Welcome to the DPL...
Welcome to the Damsel Preservation League or "DPL" for short. Contained herein, you'll find a multitude of damsels of all ages worthy of preservation, as well as many links to current artists & writers of the DID genre, and many old-school favourites. Although this is basically a research type blog, there may be some occasional "mature" themed comics so, beware of this. Also this blog & is moderated to keep the spam to a minimum. The majority of the images are ones I've personally "rebuilt" from either my own collection or scans found elsewhere on the 'net. Any applicable copyrights belong to the owners and I make no money from them. Also note that this blog is still a work in progress and will be added to as I continue along...
Sunday, October 22, 2017
The following story stemmed from a "role-playing" thing I went along with. I've never done another RP. And, due to the outcome of this one, I probably never will, again. Everything is explained below. Unfortunately, I never did any illustrations for this story so, you'll just have to use your imaginations. I have, however, supplied a couple of vid-pics. Found 'em on DeviantART, of course.
This past September, 2011, I was invited to role-play with another member of a Yahoo group I’m in. A few of you who watch me here on Deviant Art may be in the same group. I’m not naming any names, so don’t ask. At any rate, the conversation started out innocent enough but soon turned into an invite to, more or less, “test” my skills...mainly at writing what I can come up with. The heroine in this case is “Batgirl”. The RP took place via e-mail, over the course of a month or so. Unfortunately, I may have scared the person away. I can get carried away at times, especially if I’m channeling a villain. In this case...two of them...Toyman and Joker. The story was left unfinished, even though I had already written the solution. Further e-mails have gone unanswered. I blame it on the Joker. I mean, have you read the new DC-52 version yet? B-b-brrrr! WTF is going on with that guy?
Anyway, since I’m apparently getting no further responses, I decided to just edit the e-mails into one story, allowing for a lot of spelling and punctuation fixes (and no, don’t ask which country the person is from, either...I’m not telling.) Not one word has been omitted or changed, Scouts honour! Well...except for the usual “greetings” e-mails and any real names used. I’m starting from the third e-mail in. B-girl’s remarks/comments are in Italics and I start off with her. The responses are the actual ones, given by the other RP-er.
Also note...this is the first time I’ve ever done any on-line RP-ing and I don’t want to make a habit of it. I’m not much of a forum-runner or RP-er. I really can’t spare the time. So DO NOT request any RP from me, please.
“Oh... so you're one of those villains still out on the streets, huh?” (...frowning at you from behind my mask...)
“LOL! Nah...the villains just hire me to write for them. Unfortunately, being villains, they don't pay!”
"Then you could help me get to them and capture them!!”
“What? Work for the ‘good side’? And give up my writing career? LOL! Then again...there are those villains I do hold a grudge against.” (...finger tapping chin...thinking...)
“I see...” (...I answer...) “Then I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you too...”
“Muwahahahahaaa...HA! Ever wonder why the villains fail so much? They don't read the ‘fine print’ LOL! That will teach them not to pay me!” :)
“Don't worry... you'll have plenty of time to keep on writing... behind bars!!” (...I exclaim and put my gloved hands on my purple spandex hips...)
“Another thing about writing...anything can happen at any time!” (...as the heavy, chain net suddenly falls from the sky, trapping you...muwahahaha!)
“Hey!! You...!! What does... this... mean??!!” (...as I struggle, trying to get out of the net...)
You will soon realise...when you awaken! (...as I release the gas canister towards you...you are getting very sleepy...)
“You won't... uunnhhh...” (...everything goes black for me...)
Your utility belt is taken and you are left in the chain net (after a quick tie-up, of course) and then tossed into the back of a caravan...heading to...
(...I am laying totally unconscious in the back of that caravan...)
The caravan drives off into the damp, dark night...as it leaves the city, it passes a police car. My stupid driver gets nervous but we continue on. 20 minutes outside the city, tragedy strikes...the left front tyre has gone flat! CURSES! And we have no spare. I see a light 1km ahead of an all-night cafe and set off for it, to call in another henchman for aide. My nervous driver stays with the caravan. But wait! What is this, coming down the road? Why...it's another police vehicle...
(...Unaware of all this, my green eyes start to slowly open behind the mask...) “Ooohhh... wh... where am I?” (...I wonder and soon realise, I can't move my hands or feet and I'm laying down somewhere wrapped in a net...) “Now, to get out of here, Batgirl!” (...I think as I start to wriggle my gloved hands behind my caped back to test my bonds, whatever they are...)
Therein is another surprise...the bonds are thin white nylon cord...over-wrapped with wire-tape...luckily my henchman hears you moan and, opening the side door of the caravan, gives you another dose of gas...! (Note to self...get a better supplier for gas!) The police vehicle draws nearer. The henchman suddenly realises that he forgot to gag you! (...I am docking his pay for that!...)
“Hey... wait... no...” (...I say when I see your henchman opening the side door of the caravan...) “Unnnnhhh...!” (...I'm put to sleep again...)
That's a good henchman. He finally did something right…for once. The police vehicle pulls up behind the caravan. Only one policeman in the car. He gets out to check things over, just as my henchman is closing the side door...
“Evening... don't you know it's not allowed to stop or park in here?” (...the policeman says to the henchman...)
"Well now officer," says my henchman, "I got me a flat tyre now don't I?" (...he points to the tyre; the officer sees it and tells him to be quick about fixing it...) But wait! The officer hears a slight thumping noise from inside the caravan...
“What do you carry in the caravan, Sir?” (...the policeman asks your henchman after hearing the noise...)
"Well...," (...my henchman starts to say...) "it's just ol' Rufus, my dog...” (...Rufus is, of course, fictional but the policeman does not know that...) "Okay if I take a look inside?" asks the policeman. Unfortunately, he does not hear me approach from behind. The darkness of night has covered me well, as I knock the policeman out with my torch. Luckily, there are no other people in the area. With gloved hands, I put him in the boot of his vehicle and go back to the caravan. My other henchman finally shows up in a lorry, and you are taken out of the caravan and placed into the lorry. The net is taken off but you are still bound. Two extra precautions are taken as we ready to leave: another piece of rope is used to hog-tie you, and a wide strip of very sticky, black tape is pulled over your mouth, sealing it. We head off into the dark night...
(...I'm still laying down unconscious because of the recent dose of gas I've been exposed to, unaware of what my fate will be...)
Thinking you can't get free, the henchmen have left you alone in the back of the lorry (it's a cargo-type lorry with a doors on the left side and rear; and sealed off from the cab.) I drove the van but took another route to the hide-out, and would meet up with the others later...there was something else I had to do. I also have your utility belt, heh, heh...It is a long drive, as the hide-out is far into the country-side. After an hour or so, you slowly come round. You shake your head to clear as you realise you are now hog-tied and gagged. But you are thankful the net is no longer on you. Feeling your lower back, you also realise your utility belt is missing. You sense the lorry is moving and feel the occasional bump in the road. With some effort, you roll over and attempt to feel around the floor of the lorry. Luck is with you as your gloved hands touch on something sharp. It is an old piece scrap metal. Your fingers close in around it...
“Come on Batgirl...you'd better get free of this hogtie stuff first...” (...I think while starting rubbing the rope on the sharp scrap metal piece...up and down up and down up and down...SCRATCH! SCRATCH! SCRATCH!...)
Suddenly...the lorry hits a bad spot in the road! (a construction zone.) The jarring bump tosses you into the left wall and you lose your grip on the metal, dropping it. A few more rough patches of road are met and you continue to get tossed back and forth. It only lasts for a bit (the zone is 2km long.) As the road smoothes out again, you again search for the piece of metal...hoping to find it...!
“Ahhh... there it is!!” (...I exclaim to myself, when I manage to notice the piece of metal in the dark of the back of the lorry...and then I start fiddling with it to try and saw through my ropes...)
The lorry travels on for another hour. You have given up trying to think where you are as you furiously cut away at the ropes of your hog-tie tether. The lorry finally stops. You hear the motour shut off and the cab doors opening...the foot-steps of the two henchmen, crunching on gravel...you can hear them approach the back of the lorry...as the doors begin to open....
“Uh oh... no time Batgirl...!” (...I think to myself, when I notice that and I pretend to lay down unconscious...)
The larger henchman has opened the doors fully and slowly pulls you out of the van...but as he grabs you by your boots, the hog-tie rope snaps! "Wot's this?", says he, knowing that the rope had been in perfect condition when he had tied it. He shrugs his shoulders, figuring maybe the rope had come loose somehow, as he lifts you up over his left shoulder (you're facing his back) and carries you off towards an old abandoned factory. He never bothers to check that the rope had been cut. The other henchman has made sure the coast was clear. Once inside, you are placed on the dirty floor, while the shorter henchman goes to get some old, rusty chains......meanwhile, I have obtained what I need from my "source" (who specialises in super-heroine restraint devices...muwahahahahaaaa!), and am now only minutes away from the hide-out...
“That's it boys... leave me alone...” (...I think to myself, when I see they leave the place, so I take advantage of the situation to get free from the wire tape that was binding my wrists, and which I had been patiently cutting with the metal inside the van...)
Finally freeing your wrists, you then sit up and rub some circulation back into your numbed wrists. After a couple of minutes (and no sign of the henchmen), you carefully pull off the tape gag and toss it aside. As you attempt to unfetter your ankles, you hear another vehicle pull up, outside...then footsteps and the clinking of chains (inside), as the henchmen return from a storage area. Frantically, you tug at your ankle bindings but then..."Well, well, well! What have we here?", I ask sarcastically. "You almost made it...almost.", I grin (but it's not an evil grin.) I yell for henchmen #4 & #7, who quickly hurry over...you heave a heavy sigh as the chains are wrapped around you torso, pinning your arms to your sides...another, shorter chain takes care of your ankles (which still have the wire rope attached.)
(...That makes me lose my balance and fall to the floor...) “What do you think you're... doing?!?!” (...I exclaim and begin to struggle once more, to slip my arms out of the pinning...)
"What am I doing?", I say mockingly...the henchmen grinning, as they both pick you back up to face me. "Let's just say," I begin, "that my 'employer' wished to have you out of the way...for a while. And I'm getting paid rather well to insure that you do not interfere, with my employer's plans. Do not worry, no harm will befall you...if you be nice and co-operate. The place you are now in has been long forgotten. No-one comes here anymore. And even if you knew where you were...you'd not be able to escape...unless I wanted you to." I make a barely perceptible eye motion to my henchmen...they pick you up and carry you off towards the back of the old factory...your useless struggles in vain as they place you on an old mattress, inside a small room(about 3 metres square.) It is a storage room...the only window is high up (2.5 metres), so not easy to gain without a ladder. Empty shelves line the side walls and a lonely, bare light, produces dark shadows all round the room. I have no doubt that you will eventually get out of the chains. But it gives me enough time to have my shorter henchman, weld shut the metal door...sealing you in...if you are lucky, the light won't burn out right away...
(...After some minutes of struggling I manage to loosen the chains around my chest, so I can slip my arms out of them. Then it's not too hard to remove the chains from my booted ankles. I walk to the door and check it out...)
Too late you find that the welds have cooled...the door will not open (besides...there is no door knob anyway...I made sure of that much earlier...) Also at my employer's request, I had a hidden camera installed so said employer could watch your struggles (apparently this employer has wish to see your frustration...as I do not ask questions, I go along with whatever they might want.) You move around as best you can to get some circulation, back into your legs...but what was that noise? There it is...again! From under the shelves along the right wall...rats!
“Eeeeek!!!” (...I scream when I notice what the noise is...and begin to jump to try and reach the window above...)
So close, you are so close to escaping...Henchman #4 is watching on the CCTV, grinning at your new peril. You do not at first realise, that the rats are fakes...cleverly built mini robots...as you attempt to balance yourself on the lower shelf, gripping the one above it...
Two major clews you have been given: one for escaping and one for who my employer is. Can you figure them out before my return and effect your escape?
(...I look up at the light and I crouch to take my right boot off...) “Okay...see no evil...!” CRASH! (...I smash the light with my boot, before putting it back on...) “Now to get out of here...” (...I say to myself, while climbing on the shelves to reach the window, in the darkness of the little room...)
Good girl! You find that the window is just big enough to squeeze through (had you had your utility belt on, you surely would have been snagged on the metal sill.) You discover as you look out, that it is a long drop into inky blackness (the back of the factory borders on a high cliff.) #4 henchman had stepped out for a bit and comes back to a dark screen. He immediately sets the camera to "infrared", allowing him to see you in the dark, trying to escape. He shouts for #7 henchman and they both go running to your make-shift prison, welding torches in hand. But it is too late...by the time they re-cut the door open, you are out the window. Standing on the window sill, you are just able to reach the roof above. You hear the henchmen shout and the taller one (#7) heads for the roof access stairs...the other henchman has alerted me by mobile phone...you hope your grip holds and you can hoist your self up...which you eventually do. But you are not fast enough, as #7 henchman springs forth from the roof-top door...
“Oh Big Boy... what is this? The welcome committee?” (...I say as I stand up on the roof...some steps away from him...) “You stay there if you don't want to get hurt...!”
Muwahahahahahaaa! HA! Did you really think I'd let you escape that easily? Too late! You fail to notice the strangely coloured mini-cannon #7 henchman has in his hands, as he quickly fires a glue-bomb at your feet...your boots sticking to the roof almost instantly! As you struggle to free your feet, he fires another glue-bomb at you...pinning your arms to your sides, as it splatters over the front of you. The glowing blue mess holding you as #4 henchman arrives to help...It only takes seconds for the glue to harden and dry. Grinning, the henchmen leave you on the roof to contemplate this new dilemma...your struggling does not help. Five minutes later, the henchmen re-appear...#7 holding a rather large clear plastic bag (almost 300 litres!), while #4 has yet another strangely shaped cannon and a length of wire rope. You watch, helpless, as #4 wraps the wire snug around your ankles. Getting up, he then aims the "toy-like" weapon at the glue and fires a heat ray to dissolve it, freeing your bound feet. #7 pulls the large bag down over your head (it goes almost to your feet) and you are picked up by both and taken back down-stairs...
“God, this is so frustrating...!” (...I think to myself...)
I show up in time and berate my stupid henchman, for putting you in the plastic bag. They have you seated on an old crate. I can see your predicament and quickly rip open the bag, letting in fresh air. "Are you crazy?", I yell at him. "My employer wishes her no harm; you imbecile! She could have suffocated in that bag! What were you thinking?!" #7 cowers in fear, knowing I could make him "disappear" if I wanted to. But I'm in a good mood so I spare him, as I finish removing the bag from your body. What to do with you now...
“Who are you? Who do you work for? What do you want?” (...I ask while frowning at you from behind my mask...)
I signal my henchmen to go outside and get some fresh air. You do not see my faint eye movement and are surprised to see the henchmen walk away. I then turn back to face you, shaking my head in disbelief. "My dear Batgirl", I start to say, "I would have thought you would have figured out at least, who my employer is. You've had a lorry-full of clews. Think back...I've already told you that no real harm was intended. I was just hired to keep you out of the way...for a while. That is all my employer wants...for now (a half grin I have...the only feature of my face you can see, as the rest is covered by a dark, blank mask.) “As for who I am...that is not important. Rest assured, you will be released at the proper time...unless my employer wants to continue his silly little game." I call to the henchmen to come back inside. It is now almost 06.00. Just a few more hours and my job will be complete...unless?
“Okay, listen to me...” (...I say sitting on one of the wooden crates...) “It is late... if this is some kind of joke, it's enough...you had a good time but it's over, okay?” (...looking at you through my mask...)
"Tsk, tsk," I say. I then shrug my shoulders. My mobile rings and I walk away (out of your hearing range) to answer it. The conversation does not last long. You noted me nodding several times, as I talked to the caller...wondering what would happen next. You are about to find out...I walk back over to you..."My employer has finished what he wanted to do a bit early and would like to meet with you. Perhaps in doing so, it will explain everything. But we have to prepare you for another trip, I'm afraid." You now notice that the henchmen have carried in a old crate about a metre square and almost as tall. There are random holes drilled into it for air-flow. You shudder and try again to struggle...but the glue holds your arms tight. #4 has grabbed the glue gun from the bench where he had placed it, earlier. I advance upon you, grabbing and closing your nose with thumb and forefinger. As you open your mouth to gasp for air, I stuff in a clean, white rag...filling your mouth. A signal to #4 and he coats your partially open mouth with more glue. I then release my hold on your nose, allowing you to, again, breathe. The glue quickly hardens, sealing your protests. You are then picked up and stuffed into the crate in a sort of fetal position. After which the top is placed on and screwed down, with a screw-gun & screws. I can hear you moan as you contemplate your new prison. But you don't feel the crate move, as #7 has sprayed some of the left-over gas into a hole near your face...rendering you unconscious. You are then loaded up for another long journey...
“I'm gonna kick your butts, you...!!” (...that's the last thought that comes to my mind before it all goes black for me...)
Heh, heh...don't worry...you may have a break coming up. Still no guess on my employer, eh? Allow me to enlighten you...I hope. The ride to the new location goes well. No stops and no police. We arrive and unload your crated body. Even though the ride was over two hours, you are still unconscious. #7 had made sure to use enough of the gas this time, heh, heh..."At last! You are here!" says my employer. "Now I can play with my new toy!" Very grateful that we do not ask questions and that we kept our bargain, he pays me off with an extra bonus. My henchmen and I leave you thus. You are now in the hands of my former employer. He loses no time in having his "mechanical" minions open up your crated prison. They carefully remove you. The employer unties your ankles and uses his own heat gun to melt all the glue off your torso...but keeps your gag in place, at least for now. He does not want his "toys" talking back. When you finally awaken, it takes a few minutes for your head to clear. You then realise that you are suspended but with your feet barely touching the ground. You look down and see you are on a type of stage and that there are wires attached; one to to each of your ankles and knees. With horror you find your arms are above you, slightly bent. Wires attached to your wrists and elbows...also one at your waist. Your head is free of wires (thank goodness!) There is but a single light on. You now realise that you are strung up like a marionette, only life-size. The sticky gag will not let you speak, as your new tormentor comes into view, out of the darkness...
“What the hell is this?!?!?” (...I wonder, while struggling to get free of all the wires that suspend me for the moment...) “Where am I? Who is this?”
Tsk, tsk, tsk...you still have no clew? Think back...the "mechanical" rats in your cell...the "toy-like" glue guns...the mental "games" played with your head...and now, trussed up like a "puppet on a stage"...who but the TOYMAN, could have thought this whole scheme up? As he approaches the stage footing, you glare down in disbelief. Toyman looks up at you, his crooked smile gloating. His circus ringleader's costume a bit tattered. "Surprised to see me?", he asks. "Oh wait, you can't answer...you're gagged! Bwahahahahaaaa!" He falls to the floor, doubling over in hysterical laughter. Your frustration builds. After a trio of minutes Toyman, wiping away tears of laughter, gets back up...his mood quickly changing to one of pure hatred...his eyes no longer happy but now hold an evil glare. Now coming up onto the stage, he readies himself for his next performance. You struggle as he approaches you...
“What does this freak plan to do? What do I have to do with him? Thought he was a Superman's foe in Metropolis...” (...I think to myself while struggling and wriggling, to tug at the strings that keep me suspended over the stage...)
Toyman looks at you. He can sense your confusion and anger. "I'll just bet you're wondering why I'm in Gotham, don't you?" You calm down a bit and slowly nod your head. "Good!" exclaims Toyman. "Now that I have your full attention, I'll let you in on a secret." (...of course, this is where the villain goes into the long spiel about his/her evil plans...) Toyman continues, "You see Batgirl...it's very simple. I got bored with Metropolis. Too many super-criminals running round. So many that us little criminals were being neglected. Neglected, I tell you! The big guy in tights didn't have any time to fly round after us...not with bigger crooks to catch. Ah...you grasp my meaning. The police are easy to defeat as well, and I needed a challenge! So I came to Gotham City. And fortunate for me, the ‘Dork Knight’ is away...somewhere. That basically left you to get in my way. You are the only other one that would've figured out my plans. So I had to stop you before you did." Toyman then walks past you towards a large steamer trunk. You twist round to get a look, as he opens it...bringing out what looks like a golden statuette of sorts. He holds it up, appraisingly, gently carrying it over, so you can get a good look at it. "This is what I was after,” said Toyman. "Formerly on display at the Gotham Toy Museum. Very rare and very old, solid gold marionettes! There are only eight known to exist. I already have four of them. The museum had the other four. Getting them was almost too easy, especially with you out of the way. I hired the best, to make sure you did not interfere. And now that I've completed my task, I bid you 'farewell'." With that, Toyman goes back over to the trunk, replaces the marionette and has a couple of his mechanical minions carry it out of the old factory. He then turns back towards you, snapping his left fingers; "I almost forgot,” he said, "You'll need this." He tosses an open Swiss Army knife at your feet. You wonder at how you're going to reach it. "Never let it be said, I don't play ‘fair'!" He laughed and left. Don't worry about finding Toyman, Batgirl. By the time you manage to get free, he will be a long way from Gotham City.
(...I struggle frantically now to get free of the wires by tugging at them, wriggling my spandex arms and legs up and down, left and right, feeling so frustrated...) “Gmmmpgfff!!!!” (...I groan...)
So intent you are, that you do not notice the approach of another person..."Well...well...well. Look what we have here!" says a voice from the darkness. You freeze as you instantly recognise the voice of...the...Joker! Looking past the stage, you see his evil grin and glowing hate-filled eyes. But you do not realise, that it is just another one of Toyman's automatons. As the "Joker" approaches it bumps into an old crate, causing it to stumble and fall forward. It crashes into the edge of the stage, sparks flying from it's broken electronics. Your terror-filled face turns to one of hate and disgust, at having this prank pulled on you. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!", comes a blood-curdling daemonic laugh from the right side of the stage. Icy fingers race up your spine, as the real Joker comes into view! "You should have seen the look on your face,” gloats the Joker. "As a matter of fact, I think you will,” he says as he approaches you, a mini-cam in his left hand. He grabs the back of your head, holding it firm while ramming the camera's view-screen into your face, mere millimetres from your nose, and hits the "playback" button. "Ah-ah-ah...no closing your eyes,” he says as his bony fingers reach over the top of your head, down towards your eyelids, pulling them open. You wince in pain as you are forced to watch the video. Bad enough to watch but even worse, is the smell coming from the Joker's tattered, purple, pin-striped suit. His rotting teeth and filthy makeup just adding to the stench. You try to wriggle your head free from his iron-like grasp, but fail to do so. Finally, the video ends and Joker releases his hold on you. "Now...wasn't...that...fun?" he grins. You just stare at him. "WASN'T...THAT...FUN?!?" he yells back at you; his rancid breath makes you want to puke. Meekly you nod your head, "yes".
End of role-play. Read below for solution to batgirl's dilemma...
Writer’s note: this is the point where the RP left off. Whether I (I mean, Joker) scared off the RP-er or the RP-er just gave up, I’m not privy to. All the clews and elements were in place. The Joker fed well on her fear of him, as “Batgirl” did not realise how simple it was to escape (even if the Joker hadn’t shown up.) But...I guess he can be rather intimidating, wot? As I said earlier (at the top of this story), I had already written the solution. I initially wanted to do a contest of sorts, to see if anyone could figure it out. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to monitor such a contest. So...to be fair to all who may read this, I’m offering the same solution, as I would have to the other RP’er. Here’ tis....
You shut your eyes tight...fighting back tears, as the Joker releases his hold on your eyelids (but not your head.) What’s wrong with you, Batgirl? I know you greatly fear the Joker...but fight it! Concentrate! You can do it, I know you can! “Oh, come now!”, says the Joker. “Surely I don’t scare you that much...do I?” You slowly open your eyes...a single tear from your left eye streaks down your face. You begin to concentrate as the Joker’s face breaks out into a most hideous grin. He releases his hold on your head. You mind goes into over-drive, as the Joker starts to turn away from you. Although you are strung-up like a giant puppet, you still have a lot of movement. And all those attached wires...inwardly, you sigh...now realising what a child you’ve been. Letting this fool of a criminal intimidate you. Blocking out the fear you’ve been feeling, you get ready.
There’s only one shot at this. The timing will have to be spot on. You try not to think about what his next move will be, as you slowly lift your left foot...using the wires above your bound wrists for support, as you pull yourself up...off the stage floor. The Joker is less than half a metre away. As he turns away from you, facing the near-empty warehouse, you make your move. It seems like everything is going in slow-motion, as you swing back your body...using your acrobatic skills to launch yourself forward. The Joker hears you grunt but it is too late as he turns round...and gets a pair of pointed boots slammed into his chest. With a look of surprise on his face, the Joker reels backwards from the blow, as you swing away to come back for another try. The Joker bends over, clutching at his chest, as you swing forward again...smashing him in the head. The force of the second blow sends him tumbling backwards, off the edge of the stage. You hear a sickening “crack”, as his head slams into the cement floor...knocking him out cold. Letting yourself down to stop the swinging movement, you stand still and listen...nothing. You can just see the Joker’s crumpled form, past the edge of the stage. No telling how long he will remain unconscious, as you plot your escape.
Looking down you see the knife that Toyman dropped earlier, is still near-by. With your right foot you carefully nudge the knife over...until it is almost in front of you. Not an easy thing to do, as your feet are still barely touching the stage. Again with your right foot, you maneuver the knife so that the open blade is facing your left foot. Now stepping on the knife with your right foot, you carefully move your left one, wedging the blade into the side of your boot, between the upper and lower soles. You manage to push the sharp blade in a good 3 of its 4 centimetre length. Now comes the hard part. You concentrate hard as you pull yourself up again. With your arms straining, you pull up your legs, arching them up towards your arms...gritting your teeth as you try to remain calm. And then...like the acrobat that you are...you bring your right arm over toward your left boot and quickly grab at the knife...successfully pulling it out as you let your legs back down and heavily exhale. Sweat trickles down your face as you begin to saw away at the thin wires that bind you, starting with your left arm. Once free, it takes you mere seconds to cut through the rest of your bindings.
You finish up and cautiously walk to the edge of the stage. There lies the Joker...still knocked out. Your ethics do not permit you to just leave him there, injured. So you climb down off of the stage and check to see if he is still breathing. He is. Good. And, although he has a pretty bad head injury, you go back on stage an gather up some of the cut wires and use them to bind the Joker. With the Joker securely bound, you head out of the warehouse to find help. You recognise the area and are miffed that you’ve been in Gotham the past few hours. You flag down a passing squad-car, alerting the police to the recent events and tell them about the Joker. Within minutes the warehouse is swarming with police and an ambulance...also another, more secure vehicle arrives from Akrham Asylum, to cart off the Joker. Alas, you’ll have to get the Toyman another day as you are taken to the nearest police precinct, to give a statement and recover.