randomplaces | Brenda's Gothom

Porthos had enough. He loved Brenda, he wouldn't let her just walk away and vanish.

He stood up, slightly unsteadily, then tossed a few coins on the counter to pay for his drinks, sprinting at the door, determined to make it work.

"Brenda!" he yelped, bursting through and suddenly sprawling flat on a dark, cold street.

he took a moment to realize he'd opened his eyes, then stared around in disbelief. This... this was a wrorld unlike any he'd ever dreamed of, and he started, gasped, and looked around, starting as a strange light on a pole fluttered and went off and on.

The Musketeer stood, then started as some loud alarm went off, a noise he'd never heard before. He sword was out in a flash, and he wlked backwards, back to the wall, wishing his honorary brothers were here with him.

Lost, confused, and every nerve tingling and on alert, Porthos slowly went down the street, seeing nothing but strange, frightening shapes and dark, half invivisble forms that fled as he approached.

He suddenly contemplated the possibilty that he'd died and gone to Hell without noticing.

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Porthos slowly made his way forward, turned a corner, then suddenly found himself looking at a very big, very mean looking bunch of men, all with dark skin and lots of metal on thier clothing. He jumped back with a cry, seeing them also start, then give cries of indignation and reach for thire weapons.

Thinking fast the pirate, sword in hand, flew at them, arms swinging as he let loose a bellow.

The gang of vermin leapt back, yelled, and took off at once, and Porthos paused, sighing with relief before suddenly somebody very large tackled him, sneding them both crashing through the front doors of some strange building.

Not too far away, but seperated by a couple hallways, Batwoman paused and looked up as the silent alarms went off, her forhead creasing. She whirled to retreat, only to stagger as the hallway filled with gas.

Her vision went black and she crumpled to the floor.

Porthos groaned softly, sitting up, only to see the big guy start to get up again when suddenly he heard a shout he couldn't understand. His head was spinning from the hit, and suddenly two imednly strong hands grabbed him. he looked up, but all he saw was shiny black, and suddenly there was a snarl, and order, and he felt him dragged down several halls, lights passing by overhead....

Then, as he was being flung into some kind of small cell, he finally understood some of what was being growled at him.

"Get in and stay in, street trash. Friends of Bats aren't welcome here."

"Bats?" he mumbled, vision swimming as he lay flat on his back, dimly realizing somebody had taken his sword and that in the process his arm had been cut rather largely.

"Throw her in the room." Robert Dawson snorted contemptously and fingered the utility belt that lay next to the serrated gauntlets on his desk. "Since when is Batman a skirt?"

His enforcers didn't reply, only dragged the woman, still in costume but minus her belt, cape, gloves, and boots away and left her in the cell that had been prepared for any of the Batclan that chose to come and spring the trap.

That trap had been planned very carefully, down to the last detail. And the gas had been especially formulated to be sure there was no antidote.

What no one had realized was that, mixed with the antidote to the usual knock out gasses, it would send someone into a sleep from which they might not wake.

Porthos had only just managed to sit up when suddenly a small, thin woman was flung through the door, landing on top of him. He was back down with an oof, but paused and started, lookin at who was on top of him.

"Whoa! A devil!" he exclaimed as the door swung shut and locked. he quickly shoved the lady figure off him and scrambled to the other side of the cell, hitting the wall and then turning, banging on the walls.

"LET ME OUT!" He roared, beatng on it. "LET ME OUT NOW! I'M OF THE KING'S GUARD, LET ME OUT!"

The sound of his voice managed to penitrate the deepening haze around Batwoman's mind, and she moaned softly. "P... Por... thos?"

He started, then spun and stared, his jaw dropping.

"Brenda?" he breathed, then slowly, sooo slowly, went forward, and slid his fingers up under her mask, hesitating.

"My fairest lady?"

"N... n... no!" she murmured, fighting the darkness. "Booby-trapped...."

He yanked his hands away, then gently pickd her up. "Brenda, m'Lady, it's me, your humblest of servants, Porthos the Pirate. Stay with me, sweetest of hears, stay...."

Brenda's Gothom - Fighting for Love

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