a pity that time is so short and the
police so near.”  Catwoman purred.  “I’d really love
to show you how it’s done as well.  I’ve always had
a thing for redheads.”
	One more brief kiss and she was gone,
leaving a Batgirl both embarrassed and tantalizingly
aroused.  

	That same night, ironically enough only four
blocks away, Congressman Stephen Jefferson was
entertaining an important constituent in his private
apartment in the Gotham Royal.  Her measure of
importance was increasing by the moment as the 52
year old legislator pressed his cock harder and
harder into her young almost hairless pussy.  Her
name was Bobbie Joe Wilson and she had just
passed her 17th birthday a week before.  She had
met the Congressman at a political rally for,
ironically enough, Citizens For A More Moral
Government.  She was looking forward to casting
her first ever vote for him when he came up for
re-election the following year. 
	The amply endowed brunette didn’t realize
at that moment, that she would have more of an
impact on that election than anyone else in her
district.  Four minutes later, just as he was about to
explode into what he had judged to be the tightest
little snatch he’d ever had since his navy days in the
Philippines some 30 years before, Stephen Jefferson
instead suffered what doctors later referred to as
massive coronary failure.  Lost in her own climax,
Bobbie Jo didn’t realize that the man atop her
wasn’t moving anymore for quite some time.  Then
the sound of her screams reached throughout the
surrounding floors of the upscale apartment house. 
	
	It was decided at the highest levels of the
party that in order to gloss off the circumstances of
Jefferson’s death as smoothly as possible, it would
be necessary to appoint someone as acceptable as
possible to fill out the rest of his term.  According to
tradition, they had first offered it to his now
widowed wife -- who promptly told them where
there could put their congressional seat.  Still eager
to make their announcement as soon after the
funeral services as possible, they had gone down a
short list the night before.  The first three of the
names on it were unavailable.  The forth had been
Barbara Gordon.  In hindsight, they had
congratulated themselves.  Who would be more
perfect to present a good image than the daughter of
Gotham’s own legendary police commissioner.
	Overwhelmed by the honor, Barbara had
immediately accepted and put away her double
persona for what she thought would be the duration.
	


	Floor by floor, room by room, Supergirl
continued her clandestine observation.  Most of the
activities at the embassy were mundane in nature. 
This changed dramatically as her search reached the
basement gym and the connecting locker rooms. 
More specifically, the showers reserved for female
employees.  The Girl of Steel was shocked to come
across two women sharing a single shower.  It was
not only the shower they were sharing as they
proceeded to soap and caress each others naked
form.
	It wasn’t the nature of the act the two olive
skinned women were so actively engaged in that
surprised her.  After all, under different
circumstances, she might have been inclined to join
them.  Rather it was the fact that the two had been
willing to take the risk of discovery.  Qurac was the
type of country where you could find yourself put up
against a wall for even harboring such desires -- 
much less acting on them.  
	If Kara were to examine the two women’s
purses in the adjacent locker room, she would’ve
discovered that the older of the two was the
embassies cultural attaché.  Slightly stocky in her
late 30’s, she had short brown hair that was just
beginning to gray.  Only 5’2”, she had a rounded
body with plentiful mounds.  
	Her taller, much younger companion was a
new addition to her staff.  Recently graduated from
an American University, she had acquired certain
desires there that had definitely not been part of the
curriculum her government had sent her there for. 
Tall and small breasted, with long black hair that
stretched down to below the buns of her ass, she
really wasn’t Kara’s type. Still, the Girl of Steel was
impressed by the enthusiastic way the 22 year old
dropped to her knees and began to work her tongue
in between the walls of her superior’s love canal.   
	As entertaining the show they were putting
on was, Supergirl has a job to do.  She started to
shift her gaze up to the first floor when she
accidentally x-ray scanned the ventilation system
above the shower room.  She almost missed the
small camera hidden above the vent.  
	For a second as she spotted the spy device,
Supergirl was afraid the lovers had been found out
and considered if she should get them out of there.
Then to her relief, she noticed that the camera
wasn’t hooked into the main security system. 
Rather it was tied into a small video tape unit also
hidden in the air shaft.  
	“The hook up looks a little amateurish.”  the
blonde adventurer thought as she examined the unit
a little closer.  “I think I’ve come across someone’s
home movie maker.”
	A few seconds of concentration increased
the power of her x-rays until the tape in the VCR
began to smolder and then burst into flames.  A
small smile appeared on the corner of her mouth as a
cloud of smoke filtered out of the vent, drawing the
attention of the two women below.  
	Quickly they wrapped themselves with
towels and ran for help.  Hopefully, when the now
melted recorder was found it would result in their
being more circumspect in the future.
	“Well that’s my good deed for the day.” 
Kara grinned as she shifted her gaze to another part
of the Quraci consulate.


	“Klahid speaking”  Supergirl heard the chief
of security say as he answered the phone.
	The voice on the other end was female and it
was perhaps the five hundredth phone call Kara had
monitored this afternoon.  Hopefully this wouldn’t
be another one of the security chief’s seemingly
endless parade of girlfriends.  The man seemed to
have a fetish for phone sex.  Not a bad thing by
itself, but the man also suffered from a terrible lack
of imagination.
	“Gordon is still alive.” the female voice said.
	“You state the obvious.”  the security chief
answered.
	  Supergirl jumped up to her feet, she’d hit
the jackpot.  Every fiber of her being began to focus
on the carrier wave of that phone call.  One by one,
she tuned out every extraneous sound until the
signal was all she heard.  Then, using abilities that
few could understand, she began to trace the line
back to it’s origins.  Twice she had lost it, then
backtracked to find it again.  
	Mentally she superimposed the map of
Washington over the invisible trail.  It came to an
end at one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. 
Specifically, the penthouse suite.  Not exactly the
place where you’d expect to find a terrorist cell. 
Then again,  Sumiko wasn’t your ordinary terrorist.
	“I’ll have this wrapped up by dinner.” 
Supergirl thought as she dropped off the ledge and
arced upward into the sky.
	As the city passed beneath her, she imagined
Barbara Gordon’s response when she told her that
Sumiko was safely behind bars and no longer her
concern.

	“It wasn’t my fault that space-bitch
interfered.”  the tall dark haired woman shouted into
the phone.  “If it wasn’t for her, Gordon would be
fish food by now.  Trust me, there will be ...”   
	The sound of shattering glass cut off her next
words as Supergirl came crashing through the large
French doors that led out to the balcony.  Without
pause, she grabbed the two armed men who were in
the large living room and tossed them into the far
wall.  The impact robbed them both of the automatic
weapons they’d been carrying and their
consciousness.
	“I’m afraid your conversation is going to be
interrupted.”  Supergirl said as she stood in the
center of the room, her hands on her waist.  “For
about a hundred years or so seeing as how many
countries have warrants out on you.”
	“Supergirl!”  the beautiful Amerasian woman
exclaimed loudly as she dropped the phone and
reached for the bright red carry bag on a nearby
table.
	“Sorry, that bag definitely doesn’t go with
that dress.”  Supergirl said as her eyes flashed red
for a moment and the bag burst into flames.	
	Sumiko recoiled from the sudden heat as
whatever weapons might have been in the bag were
instantaneously transformed into melted slag.  A
string of curses, some of which were new even to
Supergirl, came out in rapid fire Japanese.  
	“Now now,”  Supergirl said with a smile. 
Such language from a lady.”
	Sumiko stood 5’10” and amply filled out the
expensive white evening gown she was wearing. 
Evidently she had plans for the evening, plans which
would now be somewhat changed.  
	When you’re nearly indestructible, it’s easy
to become overconfident.  So it was that Kara was
paying more attention to the deep crevice between
Sumiko’s breasts than to the small hand that moved
across those mounds. With a sudden motion, the
Japanese woman ripped off the pendant around her
neck and after popping it open, tossed it to
Supergirl.    
	“A present.”  she laughed chillingly.
	Too late Supergirl realized the danger as a
sudden burst of pain ripped through her body.  Her
vision blurred as the Girl of Steel felt her legs turn to
rubber.  Unable to stand, she fell forward. It was a
pain she’d only felt twice before in her life, and just
before she lost consciousness she realized that the
crystal in the pendant had to be krytonite.
	“I always thought one of you super types
would eventually come after me.”  Sumiko said as
she stepped over Supergirl’s prone body.  “I bought
that little sparkler sometime back. Looks like it was
worth the half-million I paid for it.”
	Picking up one of the machine pistols her
bodyguards had dropped, she walked back to stand
over her fallen foe.  A smile of satisfaction filled her
face as she charged the weapon and aimed it at the
back of Supergirl’s head.
	“From what I’ve been told, it only takes a
few minutes exposure to that rock to make you as
vulnerable as anyone else.”  Sumiko said as she
visualized a cross-hair in the middle of Kara’s
golden locks. “It’s a pity you can’t be awake for
this.  I’d love seeing the look in your eyes as you see
death’s wings take flight.”
	
	Now it was Sumiko’s overconfidence that
proved her undoing.  It was only at the last possible
moment that she caught the motion of purple and
gold to her left before the full weight of Batgirl’s
110 lbs slammed into her body.  Still, that brief
recognition of danger was enough for Sumiko to
pull back and deflect at least some of the blow.  She
even managed to hold onto the uzi.  
	“This is my lucky day.”  Sumiko called out
confidently as she spun around and began to spray
the room with gunfire.  “I get to waste two of you
bitches!”
	Batgirl barely ducked under the arc of fire as
she dropped down to the carpeted floor and quickly
rolled over to the unconscious Supergirl. 
Disregarding her own immediate danger, she
reached out for the bright gold plated pendant. 
Gloved fingers closed on the small piece of jewelry,
snapping it closed. Then in a single fluid motion,
Batgirl completed a body roll and tossed the perilous
trinket out to and over the now open balcony.
	“Die Bat-bitch!” Sumiko yelled as she
slammed a fresh ammo clip into the machine pistol
and walked her shots across the floor.
	“Get it in gear Barbara!”  Batgirl’s inner
voice cried out as she pivoted in the other direction. 
“Otherwise you’re going to make the morning’s
obituary page after all.”  
	Long months of inactivity took their toll as
Batgirl’s reflexes was just a little too slow.  The
stream of bullets shattered a wall length mirror,
showering the gold caped crusader with hundreds of
tiny razor sharp fragments.  The few seconds she
took to shield her face were all Sumiko needed to
trap her.
	“Bye bye bitch!”  she sneered.  “First you,
then the blonde girl scout over there.  Then that
Gordon cunt can join you both in hell.”
	“I think you forgot about something.” 
Batgirl grinned right back.
	“I don’t think so.”  came the confident
response.
	The heartless killer did feel a brief flash of
disappointment that was reflected on her face.  She
was so hoping that Batgirl, like so many of her
victims, would plead for her life. Where was the fun
in killing if you didn’t get to enjoy the fear it
produced.

	“Surprise.” the soft fluid voice whispered
into Sumiko’s ear.
	“What.....” she started to reply.
	Reaction came much too late as a blue
covered arm reached out and crushed the small snub
nosed barrel of the machine pistol.  If the terrorist
pulled the trigger now, the weapon would explode --
taking her hand with it.
	Sumiko’s attention diverted, Batgirl leapt to
her feet and produced a set of steel bat-cuffs from
one of the back compartments of her utility belt. 
With practiced ease, she grabbed the startled
murderer and slammed the restraints around her
wrists.
	“Nice move.” Supergirl commented in a
voice that only partially hid the weakness she still
felt.
	While the Kryptonian’s strength had begun
to slowly return as soon as the lethal gem had been
removed, it would take time before she was back at
full strength.  As it was, the simple act of crushing
Sumiko’s weapon had exhausted her reserves.

	The sounds of gunfire had produced dozens
of calls from panicky hotel guests.  In response, a
small legion of Washington’s Finest had appeared at
the door to the penthouse suite mere minutes later. 
It was a toss up which they found more surprising:
the devastation inflicted on the antique
surroundings, or the presence of the two women
whom they had only thought of as legends. 


	“Why don’t you take a few minutes in the
next room to compose yourself.”  Batgirl said to
Supergirl in a low voice as the police picked up the
two bodyguards that the Girl of Steel has disabled
earlier.  
	“Good idea.”  Supergirl agreed.  “I only need
a few minutes.”
	“Take whatever you need.”  Batgirl replied. 
“I’ll deal with everything out here.” 

	As Supergirl disappeared into one of the
bedrooms, the Captain in charge of the detail came
up to Batgirl.  His men were already leading Sumiko
out of the room, trailing a litany of curses, blood
oaths and promises of retribution.  
	“Where did Supergirl go?”  the excited
Captain asked in a voice filled with hero worship.
	“Err...she needed some time to ... ”  Batgirl
said, hesitating to draw attention to the Maid of
Might’s period of weakness.
	“Oh I understand.”  the police officer nodded
knowingly, thinking that Batgirl had motioned to the
bathroom instead of the bedroom next to it. “I guess
you never really think of folks like you having to do
things like that. Just like the rest of us.”  
	Five minutes later, a much refreshed
Supergirl emerged from the bedroom.  The color
was back in her face and she had a reassuring
confidence in her stride.  
	“Thanks.”  she smiled at Batgirl.
	
	“Supergirl, I can’t tell you what an honor it
is to meet you.”  the excited Captain said as he
anxiously shook the Kryptonian’s hand. “Billy
Ryan.”  he added.
	Batgirl figured that it would be a good ten
minutes before the police officer finished with the
Girl of Steel.  Not that she really blamed him. 
Batgirl had to admit that she felt a little of that hero
worship herself.   Sure she was Batgirl, but what
was that really worth.  An ordinary woman in a
Halloween costume.  Supergirl, she was like magic. 
The woman could actually fly.  She could move
mountains.   She was actually from another world.
	There was a time when the scarlett tressed
adventurer would’ve asked herself why couldn’t she
meet a guy like that.  Lately however, Barbara had
become more away of a growing attraction to other
women.  Deep down, she knew that those
attractions had always been there, but she was
always afraid to act on them.  Just before she had
accepted the appointment as Congresswoman, she
had been on the verge of acting on those feelings. 
Then those desires, like so many other things, had
been put aside for the sake of her career. 

	“I wonder if Supergirl ever has feelings like
that.”  Barbara wondered as she imagined what the
Girl of Steel looked like without that costume. 
“What a first time experience that would be.” she
mused.
	Super or not, Supergirl was still a woman. 
Filled with the same desires that every other woman
had.  At least that was what she’d said in an
interview she had given Lois Lane when she’d first
appeared a few years back.  The story had appeared
in the Sunday edition of the Metropolis Daily Planet
and Barbara had read a copy of it at the Gotham
Library.  Remembering the article, she also recalled
that Supergirl’s real name was Kara.  Both then and
now, she’d thought the name as beautiful as the
woman.
	“I wonder what the odds are that she’s into
women.”  Batgirl mused as she admired the curve of
the heroine’s ass. 
	That thought and the imagery that went with
it only served to add to the wetness that continued
to grow between her legs. 
	“Listen to me.”  the cowled crusader
thought.  “Two days ago the idea of being with
another woman was the furthest thing from my
mind.  Now a few hours as Batgirl again and I want
to put the make on the most desirable woman in the
world.”

	One night, back in the early days of their
relationship, Robin and she had discussed the sexual
habits of the world’s various superheroes. They had
been lying in bed, bathing in the warm afterglow of a
night of energetic lovemaking.  Some of it was
conjecture, some of it fact.  All of it entertaining.
	Robin had met many of the major heroes
through his partnership with Batman.  He had an
opinion about all of them, especially the woman. 
Most of them were straight he concluded, but there
were exceptions.  Wonder Girl of the Titans was
definitely into babes, he’d said.  Yet Wonder
Woman was into both men and women, depending
on her mood.   Speedy, also of the Titans, was as
queer as a three dollar bill.  
	Even the straight ones had their own quirks. 
Black Canary was really into heavy bondage and
discipline.  Ice, also of the Justice League, was on
the opposite end of the spectrum. She was a born
submissive with a passion for dominant men.
	Where in this mix did Supergirl fit in? 
Barbara could only wonder.