Chapter 12 “The Dark Knight Unmasked!”

The hunter sighs in relief that the Dark Knight is down, completely helpless—ready to be unmasked and restrained! He wipes his brow with the sleeve of his jacket and then tosses the whip’s handle casually to the floor. He approaches Batman stepping on Superman’s crimson cape and stands over him. Batman is face down on the metal deck with his black scalloped gloved hands clenching his throat. Batman’s head is craned to one side and a trickle of drool runs from his mouth. His long black cape with scalloped edges is draped over his powerful body exposing only his calve high black boots. The hunter nudges Batman’s shoulder several times jarring his head encased in a black cowl with the token pointed ears.  Batman does not stir – the powerful sleeping gas keeps the Dark Knight slumbering – helpless before his capturers. As the hunter tires to rouse Batman, the boy masquerading as Robin cautiously approaches the pair. The imposter is excited as Robin’s black cape settles in behind him, “Wow – what a show!”

“Yes, he’s a fighter… but his days as a free man are over,” replies the hunter assuredly. “All over. Strip those stupid, pointed ears off of our Batman, Ryan.”

“What?” asks Ryan, incredulous. “Me — unmask Batman?”

“Yes. Don’t you want to have a look at him? Fucked down, and finished,” smirks the hunter.

The still masked boy hesitates, and then shrugs his shoulders. He pushes his cape aside and kneels down and grunts at the exertion as he rolls the big, heavily muscled man off his stomach and onto his back. Batman logs over onto his black cape followed by his gloved arms. The scallops dance and then remain motionless as Batman’s arms come to rest at his sides. Ryan gazes in awe and wonder at the powerful body of the cowled man in the molded black bodysuit. His powerful chest, arms and legs are clearly defined in the snug, adhering garb he is wearing. The boy seems mesmerized as he continues to gaze at the Batman, from his powerful, curve- mounded chest down to his polished boots, which are scuffed and scraped from the grated metal decking of the transport. “Wake up, Ryan—but take the utility belt off him, first,” chides the hunter. “Though I’ll wager it’s not the first guy’s belt you’ve ever unbuckled.”

“What can I say,” shrugs Ryan, and snaps back to the matter at hand. Ryan peels off his Robin’s black mask and tosses it onto the aircraft’s metal deck. Ryan then reaches under the utility belt and fumbles with the dull yellow belt to find the belt’s release. He unbuckles the belt and pulls the utility belt from around Batman’s waist, and offers it up to the hunter. The hunter takes the belt and slings it over his shoulder and says, “Now, unmask Batman!”

The caped young man thinks for a few seconds and then rises. Ryan then swings his leg over Batman and plants one black boot between Batman’s arm and chest on either side straddling the inert hero. Ryan moves his cape to one side and then sits on Batman’s powerful chest. He loosens and then removes the whip wrapped around his neck. He tosses the whip aside and rolls Batman’s head from side to side with his green gloved hands, to determine how the cowl comes off; eventually he reaches down and spreads the base of the rubber cowl under Batman’s chin and slowly pushes the hood back off the unconscious man as the hunter looks on approvingly. Ryan pushes the cowl back further and slides it off over Batman’s head completely, removing the famed Dark Knight’s cowl. Ryan then stands and looks down at the unmasked crime fighter. The face the mask hid is that of a handsome, mature man – 35 years of age or so – with dark brown wavy hair that is sweat-soaked and disheveled. His red and swollen eyes are closed and his head is to one side with a trickle of drool running from his open mouth.

“I was right… Bruce Wayne! Once I knew Dick was Robin, it only made sense that Mr. Wayne was Batman,” says Ryan proudly.

“Nice work, Sherlock. Now, drag those chains over here and put Batman into them,” orders the hunter as he produces a cell from his inside jacket pocket.

“Put Batman in chains?’ asks the Ryan as the hunter opens his phone and dials.

“Do I have to repeat everything…. no, not you Shawn. Ryan, roll Batman over. Collar him, then chain his wrists and ankles together behind his back! Mercy! Get with it, kid!” orders the hunter with frustration.

“Yes, Shawn… it worked like a charm… Batman blundered right into the trap!  Great work, you guys did—great,” compliments the hunter, watching Ryan lock the cold steel collar around Batman’s strong neck. “Call Jack and tell him were leaving at high noon; then get back here with Robin. There is one more order of business to attend to, before we leave Gotham City,” orders the Hunter as he closes the phone.”

The rattling noise of moving chain ceases as Ryan finishes securing Batman in the hunter’s heavy gauge chains.  The chain attached to the steel collar locked tight around Batman’s neck runs partially down his back… to which is also fastened his manacled wrists, and the bent knees of his ankles. Finished, Ryan rolls the big man over onto his back – the heavy chains rattle loudly on the metal floor of the aircraft as Batman rolls onto his back. Ryan rises and stands over the unmasked crime fighter, and further sheds Robin’s cape and then pulls off the green scalloped gloves, tossing both to the metal deck.

Ryan stares down at the famous crime fighter, feared by the criminal element of Gotham City in fascination. The Dark Knight – defeated and unmasked! Who would have thought, a puff or two of gas, and the great muscled, indubitably skilled mighty hero… lays pussied-out and still at his feet. Will not rise again. Only Superman could break those chains.  And well—as later heard—he’s no more, either.

The hunter who had taken the utility belt from Ryan, shifts the belt across his shoulders, standing next to the fallen Batman. “You did great tonight, kid… I could not have accomplished this without you. I mean it,” concedes the hunter.  

The hunter looks over at the strapping boy partially dressed in Robin’s dark green and dark red costume. “I could use a young man like you… we have a gig coming up in NYC. Interested?” asks the hunter.

“Me! I was scared shitless when Batman came aboard,” admits Ryan as he shifts his weight from side to side, thinking. “I, I don’t know if…” explains Ryan as he stares down at the defeated Dark Knight’s costume, the winged silhouette of a bat emblazoned on the chest.

“Being scared is no big deal in this business… only a fool is not scared. Over-confidence, not fear, leads to failure, kid! No doubt what fucked the mighty Superman. In case, you didn’t know—we got him, too! Actually easier than these, almost.” 

Ryan, unaware Superman had met his disaster, as well. Jaw dropped, wide-eyed, and eager to hear of it.

“Yep, the once “invincible” alien. Lured him in… thought he had it all under control— PPFFFFFFT! And gone!  Down like a ton of fucking bricks. In seconds! Still doesn’t know what hit him, last I heard….” Hunter grins. “But you’ll hear about it, later. Anyway, you’re good. You were resourceful enough to exploit Dick’s arrogance, and devise a plan that enabled you to turn Robin over to us. And masquerading as Robin to trap the big Bat took balls, kid. And, on a selfish note, I do at times require someone with a sexual orientation such as you possess in my work,” explains the hunter, as he puts his boot squarely on Batman’s bat insignia, haughtily engraved in the molded chest piece of his costume—no less symbolically declaring victory over the subdued Dark Knight.

Ryan laughs as he starts to unbutton Robin’s dark red tunic. “Batman doesn’t look so intimidating, now—chained, unmasked, and with your boot on his chest! What happens to these birds, anyway?” asks Ryan.

“Somebody contracted me to capture Batman and Robin. Now I deliver the pair, and collect my money,” explains the hunter. “Let’s just say Batman and Robin—well… are in for one hell of a life-style change. Like Fairy Blue was.”

“Well, Dick Smith… rather Grayson, won’t be so fucking arrogant from now on – stripped of his costume and crime fighter status,” laughs Ryan as he walks to the other side of Batman opposite the hunter. Robin’s red tunic that he wears is unbuttoned exposing his own muscly chest and six pack abs. He places Robin’s black boot on Batman’s chest, too—alongside the hunter’s.

“Sure, count me in. I’ll go to work for you. Pay must be good…?!”

“Beyond sterling. We’ll discuss it later. So good, when Shawn and Vince return, I’m taking them to Wayne Manor. Your first assignment is to baby sit Batman and Robin while we’re gone… I have another set of chains for Robin. Keep them both heavily sedated,” explains the hunter. “They’re very resourceful, and will try to escape – especially Batman. Keep them drugged, you keep them down. Simple!”

“Will do… I’ll keep the boys asleep. Wayne Manor, why?” asks Ryan.

“I’m going to use pictures of my two captives here to persuade that snooty butler to give us a tour of the Batcave. I believe Batman keeps files on his rivals, as well as his foes. My employer is interested in acquiring other young men – currently one that goes by the handle of Spider-man,” briefs the hunter.

“Spider-man, he’s way cool,” chirps Ryan as he removes his boot from Batman’s chest and peels off Robin’s dark tunic.

“Well, maybe you’ll get a chance to meet Spider-man, Ryan,” offers the hunter.

“Wow… but the Batcave must have an alarm, or something,” reminds Ryan as he tosses his discarded garments to the aircraft’s deck.

“Oh… I have a feeling that these utility belts I took from Batman and Robin’s waists are the electronic keys to the Batcave. I believe these two belts will give me unfettered access to all parts of the Batcave, and the secrets locked away there. I want to know what Batman knows about Spider-man, and all the other crime fighters,” says the hunter.

And, once more, grinds his boot into Batman’s defeated chest. Both arrogant, and demure.

End of Book IV

Postscript:

The hunter sighs loudly. “It looks like the old fat pervert down in San Miguel will get the Dynamic Duo to add to his collection of heroes,” he thinks to himself.  “If I wrap this up quickly and get the pair to San Miguel before year’s end, I get an early delivery fee. I wonder what the old pervert has in store for Batman and Robin. Apparently, he’s infatuated with Robin. I’ve seen what he’s done to Tarzan and Bomba in his little plantation brig, and imagine that he’s done the same or worse to his most recent prisoner.

That old fat slob may be ugly, vile and demented, but he sure did bring down the BIG GUY, SUPERMAN—a feat that no one else could manage, even Lex Luthor!  I believe the old man when he brags that he manipulated Superman, had the hero psyched out almost from the start—played with him like a cat with a mouse; caught him off-guard, playing him off his own arrogance, and using Moro’s magic. SIMPLY, AND PERMANENTLY.  STRIPPED THE HUGE, POWERFUL MUSCLE HUNK OF HIS SUPERPOWERS—THEN CRUELLY WHIPPED, DOMINATED AND ENSLAVED THE HELPLESS, REELING, AND OVERWHELMED SUPERHERO! —PUSSIED HIM OUT, BIG TIME!

Who would have thought that that gross, disgusting waddling creep could so easily and so effectively bring down and overpower the MAGNIFICENT, MUSCLED, MIGHTY MAN OF STEEL? Martin says that he made Superman crawl on a leash into his cell… that he keeps the fucked alien completely naked, with his head tightly encased in a rubber clown’s hood languishing in a sweltering cell! Powerless, weak and helpless; blind, deaf and speechless; dominated, humiliated and cruelly abused! His superpowers erased, escape and rescue impossible… a totally, hopeless isolation! IN AN ABSOLUTE, UNCONDITIONAL, & FINAL DEFEAT! It had happened so quickly and dramatically, Superman was unprepared for such sudden and extreme abuse, or for a setback of any kind, much less such a complete and overwhelming conquest — followed by such simple, but devastating punishment.  In bare moments, he had been transformed from the most powerful, glorious, and god-like being in the Universe into a weak, cowering and sensory-deprived creature!!  It was hardly a wonder that the great MAN OF STEEL broke almost immediately… within days of waking in panic to a perpetual nightmare. Those first two days of total isolation had been near maddening, and he found himself bouncing off of the wall and bars of his cell just as Martin had predicted. The words of the prophecy repeated in his head, over and over, as his panic and despair mounted.

“You’ll have plenty of time to contemplate the error of your arrogance, when you wake up and discover your head is encased in that thick rubber hood. You’ll stumble around your small cell blindly, bouncing off the stone walls and iron bars, only able to breath… deprived of all sensory perception, you’ll find you’ll sleep a lot too, SUPER-man.” 

So it was, by the time Martin returned, the rest was simple in the hands of an expert like the demented tycoon. Superman soon demonstrated that he was defeated, that he was beaten and completely submissive, by stripping and surrendering his costume to his new master. Now he’s just a simpering, servile, and dog-like idiot, who’ll never again see the light of day, or experience a moment of pleasure except to please his new master—a far cry from being the world’s greatest and most magnificent super hero, something he will never be again. 

Martin takes huge delight in overpowering, tormenting and whipping the former MAN OF STEEL; the greater Superman’s suffering and degradation, the greater Martin’s turn-on.  Superman, at first, sank into a state of complete despair and hopelessness, a highly vulnerable state out of which Martin pulled him violently, effectively and ruthlessly.  Without any means of communication and totally helpless, the former wonderous Superman was leash trained by Martin to be obedient, respectful and compliant; then he leash-trained the former superhero to his new environment, where and how to eat, drink, piss, sleep and defecate.  And then leash-trained him to the skills necessary to complete the chores and feats the former hero was doomed to repeat forever.  Totally isolated from others, and isolated even in his own environment, Superman now needs and looks forward to Martin’s company, despite the constant abuse which was now his lot in life.  Now he is even eager for Martin’s companionship and his approval, craves Martin’s presence and purrs when he is infrequently praised by a pat on his confined head or a slap on his bare ass. 

Martin is now truly his master and his teacher, and his whole world revolves around his captor and what he can do to please him.  Martin treats him like a dog, and as though he has the intelligence of such a mere pet, and without senses, continually functioning at a very basic level; this has become no less than the facts of life for the former superhero.  MARTIN HAS ALREADY KILLED SUPERMAN’S WILL, RESISTANCE AND HOPE, AND HAS DONE IT SO EFFECTIVELY — THE FORMER MAN OF STEEL IS NOW ENTIRELY AND COMPLETELY HIS CREATURE!  What was truly considered impossible: his vanquishment, irrevocable!!!!

I wonder what difference Robin’s presence will make to this dramatic mix?  

The world will soon run out of heroes, if Bill Martin continues to prevail. There are not going to be many left after bringing down Batman and Robin. There is that young guy in NY City they call Spider-man. He’s probably next on the pervert’s list! Well, we shall see. The sooner the better; and the richer I’ll be.

C’est la vie.  

Fate goes to the most clever, not always the more skilled or the STRONG….

To be continued on Book V