Batgirl and Killer Moth in:  Medical Mayhem!

Killer Moth slowly came to through the black fog covering his brain.  He wasn't sure what was going on.  He had gotten hired for a job.  He was meeting with his employer for the details when his vision when blurry and...  He wasn't sure after that.  He could recognize that he was now sitting in a chair.  "Great job, Dru," he thought to himself as he straightened up, "certainly one hell of a first impression."  He reached up to cradle his throbbing head and couldn't understand why his arms stopped moving.  After a few attempts the sound of clanging metal and the tension on his wrists cut through his grogginess and a sudden clarity dawned on him.

"Fuck."

"Yes, my dear Killer Moth, you are well indeed fucked," responded the man, in crisply accented English, that Dru was just now noticing standing in front of him.

He wasn't sure what to make of the man.  He certainly couldn't place him or the accent.  Perfectly tailored white suit, button up shirt with the collar open, leather loafers that probably cost more than Dru made in a month, gold necklace and rings.  "So what, um, what is this about?  Is it a sex thing?  If it is I'm a total top, but for a little extra I'll kiss you on the mouth," Killer Moth stammered, trying to get a response from the stranger.

The man laughed.  "Most men make a sex joke before things get started, it restores to them a sense of dominance and masculinity."  He kneeled down and got right in Killer Moth's face, "but I want to assure you that you are truly and completely helpless.  You cannot stop me, you cannot escape, and no one will save you."  Standing up the man turned to the table next to them.  Next to Killer Moth's helmet and utility belt was laid out a complete set of surgical equipment, to which the man slowly and theatrically placed a tool box and began removing items.  Pliers.  Chisel.  Hammer.  Blow torch.  Hand sander.  Angle grinder.  All while he whistled a quiet tune.

Sweat began beading on Killer Moth's forehead and he tried testing his restraints as his captor's focus was turned.  Standard issue police cuffs, one on each wrist connecting to a metal chair.  Legs bound together.  But not bound to the chair.  A mistake on his captor's part, but it also not much to work with.  A leaping charge, maybe a headbutt, but then what?  The room was bare concrete with a single door opposite where he was sitting, florescent lights kept it harshly lit and he didn't see any windows.  Probably a basement.  Anything in his utility belt would be useless with how his hands were cuffed.  Maybe enough slack to slip his arms under his legs and put the chair in front of him to use as a bludgeon, but he'd probably need to get on the ground for that.  Where was his cocoon gun?

"I'm sure you're asking yourself," purred the man, "what did I do to deserve this?  Who is this handsome man before me?  Do you remember the job you took 2 weeks ago?"

Killer Moth snapped out of his brainstorming and looked at his captor confused.  "Simple overwatch job for a snatch and grab by the docks.  Hardly anything was taken."

"Not just anything.  No, no.  What was taken was $1.5 million dollars worth of cocaine.  My cocaine."

"That's nice.  But I don't know the details of my jobs.  Keeps things easy and free of culpability.  Take it up with the guys who hired me."

"Who do you think told me of your involvement?  But don't worry," he said as he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Dru, "I understand that you weren't actually part of the theft.  But a certain decorum must be maintained when it comes to these sorts of things.  You understand, no?  The man smiled and slapped Dru's knee.  "I'm just a small businessman doing his best.  Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to get approval from Two-Face to run a sideline through territory?  Years of faithful, discrete, and fairly priced services," he gestured to the surgical tools on the table, "Guillermo, patch up my goons. Guillermo, I need information extracted.  Guillermo, I need this to look like natural causes.  Guillermo, give my girlfriends bigger tits.  And he still has the gall to take 40% off the top."  The man shrugged and sighed, "still better than Blockbuster, I suppose.

Dru stared at the man's perfectly chiseled face, noting how constructed and fake everything looked if you paid attention for longer than a moment.  Skin perfectly smooth and taut, cheeks and chin perfectly shaped and proportioned.  Perfect symmetry.  Perfectly plastic.  "Brutale," he uttered upon hearing the name of Bludhaven's former top mafioso.

"Oh, I so love it when I get a little recognition."  He grabbed Dru's face and turned it left and right.  "You have such prominent cheekbones.  Unfortunately they're paired with such thin cheeks, you look practically hollow.  Normally I'd suggest a little filler, but in this case I think we're better off just shaving down the bone."  He landed a hard flick on Dru's chin, "of course that means we're going to need to make some adjustments here too.  And once we're done I'm going to need to take off some excess skin.  Maybe a little eyelid and nose work as well."  Killer Moth stared defiantly, which only elicited another laugh from Brutale as he grabbed a scalpel off the table.  "Everyone has that look on their face, but it never lasts long once the cutting starts."

For a split second, Killer Moth could have sworn he saw a redhead in a mask just appear behind Brutale just before the lights suddenly went out.

"What just..." the torturer asked confused as the room went black.

"Looks like you're just in time for some DARK VENGEANCE!"

And with that shrill, girlish yell, Killer Moth could hear the sounds of fisticuffs and realized now was his chance.  Raising his knees to his chest he planted his heels on the seat and inhaled deeply.  "Please let this work," he prayed as he steeled himself for the inevitable dislocation or broken bone.  With all his might he pushed up and back, sending him to the floor as he kicked the chair out and attempted to stand up simultaneously.  He clenched his teeth as his back hit the concrete floor, his left hand pulling free from the cuff with wet POP as his thumb wrenched out of its socket.  Working through the pain, he scrambled to his hands and knees, and searching for the table with his gear.  Pulling himself up, he felt is would-be torturer crash into him, and quickly wrapped his right arm and accompanying chair around the man, as he and his mystery assailant traded wild and uncoordinated blows.  Groping blindly at the tools on the table, Killer Moth wrapped his fingers around the cord of the hand sander and flailed it at where he guessed Brutale's head was.  After several misses he was finally rewarded with yelp of pain as the power tool firmly impacted a skull.  He continued swinging until he felt the man go slack in his arms after the third or fourth crack to the head.

Dropping Brutale and the sander to the floor, he stopped to catch his breath for a second before wrapping his fingers around his dislocated thumb and pushing it back into place with a silent scream through his gritted teeth.  He leaned over the table and rested on his elbows as he waited for the pain to subside as the lights flicked back on.  Closing his eyes, he stood up and exhaled.  "Not to be that guy, Barbara, but how did you find me?  And what was up with that one-liner?"  He turned to what he expected to be his favorite superhero mistake, only instead to be met with sight of a young girl in a homemade Batgirl costume.  Flabbergasted, he could only stutter, "Who are you?"

"I'm the goddamn Batgirl!"  The girl beamed under a cheap, Halloween store domino mask, and Dru noticed a worrying amount of blood running down her face and soaking into her shirt.

"No, you're not, you're just some kid."

"I'm the new one.  The best one.  I saved your life."

Dru was about to point out that he had things under control when the sharp CRACK-POW of a micro-explosive accompanied the lock on the door blasting off.  With a loud thud the door kicked open and a blonde Batgirl in black and purple charged into the room, batarangs in hand, only to lurch to a stop after a few steps.

"Someone missed the party," the redhead intoned smugly, posing with her hands on her waist, as the blonde looked around the room trying to make sense of everything.

Stephanie Brown grunted with irritation and put away the batarangs.  "What are you doing here, Charlie?  How'd you even know about this?  I only got the call about Brutale a couple of minutes ago!  Did you steal another communicator?"

"Saving the motherfuckin' day," replied Charlie Gage-Radcliffe, "it's something a real Batgirl does."

Stephanie's face flushed red with anger.  "You're not a real Batgirl, you're just a real brat.  You could have gotten yourself killed.  You could have gotten someone else killed."

"But I saved the day!  You're just bitching because you missed out and I was all awesome.  It's jealousy.  You're jealous because I'm the better Batgirl."

"Kid, your face is slashed open from your forehead to jaw," Killer Moth interjected loudly, "we need to get you to a hospital."

Stephanie recoiled in shock as Killer Moth's words knocked her out of her tunnel vision and she noticed the wound for the first time; she could see bone.  With trepidation, Charlie reached up to her unnoticed gash, and seemed more confused by the blood than anything as everything was still numb with adrenaline.  It took one or two seconds for her to really process that she was injured, and a few pokes of the wound before she figured out that she should probably do something about it.  "No biggie," she said nonchalantly, and once against Killer Moth was flabbergasted as the girl disappeared from view only to reappear a moment later, wound completely sealed.  "All better," Charlie chimed and turned back to Steph and stuck her tongue out, "Just.  Fine.  Stephanie."

Steph closed her eyes rubbed her temples, her teeth clenched in anger, "Charlie," she whispered slow and harsh, "stop using my real name in front of the supervillain."

"You've been using my real name all this time!"  Charlie cried indignantly before stopping abruptly, "...wait, what supervillain?"

Stephanie's head slumped and she motioned to Dru, whose ego was now hurting as much as his recently dislocated thumb, "Killer Moth, right there."

"Who the hell is Killer Moth?"  After a second something halfway between recognition and pretending to not be an idiot swept over Charlie, "Oh yeah, the bug guy."  After a pause she quickly moved over Stephanie's side and threw up her fists at Dru, "Oh my god, Steph, he knows Barbara's real name!  We're compromised!  I don't know how you discovered her secret identity, Killer Moth, but Batgirl and Batgirl are gonna make you our bitch!"

"JUST SHUT UP, CHARLIE!"  Stephanie screamed, "you're not Batgirl, you're just some kid throwing herself at criminals for a thrill!  You don't listen, you don't think, you don't care, you just get in the way!  We've been busting our asses trying to make you into something worthwhile, but it's all in one ear and out the other because it's just a game to you!  You don't want to be Batgirl, you just want to be famous!"

Silence filled the room, broken only by the humming of the florescent light until a small cry came out of Charlie as she began to sob.  "Fuck you, Steph," she choked out before vanishing into thin air.

"Char-"  Steph tried to stop her but it was too late.  She clutched and tugged on the horns of her cowl in frustration, "It's gonna be weeks before she'll talk to us again.  I blew it."

"I know I don't really have the moral high ground here, but your boss is recruiting them a little young these days."

Stephanie whirled towards him, his words reminding her that he was still there, but stopped when all she saw was concern on his face.  "We didn't 'recruit' her, she just showed up one day calling herself Batgirl and we've been trying to rein her in ever since.  She wants the title but won't put in any of the work because she thinks it's just 'punch criminal, crime is over.'  You saw what she can do, it's hard to learn a lesson when you put any mistake you make a thousand miles behind you in an instant.  She's not a bad kid," Steph sighed, and continued with more self-recrimination than she intended or realized, "she's just some girl stupid enough to think she can save the world."

Dru wasn't quite sure how to react.  The dad in him felt like he should reach out and reassure her.  The criminal in him wondered if doing so would result in another dislocated thumb.  All he could do is stand there wracking his brain for something to say when Batgirl suddenly became alert and narrowed her eyes at him.

"How do you know Barbara's name?

"Oh, um, well you see, when you've been in the business as long as I have," he turned to the table and began making a scene of collecting and checking his gear in an attempt to stall while he thought of something good.  Acceptable.  Plausible.  "After awhile you just get kind of...familiar with with the people you fight.  Next thing you know you're on a first name basis and talking about the big game between punches.  It'll happen to you one day."  Nailed it.

"Mhmmm," Steph murmured as she cocked an eye at Dru.

Realizing that he really had to sell it, Dru extended his hand towards the wary blonde, "Hi there; Steph, was it?  I'm Dru.  Nice to meet you and looking forward to a long and productive relationship of beating the shit out of each other."  He smiled.

Steph glanced down at his hand then back to his forced smile; cocking her hips the side she put her hands on her waist and looked at him with wry, questioning eyes, "Mmmmmmhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."