Electra's Web

           Cape Fear





THE CELL was cold and stark. One concrete-walled room with a small cubicle off one side containing a toilet and wash basin.

 A table and chair were bolted firmly to the floor in the centre of the chamber and a bare mattress lay on a platform against one wall.

 It was here that Batman sat disconsolately – the chain dangling from his aching neck affixed  to a metal hook in the ceiling and his wrists still shackled behind his back.

 He’d no idea how long he’d been left – denied food, water or even the sight of another human being.

 He’d twice called out for a guard but his voice had just echoed around the room unanswered before receding into nothing again.

 His mind had already rejected the possibility of any immediate escape – but not the determination to foil Electra’s plans despite what appeared at the moment to be the almost insurmountable odds.

 There was still the chance Robin could be brought to his senses if he could get to him – and the inevitability that Electra would eventually somehow, somewhere make a mistake.

 He leant forward and then sat back bolt upright as a key rattled in the lock of the door and it swung open.

 A guard clad in a shiny black figure-hugging uniform entered the clip of her heels ringing off the concrete floor.

 She was carrying two bowls and a long, metal truncheon hung from the belt buckled loosely around her slim waist.

 She bent to place the bowls on the floor and then rose announcing: “You have a visitor.”

 Electra sauntered arrogantly into the room. She was dressed in her favourite outfit of leather trousers and the diamond-studded V-shaped top held in place by two thin straps running across her back.

 There was no disguising the exultant look on her face as she took in the sight of Batman tethered like a dog in front of her. Nor the look that passed between her and the guard as the Caped Crusader stayed sat on his bed.

 “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said the guard in an almost girlish, sing-song voice. “Batman’s being a naughty prisoner.”

 She gleefully drew her truncheon and stepped forward.

 “Batman has to learn stand when Mayor Electra graces him with her presence.”

 Her arm flashed forward in a blur sending the truncheon slashing across the side of his face.

 He grunted in pain and fell sideways on the mattress. There was another swish and the metallic weapon slammed into his cheekbone with a sickening crack.

 The pain was almost unbearable but nothing compared to the agony that coursed through his neck as the guard yanked on the chain and sent him tumbling to the ground on his knees.

 Electra smiled in satisfaction and casually folded her arms savouring his agony.

 “Electra wants to see the doggy boy eat,” she beamed – placing her shoe against the rim of one of the bowls and sliding it towards the Caped Crusader.

 “So do it.”

 Batman looked at the pieces of meat in a sickly, thick gravy glistening before him and shivered.

 “Eat!” barked the guard.

 He hesitated and then howled in pain as the truncheon descended onto his skull almost sending him sprawling to the floor.

 “Learn…to…do…as…you’re…told,” said the guard slowly and deliberately.

 Almost shaking with pain and humiliation the once-proud crimefighter lowered his head and began lapping up the food in front of him.

 “Good doggy,” smiled Electra patronisingly. “Now eat it all up for me.”

 Both her and the guard exchanged delighted grins as Batman obediently did their bidding until the bowl was cleared.

 Just as he finished Electra stepped forward and nuzzled her leather-clad knee into the side of his face. She reached down and patted him gently on the back of the head.

 “Well done, my pet,” she purred. “Now you get some rest. And later on, if you’re very, very good, I’ll get my girls to teach you some more tricks.”

 Batman stayed immobile his face shame-facedly staring at the floor as the two women exited the room laughing loudly to each other.