Barbara Gordon had almost forced herself to forget that terrible episode in the Batcave when Batman -- her idol -- had violated her by forcibly pulling off her mask. Her most precious secret had been stolen from her against her will.
Since then Batman, Night Wing, the new Robin, and she had battled Gotham's worst super criminals side by side. They were a team and she felt that they always had her back.
Late one night, while out on patrol, Batgirl received a call on her secure Bat Communicator. "Barbara, this is Batman. I need you to meet me at the old Hardin warehouse on the edge of town. I'm sending the coordinates now!"
"Batman, what's wrong with your voice? You don't sound like yourself. And... that area wasn't on the patrol map for tonight."
"Change of plans!" The Dark Knight barked. "And I've just got a little laryngitis. Look, this is urgent! Get moving!"
"But -- Killer Croc and his gang. You said this was priority #1 for me."
"Are you questioning me, Gordon?" the voice on the other end snarled.
"No... sir," the Masked Maiden said with a submissive tone in her voice. "But please don't call me by my real name. What if somebody heard?"
"Just get over here!" He disconnected abruptly.
The heroine jumped on he Batgirl Cycle and sped off. "His laryngitis must be making him irritable," she told herself.
Batgirl arrived at the warehouse as soon as she could. She didn't want to upset Batman again. The building was totally dark except for a little moonlight streaming down from holes in the ceiling. She pulled out her communicator as she walked into the rundown place. "Batman? This is Batgirl. I'm here. Where are you?"
"Good, you made it," the raspy voice said. "Just keep walking into the building. I'm downstairs in the old machine shop. You'll see the light."
Batgirl explored deeper into the warehouse, searching for the stairs to the basement. Batman sounded so different, she thought. Of course, it wouldn't be anyone else on the communicator. Just the Batman team had access to these transmissions and messages are highly encrypted.
Descending the steps she caught sight of a dim, orange-ish light coming from one of the rooms lining an utterly black hallway. "Batman," she said quietly. "Is that you?"
"Yes it's me. Get in here."
Barbara saw the figure of Batman in the dim light. He looked a little smaller than usual, thinner. "Must be sicker than he let on," she thought. He was standing in the far corner of the workshop, by an old wooden table where a vice and a few other abandoned tools she couldn't identify were attached. A block and tackle was overhead.
"Come over here and look at this!" the Dark Knight ordered. Batgirl obeyed. Batman backed away so she could get a closer look at the table.
"Hmm... shackles, chains, handcuffs. And this end of the workbench has been converted into a rack. Look, four leather restraints. Why, it almost looks like a dungeon!" Batgirl exclaimed.
"Yes, it certainly does!" "Batman" commented. The raspy voice was gone, replaced by an all too familiar one. Batgirl recognized it immediately and instinctively knew what was happening. She spun around only to receive a face full of Bat Gas!
"Nightwing! No!" she coughed before collapsing to the cold cement floor.
When she finally awoke she found that her arms were securely shackled behind her. She'd been stripped to the waist and... he had taken off her mask! "Nightwing -- Dick -- why?" Batgirl cried.
"I've been hot for you since before Batman brought you on, Barbara," Richard Grayson said. He pulled back his batmask and drew her closer. "I can't resist that rack any longer! Besides, I know you want me. After all... 'I'm Batman!' "
