The Adventures of Roxy Rocket! Ch. 02

Characters appear in this story that are property of DC comics. I have used them in honor of the comic series and admiration for the characters. All other characters are original creations of the author. This story is original and is in no way tied to any of the canons of the DC Universe (to save myself the grief of working with time lines). This story contains adult material of a sexual nature. If it is illegal for you to view such material, turn back now. This work is property of the author. Do not post this on any other site or use it for personal gain. It is for entertainment purposes only. Thank you.

A/N: Sadly no sex scenes in this chapter, just some necessary plot to get through. Sorry!

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There were no shortage of hiding spots in Gotham, with all the dark alleys and abandoned warehouses and factories. However, the criminal element loved to inhabit said shadow-streaked safe-houses, and worse yet, the dark knight prowled seemingly everywhere you weren't supposed to be - and being an escaped convict that meant pretty much everywhere for Roxy Rocket. Her intentions, she believed, were pure in that she wanted to ditch her villainous ways and become a hero, but breaking out of prison she knew was not a great start. She would have to prove herself before she could feel just a little bit safer in Gotham with Batman always about.

But first she needed a place to hide, find some new clothes, and then set off to get all of her supplies in the morning. Sure, she was planning to become a good girl (more or less), but she wasn't about to ditch her rocket. That baby had been good to her, and she didn't see the need to totally reinvent herself. However, her current situation didn't lend itself to getting her on the fast track to "heroville."

She was certainly a sight, particularly in her current condition. A light drizzle of rain has been blanketing the streets she wandered, coating her skin to give it a gentle glow and shine, the many street lights bouncing off her exposed curves. Her torn orange shirt was clutched tight to her bosom in an effort to provide warmth and a vain attempt to give herself some modesty - vain as it only served to press her breasts closer together and form a deeper cleavage than had she just let them alone. Still, better a notable valley between her heaving breasts than to have her girls on full display as she darted from shadow to shadow. Her hair was ruffled, though it always seemed in such a state with it cut so short, and her makeshift prison makeup was running quickly from the slightest exposure to moisture. At least her legs were hidden with her long prison pants, but she was regretting her decision to opt for a size-too-small model as her legs still showed off their feminine curves as the now damp fabric clung to her stems. Dripping wet, obviously in distress, alone and, frankly, very attractive. Yup, she needed to find a place to hide and fast.

Alas, Roxy's escape was not to be as uneventful as she had hoped. Sure enough, her provocative attire and Gotham's knack for causing trouble in every corner possible worked in tandem to thrust Roxy right into the situation she least wanted to be in (well, almost the least - the worst case scenario would be being caught by Batman, thus setting a new record for shortest time between escape and re-imprisonment). In true Gotham fashion, Roxy found herself flanked by a few members of the seedy underbelly.

It began innocently enough, that term used quite lightly, as these events often do, with a few choice cat calls aimed at Roxy's various assets. She ignored them, defaulting to a state of apathy for surrounding annoyances in favor of directing her primary attention on the task at hand, which was finding shelter from the elements and law enforcement, official or otherwise. However, when she felt the unshaven hairs on one man's chin scrape against her neck, and firm hand squeeze her ass with very little humility and grace, that's when she came to two conclusions: one, these men were dangerous and not simply interested in verbally venting some sexual frustration, and two - she was far more dangerous than they were.

It did not speak well for the male population that her two most recent encounters with men were both sexual and aggravating in nature, though not the least bit surprising, Roxy thought. Still, if both male encounters were to start with sexual desires, both should end the same way too, she concluded. The first step was to assess the risk involved. Being a stunt woman forced her to study every situation from every angle and determine the level of risk involved. For most stunt actors, this meant avoiding situations that proved too high of a risk level - quite the opposite for Roxy. However, it wasn't as if she could just opt out of this scenario if it proved too risky, so her skill in risk assessment would serve to judge her actions within it for now.

She didn't need to see their faces to know how many there were. Definitely at least two, judging by her increasingly groped body, as her breasts were now being felt up by another man - unless the first man had two right hands (thumb placement was key). A third could be placed by the nefarious chuckle coming from further behind her, further than his arms would be able to reach at least. There could be more, sure, but she could act on three for now. She played the intrigued street worker for a bit, grinning and allowing the pawing to continue, her body being squeezed like some grocery produce, in order to lull her victims to lower their defenses, let them think they had less risk involved than they actually did.

That was step two, of course. First you assess the risk, then you do what you can to lower it. Usually Roxy ignored step two (hell, if she could help it, she would do the complete opposite in order to elicit a bigger thrill), but tonight was the first night of the rest of her life, a time to do things a bit differently. For this case, the guys needed to feel in control, put them at a sense of ease and thus lower the risk for herself. Right at the point where thug one put something metal in the hem of his pants so he could free up a hand to pull at her clothing to expose her breast, that's when she knew she had the right amount of advantage.

The men were foolish to offer up their hands to her so easily, she thought, as she grabbed the two on her tits and twisted his thumbs around. No need to really take out the other digits, at least not yet - break the thumbs and the hand is useless for handling a weapon. Now the other goon, he was a bit of a problem because he was so close to the first assault, so he could easily retaliate on behalf of his now screaming comrade. Thankfully, this lack of distance also allowed Roxy to continue her attack with very little interruption. Being so close to the wall, she decided to spin around and slam her arm into the side of his head, putting her weight behind the swing and sending the man into a short trip to the wall; this dazed him long enough for turnaround completely and take a few steps back to see what kind of damage she had left to do.

She had to deduce the situation quickly - when you break some bones in a couple of guys who were just about to rape you, their adrenaline tends to heighten and they get fast and stupid, both factors to make the situation all the riskier. Normal people would run away at this point, take the opening and run, but not Roxy. When things got tense, dangerous, and adrenaline was surging, Roxy got horny. Roxy was no psychopath (that's what kept her out of Arkham in the first place), just a tad unhinged, so she knew not to just jump these boys and fuck 'em, but she didn't know to leave well enough alone and live to finger herself to a climax later. No, Roxy had to have more of those juices flowing, so Roxy had to keep fighting.

The thugs threw what they had at her, which wasn't much, and like their sexual advances their violent ones lacked grace and subtlety. Roxy made short work of the three amigos, leaving at least one broken bone or large bruise in her wake each time they took a run at her. Sadly, the ease of this fight meant her thrills were dwindling fast, and the risk of injury and death were fading faster and faster. In shorter time than she'd like, the guys were off running scared, calling her a psycho bitch and making up excuses as to why they couldn't beat her.

"Yea you better run, creeps!" She cried after them. "No one lays a hand on Roxy Rocket without her say so!" That declaration would come at a cost, as identifying herself like that just made the next assailant all the more ready to do what must be done.

Slipping out of the shadows and landing softly on the ground, a dark knight peered out of the blood splattered alleyway and reached out to Roxy's collar, gripping it tight and yanking her back into the shroud granted by two looming buildings. This time, Roxy was caught far more unaware than before, and had no time to prepare what she should do next, so she did what those guys before her did - act stupid. Roxy shot an elbow back against the chest of her fourth challenger, hoping to knock some air out of their lungs and give her time to breathe while they struggled to do the same. Instead of hitting some broad chest or even some concave slope of a skinny crack head with nothing to lose, she hit something soft. What's more is that her stupid counter did little to deter her capture and quickly found herself thrust up against a brick wall still laced with thug blood and bits of teeth.

This one was smart, Roxy thought, as she was pinned against the wall with her arm twisted behind her back and her other wrist gripped and pinned against the wall. Her wrists would reunite, however, when the familiar clicking of handcuffs was heard. Another familiar sense caught her attention - that of a pair of breasts pressed against her back. A generous pair, perhaps a bit bigger than her own, but that could just be the body armor this woman was wearing, judging by feel of it against her as her challenger pinned her. Confirmation of femininity was made when she spoke, though her tone was far from soft or elegant, but rather curt and to the point.

"I don't know how you got out, Rocket, but you're going back in," she declared to Roxy before finishing with the handcuffs and then turning her around so she could face her.

Roxy had done her best to avoid being caught by the Bat, but it seemed she had failed. However, she had not been stopped by the bat she thought she'd encounter. This one was also tall, at least a head taller than Roxy herself, but certainly was not Batman. Roxy's eyes dropped straight down to the woman's feet, and followed the red boots all the way up until there was some of that trademark black the Bat loved to wear, starting at her knees. Continuing up along her strong thighs and blinking at that lovely thigh gap, Roxy was greeted with a bit more red on her belt. It was more black above that, save for the bat symbol emblazoned across her ample bosom, wrapped snuggly in that form-fitting leather and the curtain of Crayola-red hair that spilled out from behind her pointed face mask. Roxy still got a good look at her face, though, as only her eyes, nose, and forehead were covered. Alright, not a good look at her face, but at the part that really drew Roxy in: her lips. Keeping with the color theme, her full lips were bright red, too, and stood out proudly against her pale white skin. Roxy loved to dance with danger in order to get her heart pumping, but standing face to face with a sexy dame like that was an even better way to get the job done.

"Well hello there, Delilah," Roxy said with a purr. "I'm sorry, but your pictures in the papers don't do you justice, Batgirl."

"I'm not Batgirl," the red and black caped crusader corrected with a snarl. She had heard that mistake made many times. Batgirl was far more well known than her, and had more time fighting crime wearing a costume than she, but it didn't bug her any less to be confused with someone who hadn't been in the game for years.

"Oooh, okay, right, I gotcha," Roxy said with a long O, realizing the mistake she must have made to cause this well known here to get so flustered with her. "Let me try that line again," she said before clearing her throat, repositioning herself as if she were getting ready to do a scene again. "I'm sorry, but your pictures in the papers don't do you justice, Batperson," she read again, clarifying how she assumed she wanted to be referred as. It was 2016, after all. There was no need to denote a person's occupation by gender.

"I'm Batwoman!" she snapped, her voice mixed with frustration and anger.

"Oh!" Roxy said with honest surprise, but then narrowed her brows again as she ran into another confusing bit of information that popped into her skull. "Wait, have I have been in the slammer so long that Batgirl got old enough to become Batwoman?" she started to wonder out loud to herself.

"I- no! I'm not her! I'm someone else!" Batwoman replied, now desperately trying to get this escaped convict to get her name right. Batwoman wasn't in this for the fame or the glory, but dammit she still liked to receive credit where credit was due. She would be damned if Oracle got the credit given to her an alter ego she hasn't used in years.

"Really? Cause you sure look like her to me. Red hair, icy stare, bat on your boobies," she explained her rationale, listing off the appropriate items for identifying a Batgirl. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than appropriate on said boobies, though. Batwoman noticed this and crossed her arms over her chest and met Roxy's gaze with an even icier stare than before.

"Is this what Batman has to deal with when he catches Harley Quinn?" Batwoman wondered out loud.

"Whoa now! Let's not say things we can't take back. Harley Quinn is a sociopath. I'm no loon." In truth, Roxy had never met the woman, but she had heard things. Everyone had. The Joker was well known enough, but Harley Quinn had been his right hand gal for some time. As far as anyone knew, there were only two people who had spent that much time with the Joker and lived. Batman and Harley Quinn. And Harley did so willingly, so Roxy figured she had to be crazy.

"Then why did you just escape from Arkham?" Batwoman asked, trying to poke holes in Roxy's 'I'm not a loon' proclamation. She could see the frustration start to form on Roxy's face, as it had on her own, and she had to admit it amused her. She supposed she couldn't be too annoyed with Rocket for pushing her buttons, then. Not that she would tell her that.

"Uh, I didn't," she said as if stating an obvious fact, going slack jaw as if to imply she was forced to talk slower and dumber so this slow and dumb person could understand the facts. "I escaped from Blackgate."

"Really? Could have fooled me," she replied with a smirk. "Big building, locked cells, full of crazy people..." She listed off her own rationale, mimicking how Roxy explained how she confused her with Batgirl earlier.

"I'm not crazy!" Roxy pushes herself up off the wet brick wall, so she can stand up against Batwoman and look her eye to eye, even if she did have to tilt her head back a bit to do it. Catching sight of her skin and lips again, though, washed all the frustration and anger that she had given her. "Y'know, those red lips of yours really stand out beautifully against that milky white skin of yours. Like a cherry on top of some yummy whipped cream," she compared, licking her own lips hungrily, sensually.

Batwoman was ready to push her back against the wall, but the compliment caught her off guard. She cast her eyes down to avoid looking at her directly, but in doing so caught sight of more delightful things. Such as Roxy's handful-sized breasts barely covered by a wet, torn, prison uniform. Her incredibly toned stomach that turned slightly when Roxy moved her wide hips. Batwoman was lucky that most criminals were male, and those that were female tended not to be on the super attractive side. Standing there with an incredibly attractive, sexy, and wet all over bad girl was causing Batwoman to think unprofessionally.

"The blushing really pops off your cheeks too, Red," Roxy broke the silence with, further complimenting the hero. Whenever Roxy was put into a situation she couldn't kick or punch her way out of, she would talk. When she couldn't talk circles around someone, she resorted to her charm. Roxy didn't fancy men, not really. The only one who had never given her that familiar tingle was Batman. That didn't stop her from flirting with men if she needed to, as evidenced by seducing and fucking a guard in order to break out of prison. So being faced with a chance to flirt not only with a woman, but a sexy woman, and a Batwoman? Well, Roxy wasn't going to let that opportunity to go to waste. Not that Roxy was the one to ever let opportunities pass her by.

"I wonder if your lips do really taste like cherries...or if your skin tastes like cream..." she thought out loud, inching herself closer to the woman and starting to stand up on her toes slightly so she could brush her nose against her cheek, getting dangerously close to her lips. "Wanna know what I taste like?" she asked in a throaty whisper, her lips just barely tickling against Batwoman's pouty, parted, lips. Before anything could happen, though, both women lurched back when they heard a loud sound, like something very heavy having just hit the concrete.

It started as a black mass, low to the ground, and then began to rise. The cape pulled up with him, and when he stood at full height, he presented a very intimidating figure. The one and only Batman. The best man Roxy had ever met. Roxy could only hope this would end like her many fantasies, with her being the other half of a Batman sandwich.

Batman said nothing. He just stared at the situation and both women knew what they had done wrong and didn't need to have it pointed out to them. Batwoman must have dealt with Batman dropping in before, because almost immediately she replied to a statement that he didn't make.

"Oh no, not this time. I caught her, I'm taking her in!" She asserted, and then grabbed at Roxy's arm, pulling on it so she could yank her body closer to hers. Purely to keep her from running away, she swore to herself. When she did, however, Roxy didn't come with. She only pulled her arm to her, and could now see that Roxy was no longer cuffed. Roxy gave a look as if she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, shrugged, and raised her other hand - still bound by a cuff just not bound to her other wrist.

"What...when?!" Batwoman asked, hoping for some answer that wouldn't put her at fault.

"As soon as your boss dropped down," she admitted. "I could have done it sooner, but what can I say? I like the feeling of handcuffs." Roxy put her tone back to seductive to her explanation as to why, and tried to inch closer to Batwoman again. This not being the time nor the place, Batwoman was unfazed by the advances and threw down the criminal's arm and backed away, arms crossed against her chest in upset reluctance to Batman's decision. "Fine, take her, after I did all the work."

Roxy was cuffed by a Bat for the second time that night, and she had a feeling his cuffs were a little bit stronger than his compatriot's. She knew for sure when she kept trying to pick them but instead of pulling her arm free, she only pulled back a broken pick. As she was escorted out of the alley, she called back to the scowling Batwoman. "Call me! Or visit me! I'll list you as one of my approved visitors!"

She hadn't made it far from the prison, so Batman opted to walk her back to her cell. Roxy wasn't happy to be walking back to prison in the rain (or back to prison in any weather, really), but Batman was nice enough to hold her to him in such a way that his cape and form were able to keep most of the rain off of her. Roxy preferred the delicate female form, and the athletic female form, and most any female form she could think of, but she had to admit that being that close to Batman's decidedly masculine form was delightful. If she couldn't convince him to give her a ride, she'd have to cozy up to one of the muscle-bound chicks in the prison when she got back.