THEY, OR PERHAPS THEIR ENEMIES, ARE ABOUT TO RISE AND FALL!

Until Batgirl Engineers Its Culmination

The ropes binding Batwoman and Flamebird’s bodies swelled as water streamed along the comely contours of their shapely bodies before dripping onto and soaking into the soil beneath them, softening it slowly.

“The ropes are cutting off my circulation, Batwoman. I really can’t move now. In a few minutes, I won’t even be able to twitch!”

“Flex your fingers, Flamebird. We’re dead if we lose the use of our hands.”

“Do you have an idea?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking.”

Batwoman tested her own limited range of movement and felt the tomato cage in which she was trapped shift slightly.

“We’ll die a lot faster if these cages fall over,” Flamebird pointed out, unable to keep the trepidation from her voice.

“Reaching our belts or my Bat Kit will be impossible,” Batwoman observed. “What about the tools in your glove, Flamebird?”

Flamebird repeatedly clenched her fists and straightened her fingers to keep the pins and needles sensation of oxygen deprivation at bay before drawing her fingers back along her arm. Her fingertips remained inches from the hilt of a knife that might enable her to escape, if she could draw it. “I . . . can’t . . . reach!”

“Stretch!” Batwoman urged, extending her own fingers, which remained inches away from their goal.

“It’s no good.” Flamebird wrenched her arms downward and gasped with pain. She felt her body relax and was surprised when she slipped downward infinitesimally. “The ropes will slide along the supports . . . a little.”

“That’s great!” Batwoman enthused. “Can you move your wrist bindings back along your arms?”

Hope sparked in Flamebird. “Maybe I can. That’s a good idea!” She thrust her arms forward and was immensely pleased as her arms shifted in her ropes. The tomato cage also shifted forward.

Batwoman had noticed similar responses to her own movements and stretched toward the knife in her glove. Her fingers were closer, but still short of the mark. “Are you having any luck, Flamebird?”

“I’m closer, but not there yet,” the younger heroine reported. “My cage shifted.”

“So did mine. The soil is softening. Unless we get out of here, we’ll start sinking soon.”

“Just as Poison Ivy planned,” Flamebird glumly said. “I can’t imagine she’s thought of everything.”

“Wait a minute, Flamebird,” Batwoman said, turning her head to look at her partner. “We can move these cages. What if we move them in a way Poison Ivy hasn’t anticipated?”

Flamebird turned her head to face her mentor and grinned. “If we make the cages lean toward each other . . . .”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely!” Flamebird enthusiastically agreed. “Come on.”

Both heroines wiggled experimentally until they learned how to shift their cages and both were soon leaning toward one another.

“That’s enough,” Batwoman said. “Can you reach my knife?”

“Just about,” Flamebird said. She stretched her fingers toward her mentor’s glove and gripped the hilt of the knife there. Slowly, with infinite care, she drew the blade. Until it was completely free of its sheath and the attractive athlete was sure of her grip, she held her breath, afraid Batwoman’s tool would slip through her fingers and all hope of escape would be lost. As the blonde beauty worked, she felt her own knife slide slowly from its sheath and knew the older heroine had busied herself with the same vital chore.

Seconds later, ropes fell from Batwoman and Flamebird’s wrists as their well-honed blades sliced quickly through their bonds. Quick slashes freed the heroines’ other hands.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Flamebird enthused as ropes fell from their chests.

“Hurry!” Batwoman urged, slashing through the restraints at her waist. “The cages are starting to sink!”

More ropes littered the mud around the heroines’ feet seconds later. The Distaff Duo then waded to the door through which Poison Ivy and her assistants had made their exit. Two splashes sounded as Batwoman and Flamebird stepped to the solid floor of the room leading to the indoor flower beds. “The cages fell over,” Flamebird said, glancing over her shoulder. “We got out of there just in time.”

“I agree,” Batwoman said. “Let’s see if Poison Ivy left any clues to her plans.”

Meanwhile, Batgirl shook her head, realizing she had been momentarily transfixed by the lethal cloud of gas beginning to fill the chimney around her.

Ordinarily, the numerous, miraculous items she carried around her waist in her utility belt would have made short work of the metal door through which her body had been carried into the chimney. Now, however, her golden, gadget-laden girdle was gone and Batgirl knew she had no chance to penetrate or move the formidable door with just the blades and lock picks concealed in her costume.

Looking down, Batgirl could not see her boots as the thickening veil of deadly mist covered them. She knew leaving the chimney the way she had entered would be impossible and she looked up, frowning at the bars across opening at the top. ‘Will the bars keep me trapped in here, even if I can somehow reach them?’

She pressed herself against the curved wall opposite the gas valve and began to consider how she might reach the overhead bars. The chimney was too narrow to throw a rope to the top, had she even had one. Batgirl turned around and slowly explored the wall of the chimney with her hands. “It’s completely smooth. I’ll never climb straight up,” she muttered.

The cloud of gas had reached her knees.

Batgirl once again looked up. “The only thing I have going for me is I am free to move around the base of the chimney.’ She pivoted and glanced around the chimney, thinking furiously, as the lethal gas inched its way up her thighs and surrounded her waist, climbing quickly.

‘I wish I could climb the wall like a spider,’ Batgirl thought. ‘I’ve got to climb out of here, but how?’

She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. ‘There has to be a way!’ she thought. ‘Criminals always overlook something!’ Batgirl’s mind raced.

The lethal cloud of gas surrounded her abdomen and was beginning to envelope her chest when her eyes snapped open. “One slim chance now,” Batgirl muttered. “Either my plan works, or I’m dead!”

She pushed away from the wall, keeping the palms of her hands pressed against it, and extended one leg until it reached the wall opposite her. “Thank Heaven!” she softly exclaimed. “Here I go.” Extending her other leg, she pressed her hands and feet against the chimney walls and held her position as the gas reached her neck.

She moved one leg upward and shifted a hand, pressing her limbs hard against the walls and moving an inch toward the top. ‘Can I remain strong enough to climb to the top of the chimney?’

She began climbing, slowly emerging completely from the gas. Taking a deep breath of as yet untainted air, her sense of relief grew as her slow climb continued, inching upward.

Her lips curled into a smile as she looked down at the swirling death following her up the chimney. ‘Can I stay ahead of that lethal cloud?’

Batgirl was some fifteen feet above the floor when she suddenly realized the toll her limited exposure to the gas had begun to take. Her head swam. ‘Stay still!’ her mind practically screamed. She hardened her muscles, remained motionless, and held her hands and feet firmly against the chimney walls. Once she was certain she would not fall, she exhaled, looked up, and took a deep breath of what she hoped would be fresh air.

“Keep going,” she muttered, shifting her weight and making her way up the chimney once again. ‘How fast is the gas rising?’

Batgirl slowly inched her way up the chimney, past the speaker and microphone she did not care whether Joker continued monitoring. She paused occasionally to rest and clear her head as best she could. These breaks were necessarily short, but crucial to conserving her ebbing strength. Falling from her present height would not only likely result in serious injury, but would literally land her in the gas cloud below.

‘If the fall doesn’t kill me, the gas will.’

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally came within reach of the overhead bars. She moved her right hand to grip one. As she did, she felt her left foot slip and realized, to her horror, in this single instant her body hung in midair!

Instinctively, she reached up with her left hand, examining the relative position of her hands and the overhead bars. The back of a hand slammed against a bar, and Batgirl closed all her fingers in order to grasp something—anything!

Desperately, she hoped her fingers would catch hold of a bar. A tremendous tug against one shoulder rewarded her efforts, nearly pulling her arm from its socket.

Concentration and her survival instinct kept her from letting go and falling. As her mind reviewed the events of the past few milliseconds, she turned her free hand and gripped the bar with it, easing the pain in her shoulder.

Breathing heavily, Batgirl hung from the chimney bars while she gathered her wits. Looking down, she saw the deadly gas was still rising below her. She let go of the bar with her left hand and reached for the bar behind it. In this manner, she retreated to one wall of the chimney, where she swung her legs and slid them between two bars, so she could hook her ankles around its neighbor and hang from her knees. To escape, she would need the use of her hands.

She examined the ends of the bars, which had been cemented into place much more recently than the chimney had been built. Batgirl knew she would need to loosen at least one bar in order to slip between them. She wrapped both hands around one bar and tried to shift it. The bar didn’t budge.

‘Chipping at the cement would be a waste of time,’ Batgirl thought. ‘My hacksaw will do the job, though.’ Minutes later, she had retrieved her blade from her glove and it was slowly cutting its way through the bar. As she worked, Batgirl looked down.

The deadly gas was being vented from the chimney. Batgirl grinned. “He thinks I’m dead and is pumping out the gas so he can examine my body.” Her cut was complete and she experimentally tried to shift the severed bar. It didn’t move. Thoughtfully, Batgirl began to cut through the other end of the damaged bar.

Below her, on the other side of the metal door, Joker; Harley Quinn; Queenie; Spade; Jack O’Shea; and Maria eagerly watched the indicator telling them how much gas remained in the chimney as the deadly contents receded.

“I’m sure you’ve done it, Joker,” Maria enthused. “She’s got to be dead by now.”

“Well, we’ll know soon enough,” Joker said philosophically. “Batgirl has the most amazing luck in these situations.”

“I know,’ Maria muttered, recalling her failed attempt to drown the Curved Crusader.

Joker continued, “She should have died years ago.”

“Tonight you’ve remedied that problem,” Queenie enthused, grinning.

“The chimney is empty now,” Spade said once the villains’ laughter had subsided, “except for the body, of course.”

Jack O’Shea frowned as he looked at the chimney door.

“Open it up,” Harley Quinn urged. “I want to see.”

Jack O’Shea looked up as Joker approached the door.

“Gather around, gang,’ the jovial Joker said. “Let’s feast our eyes on Batgirl’s breathless remains.” He laughed as he drew back the bolts securing the door. Seconds later, everyone stared as a metal bar clattered to the floor of the otherwise empty chimney. “It’s impossible!”

“Batgirl . . . is . . . gone!” Maria said.

“Where did she go?” Harley Quinn asked.

“Up the chimney,” Jack O’Shea replied.

“You knew!” Queenie accused. “You and your X-ray vision eyepiece!”

“I didn’t see her,” Jack O’Shea admitted, helplessly facing her angry gaze with widespread arms and upturned palms, “but I never imagined she would get past the bars.”

Joker stepped inside and looked up at the remaining bars across the top of the chimney.

“She knows we’re still here,” Harley Quinn said.

“We’d better go then,” Maria said.

“You’re both right,” Joker agreed. “We’ll retire to the boat until we pull the job this afternoon and you ladies can get some sun while the rest of us lay low below decks. Come on.” He led them out as they hurried from the abandoned oil refinery.

Above them, Batgirl slid down one of the guy wires attached to the chimney. She dropped to the street and hurried around the corner of the building just in time to see the tail lights of the Jokermobile and another car.

“Nothing to do now but search,” Batgirl muttered, angrily slamming her fist into her gloved hand. The subsequent search of the Katz, Katz, & Katz Oil Refinery yielded nothing but Batgirl’s utility belt. “Well, it’s a nice morning for a run,” she said as she stretched her legs, preparing to travel back to the KGC-TV studios on foot.

As Batgirl’s morning marathon began, the Distaff Duo’s exploration of Louie the Lilac’s defunct fragrance factory on Lavender Lane concluded, yielding nothing.

“It seems the only thing Ivy is using this place for is as a tomb for her enemies,” Flamebird said. “I sincerely hope we were her first intended victims.”

“Agreed,” Batwoman said. “We may have more work to do this morning, though. As I recall, Louie the Lilac has historically hidden out on or near Lavender Lane during his crime waves.”

“Like Lila’s Lilac Shop?” Flamebird asked, pointing to the lavender sign at lot number eleven. “That flower shop sponsored the tent where Ivy caught us.”

“Lila was one of Louie’s henchwomen,” Batwoman thoughtfully replied. “Let’s check it out, but be careful.”

They found the flower shop deserted and devoid of clues. “It’s a dead end!” Flamebird lamented, slamming her fist into her red-gloved hand.

“Maybe not,” Batwoman said. “I’ve read about Louie the Lilac cornering the flower market. At the time, he tried to recruit an army of flower children as followers and hid out at his own hothouse in a secluded greenhouse near his henchwoman’s business.”

“If you’re right, it would have to be big if Louie and Ivy are bringing all of the stolen flowers to one location,” Flamebird reasoned. Then she cheered up and enthused, “I’ll bet we could spot it easily from the air!”

“Good thinking, Flamebird. The Bat Gyros are still at the Gotham Garden Show, but we can bring them here by remote control within minutes.”

Nearby, as the Distaff Duo took to the air, the flowery fiend was presenting his ill gotten gains to his new, criminal mistress.

“Poison Ivy, your plan has yielded a small fortune and an entire habitat of gorgeous greenery,” Louie the Lilac said, gesturing with his cigar at a huge assortment of flowers and other plants surrounded heaps of more negotiable loot.

“Louie, you and your people have been magnificent. Your ‘contribution’ to the movement is exemplary.”

“Thank you,” Louie the Lilac gratefully said.

“I understand Max Chessman’s hotel empire offers money laundering for a fee,” Poison Ivy said.

“That’s true,” Louie said. “I’d be pleased to attend to all the details. They can also dispose of the items needing to be sold.”

“Is there anyone in particular with whom we would be dealing?” the redheaded rogue asked.

“A British woman named Toddi Thelms handles most of the types of transactions in which we need to engage,” Louie explained.

“Excellent,” Poison Ivy said. “We can test the pheromones I’ve developed for men to use on women. You’ll have a lovely time negotiating with Ms. Thelms and get a much more favorable price afterwards. I’m sure everyone will be quite satisfied.” The villainess smirked.

“It seems your campaign is getting off to a promising start,” Lotus observed in her precise, softly-spoken voice.

“I’ll say,” Louie the Lilac agreed the observation, using just his eyes to focus on each of his female companions in turn.

“Absolutely,” Lila added, nodding. “With the initial funds in place, the movement will certainly thrive.”

“Nothing will be able to stop us,” Poison Ivy crowed.

“I wouldn’t say that, Poison Ivy,” an authoritative, female voice said.

“You and Louie are through!” a second new voice agreed.

“Impossible!” Betsy exclaimed, staring incredulously at the newcomers.

“The Distaff Duo should be at least neck-deep in mud at the fragrance factory by now!” Nancy concurred.

“I have no idea how they did it,” Veronica began, “but Batwoman and Flamebird have escaped and tracked us down.”

“So it would seem,” Poison Ivy muttered. When the villainess raised her voice, she made no attempt to hide her irritation. “Don’t just stand there staring, girls! Get them!”

Betsy, Veronica, and Nancy charged toward the heroines, who leaped into the air and gripped dangling, overhead vines in other to swing forward and bowl over the oncoming trio.

“What are you two waiting for?” Poison Ivy demanded, regarding Louie the Lilac’s henchwomen.

Batwoman and Flamebird took no chances. They dropped to the floor and charged at Lotus and Lila.

Louie the Lilac’s purple-clad partner turned to flee seconds before Flamebird’s foot slammed into the center of the henchwoman’s back, knocking Lila flat. Lotus, meanwhile, sank into a crouch and raised her arms to challenge Batwoman.

The Brunette Bat blocked a punch and fired a fist at her attacker in response. Lotus blocked, retreating as Batwoman pursued.

Louie the Lilac made his way to a switch in the wall he reached up and grasped as he spotted Flamebird rushing toward him. She held a leather strap in each hand with two balls whirling on either end of both. The villain wrenched down on the switch as she flung the whirling balls at him. A heavy curtain of flowery vines instantly descended from the ceiling, hanging from the ceiling in almost the entire room behind Flamebird, as leather straps encircled the villain’s ankles and arms, holding them against his sides. The four balls orbited his body several times in opposite directions before they came to rest and held the strap in place. Louie the Lilac fell flat on his face.

“What are these things?” he demanded, struggling vainly.

“They’re bolas,” Flamebird revealed. “I discovered these ancient weapons do a wonderful job wrapping up crooks like you.”

Batwoman had leapt into the air as the flowery foliage fell onto her, knocking her to the ground along with Lotus. The combatants crawled toward one another and tried to rise so they could resume their fight. They had just reached one another and begun to gain their feet when the sound of an engine distracted them. Within seconds, they realized the vines were somehow being cut down. Batwoman slid forward and kicked Lotus toward the falling vines and smiled as they enveloped the Asian-American.

“Hey! What’s the big idea?” the henchwoman demanded.

“It wasn’t mine, but I think one of our remote-controlled Bat Gyros is being used to cut those vines down. Their weight should keep you right where I want you until the police arrive,” Batwoman explained.

“No!” Lotus cried in dismay as Batwoman snapped Batcuffs on her wrists.

“Oh, yes,” Flamebird said, grinning and stepping into view. Her hands were manipulating a remote control.

“Nice work, Flamebird.”

“Thanks, Batwoman. I know we got Louie and his ladies. I’m not sure about Poison Ivy and the others, though.”

“We’ll call Chief O’Hara and find out when they dig their way through Louie’s vines,” Batwoman said.

“So, these vile vines let the Queen of the Forest and her tree-huggin’ trio of henchwomen get away,” the Chief lamented.

“I think Louie and his girls were used to distract us, before the fight got into full swing,” Flamebird said. “It’s low of villains to use their supposed partners as dupes.”

“I’m sure we’ll see Poison Ivy again,” Batwoman said.

“She was planning to organize her eco-terrorist movement on a worldwide basis,” Flamebird recalled. “If she does, she’ll definitely turn up again.”

“Perhaps even sooner,” Batwoman said. “Our unexpected arrival cost Poison Ivy a lot of loot. Unfortunately, our knowledge of her plans to liquidate her ill gotten gains won’t help us catch her now.”

“Whenever Poison Ivy returns,” Flamebird confidently said, “we’ll be ready for her.”

“Speaking of readiness, don’t you have an event to attend today, Chief?” Batwoman asked.

“The charity event seems a little trivial with Poison Ivy still on the loose, but I am expected.”

The Distaff Duo nodded and took their leave as Chief O’Hara began supervising Louie the Lilac, Lila, and Lotus’ arrest.

Later, evil eyes observed the Gotham Amusement Pier, from a boat cruising toward it slowly enough to avoid leaving a wake.

“I’m having a great time on my vacation, Puddin’” Harley Quinn said. “We got a little sidetracked dealing with that worm, Don Wallace, but these heart-stopping, fast, boat rides; the huge cash withdrawal from the bank; picking up our helpers on those recruiting drives; cuddling at my place; shooting my new bazooka; and all the rest have made my time off so much fun I may never work again.”

“I’m delighted you’re having a good time, Harley.” Joker said. “After this job, I think we should do some traveling. Could this tub take us to Coast City if we pick up enough food; water; and other essentials for the trip, Maria?”

“No, but I can fuel up and get us somewhere where we can grab something bigger,” Maria suggested.

“What’s the problem with this boat?” Joker demanded.

“It’s too small to hold everything we’d need to get to the West Coast.”

“Don’t worry, Mister J,” Harley said. “I’ll blow any ship you want out of the water, unless they surrender.”

“We’ll want our getaway boat intact,” Queenie objected. “You know, Joker, now that I think about it, I never got the cruise ship you promised me.”

“Well, don’t worry, Queenie,” Joker advised. “With your share of what we’ve already stolen and what we stand to make on this job, you’ll be able to buy an entire fleet of cruise ships!” He laughed uproariously and gave the blonde in blue an encouraging squeeze. To keep her from feeling left out, he wrapped his free arm around Harley’s waist and did likewise.”

“I think our use of a boat is smart,” Spade said. “The cops won’t suspect it until it’s much too late.”

“We used the boat for the abortive exchange of the Warden and that guy Joker wanted,” Queenie pointed out. “The cops may be slow, but they’ll catch on eventually.”

“What gave you the idea of using this boat, Joker?” Jack O’Shea asked.

“We used a submarine shortly after I helped found United Underworld with some success, and we found this vessel just bobbing there among the waves at the Gotham Pier Amusement Park. Don’t you remember?” Joker asked rhetorically and went on. “Besides, I have such a pretty pilot helping me out.”

“Thanks, Joker.” Maria said, winking at him. “I have a few hidden assets offshore that may be of use to us after the job.”

“Splendid!” Joker enthused, laughing uproariously. “Personally, I have no objection to you keeping your assets prominently in view!”

Harley Quinn and Queenie elbowed their boss in the ribs.

“Will we be seeing United Underworld’s secret, island retreat, boss?” Jack O’Shea asked.

“I can’t take you there!” Joker protested. “If I did, its location would no longer be a secret!” The Joker laughed again. “Now, get ready to land and go to work.”

“It looks like we’re just in time,” Harley Quinn said, pointing. “They’re getting started.”

On shore, the ceremony was indeed starting. Bruce Wayne left Chief O’Hara’s side, stepped to a microphone, and shook the Commissioner’s hand. “Thank you for that flattering introduction, Commissioner,” the multi-billionaire and philanthropist said. “We who have the most have the greatest responsibility to give.” Applause interrupted the speaker. “It therefore gives me great pleasure to present this check to the Police Benevolent Society and I urge all of you to contribute as well.”

Two lines of contributors began streaming toward the stage. They began filling the charity collection boxes.

“Come on!” Harley urged from Joker’s hidden vantage point. “Let’s get the money!”

“Patience, my dear Harley, patience,” Joker said, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Let the charity gather the loot for us. With all these cops around, I don’t want to overstay our welcome.” He somehow managed to laugh quietly.

The lines of contributors continued to make donations. Finally, the Commissioner returned to the microphone. “Thank you all for your kind generosity. I’d like to invite you to enjoy the refreshments, rides, and games your police force has prepared for your enjoyment. Mister Wayne will be in the kissing booth in a very few minutes and I want to thank him once again for his time and generosity. Have a good time, Gotham City!”

“One moment, Commissioner,” a new voice happily bellowed. “I have an announcement!”

“What in the world?!” the Commissioner demanded as the Clown Prince of Crime bounded into sight. “Joker—”

“Good afternoon, friends! The Commissioner is right. It’s the Joker!” Joker said, gaining the stage and merrily laughing. “I wanted to address all of you to explain how your generous donations are being redirected into the Joker’s retirement fund, my favorite charity! I’d avoid interfering with the nice folks taking care of this business. I’d hate for almost any of you to be hurt unnecessarily. Oh, I know what you’re all thinking. Batman or one of his colleagues will be along to stop me any second now. Well, as you’ll soon see, my hand of players is quicker than the eyes and long arms of the law!”

“The joke is on you, Joker!” an authoritative, female voice loudly said. “You may have planned a fast job for this afternoon, but I have a feeling you’re about to serve a long stretch in prison!”

“Forget it, B-girl!” Harley Quinn cried before the Joker could respond. “Mister J will never surrender, and neither will I! Take this!” The curvaceous clown aimed her bazooka at the heroine and pulled the trigger.

Batgirl leaped aside and the projectile launched at her shot past its target, roared beyond the pier and slammed into the boat on which Maria waited! As the pretty pilot jumped overboard, a ball of flame engulfed the boat, which exploded and began to drift into Gotham Harbor.

“Oopsie!” Harley cried, horror-stricken. Instantly, she became angry, glaring at Batgirl. “Now look what you made me do!”

“Now you’ve done it, Batgirl!” Joker raged. “I’m not feeling at all charitable. Get her, everyone! We’ll utterly destroy her before we’re finished!” Inexplicably, he began to laugh.

Several police officers prepared to defend Batgirl.

“No!” she said, holding up a restraining hand as a thin smile curled her lips. “I’d much rather do this myself.”

The Joker, Harley Quinn, Spade, and Jack O’Shea rushed at Batgirl, while Queenie lingered at the fringe of the battle zone to watch. Maria, dripping wet, had climbed onto the pier and stood next to Queenie.

Batgirl first met Joker, whom she sidestepped and pounded with both fists. He collapsed at her feet with the wind knocked out of him.

Harley worked at getting off a second shot with her weapon as she ran toward Batgirl and was taken by surprise when Batgirl’s leg swept the curvaceous clown’s feet from beneath her. The bazooka hit the ground and skittered away from the combatants as Harley cursed.

Spade flung a pair of his spade-shaped bombs at Batgirl, who caught the first as she dodged the second. The one she did not catch detonated as Joker and Harley rose to a crouch and the shock wave knocked them both down again. Spade landed on the ground a second later, launched by one of Batgirl’s showgirl high kicks.

Jack O’Shea caught the fist Batgirl launched at him and seized the inside of her opposite elbow to keep her from attacking her with her other hand. “Now I’ve got you, Batgirl, and I’m going to cut you in half!” As he spoke, Batgirl’s eyes widened as the eyepiece the thug wore began to glow.

Batgirl stepped back and was dismayed when Jack O’Shea moved forward, maintaining his grip. She took another step back, drawing the crooked columnist forward, as she raised her knee and turned her hip. Jack O’Shea doubled over and fell face first to the ground after Batgirl’s foot slammed into his breadbasket and his grip on the heroine weakened.

Before he could recover, a purple hand tore the weapon from his eye and attached it with a Batmagnet to the bomb Batgirl had caught. “No!” Jack O’Shea shouted as his weapon and Spade’s explosive were thrown straight into the air before being consumed in a small fireball.

“Jack and Spade have been disarmed,” Maria observed. “It may be time to go.”

“Not yet, Maria,” Queenie said. “All the men’s failure means is that the job of taking care of Batgirl has fallen to me!” Maria grinned as Queenie aimed her wrist blades at the heroine.

“Batgirl! Look out!” someone shouted, as Queenie let her blades fly.

The Curved Crusader turned toward the voice that had warned her of the attack and spotted the approaching missiles. Instinctively, she turned her head and the flying knives passed her on either side, burying themselves harmlessly in a billboard a few yards behind her.

“Missed!” Queenie fumed. “I need more knives.” Before she could make a move to retrieve the knives she had already launched, a Batarang hit the back of her head and dropped her to the ground, unconscious.

Maria spun and ran, prompting Batgirl to go after her.

The pair pounded along the amusement pier until Maria tripped and pitched forward with a curse. She caught herself with her outstretched arms and looked up to see a policewoman looming over her. The officer had knelt over the fallen henchwoman by the time Batgirl reached them. “I’ll take care of her, Batgirl,” the officer said. “Go get the rest of those crooks.”

“Thank you, officer,” Batgirl said, nodding. She turned and ran back the way she had come without closely examining the woman in uniform.

The policewoman grinned and put a finger to her lips as Batgirl turned away. “Sucker,” she murmured, helping Maria to her feet. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you out of here.”

Joker, Harley Quinn, Spade and Jack O’Shea had recovered as Batgirl returned to the scene of the fight. “Let’s try this again,” the Clown Prince of Crime suggested. “Get her this time!”

Spade and Jack O’Shea charged at Batgirl once again and were surprised when she leaped into the air seconds before they reached her. Even more surprising was the way each of her feet slammed into their chins as their gaze followed her upward progress. Both men were launched into the air and thrown backward. Both hit the ground and were promptly seized by policemen.

Joker and Harley Quinn glanced at one another and turned, fleeing while Batgirl landed on the ground and rushed after them. The fleeing felons darted and ducked their way through the crowd and raced between rides and attractions with Batgirl pounding after them, gaining by the second.

Joker hurriedly led the way around a corner and realized he had turned into a blind alley. Batgirl appeared and hurried toward them.

“What do we do now?” Harley Quinn fearfully asked.

“Come on!” Joker urged breathlessly, wrenching the “Out” door to one attraction open after a moment.

“Okay,” Harley Quinn said. “I’m right behind you.” They burst into an empty, circular chamber in which no light glimmered.

“Batgirl may not notice us in here,” Joker said quietly.

“I don’t think she followed us into the ride area,” Harley Quinn said. “Say, what ride is this, anyway?”

“It’s the rotor,” Batgirl’s voice could clearly be heard to say as lights blazed and the chamber into which Joker and Harley Quinn had hidden began to spin.

“Harley, we’ve got to get out of here!” Joker urged.

“I don’t think we can,” she replied, stumbling against her companion and embracing him as their bodies pressed against the wall and one another. The chamber was spinning more rapidly.

“Harley!” the Joker shouted. “Now is really not the time!”

“I can’t help it!” his pretty paramour protested.

“Let me explain,” Batgirl sweetly offered. “The chamber in which you find yourselves will spin more quickly with each revolution, at least until it reaches its maximum speed. The gravity-like force the spinning chamber will slowly generate should hold both of you in place until the police are ready for you . . . or until I get tired of watching.”

“You’re very cruel, Batgirl!” Joker accused.

“Not nearly as cruel as you’ve been in the past, Joker! You once had me in a similar situation and left me after explaining I’d be crushed into pudding. I won’t let this process go quite that far.”

Harley’s body was drawn more closely against the Joker’s as the rotor went on spinning. “This might not be too bad, Mister J,” Harley Quinn consoled. “At least we’re together.”

“We’re going to be arrested, woman!”

“Well,” Harley Quinn began philosophically, “it could be worse.” She hesitated. “Couldn’t it?”

“I’ll get you for this, Batgirl!” Joker raged. “You have not heard the last of me!”

“I hope you two enjoy the ride,’ Batgirl said. “It’s been fun, but I guess I’ll go report your position to the police. Bye bye.” Before either cornered criminal could respond, Batgirl was gone.

“You enjoyed that,” Lieutenant Mooney accused after Batgirl emerged from the enclosed area surrounding the rotor. “Didn’t you?”

“Naturally,” Batgirl admitted. “They’ll be a little dizzy when you arrest them, but they won’t suffer anything much more serious.”

“You know, maybe posting a couple of officers to guard them while the rotor holds them in place would be a good idea,” the lovely Lieutenant thoughtfully said. “We have the rest of Joker’s gang to arrest and some crowd control to which to attend.” The two friends grinned at one another. “I haven’t really had the chance to properly thank the Joker for trying to kill us.”

“Lieutenant, are you being vindictive?” Batgirl asked, raising an eyebrow behind her cowl.

“No more so than you,” Mooney sweetly replied.

Batgirl’s laughter was infectious and the policewoman was soon smiling and chuckling as well.

Inside the rotor, Harley Quinn and the Joker remained immobilized, pressed together against the wall as their makeshift prison continued spinning.

As Joker and Harley Quinn were finally taken away, Maria regarded the single, female officer who had taken her into custody from the back of the police car where she sat as it passed Police Headquarters without checking its speed.

“This might be a stupid question,” Maria apologetically began, leaning forward and studying the driver in the rearview mirror, “but, where are we going?”

“We need to talk,” the officer said, parking the car beside a fire hydrant across the street from a doughnut shop. “First, however, I have something to show you.” As the officer spoke, she tossed her cap aside before removing a wig and shaking her red hair out so it flowed freely over her shoulders.

“Well,” Maria said, regarding her rescuer with a thin smile. “I appreciate your saving me from what would likely be a lengthy stay in prison—”

“You’d have been dead by this time tomorrow. Certain parties have people waiting for you. I’m afraid they and their employers will be rather disappointed.”

“You’re not serious?”

“You’re smart enough to know certain businesspeople don’t like to take chances,” the faux policewoman replied, her face transforming into an impassive mask.

Maria nodded.

“I can keep you safe.”

“I can’t afford you for the rest of my life. Don’t misunderstand. I appreciate your consideration and interest in keeping me safe, but if you’re really serious about being my bodyguard, we have to leave town right now!”

“I represent a man who will insist you stay in Gotham City. This point is not negotiable.”

“What?” Maria’s eyes grew wide. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m not the one who has been working for the Joker lately.”

“Maybe you should tell me for whom you are working,” Maria said. “For that matter, I don’t even know who you are.”

“I worked with Bookworm when he stole a number of priceless engravings after tunneling into the vault where they were kept. The cover for that elaborate operation was a front organization called the Red Headed League.”

“You don’t work for Bookworm now. He’s in jail,” Maria said. She remained silent, thinking for a moment. “Nevertheless, you offered to protect me if I stay in Gotham City after you tell me I have a target between my shoulder blades.”

“I have a lucrative idea that requires proximity to Gotham City. I’ll get you out of town, but we’ll remain close.” Maria’s hands clawed at the door handles and realized she was locked in the car. “Besides, you’d be dead inside a week if you tried to take off now.”

“Probably inside a minute if someone hired you.”

The redhead smiled. “Despite the fact each of your fingers, both of your eyes, and certain of your possessions could be used to identify the body, I think you could make the man I represent, me, and yourself a lot more money walking and breathing.”

“Killing me and identifying my remains for several ‘clients’ would be unethical.”

“True,” the other woman agreed. “It would, however, be exceedingly profitable, if I were to choose to do such work.”

“For whom are you working and who are you?” Maria reiterated.

“My name is Irene and my employer will make you what I think will be a fantastically lucrative offer.”

Maria leaned back and folded her arms. “Since you leave me no choice but to listen, tell me what you have in mind.”

“Hey. Don’t shoot the messenger. My employer wants to buy your memoirs and then sell them to the parties they discuss, page by page.”

“I haven’t written my memoirs, but you, and probably your boss, are right. I know a lot about people who would prefer their affairs remain . . . private.”

“I know.” Irene grinned at her passenger wolfishly. “My employer will ask for forty percent in exchange for keeping you around long enough to write the book and ‘marketing’ the text. Once everything is sold, the parties who would be more comfortable with you out of the way would know what historical matters would need to be dealt with to neutralize the threat you represent, a splendid reason to buy what we’ll be selling.”

“You want forty percent?!”

“My employer will point out the idea of writing the book at all wasn’t yours,” Irene replied.

“How about—”

“How about considering how long you’d last on your own trying to market your memoirs yourself? Without help, you’re dead! I’d say forty percent is cheap!”

“Maybe you’re right. Will you read what I write?”

“Of course. So will my employer. He knows a lot about the Gotham City underworld and the figures that populate it. Your memoirs will only expand that knowledge.” Irene’s eyes sparkled as she went on, “Your network is a resource, and if it were to remain intact and exclusively available to only a few select parties, its value would be incalculable."

“You and your employer, whoever he is, would be getting plenty out of our arrangement,” Maria pointed out.

“I do not represent a charity, and you would stay alive in the short term while making enough money to really enjoy your golden years, in the lap of luxury.” Irene held Maria’s gaze for a long silent moment, smiling engagingly. “Listen, Maria, I’m prepared to make you a very rich woman if you choose to work with me. Think about this carefully. The proposal is a win-win.”

“Let’s imagine I accept. What will you do?”

“I’ll drive us to the highway and pull over some innocent citizen whose car we can use for awhile. This police car has its uses, but it’s very conspicuous,” Irene explained. “After that, I’ll introduce you to my boss.”

Maria laughed. “So, I stay alive, get rich, meet your boss and watch you work. Let’s go.”

“You’ve made a wise decision, Maria.” As the redhead spoke, she pulled the car into traffic.

Back to Batgirl Bat-Trap stories

Back to the Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage!