LitShark
Predator
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2002
- Posts
- 3,462
Slade Wilson Re: Batgirl – Semper Fi
“It’s Absinthe. Good for focus,” Wade smirked before taking another sip.
Slade didn’t really look away while Barbara changed into her outfit, in fact, he watched the whole thing. Her body was even better than he might have suspected under her unassuming house clothes and the suit did plenty to accentuate her natural gifts. Ras might have been half mad, but Slade had to give respect where it was due—he had this fine piece of well-connected ass wrapped around his finger and all he had to do was offer her the chance.
A mad genius.
When she asked Slade for his input, he closed the distance between them, grabbing the edges of her collar firmly. He tugged and lifted, using enough force to raise her boots off the ground for a moment, bringing the edges of the collar together and jiggling her big, round tits into place, where they could be more suitably held down by the spandex and carbon fiber material of the suit. Slade moved the zipper up to just under her chin.
“Let’s hope their eyes are on the logo and not the chest,” Slade said at last, his palms passing languidly down her body before releasing her.
The bat logo was yellow, made of the same reflective plastic as road markers. It would gleam even in almost pitch dark. Still, it didn’t seem like enough. Slade flicked his cigarette across the room before digging through his secondary gear cache. His hand landed on a solution, but the piece of equipment brought with it a memory. As he retrieved the Kevlar girdle from his pack, he could hear his wife’s voice. When he strapped it around Barbara’s midsection, he said to her what his wife so often told him before he’d walk out to a redacted place to do redacted things.
“You’ve got guts, that’s for sure,” he zipped the girdle up to just below her loosely bound breasts, slipping lead plates into corresponding pockets, “just be sure to keep them inside your body.”
The baby crying, the door slamming. Every rose has its thorns.
Slade turned away before his eyes betrayed his emotion. His heart still reaching out for those moments he’d leveraged away until they were all gone—and now they were the only thing he couldn’t bring back.
“I’m going to Infil Point A. You wait for the gunplay to start and then enter from the rooftops,” Slade glanced back again, the girdle helped to disguise the feminine hourglass of her figure, the plates replicating masculine stomach muscles, “if we both make it out of here, I’d like to fuck your brains out. If that’s something you’d like too.”
Slade smiled, handing the flask back one last time before they split up. She was probably the same age as his daughter. It was nothing at all like redemption, but it was something to look forward to.
For now, that was enough.
*-*-*
Ras al Ghoul Re: Bruce Wayne – Expensive Tastes
“Ah, Bruce there you are,” Ras smiled, it almost passed for genuine.
In truth, Ras was always in the midst of the game, moving the pieces as he saw fit—watching every interaction from above. It was why he enjoyed fencing with Bruce, the Detective saw the world the same way, there was no need to pretend otherwise. Each was holding something back—each was trying to gain something the other didn’t want to part with. A level playing field.
“Let’s get a table. I can’t indulge too much, as my driver has the night off,” despite his protestations, Ras held his rocks glass up to be refilled with the same fifty-year Scotch that Bruce was joining him for, Ras draped his jacket around his shoulders leaving the bar, “I hope you aren’t inviting me to dinner because you wish to back out of our agreement last night. I assure you that I had nothing to do with the attack on your home and did the best I could to warn you.”
Ras draped his coat over the chair facing the door when the host showed them to their table, more gamesmanship, per his own teachings. You may be the fastest gun in the West, but even Bill Hickock couldn’t see through the back of his head.
“I’d like to start with the Beluga caviar and charcuterie board,” Ras instructed before even glancing at a menu, this restaurant was known for its exclusive caviar.
“The caviar plate pairs well with the ’66 Dom Perignon.” The host instructed.
“I leave that up to my host. In the hopes that we still have something to celebrate,” Ras turned to Bruce expectantly.
*-*-*
Joker Re: Gotham – No Laughing Matter
It took much longer for Joker to set up the live broadcasting gear by himself, but he managed just the same. He even got one of the henches to pull one of his devoted fans from outside to make a direct deposit to Joker’s blood drive. He felt much better after feeding directly from a person. He still had blood-drinking blue balls from Harley’s rejection earlier. The weirdo even seemed to get off on it, so Joker told him to hang tight with the promise of more feedings to come.
The signal interrupted all television and radio waves just like before.
“Well…it seems like you can fight city hall, you just can’t keep it, I’m sorry to say. Gotham PD was threatening all-out warfare, and I simply couldn’t stand to see you poor people, who have so long suffered under the boot-heels of the fascists and the super-rich—I have decided to step down as Mayor for the time being.
“The upside, is that I’ve been guaranteed the opportunity to run against the stodgy old mayor whose ass I personally kicked already in real life—now I put it up to you, the real Gothamites to help me kick his ass through a ballot box.”
Joker paused for laughter.
“Let it be known, that I will be working for you, the people of Gotham, from now until the election. Get ready to see what real change looks like. Joker out.”
This time, at least, the cut was perfect.
“It’s Absinthe. Good for focus,” Wade smirked before taking another sip.
Slade didn’t really look away while Barbara changed into her outfit, in fact, he watched the whole thing. Her body was even better than he might have suspected under her unassuming house clothes and the suit did plenty to accentuate her natural gifts. Ras might have been half mad, but Slade had to give respect where it was due—he had this fine piece of well-connected ass wrapped around his finger and all he had to do was offer her the chance.
A mad genius.
When she asked Slade for his input, he closed the distance between them, grabbing the edges of her collar firmly. He tugged and lifted, using enough force to raise her boots off the ground for a moment, bringing the edges of the collar together and jiggling her big, round tits into place, where they could be more suitably held down by the spandex and carbon fiber material of the suit. Slade moved the zipper up to just under her chin.
“Let’s hope their eyes are on the logo and not the chest,” Slade said at last, his palms passing languidly down her body before releasing her.
The bat logo was yellow, made of the same reflective plastic as road markers. It would gleam even in almost pitch dark. Still, it didn’t seem like enough. Slade flicked his cigarette across the room before digging through his secondary gear cache. His hand landed on a solution, but the piece of equipment brought with it a memory. As he retrieved the Kevlar girdle from his pack, he could hear his wife’s voice. When he strapped it around Barbara’s midsection, he said to her what his wife so often told him before he’d walk out to a redacted place to do redacted things.
“You’ve got guts, that’s for sure,” he zipped the girdle up to just below her loosely bound breasts, slipping lead plates into corresponding pockets, “just be sure to keep them inside your body.”
The baby crying, the door slamming. Every rose has its thorns.
Slade turned away before his eyes betrayed his emotion. His heart still reaching out for those moments he’d leveraged away until they were all gone—and now they were the only thing he couldn’t bring back.
“I’m going to Infil Point A. You wait for the gunplay to start and then enter from the rooftops,” Slade glanced back again, the girdle helped to disguise the feminine hourglass of her figure, the plates replicating masculine stomach muscles, “if we both make it out of here, I’d like to fuck your brains out. If that’s something you’d like too.”
Slade smiled, handing the flask back one last time before they split up. She was probably the same age as his daughter. It was nothing at all like redemption, but it was something to look forward to.
For now, that was enough.
*-*-*
Ras al Ghoul Re: Bruce Wayne – Expensive Tastes
“Ah, Bruce there you are,” Ras smiled, it almost passed for genuine.
In truth, Ras was always in the midst of the game, moving the pieces as he saw fit—watching every interaction from above. It was why he enjoyed fencing with Bruce, the Detective saw the world the same way, there was no need to pretend otherwise. Each was holding something back—each was trying to gain something the other didn’t want to part with. A level playing field.
“Let’s get a table. I can’t indulge too much, as my driver has the night off,” despite his protestations, Ras held his rocks glass up to be refilled with the same fifty-year Scotch that Bruce was joining him for, Ras draped his jacket around his shoulders leaving the bar, “I hope you aren’t inviting me to dinner because you wish to back out of our agreement last night. I assure you that I had nothing to do with the attack on your home and did the best I could to warn you.”
Ras draped his coat over the chair facing the door when the host showed them to their table, more gamesmanship, per his own teachings. You may be the fastest gun in the West, but even Bill Hickock couldn’t see through the back of his head.
“I’d like to start with the Beluga caviar and charcuterie board,” Ras instructed before even glancing at a menu, this restaurant was known for its exclusive caviar.
“The caviar plate pairs well with the ’66 Dom Perignon.” The host instructed.
“I leave that up to my host. In the hopes that we still have something to celebrate,” Ras turned to Bruce expectantly.
*-*-*
Joker Re: Gotham – No Laughing Matter
It took much longer for Joker to set up the live broadcasting gear by himself, but he managed just the same. He even got one of the henches to pull one of his devoted fans from outside to make a direct deposit to Joker’s blood drive. He felt much better after feeding directly from a person. He still had blood-drinking blue balls from Harley’s rejection earlier. The weirdo even seemed to get off on it, so Joker told him to hang tight with the promise of more feedings to come.
The signal interrupted all television and radio waves just like before.
“Well…it seems like you can fight city hall, you just can’t keep it, I’m sorry to say. Gotham PD was threatening all-out warfare, and I simply couldn’t stand to see you poor people, who have so long suffered under the boot-heels of the fascists and the super-rich—I have decided to step down as Mayor for the time being.
“The upside, is that I’ve been guaranteed the opportunity to run against the stodgy old mayor whose ass I personally kicked already in real life—now I put it up to you, the real Gothamites to help me kick his ass through a ballot box.”
Joker paused for laughter.
“Let it be known, that I will be working for you, the people of Gotham, from now until the election. Get ready to see what real change looks like. Joker out.”
This time, at least, the cut was perfect.