Morpheus Rising Ch 52

Officer Diana Mooney left the station in her street clothes, having
just finished another grueling night-shift. The work was made even
more difficult by the fact that she was also trying to find
information for Catwoman on the councilwoman and the nosy reporter.
She had come up with several things that she thought her Mistress
would find interesting.

First of all, Councilwoman Rebecca Chan was in fact the niece of one
Madame Chang, the reputed leader of the biggest crime family in
Gotham. What's more the young politician apparently had no idea that
her crime crack-down was targeting her relative. Policewoman Mooney
suspected that this was the reason that Chang had out-sourced this
operation to Catwoman. She would have to warn her boss about this
potentially delicate situation.

Rose Lee, the hot-shot investigative reporter, had a few skeletons in
her closet as well. Before getting her job at the Gotham Chronicle
she had done a stint as an "exotic dancer" while in college. The
place where she worked had a rather unsavory reputation for promoting
prostitution and after some digging she had managed to trace the
management of the establishment to none other than Madame Chang. This
was all too coincidental for someone with her police background and
she had a bad feeling that Catwoman was being set up.

She climbed behind the wheel of her car, intent on getting over to
the Kitty Kat Klub, her boss' current lair, to give her the news. As
she started to backup, she glanced in the rearview mirror and started
in surprise. Sitting in the back seat was the Asian sex-kitten known
as Ming Meow.

"What are you doing here?" the officer demanded. "Catwoman wanted me
to report to her directly."

"Be silent and drive little mouse," the inscrutable Oriental
ordered. "Who is it that you think sent me? Catwoman will be very
displeased if you don't do as I say."

Mousey hesitated a moment, reluctant to trust the girl. But if she
was telling the truth, Catwoman would be very displeased indeed.
Finally she put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Which way?" she inquired of her escort.

"The Chinatown Bridge," Miss Meow instructed. "Our Mistress will meet
us there."

Her tone said that there would be no more discussion on the matter
and the rest of the short drive passed in silence. A black limousine
was waiting underneath the bridge and Officer Mooney pulled up
alongside it.

"Get out," Ming told her brusquely.

The corrupted cop was about to argue, but the sensual sex-kitten
silenced her with a single raised eye-brow. Fuming she got out of the
car and waited for the China-doll to join her. They walked to the
limo together and Ming opened the door and motioned for her to get
in. She ducked her head to see inside and almost instantly realized
that she had made a serious error. It was not Catwoman sitting inside
the darkened interior of the limo, but Chinatown Crime-boss Madame
Chang. By the time she noticed her mistake it was already too late.
Ming Meow delivered a vicious karate chop to the back of her neck and
the whole world went black.

Detective Mooney awoke a short time later with a pounding headache.
She tried to cradle her head in her hands but found that she was
unable to move them. Looking around gingerly she found that she was
in the back of Madame Chang's limo, arms bound above her head. The
pleasant-looking China-woman was sitting across from her, a black
cigarette holder held daintily in one hand. Ming Meow sat next to her
pouting like a chastised schoolgirl.

"How do you feel dear?" the middle-aged crime-maven asked, concern
tingeing her voice. "I was quite explicit to Ming that you weren't to
be harmed."

She gave another dry glance at the sex-kitten who studiously examined
her nails.

"I'll live," the policewoman replied defiantly.

"Unfortunately that has yet to be seen," Madame Chang told her
ominously. "That all depends on how you answer my questions."

"What do you mean?" Diana responded, clearly frightened now.

"I've read your reports on Rebecca Chan and Rose Lee," the older
woman continued, ignoring her. "It was quite clever of you to figure
out that I was setting up a trap for Catwoman."

Detective Mooney said nothing, just watched the crime-magnate warily.

"I'm interested in knowing how many others have seen these reports."

"You mean besides Catwoman?"

"Don't waste your breathe dear," she laughed. "If Catwoman had seen
these reports, Miss Meow would not be here. Now I will ask once more;
has anyone else seen these reports?"

"No," the policewoman responded despondently.

"Excellent, then we will not have any problems. Ming, take the other
reports I had prepared to your boss."

"What about me?" Diana asked timidly as the grinning sex kitten
climbed out of the vehicle.

"You will be my guest for the time being. When the Catwoman is in my
hands you shall be released."

"I don't believe you!" detective Mooney blurted.

"That is not my concern," the older woman assured her reasonably.

She placed her holder aside and picked up a piece of silk cloth that
was on the seat next to her. It wasn't until she leaned across to her
that Diana saw that she was holding a hood of some kind. The
policewoman immediately began to struggle, but shackled as she was
the crime queen had no trouble sliding the hood over her head. It was
very snug-fitting and lined with a cottony material. Mousey panicked
as soon as she tried to breathe and recognized the chemical stench of
chloroform. The lining of the hood was soaked in it!

Madame Chang casually picked up her holder and drew lazily on the tip
as she returned to her side of the limo. The car started to pull away
as the darkened glass separator slid down revealing the young woman
sitting in the front passenger seat. She was wrapped in black mink,
her face obscured by a thick veil.

"Are you sure that Catwoman trusts your little plant?" the woman in
front asked, ignoring the chokes and gasps coming from the hooded
captive.

"Catwoman is a criminal Princess," the older woman replied sagely. "I
am sure that she trusts no one. However, I also do not believe that
she suspects Ming Meow is in my employ. I was careful to make sure
that she has no ties to my organization."

"I am sure that your caution will prove wise," Beauty agreed with a
hint of amusement.

"I will deliver the Cat to you as promised," Chang said somewhat
testily. "What of your part of the agreement?"

"Your problem with the Gotham Mafia will soon be over. Vincent
Santangelo will be dead before the sun rises again."

"Tonight?!" the infamous Dragon Lady exclaimed, unable to keep the
surprise out of her voice.

The Princess smiled smugly to herself, pleased that she had impressed
the experienced crime boss. The Madame would be even more shocked
when she discovered the plans that Beauty had in store for her. Of
course by then it would be much too late. She patted the head of the
red-haired kitten who was curled up on the floor at her feet.
Pussycat purred contentedly and resumed licking her Mistress'
stockinged toes.

They had arrived back at Madame Chang's Imperial Palace massage
parlor and the driver of the limo, one of Lady Winter's Russian
wolves in a sexy, tight-fitting chauffeur's outfit, got out and
opened the rear door. Detective Mooney had long since succumbed to
the fumes of the Princess' silky sleep-hood. The crime boss regarded
her for a moment before sliding towards the exit. She was beginning
to wonder if she had underestimated her teenaged co-conspirator.

"You won't want to miss the news tonight," Beauty reminded as her
guest got out of the car.

She laughed and spread her legs for Pussycat as the wolf slid behind
the wheel and pulled away, leaving a concerned Madame Chang behind.
The redheaded kitten was completely under her control now and would
soon be going back to her aunt. Already she had put in motion
Beauty's plan that would lead to war between Catwoman and the
Chinatown crime boss. Hopefully one of the two enemies would be
eliminated, but at worst they would keep each other occupied while
her other schemes bore fruit.

Beauty considered Chang to be the more dangerous adversary and had
planned as thus. Catwoman had been tipped off about Ming's little
rendezvous with her true boss. She wondered what the feline felon was
thinking right at that moment…



Catwoman watched Madame Chang get into the limo from atop the
building across from the Imperial Palace. Two of the Asian's security
detachment lay nearby where the voluptuous vixen had incapacitated
them with the Catatonic gas from her whip. She quickly retreated to
the side of the roof and dropped silently down the rope and onto the
trunk of her waiting Jaguar. Passion gunned the engine as soon as she
had slipped into the backseat and peeled out of the alley in pursuit
of the limo.

They followed at a distance as Pussycat had informed them of exactly
where the meet was to take place. Sure enough, the limo pulled to a
stop under the stanchion of the Chinatown Bridge. The sex kitten
pulled into a secluded area overlooking the spot where they could spy
unnoticed. Catwoman got out of the car with her binoculars and sent
Talon back up the road to make sure they hadn't been followed.
Passion stayed behind the wheel with the motor running.

After a moment another car pulled up close to the limo, one that
Catwoman recognized immediately. She watched as her kittens Mousey
and Ming Meow got out and walked over to the stretch auto. The China
girl opened the door and motioned for the policewoman to get in. The
coerced kitten looked inside and started to take a step backwards
when Ming felled her with a swift chop. The driver, a tall blonde in
grey livery, slid out and helped load the fallen woman into the back
of the car.

Catwoman watched in growing fury as her duplicitous hench-girl
climbed into the limo as well. She hadn't wanted to believe Pussycat
when she had informed her that Ming was working for Madame Chang, but
her niece had been insistent. Now she saw that she had been foolish
to doubt her own blood. She had been angry with Katarina's absence
and now it turns out that the girl had not been off gallivanting at
all, but rather investigating the new girl that she herself should
have been more suspicious of. She made a mental note to get a special
reward for Pussycat.

Meanwhile, Ming was still in the car with Chang and Catwoman was
tempted to ambush the deceitful bitches right here. But it was
neither the time nor the place for that. She would have something
waiting for Miss Meow at the Cat-lair; a special reward for her as
well. The Dragon Lady would have to wait.

"Let's go," she ordered Passion, climbing into the front seat. "And
call Coco and have her get the Pussy Pounder ready."

"The Pounder?" Passion asked in surprise. "But it hasn't even been
fully tested yet."

"Well then I guess this will be the purrrfect time for a trial run
don't you?"

Passion smiled sexily as she pulled away, already day-dreaming about
Ming squirming helplessly in Catwoman's latest fiendish device. She
picked up the Cat phone and placed the call back to the lair; the
French kitten on the other end listed carefully and then hung up. The
Battle for Gotham City had begun.

 

Ch. 53

Molly was filled with great excitement as she hurried back to her
dorm room. She was getting a new roommate today, a French exchange
student, and the Head Mistress had personally asked her to make sure
the new girl felt at home. The rumor was circulating that she was
some sort of royalty or something and this intrigued Molly all the
more. By the time she got to her hallway she was practically running.

She stopped outside her door and paused to catch her breathe and
compose herself. It wouldn't do to look sweaty and rushed in front of
the new girl. When she was sufficiently collected, she pushed open
the door to her room and entered…

Only it wasn't her room! At least not the room that she had left that
morning. The space she was standing in would be more appropriate in a
castle then in a school dormitory. The walls had been papered in a
scarlet silk damask fabric, patterned with roses, and the hardwood
floors were carpeted in thick black fur that felt like mink.

All of her furniture was gone, replaced with expensive looking
antiques from the French Renaissance period. A huge wardrobe stood
with doors open, a fortune in gowns and furs hung inside. Several of
the fabulous dresses lay haphazardly on the floor as if they had been
tried on and discarded.

This all would have been disconcerting enough, but it paled in
comparison to the room's main feature. The two comfortable but simple
twin beds had been removed and in their place was a huge, round
monstrosity draped in black satin and mink and covered by a sheer
black canopy that could be pulled shut to surround the entire bed in
chiffon.

The surprised schoolgirl looked around in awe, certain that she must
be in the wrong place. She wandered over to the bed and sat down,
reveling in the feeling of the expensive fabric on her skin. She laid
back and nearly gasped when she saw that the canopy was open at the
top to reveal a huge rounded mirror on the ceiling. Molly hopped
guiltily of the bed, blushing furiously, and went to the bathroom to
splash some water on her burning cheeks.

The cheerleader burst through the door head down and this time did
cry out when she saw the beautiful redhead sitting on the side of the
newly installed Jacuzzi tub. The girl was naked, rollers in her hair,
as she painted her toenails.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Molly exclaimed in embarrassment. "I didn't mean
to just barge in on you."

Anastasia du Sommeil looked up slowly and gave the girl a slight
shrug. She took a bored drag on the cigarette in her hand and exhaled
towards her wetly slick toes as she examined the newcomer.

"It is fine," she said after letting the girl squirm uncomfortably
for a moment. "I am Anastasia."

She offered her hand and Molly shook it hurriedly.

"Oh how rude of me! I'm Molly, Molly Hudson; your new roommate."

"It is nice to meet you Molly, Molly Hudson," the Countess' daughter
replied with a smirk. "I've already made myself at home; I hope you
don't mind."

"Not at all," Molly assured her. "The room looks… amazing."

"I'm glad you like it. Would you hand me that robe?"

Molly turned to find the peach-colored silk robe hanging on the back
of the door. She handed it to the French girl who thanked her in the
French style.

"Merci," she acknowledge as she slid the smooth garment onto her even
smoother skin.

She went back into the main room and sat herself at the lighted make-
up table near the bed. Molly followed along behind like an adoring
puppy and stood watching her as she began applying powder to her
cheeks.

"Would you care for one?" Anastasia asked as she pulled a fresh
cigarette from the case on the table.

"We're not allowed to smoke," her roommate replied… and immediately
wished she hadn't.

The French girl was staring at her in the mirror with a condescending
smirk and Molly could feel her cheeks starting to burn once again.
She sat down on the bed while Anastasia lit up and exhaled at her own
reflection in the mirror.

"So what do you do for fun?" she teased. "Or is fun against the rules
as well?"

"I'm a cheerleader," the girl offered.

"How amusing."

"And I'm in the Roses and Thorns!" she continued defiantly.

"Really," the French femme asked, feigning utter boredom. "And what
is that, a knitting club?"

"It's only the oldest and most prestigious secret society at G.A.G."

"Tell me more," Anastasia ordered, finishing with her lipstick and
rising from her chair.

"Well, it's a club made up of the most popular girls in school. It's
an honor to be selected and only a few are each year."

"And what do you do?" the redhead pressed as she sat down on the bed
and crossed her legs.

"Mainly we pull pranks and stuff like that," Molly told her
enthusiastically, pleased to finally have the glamorous newcomer's
attention.

"Such as?"

"I'm really not supposed to talk about that stuff," the girl said
hesitantly. "It's all secret."

"I see," Anastasia frowned, starting to get up.

"But maybe you can get in!" the other girl continued hurriedly. "I
could sponsor you!"

"You would do that?" the redhead purred. "For me?"

"Sure, that's what roommates are for!" Molly told her brightly.

"Merci beaucoup!" Anastasia squealed and pulled her into a hug.

While they were embracing, the teen temptress pulled the cigarette
and took a deep drag. As she released the girl she exhaled a stream
of the Dream Lady's sleepy smoke right into her eyes. The results
were as immediate as they were predictable – young Molly fell back in
a swoon onto the bed.

"I have a reward for you for being so sweet," the duplicitous dame
promised as she began to unbutton the girl's uniform white oxford
blouse. "We're going to a party tonight, and I know just what you're
going to wear."

She exposed the girl's bra, contained in which was a perfectly
luscious pair of tits. The Countess had given her several things to
do before the Dream Lady's party, but Molly's mammaries were too nice
to ignore. She'd just run her errands later, Anastasia thought as she
pulled down the bra and freed the lovely orbs inside. Much later, she
decided as she began to lick the pert pink nipples. The party would
just have to wait.

Ch. 54

Bruce Wayne's Executive Assistant Todd Bridges was just getting ready
to leave for the day. It was only three o'clock but Mr. Wayne didn't
have any more appointments scheduled and Todd was hoping to get
started on finding a new condo. He was just about to check if his
boss needed anything else before he took off when the door opened.

Todd cursed silently to himself but his chagrin quickly turned to
excitement when he got a good look at the woman who had just entered.
She was very classily dressed in a black business suit of attractive
yet conservative length, with a wide-brimmed maroon hat and black
leather gloves. Plus she was gorgeous. His glance traveled quickly
from her expertly made-up face to her expensive high-heeled shoes and
he gave her his best smile.

"May I help you ma'am?"

"Yes," she replied in heavily accented English. "I am here to see Mr.
Wayne."

"And do you have an appointment?" he asked, knowing full well that
she didn't and not particularly caring either.

"You may tell him that a friend of Reeshard Grayson is here to see
him," the woman replied mysteriously. "I am sure that he will want to
see me."

"And who may I tell him is calling and what this is in regards to?"
he questioned.

"You may not," the Chanteuse told him simply.

The foolish boy had asked the temperamental diva one too many
questions and her mouth now opened to emit a single high-pitched note
that immediately caused Todd's eyes to glaze over.

"Please have a seat while I inform Mr. Wayne you are here," he said
woodenly.

Fantasia did just that, settling herself on the antique sofa while
the assistant crossed over to Mr. Wayne's office. She knew the
affects of her dazzling note would not last long so she prepared
another surprise for Mr. Bridges while she waited. In her purse was a
cigarette case and she took one from it. She didn't bother with a
holder, preferring to save that particular pleasure for Reeshard.

Ms. Serenade crossed her legs and was beginning to light her
cigarette when Todd reentered the room. His eyes had already begun to
clear and he was looking at her a little strangely.

"Mr. Wayne will see you," he informed the femme. "But I'm afraid that
smoking is not allowed in this building."

The Chanteuse had put up with quite enough from this young man. She
flicked her lighter shut and stood smoothly, ignoring his admonition.
He stepped towards her as she approached; an unfortunate error on his
part. The seductive songstress had already brought the cigarette up
to her lips and as he came within a few feet he walked into a
sleepily scented cloud.

Already weak from her alluring voice, the studly secretary fell
forward into her waiting arms. She lowered him into his chair, which
was helpfully close by, and wheeled it back behind his desk. When he
was comfortably lying back in his chair, she took her cigarette and
balanced it on the edge of the desk. The tip was pointed towards him,
a steady stream of smoke drifting into his face. Satisfied that she
would not be interrupted, the sinister singer waltzed over to Bruce's
office…

Bruce had been mindlessly staring at reports, the events of the
previous evening running through his head. Dawn Robbins, or Lady Dusk
as she now wished to be called, had made use of him well into the
night. He was often called upon to risk life and limb in doing his
duty, but there was only one limb that the starlet had been
interested in last night. Luckily she had been true to her word, and
had not handed him over to the Sandman. Not so luckily he had woken
up in an alley with an aching head and a sore…well let's just say he
was sore.

Now Todd's announcement of a mysterious female mentioning Dick's name
had him very alert indeed. He knew by his assistant's description
that it wasn't Dawn, but he still expected a trap. His door opened
and an elegantly dressed creature stepped into his office. Bruce had
taken the precaution of slipping air filters into his nostrils while
he awaited his guest, an action that would prove both unnecessary and
futile. But looking at the femme fatale standing before him, it was
one that he was glad he thought of. He had seen enough molls in his
time to know that this woman fit the profile to a `T'.

"Good afternoon," he said, rising to greet his visitor. "I am Bruce
Wayne. And you are?"

"Fantasia Serenade," she replied grandly. "Resident chanteuse at
Cabaret."

Bruce took her hand and kissed it gallantly before motioning her to a
seat. Her perfume was quite intoxicating, and quite possibly drugged.

"And what brings you here today Ms. Serenade?" he asked. "My
assistant indicated that you are an acquaintance of my associate Dick
Grayson."

"I would not call Reeshard an acquaintance," the French femme smiled.

"No? Then what would you refer to him as?"

"Why my lover of course Mr. Wayne."

This took Bruce off-guard but he showed no surprise. It was possible
that she had indeed seduced Dick; Bruce knew that he had his share of
lovers.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I am worried about him," the woman admitted and Bruce thought that
she did indeed sound worried. Though whether it was genuine or not he
couldn't say. "He has not called me in several days. His secretary
says that he is out of town on business."

"But you don't believe her?"

"He has not called me in several days. Something must have happened
to him."

"Maybe he has just been to busy to call," he suggested. "And I don't
mean to be rude, but maybe he just hasn't wanted to speak to you."

She smiled at this; a predatory smile.

"Reeshard would call me if he was able to," she assured him.

"How do you know?"

"Trust me Mr. Wayne, a woman knows."

"Well I can assure you that Mr. Grayson is quite healthy," Bruce lied
smoothly. "I talked to him just this morning."

Fantasia smiled once again. She could smell the lie on his lips more
strongly than he could her indeed chemically enhanced perfume. It was
time to teach Mr. Wayne a lesson. She opened her mouth and begun to
hum softly to him; the lilting lullaby that would put him to sleep
like a baby.

Bruce had gotten very little sleep and his mind was not at its
sharpest. He was wearing his air filters and thought himself
protected against the femme fatale. The crime-fighting playboy barely
noticed her little song until he found his head sinking towards the
desk. She rose and walked over behind him, her siren's song becoming
more insistent, beckoning him towards sleep.

"That's right little baby, just drift off to sleep," she encouraged
as his eyelids grew heavy.

She hummed a few more entrancing bars and his breathing began to grow
slow and heavy.

"Now then darling," she encouraged when he was completely
asleep. "Why don't you tell me where Reeshard really is, hmm?"