Deep within the JLS Watchtower, flagship of the Justice Knights, hidden behind armored bulkheads and protected by potent technoarcane wards, lay the casket of the woman that had once been a Batgirl. The casket was smooth and black and held aloft by a thick trunk of glowing cables. Proudly displayed in yellow was the stylized symbol of the Bat.
In the casket Barbara Gordon lay broken and unmoving. On the edge of death, kept alive only by pitiless machines. A fallen warrior in the war against the malevolent Joker. Her spine had been damaged beyond healing by medicine, machines or magic by the madman's black arts.
From the casket the Oracle soared and danced through a blizzard of electronic data. Alive and vibrant and linked to the computing machines and sensors of the Justice Knight's ship. A mysterious voice that marshalled the defenders of Gotham and worlds beyond and saw more than most.
"Starkware, Starkware, oh and here apparently it's Starkware too." An athletic blue sprite with flaming red hair shook her head in mock exasperation as code blossomed and changed beneath her nimble hands. "Someone has an ego visible from another galaxy. Pity your cleverness isn't matched by your rigor."
Around the Oracle in cyberspace a hundred portals edged in glowing blue light opened. Most of the feeds from the cameras of the Watchtower were pushed to the back, but one front and centre displayed Wonder Woman half-naked with Power Girl sucking a tit as the champion sawed two fingers into the cooperating Amazonian Princess's regal pussy in front of a crowd of Justice Knights.
But slowly and steadily more portals were opening, displaying scenes from the HMS Hellfire as Oracle worked her techno-magic on the warship's calculating machines. Portals began to reveal the White Queen's onboard pleasure garden. The Phyla-Vell sixty-nining Valkyrie in the bough of an ornamental tree or Pixie and Moonstone soaring and fucking amidst the many-hued birds of the gilded aviary immediately caught the techno-voyeur's eye. Oracle scanned through the opening portals with almost inhuman speed. Her friends needed her and so she set aside the temptation to watch the orgy of lesbianism she had found.
"Canary, Huntress, I have the location of Batwoman. Start moving. By the time you arrive you'll have prisoner transfer orders."
* * *
Black Canary nodded her black helmeted head as the tiny blue Oracle sprite in the corner of her vision threw something which rapidly grew to become a map overlaid on her visor. As long as she wore the helmet of her disguise, Oracle would see what she saw and hear what she heard.
"It's not too late to turn back," Oracle said.
The Bat Man had opposed this mission. Too risky without intelligence and experience of the Empire of Marvels he'd growled. But Oracle had been adamant: we don't leave our own behind. Not even for a day. Not when we don't know what's being done to them.
"When have I ever been able to say 'no' to you?"
Despite her bravado Dinah was dubious. She'd led the Justice Knights before, and made the same hard decisions. But either she helped Oracle or Babs would go behind her back too.
"You're taking all the risk," Oracle reminded her. Barbara Gordon's mind was so thoroughly submerged in cyberspace that it now belonged fully in neither realm. She was immune to telepathy like a machine, and immune to hacking like a flesh-and-blood woman.
"Ready?" Black Canary asked Huntress beside her.
"I was born ready."
"That's our answer, Oracle."
Huntress bent to type the code to activate the shuttle's cargo ramp and Black Canary took a moment to enjoy one of the unauthorised rescue mission's perks. The black uniform of one of the White Queen's X-alted Marvellous and Exquisite Nymphs was practically moulded to the heavenly curves of Helena's ass.
"Eyes on the mission, Dinah," Oracle told Black Canary as she hypocritically turned to study Huntress's buns too. Dinah hoped she was on a private channel.
"Eyes?"
Helena's ass finished its beguiling wriggling and she stood stiffly. Not a private channel. And doubtless the version of Oracle projected in Huntress's helmet had never been the least suspicious.
Black Canary shrugged less than apologetically. Huntress belonged to a Gotham sect that disapproved of the love between women even more than that between man and woman. They believed in something called 'Modesty'. Dinah didn't pretend to understand it but tried to work with it.
For her part Dinah had always preferred men anyway. Before setting out on this mission she'd had a long slow fuck with Ollie. If things went wrong it might be a long time before she saw cock again so she'd made sure Green Arrow's had been in every hole and hollow worth remembering. But she'd still give the virginal Huntress a tumble at the first opportunity. But Huntress was immune to Power Girl's charms and they were big; the beautiful Kryptonian blonde was plainly offering an all-you-can-eat buffet with finger food every time she looked at Helena.
Black Canary shook her head as the door-ramp descended. It really was time to focus on the mission.
"Let's go!"
The two disguised women marched down the shuttle ramp and into the martial activity of one of the HMS Hellfire's cavernous hangar bays. Snub-nosed shuttles and needle-sharp starfighters were arrayed ready for launch in rows before the shimmering force-field that separated the hangar from the void of space. Through the field were visible the other smaller ships of the fleet. Shuttles regularly arrived and departed carrying troops, courtesans, diplomats and even a few of the White Queen's X-alted and Most Exquisite Nymphs.
As Black Canary and Huntress marched towards an armored exit from the busy flight bay, there was a change in the activity in the bay. A wave of maintenance and flight crews snapping to attention and a whisper of admiring gossip. Striding towards Dinah and Helena was a beautiful blonde.
The blonde in a domino mask wore black thigh-high boots, elbow-length black gloves and a figure-hugging black leotard cut high at her hips emblazoned with a golden lightning bolt. Nestled in her golden hair was a headdress of black lightning bolts and around her waist was a crimson sash. The outsides of her boots and gloves were decorated with electrigems held in thin bands of polished gold. The electrigems glowed and sparked brightly as if lightning was caged within their stormy blue depths. Her costume was shaped to her body so perfectly that it might as well have been painted on, revealing every curve of her high full breasts and the flexing of her muscles as she walked. It took Black Canary a few seconds of appreciative study to realise the golden lightning bolt on her front was actually a cut-out in the costume and the skin beneath was simply painted gold.
"Remember, when you salute the right fist strikes over the heart first," Oracle told them.
Black Canary and Huntress snapped to attention like the other women around them, breasts thrust out with arms crossed in an 'X' over them. The blonde woman's gaze passed over them, the blue eyes returning in curiosity at the unknown and unrecognized X-alts. But she was clearly in a hurry and passed by with no more than a curt nod. Much to Black Canary's relief. Better if their cover stories were never tested.
"Strike-Captain Marvel. More firepower than a battlecruiser," Huntress spoke low.
"Mmm, and I know I like her cannons more," Black Canary's voice only emphasized the innuendo.
"You're teasing me."
"She is. But I really would like to sink my fingers into Carol Danver's soft tit-flesh and tease her nipples till they're hard as bullets. Bullets ready to blow out her brain with pleasure when I suck them into my mouth."
Huntress let out a scandalized gasp at Oracle's words. Black Canary suppressed a giggle and tried not to think about the darker edge to Oracle's words. Babs' injuries meant she would never get to do those things again. Huntress and Black Canary fell into prickly and amused silences respectively as they watched Strike-Captain Marvel drop lightly to her hands on a lightning blazoned section of the hangar's floor. Her feet rested on tilted footplates like the starting blocks of a sprinter about to begin a race.
An aide came reverently forward carrying a piece of white fabric. Black Canary realised what it was just before Strike-Captain Marvel pressed the white thong panties to her face and inhaled deeply. Even from where they were standing the two women could see the Strike-Captain's body shake and her eyes briefly roll back.
Then Captain Marvel pressed the panties to her heart and her costume seemed to absorb them, the material flowing till the bottom of her black leotard was edged with lacy frills and white suspenders grew down to link leotard and black boots. Then she leapt from the blocks into flight in the air of the hangar bay, through the force-field and out into the void beyond.
"It amuses the White Queen to plant such fetishes in her subjects' minds," Oracle explained.
Huntress shivered as she and Black Canary headed out of the bay and deeper into the Hellfire's depths. Both women were now viscerally aware of the depth of the sway the White Queen held over her subjects, and of the threat to the Batwoman.
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