Proceeds Without Reservation

The thugs assigned to murder Don Wallace and Batgirl were silent as their boat quietly moved toward its destination, and Batgirl welcomed the silence. Her mind had been active since she realized the nature of the killers’ deadly assignment and their ignorance offered her hope. ‘Since the men are not gloating over us, it’s reasonably certain neither Don Wallace nor I am considered a real threat,’ she thought. ‘In fact, we both probably seem utterly helpless, and being underestimated suites me just fine!’

Of course, on the other hand, she realized the thugs’ inattentiveness might have been justified. Death clearly beckoned. At the moment, she could not think of a single thing to prevent its coming. The Grim Reaper loomed, casting his dark, inescapable shadow, and he would never be closer than when the dark waters of Gotham Harbor closed above her head.

Barbara Gordon had known when she took up fighting crime as Batgirl she might one day go up against a villain and not come back. Of course, she had imagined she would be more likely to die at the hands of a super-criminal like the Joker than an avaricious tavern wench who had enjoyed some success after ruthlessly acting upon her ambitions.

‘How much time do I have before the end? More importantly, how can I effectively use that time?’

Unlike most supervillains, Maria’s men had left Batgirl her utility belt. The heroine’s gloved fingers had stretched toward the hilt of a blade she carried among the wonders encircling her waist the second she had been aware of her predicament.

Moving her hands was far from comfortable and the pins and needles sensation of oxygen deprivation had only gotten worse while she had slowly drawn her well-honed tool from its place and turned the blade against her bonds. Then, as she had spoken to Maria, she had slid the sharpened edge of the knife slowly back and forth across her bindings. As the boat moved through the water and the rope was slowly severed, Batgirl was conscious of the rise and fall of her chest and that she was sweating despite the temperature and the open boat.

Her breathing seemed to keep time with both the movement of Batgirl’s blade and the sound of the oars as she and Don Wallace were drawn inexorably toward their destination and perhaps their doom. They, like the men who had been assigned to kill them, remained silent. Don was unconscious and wore nothing but a pair of spandex shorts. He could do little more than shiver, and Batgirl had no desire to draw attention to her ongoing efforts toward escape. Their means of travel was relatively quiet, and without lights in the darkness, their small boat would be less likely to be suspected of criminal activity than perhaps to be seen at all.

‘Commotion,’ Batgirl reasoned, ‘would be pointless.’ Unlike Don Wallace, Batgirl’s gag had been removed. She was free to yell, scream, and draw attention to her plight. Yet, she had no idea who, besides the crooks assigned to kill her, would hear her cries for help. She was, however, certain it would take her captors mere seconds to soundlessly lower their victims into the sea.

Beside Batgirl, Don Wallace became conscious. He twitched, gasped, and began to struggle fruitlessly in his bonds. The men escorting the captives laughed. “Don’t worry, Don. It will all be over soon,” the unoccupied thug said.

“Shut up,” the man on the oars said. “You’ll be rowing us back.”

“No problem,” the first speaker said. “The load will be lighter.” He looked around in the dark. “How close are we?”

“Not far,” the oarsman replied.

“Why don’t we just dump them here. Who’s to know?”

“You heard what Maria said. I want to do the best I can to follow her instructions.”

“You are a brown-noser.”

“Maybe, but I also know how Maria operates when she is unhappy. Look at what we’re doing right now. Do you want to be a ‘passenger’ on one of these trips?” Batgirl could not see the thugs’ expressions as they briefly regarded their intended victims.

“I don’t want to be part of the crew when it’s this cold.”

Don Wallace remained motionless, and Batgirl continued working slowly at her bonds with her knife. Her ropes had not yet completely severed when the pilot shipped his oars. “This should do it,” he said.

“It’s time to send our guests for their little swim,” the thug who had not yet rowed said, laughing.

“Okay. Let’s do this right. There’s no need for a splash.”

“No problem. Who’s first?”

“Batgirl,” the pilot replied. “Politeness demands we attend to ladies first.”

“I thought you had no sense of humor,” his partner observed. “You know, I just thought of something. We don’t have to kill her right away.”

“You want to waste time untying and retying Batgirl?”

“I’m not convinced the time in between would be wasted. Look at her. We could have a good time.”

“Guys like you are why she has been so successful fighting crime – previously. Come on. Help me pick her up.”

Silently the men lifted Batgirl by her knees and shoulders as her knife continued cutting at her bonds, apparently unseen. She was hoisted over the side of the boat and gently lowered the short distance to the surface of the water. They held her for just a moment, letting the water lap briefly at her breasts. Batgirl knew she might have been given her last chance to inhale—ever!

“I’m sure you’ll find the water just fine, Batgirl,” the pilot could not resist saying.

The other chimed in quickly, “Anchors away, Bat-Babe.”

Suddenly, the men let go and the dark waters of Gotham Harbor swallowed her. The cinder block centered over her spine drew her down rapidly.

While Batgirl judged herself to be calm, relatively speaking, the comforting sensation of something solid beneath her feet had been replaced by the terrifyingly real, sinking sensation of the cinder block doing its deadly work.

The world beneath the waves was a stark contrast to the world above. Batgirl’s surroundings became utterly devoid of both light and the welcome, invisible caress of the cool, night breeze. Above the sea, one could inhale deeply and let out a slow breath to calm jangled nerves. Now, there was only water around her and she knew giving in to the temptation to exhale would hasten death.

Water soaked Batgirl’s bonds seconds after enveloping her, drawing them even more closely against her limbs. She drew back the knife one final time, letting it cut infinitesimally deeper into her bindings, weakening them further. She had no time to continue that work because of its glacial pace. The cinder block was, after all, drawing her body closer to the bottom of the harbor with each passing second. She balled her fists and hardened her arm muscles before viciously wrenching her wrists apart.

Any sound made by the ropes snapping was muffled by the water in her ears under her cowl. Despite Batgirl instinctively spreading her limbs as her bonds floated away, her rapid descent toward the bottom of Gotham Harbor continued.

‘Why?’ Batgirl wondered.

Instantly, she knew.

‘The cinder block is still centered on my back!’

She rolled over in the water, suddenly seeming suspended while the cinder block went on sinking, falling away from her as quickly as her body had been descending.

Now free, Batgirl had Don Wallace to think about before considering the capture of the small boat and the men who might still earn credit for her death. She put away her knife before her legs churned beneath her and her arms swept along her sides, drawing her upward through the silent, murky water. As she ascended, she watched for a falling object that would be Don Wallace’s weighted body.

There was no telling if he had been lowered into the water where she had been, or whether he had been lowered over the other side of the boat. She could also not be certain the killers had gone about the remainder of their murderous work immediately. Finally, in the murky depths of Gotham Harbor, there was no guarantee she would even see Don’s body as it descended to a watery grave.

A muffled cry, however, drew Batgirl’s attention to something descending rapidly toward her. She just had time to inhale a breath from a canister of compressed air and pull her knife again before the shape fell past.

Batgirl reached down . . . and caught a man’s collar. The weight dragging Don Wallace to his doom pulled her lower in the water as well.

Now, however, she could cut with her entire blade and work from above the ropes, so gravity worked for her. It still took her a full minute to cut Don Wallace free. Then she began pulling him toward the surface of the water and released him from his gag.

Don Wallace coughed as his head broke the surface of the water. Batgirl supported him and pulled another item from her utility belt. “Hold onto this, Don,” she said. “I’m going to see two thugs about a boat.”

“What . . . is this?” he asked between coughs.

“It’s a self-inflating Bat-float,” Batgirl said. “Don’t let go of it.” Seconds later, Don Wallace rested, sprawled on a central, spring-loaded, frame kept above the water due to a pair of inflated floats resembling bat wings. Meanwhile, the Curved Crusader struck out in the direction of her would-be killers’ receding oars.

She swam silently toward the boat and climbed aboard smoothly before the occupants were fully aware of her presence. The unoccupied thug, the original oarsman, turned in time to see the sole of Batgirl’s boot slam into his nose, knocking him to the bottom of the boat. The new rower, who was more aware of Batgirl’s presence, scrambled toward her as she gained the central seat and unleashed a showgirl kick.

Batgirl’s tactics were hardly a secret after years of successful crimefighting, so it was not a surprise the man expected her kick. He dove beneath her leg and tackled the heroine, toppling her onto his fallen comrade.

Batgirl poised her elbows to impact her initial victim’s chest as she landed on him. She immediately slammed his head against one of the boat’s seats before rolling over to see the other man coming for her.

She scooted back to balance on the balls of her feet as she crouched low, waiting. Batgirl curled her fingers, beckoning her attacker, who threw a punch at her. She hammered the blow aside with the side of her forearm and gripped his outstretched wrist. Her free arm followed the hand that had taken the man’s wrist and slammed into the man’s nose. The force of the blow knocked him back against the gunwales.

A labored breath behind her made Batgirl turn before she ducked instinctively beneath a blow. An elbow and her cloth-covered knuckles impacted the man who had just lunged forward, knocking him back once again.

As Batgirl’s attention returned to the man closer to the boat’s stern, she realized he had taken up an oar, which he swung viciously toward her. She leaped high into the air and unleashed another of her famous high kicks. This one impacted the man’s chin and sent him back, over the stern of the boat and into the water with a mighty splash.

“You’re dead, Batgirl!” the man still in the boat said.

“If you’re right, you should be very afraid,” Batgirl said.

“Not as long as I can take care of you myself,” he said, lunging. Batgirl sidestepped and slammed both hands into the small of the man’s back as he passed. He cried out in pain as he, too, plunged over the side and into the water.

Instantly, the second thug began to thrash in the water. “Glub! Help me!” he cried. “I can’t swim!”

“You expect me to fall for that one?” Batgirl asked incredulously.

“No!” The man cried, panic-stricken. “Blub . . . it’s true!”

The sound of the man’s voice convinced Batgirl of his veracity – in this instance, at least. “Reach toward me,” Batgirl she said, extending an arm. “I’ll pull you back into the boat.”

The terrified thug thrashed until Batgirl found a grip on his arm. Unceremoniously, she pulled him aboard and handcuffed him immediately.

Seconds later, Batgirl was crouched at the side of the boat, scanning the water for the goon armed with the oar. He swung his weapon at her the second she spotted him. “I’m going to get you, Batgirl!” he called. Batgirl reached out, took hold of the oar and twisted it viciously. The hapless man let go of it with an agonized scream.

“That wasn’t nice,” Batgirl said. “I don’t respond well to threats.” She smiled at him as he looked up at her.

“Come on!” he yelled as he treaded water. “I’m not afraid of you!”

“Do you seriously expect me to leap into the water and fight you?” the Curved Crusader asked. “Forget it!”

As the thug considered her response to his challenge, Batgirl leaned forward and seized his head, before shoving it beneath the water and holding it down.

When she pulled him up, he was coughing. “Dealing with you from the safety of the boat seems a lot smarter. Now, are you sure you aren’t afraid of me?” Batgirl sweetly asked.

The man’s response was an unflattering description of Batgirl, which caused her to shove his head below the water once again.

The man was coughing again when his head broke the surface. “Give up!” Batgirl commanded. “I won’t get tired of doing this.” Before he could respond, she dunked him again.

“All right,” the man sputtered, moments later, panic-stricken. “I give up!" Batgirl pulled him into the boat and dropped him unceremoniously to the bottom before handcuffing him. It did not take her long to locate Don Wallace and help him aboard.

“You got ‘em!” he said, happily.

“Would you mind taking the oars?” Batgirl asked. “I need to speak to our would-be killers.”

“No problem,” the man said, taking the oars and beginning to row toward shore. "I hope the exercise will warm me up!"

“Thank you, Don,” Batgirl said. As they began moving through the water, she pulled something from the back of her belt, activated a switch, and dropped it into the sea. Then, she moved forward to make herself comfortable in the seat where she could watch the captives. “Listen guys, you’ve just made a big mistake. Someone is going to be very upset Don and I remain alive and I’ll bet they’ll want to do more than just talk to you about your failure.”

“Why are you rubbing it in our faces?” the man who could swim asked.

“I want to convince you there is a way to improve your position. Maria isn’t going to get away with ordering our deaths, but the District Attorney would appreciate some extra witnesses.”

“You think we’d rat on her?” the non-swimmer wanted to know.

“I think it would be in your best interest. The police can offer protection and, if it proves necessary, the federal government might give you new identities.”

“We’ll think it over, Batgirl,” the man Batgirl had saved answered.

“I hope you do,” she said seriously. “I don’t think Maria is the only one behind the murders you tried to commit tonight. I think you have a couple of much bigger problems than her. The question you should be asking is, whether you want help taking them on.”

“What are you talking about?” the swimmer asked.

“I came to the bar looking for the Joker and Maria probably let him know. It’s also a very good bet they discussed sending me to a watery grave . . . and, of course, you saw that Harley Quinn, the Joker’s current girl, was involved.”

“Are you saying . . . the Joker will be after us?” the second man fearfully asked.

“It’s a distinct possibility,” Batgirl replied. “I think you would agree he is aware I was to be killed. Maria would not have given you the job unless Joker had agreed to let her go through with her plan.”

“How can you know all this?” the newer criminal oarsman asked.

“Shut up! She’s just trying to rattle us,” his partner snapped.

“Hey, I could be all wrong,” Batgirl said. “Just think about what I said.”

“The Joker was trying to recruit men at the bar today,” the lead criminal muttered.

“I don’t want him after me,” the other man said. “He’s nuts.”

“That’s right,” Batgirl said quietly. “He is . . . and so’s his girlfriend.”

The Curved Crusader turned her back on her prisoners and took out her cell phone. She did not speak to the men again.

“This is Lieutenant Diana Mooney,” a voice said in response to Batgirl’s call.

“Hi, Diana. This is Batgirl.”

“This is an unexpected pleasure. What’s up?”

“Plenty,” Batgirl answered. “You know the Joker is loose?”

“Yes. So is Poison Ivy.”

“Again!?” Batgirl asked, incredulously. “So soon? How did she get out already?”

“We discovered a few of her henchwomen’s guards had taken the ladies’ places in their cells overnight while the guards on the main gate seem to have taken Ivy and her helpers home in the morning. We followed up and found the missing guards, but the crooks were long gone. All of Ivy’s victims were utterly exhausted.”

“Strange.”

“Chief O’Hara described the situation a little differently. Now, how can I help you late this Saturday night?”

“I’ve been chasing Joker and learned he tried to do some recruiting this afternoon at Ye Olde Benbow Taverne. Maria, the woman who runs the place, took exception to my asking questions and to one patron answering them. She and Harley Quinn – oh, by the way, let everyone know Doctor Harleen Quinzel can no longer be trusted – arranged a potentially fatal boat ride and swim for both of us.”

“Are you all right?”

“We’re both fine, but she let on she’s gotten rid of at least one person this way before. I left my tracer in the bay near where I think you’ll find the body.”

“I’ll drag the bay. Will I find the woman at the bar if we catch anything?”

“You might. I’m on my way back to Benbow’s now, but you’ll probably beat me there. I’m in a rowboat.”

“Do you want to talk to her?”

“She’s my best lead as to the Joker’s whereabouts.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ve wanted to put that bar out of business for years. I’ll see you soon, when my squad cleans it up once and for all.”

“I’m looking forward to watching you work.”

“Then I’ll bring my broom, just for you,” the Lieutenant replied, laughing.

“Great! Bye.”

Batgirl’s summons brought the police to Ye Olde Benbow Taverne in force. Their presence was obvious from a great distance.

“I really stepped in it today,” Don Wallace grumbled, pulling back on the oars.

“None of what happened to you is your fault, Don,” Batgirl assured him, facing him with an earnest, serious look.

“Listen, Batgirl. I’m no angel and you’ve been absolutely great. What am I saying? I owe you my life!” He paused, hanging his head momentarily. “Anyway, I put myself in a position where bad things could easily happen and guess what? Bad things happened. In a way, I asked for it.”

“I don’t think I can completely agree,” Batgirl declared. “You’re looking at the situation in exactly the way those crooks want you to see it.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m probably through in Gotham City. Maria won’t forget how you and I have helped each other. Anger doesn’t begin to describe her feelings about you and me.”

“Maria will be in jail by morning, and she’ll have lost a great deal of respect in the circles where she moved.”

“What do you mean?”

“She tried to kill us and failed,” Batgirl explained. “Our survival could easily cause problems that could keep her far too busy to worry about petty revenge against you. She may be lucky to be incarcerated.”

“Wait a minute! You think the Joker told her to kill us? You’ve been talking about him ever since you picked me up.”

“I’m almost certain Joker discussed our demise with Maria and left the details to her. Harley Quinn’s presence at our sendoff proves it. In fact, I think you’d better let me make sure you get home safely.”

“Any guy would be a fool to decline that offer,” Don Wallace said, laughing. “Maybe my luck is turning around tonight. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Batgirl said, grinning at him. “You do understand I’m concerned about your safety . . . just like I am of every citizen.”

“Of course I do,” Don said. “I just realized our little swim ruined the artwork Miss Quinn did on me this afternoon. I can’t complain about my appearance, under the circumstances. My hair looks normal. It’s just wet. That fact is so great!”

Batgirl and Don Wallace were both grinning as their boat slid into place beside the pier, where Lieutenant Diana Mooney waited for them.

“How did it go?” Batgirl asked, as officers secured the boat, helped them to the pier, and wrapped a grateful Don Wallace with a warm blanket.

“Well, a crew is on its way to drag the harbor near your signal. As for the bar, we arrested almost all the patrons and staff on various charges, but found no sign of Harley Quinn or Maria.”

“That’s too bad,” Batgirl said. “Maria gave the instructions facilitating our midnight swim.”

“So, will being all wet now be an important part of your ongoing fashion statement?”

Batgirl could not keep from smiling. She and her friend often discussed the form-fitting features of her crimefighting attire and the subject was a running joke they shared. “You know, the material dries quickly,” Batgirl replied.

Until it did, however, she had to admit her costume fit like a second skin, adhering more closely than usual to all of her comely curves. The material was designed to wick moisture away from her body and it had been performing impressively so far. She was pleased to be aware of the warmth building within her from the core of her body and creeping slowly toward her extremities.

The policewoman had learned about Batgirl’s costume’s special characteristics after the Riddler had arranged to submerge both of them in boiling water. Batgirl had been grateful for her friend’s presence on that occasion, but felt a little guilty about drawing her occasional partner into the deadly dangers she routinely faced.

Lieutenant Mooney’s next observation brought Batgirl’s thoughts back to the current case. “It looks like you have more prisoners for me.”

“I do,” Batgirl said, indicating the two thugs. “These men took Mister Don Wallace and me for our swim. They didn’t plan for us to leave the water, ever.”

Two uniformed officers took custody of the handcuffed men.

“This is Mister Wallace. Don, this is my friend, Lieutenant Diana Mooney.”

“Good evening, ma’am,” Don Wallace said, extending his hand.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Don. We only have a few formalities to which to attend,” Lieutenant Mooney said, shaking the man’s hand. Within the next half hour, Batgirl gave her friend a statement, as did Don Wallace.

“Well, you’ve had a busy night so far,” Lieutenant Mooney told her friend, pointing out the Batgirlcycle and Don’s car before explaining where the vehicles had been found. “What’s your next move?”

“I’d better get Don safely home,” Batgirl replied. “I’ll pick up Joker’s trail in the morning, unless he provides me with another clue tonight.”

Batgirl followed Don Wallace as he drove to the nearest Harbor Light Motor Lodge. She then accompanied him as he entered the lobby. Quietly, he explained, “The Joker’s girl, Miss Quinn, stole my key, but the clerk should have a duplicate.” He rang a bell on the counter.

“Where is the clerk, I wonder?” Batgirl asked, after she, too, received no response to the bell.

“Now what do we do?” Don asked, looking around.

“What’s your room number?” Batgirl asked. Upon being told, she vaulted over the counter, picked the top magnetic key card from a pile and, after making a connection to a port on her utility belt, pushed some buttons on the key coder.

“I didn’t know you could do that, Batgirl,” Don said.

“This should do the trick,” she announced, grinning. As she handed the key to Don, she hesitated. “I wonder what happened to the desk clerk. He or she should have been available to take care of your missing room key.”

“He’s probably helping another guest with their luggage or something.” Don Wallace replied. “Come on.”

“I hope,” Batgirl skeptically said. She could only shrug, return to the customer side of the front desk, and follow as Don Wallace led the way to his room and unlocked the door.

“Relax, Batgirl,” Don Wallace said as he led the way inside. “Can I offer you a drink? That water was cold and I bought a bottle that might help chase away the chill.”

Batgirl did not have time to politely decline. Just inside, a wrapped, rectangular box entwined with an ornamental ribbon tied into a decorative bow waited.

Don Wallace hurried toward it and bent forward, reaching for the ribbon. “I wonder what this is.”

“Don, no! Wait!”

Don Wallace, however, did not wait. He tugged at the package’s ribbons.

“It could be–”

Batgirl’s warning was too late! A colored plume of smoke burst from the ornately decorated box. Don Wallace inhaled involuntarily, coughed, collapsed, and remained still after going unconscious.

“—a trap!” Batgirl finished saying, as she crouched over him and reached for a Batgirl Antidote Pill.

Suddenly, she felt an arm wind around her throat and stiffened instinctively. The arm was sheathed in a red sleeve with a white, frilled cuff. A black glove extended from the cuff and matched the diamond displayed on the shoulder of the sleeve.

“Harley Quinn, I presume,” Batgirl said, her voice expressing her surprise at not being choked.

“We meet again,” Harley said. “I’m a little surprised, because you should be dead, but since you ain’t . . . .”

The black-gloved hand slid slowly downward over the contours of Batgirl’s chest, lovingly stroking the heroine, who remained clasped against the other woman’s body. Batgirl, outraged, cried, “What are you doing?!”

“You’re right, B-girl,” Harley Quinn said, chuckling in the heroine’s ear. “It was a trap, and I’m delighted you fell into it, too. It’s also nice of you to remember me.”

“It’s hard to forget a piece of work like you!” Batgirl declared. “You took a job to study the Joker and try to help him, perhaps to cure him. When Joker figured out your agenda, he drew you into his service with drugs. Then you went on a crime spree of your own. You kidnapped Joker’s disloyal former molls and helped him try to kill them."

“You got a point to make?”

“I sympathized with you then, because I know what it's like to be under the influence of Cataphrenic. Now, though, I learn you’ve come to like being evil! Worst of all, you’re the Joker’s doctor! Encouraging murderous behavior in your patient is counterproductive, unethical, and totally irresponsible!”

“Who are you to judge my professional ethics?” Harley Quinn tartly demanded. “I had my reasons. Working with Mister J puts my mind in perfect balance. I originally thought the drug was the cause, but I’ve realized, through rigorous self-analysis, Joker does it for me, all by himself. Our relationship is both symbiotic and cathartic, in several ways.”

“Oh, I’ll just bet it is!” Batgirl sarcastically said. “Look at you right now. You’re extra insane if you think you’re Joker’s partner. You’re his errand girl! I’m sure he also thinks of you as his bimbo, and you probably know that perfectly well! Do you mind? I doubt it! He’s ‘cathartic,’ and you’re pathetic!”

“We are partners!” Harley Quinn angrily insisted. “Remember the molls you cited as an example of my irresponsible behavior when Mister J and I tried to kill them?”

“Do you mean the ones who survived your murderous plans on the roof of the One-Armed Bandit Novelty Company?”

“Yeah! I do. Gettin' rid of them was my idea!”

“So what? Joker strung you along, playing you like a fiddle the entire time,” Batgirl replied. “Ask yourself who the real criminal genius is. I’ll bet Joker blames you for those women’s survival.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, B-girl,” Harley said, feigning sympathy. “In fact, no one understands my Puddin’ the way I do. Of course, he gave you your chance. It’s too bad you didn’t work out as his henchwoman. At least I know how to behave!”

“Wait a minute, Harleen. Which is it? Are you his partner or his henchwoman?”

Harley was so angry, she could do little more than sputter for a moment. It was a few seconds before the colorfully-clad criminal could say anything intelligible, but then she shot back, “You’re so high and mighty! Just what do you think you are to Batman, anyway? His partner or his Bat-”

Not carrying to hear Harley’s hypothesis, Batgirl interrupted. “Maybe we should just talk to the Joker about this! Where is he?”

“I don’t need him to take care of you . . . once and for all! After all, he told me Don would be dead by now. Shortly after we finished celebratin' your fatal swim at the bar, I took off and passed a bunch of cops speedin' toward the place. I figured you must have saved yourself – and Don – from certain death and I’d have a shot at both of you. I’m kind of glad I was right! It’s been awhile since I’ve had any real fun on my own.”

Batgirl glanced at the black-gloved hand that had never stopped lovingly stroking her chest. “You’re sick, Harley--”

“And you’ve got a big mouth!”

Harley suddenly cupped Batgirl’s right breast. Meantime, her opposite index finger slid slowly down along the heroine’s spine and around the curve of Batgirl’s backside before darting between her captive’s legs.

Suddenly, a powerful, electrical shock traversed the Curved Crusader’s body, wracking her with excruciating pain as she twitched spasmodically. Batgirl screamed until she fell from the medieval clown’s grasp, collapsing at Harley Quinn’s feet, moaning in agony.

“Now what will you do to me?” Batgirl weakly demanded.

“I’ll just shock the rest of the fight out of you!” Harley revealed, kneeling beside the fallen heroine and smiling wickedly down at her.

“Joker is leading you along a thorny path. You’re a doctor--”

“Oh, just shut up, Batgirl! Who’s pathetic now?” Harley Quinn asked, laughing, as her fingers gently caressed Batgirl’s breasts before sliding into position beside each of them. “Mister J’s electrified buzzers can be as deadly as his lethal ones, if employed properly, particularly since Maria left you all wet all over.” Harley’s red lips curled into a wicked smile as she beamed down at Batgirl, exuding perverse pleasure.

Batgirl slowly bent her legs, drawing her thighs upward until her boot soles were flat on the floor. “Harley, please--”

“Hush, dear. It’s time for my next trick, the last one I’ll be showin' you—ever!”

“No! Doctor Quinzel, don’t!”

“I’m about to deliver a nice, heart-stoppin' jolt to your ribs. Kiss this world goodbye, B-girl!”

Batgirl knew Harley Quinn was right. The shock the comely clown proposed to deliver could almost instantly induce cardiac arrest and kill the heroine in a matter of seconds. For the second time in as many hours, Batgirl recalled how she might one day go up against a villain and not come back. As she stared helplessly up at the woman about to murder her, she realized she had no physical recourse capable of preventing the potentially lethal shock. The Grim Reaper loomed above her, casting his dark, inescapable shadow once again.

"Goodbye, Batgirl," Harley Quinn said, with a satisfied laugh.

Despite the futility of her plight, Batgirl had no intention of closing her eyes and accepting the inevitable. “You won’t get away with killing me, Harley.”

“I have no idea what you imagine could stop me now and I thought I told you to shut up!”

Batgirl ignored the command. “Not only will Batman come after you mercilessly, Joker will be upset if you kill me without him being able to enjoy your handiwork.”

“As far as Mister J is concerned, Maria killed you already.”

“Maria‘s arrangements would have disposed of my remains as l died. There is no way Joker will believe she killed me if you use those buzzers on me. Besides, you’re going to give him Don, who is also supposed to be dead.”

“Hey!” Harley exclaimed. Then, she hesitated, apparently considering Batgirl’s arguments. “You’re makin’ sense . . . kinda.” Seconds later, the curvaceous clown girl shrugged. “Aw, my noggin hurts!” She shook her head and brought her hands into contact with Batgirl’s sides. “The heck with it! So long, sucker!"

Batgirl’s mouth opened.

Before the Curved Crusader could continue speaking, Harley Quinn cried, "CLEAR!”

Batgirl screamed as the shock traversed her body, making her spine arch and her limbs twitch while she lost consciousness. Harley smiled down at Batgirl’s body once it had collapsed and remained still for a long moment.

‘Better make sure,’ the curvaceous killer thought, leaning over and bending her ear to Batgirl’s deflated chest. Hearing nothing, she happily straightened, anticipating the Joker’s delight when she told him about Batgirl’s demise. She had a jaunty spring in her step as she moved toward the unconscious Don Wallace.

Light streamed through the windows of another room at the Harbor Lights Motor Lodge the following morning. The maid moved her hand to her mouth and exhaled as she entered the room. “Harry!” she said. The desk clerk’s limbs had been spread out and each tied to one corner of the double bed.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” the man said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the girl said, letting her hands settle onto her hips. “You’re still wearing your uniform.”

“Are you going to untie me, Kim?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. What happened?” Kim moved to the bed and began to release the captive desk clerk.

“My shift just started when a woman with a white face and a weird outfit came in and paid for a room. I carried a package for her in here and something hit me on the back of the head. When I recovered, I was tied up on this bed and I’ve been like this until you showed up. Thanks.”

“What happened to this woman?”

“I haven’t seen her since she hit me.”

“You’re sure it was her who hit you?”

“I don’t know who else could have hit me.”

Harry rubbed circulation back into his extremities. He then led Kim to the front desk where they told the story to the manager, who was bent over the ledger.

“Okay. Somebody made a spare key to a Mister Wallace’s room late last night. Go see if he’s in. I have to call the cops, anyway. We were robbed last night.”

Moments later, a knock sounded on Don Wallace’s door. “Housekeeping!” Kim announced.

After not receiving a response, she and Harry entered the room. Her hand went to her mouth and she exhaled again when they saw Batgirl’s prone body.

“Is she alive?” Kim asked with genuine concern.

“I don’t know.” Harry bent over the heroine.

Suddenly, Batgirl moaned!

“Get a glass of water,” Harry ordered as he checked Batgirl’s pulse and began to pat her cheek gently.

“Wow,” Batgirl said as her body shifted. “That really hurt!”

“Sorry!” Harry said quickly.

“Oh, not what you did,” she said kindly.

“What happened?” Harry asked as he helped Batgirl sit up.

“A woman called Harley Quinn tried to stop my heart with a powerful jolt of electricity. If my cape and the soles of my boots had not been insulated, I’d probably be dead.”

“A harley-quin?” Harry questioned. He then described the woman who had tied him to the bed.

“That’s her,” Batgirl confirmed, nodding.

“I’m glad you outsmarted her, Batgirl,” Kim said. “Here. Drink this.”

“Thank you,” Batgirl said gratefully, sipping the water. “I’m very lucky to be alive. If she had held on to me much longer, her murderous plan would probably have succeeded. I should check in with the police.”

“Oh, they’ll be here soon, Batgirl,” Harry assured her.

“Good. Would you two please help me up?”

“Easy does it, Batgirl,” Kim cautioned.

“Thank you both.” They supported her for her first few steps, but Batgirl was walking under her own power when she reached the lobby and greeted the officers who came to investigate the robbery. She had given them her statement, gathered some of Don Wallace’s belongings, and said goodbye within half an hour.

Despite having survived two deadly attacks the previous night, Batgirl felt she had left vital work undone. Don Wallace was now Joker’s, or at least Harley Quinn’s, prisoner, and though she had been powerless to prevent the circumstance, the task of correcting the situation fell to her. The Curved Crusader had no illusions about the value the villains would place on the man’s life. ‘His continued survival depends on me!’

Fortunately, she quickly thought of a good place to look for him. The smile that curled her lips did not reach her eyes as the Batgirlcycle pulled to a stop before her destination.

Meanwhile, the Joker reached up to grip the ringing telephone receiver. “Hello,” he said drowsily.

“Rise and shine, Puddin’. I called to check in since so much has happened since I left ya.”

“Harley?” Joker asked. “It’s great to hear your voice. What kept you?”

“Well, before everyone at Maria’s bar was arrested, she sent Don Wallace and Batgirl on what should have been a one-way boat ride.”

Joker nodded, then realized the girl on the phone could not see him. “Yes?” he prompted.

“I don’t know how she did it, but Batgirl survived. She also rescued Don and the art work I did on him was ruined!” Harley sounded genuinely dismayed.

“Oh,” Joker said.

The girl on the other end of the line grew excited as she continued. “Fortunately, you sent me to his hotel room . . . and you’ll never guess who showed up.”

“Don Wallace,” Joker said flatly.

“Oh, you’re so smart, Mister J! but that’s not the best part. Batgirl was with him! I figured they might be showin’ up when I saw all the cops at the bar, so I was ready.”

“How long ago was this?” Joker asked. “I saw the flashing lights on my way back from stealing those files we talked about.”

“Oh, it was hours ago, but like I said, Don’s artwork was ruined. I’ve been up all night, repairin’ the damage.”

“So, you’re still in his room?”

“Oh no!” she replied. “I couldn’t stay there.”

“Where are you, then?”

“I’m at my place.”

“Oh.” Joker reviewed the conversation in his mind and realized she had omitted important details. “So, why did you have to leave Wallace’s room?”

“Remember how I said Batgirl showed up with him?”

“Yes. I was wondering what happened,” Joker admitted.

“I took care of her. Your joy buzzers gave her a really shockin’ death!”

“They did?” Joker was wide awake now and laughing uproariously.

“Yep! I had my hands on either side of her heart and zapped her good. She collapsed – dead!”

“Nice going, baby!” Joker enthused. “I’ll want to follow the media coverage of her demise this morning and you could probably use some sleep. Can I meet you after lunch?”

“Sure, Mister J,” she eagerly agreed. “Whatever you say. Where and when should we get together?”

“We’re going to get some professional help this afternoon. Be dressed for work when you get here.”

“I’ll be dressed to kill,” she cheerfully promised.

“I’m hoping killing won’t be necessary,” Joker said, “but it’s good to be prepared.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. J,” Harley Quinn replied. “See ya later!” She hung up.

“I thought you picked up ‘some professional help’ last night, Joker?” a woman said drowsily as he hung up the phone.

“Oh, let me explain. I wanted your new job to be a surprise. Did I wake you?”

“I think your laughing just now woke the dead!” Maria complained.

“I’m sorry. I would have let you sleep, but Harley told me she killed Batgirl.”

“Batgirl is dead?” the girl asked, sitting up and pushing sheets away from her bare shoulders. “Do the media know? At least turn on the radio. I want to hear all the details.”

“Why don’t I tell you all about it while we celebrate?”

Maria grinned. “Are you suggesting I’ve earned myself a second interview?”

“I like to be very thorough when I’m making these important hiring decisions,” Joker explained.

“Very thorough indeed,” Maria agreed, giggling as he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her once again. “It seems I came to the right place.”

“Your turning up was a pleasant surprise.”

“I came here to persuade you to eliminate Batgirl for me, because she escaped from the idiots I asked to take care of her and she shut down my bar,” Maria said.

“Well, she’s dead already,” Joker said, laughing. “So, you’ll have to persuade me to do something else.”

“I’ll think of something,” Maria lazily said, rolling on top of her companion, “later.”

Meanwhile, Batgirl Bat-climbed the outer wall of Doctor Harleen Quinzel’s apartment building. She reached her quarry’s balcony and moved silently across it to peer through a sliding, glass door while unlocking it with a tool from her utility belt.

Inside, Harley Quinn regarded Don Wallace with a satisfied smile. “Now, you look like a man I could really grow to love!” she enthused.

“Please, Harley. Leave me alone. I never meant to offend you or anyone else.”

“That’s too bad, Donny,” Harley said. “Don’t worry, we’ll kiss and make up right after I slip into something more comfortable.”

“I’ve got a pair of handcuffs just waiting for you, Harley!” Batgirl said, stepping into the room.

“Thanks, but you really aren’t my type, B-girl,” Harley said, glancing at the newcomer.

“After our last encounter, Harley,” Batgirl replied, “ I wasn’t so sure.”

“Oh, I was just kiddin’ around,” the demonic doctor replied dismissively, “until I got serious.” The colorful criminal suddenly stopped, holding her position as her eyes suddenly widened. “Hey! What are you doin’ here? You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Thank Heaven she isn’t!” Don Wallace said, looking at the ceiling, relieved.

“Here’s a shock for you, Harley. Your electric buzzers were not fatal. They did, however, really hurt and made me very angry!”

“Good!” Harley replied, sinking into a fighting crouch. “This time I’ll be sure and finish the job!”

Batgirl raised a knee and Harley moved to block the expected snap kick. Batgirl, however, turned her hip and leaned back to slam the ball of her foot into the side of Harley’s head. Harley retreated and launched a weak counterattack Batgirl easily fended off before turning, spinning, and cutting the colorful clown down with her heel.

“Hey! Get your #%$@ hands off me!” the curvaceous criminal cried as Batgirl knelt over Harley and shackled the harlequin’s hands behind her back.

“You’re under arrest, Harley. I’m going to get you some mental help and Don some police protection. Here is my question for you. Where is Joker?”

“I’m not gonna tell you squat!”

‘Suit yourself,” Batgirl replied. “Help me and I’ll keep your arrest quiet. Refuse and I’ll make you and your professional counterpart into household names. Media attention will make it practically impossible for you to return to your old job. Worse, Joker and all of Gotham City will know you didn’t kill me, Don escaped, and you were arrested. I guarantee surrender will spare you a lot of misery, but the choice is yours, Doctor. If you make the wrong one, you’re on your own!”

“I’ll tell you where you can go,” Harley Quinn said, “but Mister J won’t be there!” She grinned malevolently. "At least not yet."

Batgirl carried out her threat and the media arrived in force before the police hauled Harley Quinn away to jail. Batgirl was careful to keep Don Wallace, who was as comfortable as he could be and wearing his own clothes once again, out of their sight.

“Now what?” Don Wallace asked Batgirl as they stepped to the street after the event had ended.

“You and I will drive to Police Headquarters, where we’ll arrange some protection for you.”

“The Joker is still out there. You think he’ll come after me, don’t you?”

“That is possible,” Batgirl said, “but I’m hoping he concentrates on rescuing his girlfriend from incarceration.”

“You’re using her as bait for the Joker?”

“That’s my plan,” Batgirl confirmed.

“Is that ethical?”

Batgirl smiled without warmth or humor. “Where Joker is concerned, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to catch him.”

Later that morning, Harley Quinn found herself in the back of a police van, seated on an uncomfortable bench. Her wrists were shackled behind her. The fact she had not slept the previous night was catching up with the comely clown.

A young, male officer was smiling at her when she drowsily raised her head. “What do you think you’re lookin’ at, Junior?” she demanded. Before he could respond, her head slumped again and she moaned.

“Doctor Quinzel?” he asked, moving forward and speaking in low, sympathetic tones. “You took a nasty knock on the head. I hope you’re all right.”

“I’d be better if you take these manacles off o’ me.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. In fact, I’m required to formally place you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

“So do you and I wish you’d shut up. My head hurts.”

“I will, as soon as I’ve explained anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

“I know my rights, kid.”

The policeman said nothing.

“Are we almost there?”

“Where?”

“Wherever we’re goin’!” she replied, trying unsuccessfully to throw up her shackled hands.

“I think so. If not, Doctor, it won’t be long.”

“For now the name is Quinn, Harley Quinn, and I’ll have you know I detest Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman jokes!”

“Hey, that’s funny. I heard you worked with–”

He suddenly felt the weight of her stare as she glared at him.

“Never mind.” The officer leaned back and exhaled, preparing to spend the remainder of the journey in silence when the vehicle turned sharply. Harley’s eyes went wide as he glanced at her and the vehicle began to slide sideways. “What the–?”

The squeal of tires sounded as the paddy wagon spun before tipping over and crashing onto its side. Its momentum made the vehicle slide across the street into a light pole, sending showers of sparks in all directions.

Inside the van, the officer pitched toward Harley, who kicked at him viciously, connecting with stunning force before slamming his head against the floor as it became a vertical obstacle. Then, with considerable effort, she pulled his body to hers and groped for the ring of keys he carried.

After several unsuccessful attempts, she found the right key. Once Harley was free, she retrieved her guard’s gun and moved to the door as it opened.

Harley instinctively aimed the weapon at the redheaded, female vision clad in a leafy leotard, bright green nylons, darker green boots, and gloves the opening door revealed. The voluptuous vision regarded the prisoner with amused green eyes as the gun lowered. Harley realized the wrist-mounted dart launchers were empty because the woman had shot out her vehicle’s tires before it had toppled and come to a stop.

“Your darts are an interestin’ way to stop traffic, Red!” Harley said.

“Oh, I didn’t need them to stop your coach, but they certainly will help keep it from following us!” Poison Ivy replied, laughing. “Shall we go?”

“Sure. What are you doin’ here, anyway?”

“I’m saving your hide. Come on!”

Harley Quinn hesitated. “How did you know Batgirl nabbed me?” she asked.

“It was all over the news,” Poison Ivy replied, motioning for her friend to leave the paddy wagon. “Since you facilitated our escape, we decided to return the favor.”

“Thanks,” Harley Quinn said, stepping from the vehicle and following her rescuer. She was now wide awake.

The second the pretty pair had moved from directly behind the vehicle, two men literally flew through the open doors into the coach, seconds before the paddy wagon slammed shut.

“Hurry up,” Nancy urged.

“Let’s get out of here,” Veronica concurred.

Betsy arrived seconds later and rammed a thick branch between the doors and the handles that would open them. “That’ll hold ‘em,” she said grinning. “Let’s move.”

“The only place you ladies will be moving is back to your cells in jail,” an authoritative, female voice announced.

“Batgirl,” Poison Ivy said.

The heroine looked at the Ivy League Gang and Harley Quinn, then returned her gaze to Poison Ivy. “It wasn’t that long ago you told me you never needed anyone but yourself.”

“As the plant world teaches, one must adapt to changes in conditions. Get her girls!”

Betsy was the first to fling herself at the heroine. Batgirl fired a punch, stunning the white-haired henchwoman. The blow let Batgirl knock Betsy to the pavement with her shoulder as she sidestepped a swing Nancy launched.

“They’ll definitely take her, if we help,” Harley pointed out, stepping forward and kicking at the back of Batgirl’s legs.

Harley’s attack caught Batgirl by complete surprise. The Purple-clad Paragon believed her only opponents would be Poison Ivy’s henchwomen, at least initially.

A painful cry escaped Batgirl’s lips as her legs collapsed and bent beneath her as her weight settled to the ground. Harley, Betsy, Veronica, and Nancy took the fallen heroine’s limbs and lifted her.

‘Have criminals been talking to one another about my being helpless in this position?’ Batgirl glumly wondered as she began to struggle in the girls’ grip.

“Bring her here,” Poison Ivy ordered. As Harley and her minions obeyed, the villainess carefully applied lipstick to her mouth. Seconds later, the tantalizing tree-hugger took the heroine’s head in both hands and bent her mouth to Batgirl’s face. “It’s time to say goodnight, Batgirl. Pucker up.”

“The idea of kissing you is revolting, Poison Ivy!” Batgirl retorted.

Poison Ivy ignored her and, despite Batgirl’s intense struggles, managed to kiss the heroine on her lips. “This shade of lipstick will transform you into a sleeping beauty for hours, but acts in a matter of seconds.” The villainess straightened. “She’s helpless now. Put her down.”

Batgirl’s captors obeyed again and Batgirl discovered, to her horror, how right Poison Ivy was. She lay motionless at their feet momentarily before sleep claimed her.

“Now, for the grand finale,” Betsy enthused.

“The everlasting end of Batgirl,” Nancy concurred.

“To follow her awakening, shortly,” Veronica added, chuckling.

“This gives us a chance to see how powerful the sleeping kiss can be,” Poison Ivy said. “I gave her a full dose.”

“Listen, Red,” Harley said, “I have an appointment this afternoon and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away afterwards. As much as I’d love to stick around and help you do in Batgirl, I have to be goin’.”

“I think I told you about the defunct Blossoms Flower Shop, where I hold necessary meetings, right?”

“Sure,” Harley replied. “I remember.”

“Good,” Poison Ivy said, grinning mischievously. “Batgirl will be meeting her everlasting end there later tonight, after a lengthy nap, just in case you want to say goodbye.”

“Thanks for invitin’ me, Red,” Harley Quinn said. “The shindig you’re plannin’ sounds like fun. We should definitely keep in touch, even if I can’t make it. I’ll try, though.”

Shortly thereafter, Harley Quinn met the Joker at the Gotham State Penitentiary. There, the nightmarish initial moves in another of the Jolly Jester’s criminal schemes were about to be made.

“I don’t believe it, Joker!” Warden Crichton exclaimed. “You broke out of here the night before last, and now you’re back here with Doctor Quinzel! Wait a minute! That’s strange. I thought I heard she had been arrested–”

“That’s Ms. Quinn to you!” Harley said, extending her hand and pushing her employer into his desk chair, after her electrifying touch had its mildly shocking effect.

The Warden tried to say something, but the Joker cut him off. “I’m the Clown Prince of Crime, Warden. Can I help it if I happen to be totally irresistible? People who really know me think I‘m a very funny fellow.” Perhaps to support his assertion, the Joker burst out laughing.

“There is nothing funny about Ms. Quinn, whom I know to be an employee here, attacking me and ignoring the dress code for this facility’s professionals! Initially, I thought she might be here to turn you in.”

“Oh, no! I could never do that to him!” Harley Quinn exclaimed, horror-stricken. Then, her manner suddenly and dramatically changed, as she favored the Warden with a knowing smile, explaining. “Nobody knows my Puddin’ the way I do, and he is as aware of my fashion sense as I am of his sense of humor.”

“How did you two get onto the prison grounds anyway, and what do you both want?!” the prison official demanded.

“To get in, we just used my employee identification card, of course!” Harley enthused. “Oh, and Mister J also said I might get to kill you, if you don’t do as he says.”

“You came here to murder me?”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t come to that, Warden,” Joker sympathetically said. “We’ve decided it’s lonely out there in the great, wide world. So, we thought we’d release a few of your charges. Of course, since you came in today, our task became a lot easier. With a simple signature, you can release the help I need and our new helpers can keep us company!” Joker burst out laughing.

“I imagined Poison Ivy and her henchwomen–”

Harley Quinn grinned, imagining Batgirl’s ongoing plight. “Red is busy,” she cryptically explained.

The Joker looked suspiciously at his accomplice. “Say, is she the one who shot me the other night?!”

Harley shrugged.

“I trust you had just certain of my inmates in mind?” Warden Crichton prompted seriously, returning the criminal duo to the task they had come to perform.

“Naturally,” Joker jovially explained. “I want to get back in touch with my old associate, Queenie; and I understand she recently worked with a man called Spade; and that gossip columnist . . . oh, what’s his name, Harley?”

“O’Shea, Jack O’Shea,” Harley said.

“Yes,” Joker said, grinning happily at the Warden. “That’s him. You do want to cooperate with us, don’t you, Warden?”

“I can’t!” the Warden protested. “Duty forbids letting prison inmates go, and besides I’m sick and tired of criminals marching into this office and demanding the outright release of other criminals on some pretext.”

Most memorably, Egghead had left his petite henchwoman, Chickadee, curled up in a gym bag for the Warden to find. She had happily delivered papers requiring only the Warden’s signature to release both of them. Egghead had also tried to expedite their release with threats to serve the Warden’s secretary, whom the villain had captured, as a breakfast casserole.

“Duty?!” the Joker exclaimed. “All you have to do is fill out a few forms. You can agonize over your decision afterwards!”

“Think of what Mister J is askin’ you to do as an opportunity,” Harley Quinn encouraged.

“An opportunity!?” the Warden raged. “I cannot believe the two of you marched into this office and demanded I commit professional suicide, against my better judgment! This is utterly outrageous and I won’t do it!”

“Oh,” Harley conversationally replied, “whatever.”

The Warden could only stare at her.

“You know, Warden,” the Joker said seriously, “it’s too bad you’re so unwilling to spring some company for me.” The green-haired gargoyle turned to his companion. “Harley, I think you’d better get ready to give the Warden that injection.”

“Injection?” the Warden queried worriedly. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll find out, soon enough,” Harley Quinn said, extracting a tubular case from her purse and opening it to reveal a hypodermic needle with purple contents.

“Now, look here, Joker, you can’t just walk in here, stick needles in me, and expect me to do whatever you command. Doing so would be . . . utterly wrong!”

“What?” the Joker asked, feigning surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I had no idea I would be wrong to carry out my plan!” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper and pretended to regard the Warden confidentially. “It’s a good thing I’m leaving the details to my assistant.” Joker laughed uproariously.

“Murder,” the Warden said, “no matter which of you commits it, is not funny!”

When the villain had finished laughing, his expression had changed. Joker reached for the Warden and took the official’s collar in one hand; twisted his wrist, wrenching the public official from his chair; and shoved him back against a wall. “I oughtta--” Joker began, muttering indistinctly as he raised his free hand and curled his fingers into a fist.

The exaggerated sound of throat being cleared prompted all male eyes in the room to focus on the medieval clown who stood, posed with her needle poised. “Puddin’,” she said, “you promised I could have him.”

The Warden’s eyes had grown wide as his glance shifted between the man about to hit him and the girl who had plans of her own, to which straightforward violence might be preferable.

Joker calmed and released the Warden, flinging him back into his desk chair. “Last chance,” the Clown Prince of Crime said, making no attempt to keep the menace from his voice.

“Forget it, Joker,” the Warden said.

“Okay, baby,” Joker cheerfully said.

"Thank you,” Harley said. She grinned and hooked her fingers beneath the Warden’s coat, shirt, and t-shirt before pulling back sharply to tear fabric and expose his flesh. She set her needle aside and soaked a cotton ball with alcohol before slathering the liquid over his shoulder.

“Is that really necessary?” the Joker asked impatiently.

“Hey, Puddin’, I am a doctor, ya’ know.”

“What’s in that needle?” the Warden fearfully asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry to have been so remiss in explaining,” Joker apologized. “It’s a new flavor of my Joker Jelly, chemically prepared to congeal a few minutes after coming into contact with globulin.”

“Globulin is blood. You’re going to thicken my blood and induce a heart attack?!”

“Well, don’t you agree,” Harley asked, “it’s a funny idea to give a heart attack to a warden?”

“No!” the Warden screamed. “Not at all!”

“Well, don’t they call a heart attack, ‘cardiac arrest?’” Joker asked, laughing outrageously.

“You’re insane!”

“I’m not the one going to stick the needle in you,” Joker protested, shrugging as Harley picked up the hypo and poised it over the Warden’s shoulder again. “I’m also not the one sacrificing my life because of some crazy idea about ‘duty’ and what’s ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’”

“Very well,” the Warden said, resignedly. “I’ll authorize the prisoners’ release. Please . . . don’t kill me.” Crichton rationalized, ‘At least they’re not asking for the release of any arch-criminals; all of them; or everyone!'

The Joker seemed to consider the Warden’s words. Harley held the needle close to the prison official’s exposed flesh, apparently looking to the Joker for direction.

“Okay,” Joker said cheerfully. “Put the needle down, Harley. I didn’t really want to kill the Warden today, anyway. I kind of like him.” The white-faced villain gestured toward the prison official. “Besides, if something happened to our friend, here, Governor Condelee might find someone who actually knows how to run this place!” Once again, the Joker laughed uproariously.

“Are you sure?” the clownish girl asked.

“Well, maybe we should wait until our new crew gets here, just to avoid any misunderstandings.” Joker gestured at the intercom on the official’s desk and smiled encouragingly as the Warden leaned toward it.

Moments later, Queenie, Spade, and Jack O’Shea were led to the Warden’s office. Once there, the Joker and Harley Quinn’s electrifying touch incapacitated the prisoners’ guard escort almost instantly.

Following introductions; congratulations; and thanks, the Joker made a decision. “I think we’ll bring the Warden along! The police will want him back and we can arrange an exchange for that fellow Don Wallace, with whom I still need to have a talk about respect!”

“Isn’t Maria looking for him, Puddin’?”

“I’m afraid not. I sent her shopping for some things for our new help,” Joker explained, indicating the newcomers. “Oh, we’ve also moved into a significantly more fun base of operations, just as a precaution. Now, Jack and Spade, make yourselves useful and get him!”

“No! Leave me alone!” the Warden fearfully pleaded as the Joker’s men obeyed their new employer.

Later, at the Gotham Pier Amusement Park, Honest Gabe, of Honest Gabe’s House of Scientific Discoveries and Deathtraps, presided over a demonic demonstration. “I’m afraid the card-carrying pirate who ordered this equipment got sent up the river, so I’m delighted to sell it all to you at my deep discount, clearance rate. I know your going to love it.”

“Before we talk price,” Joker said, “I think I’d like to see what your equipment does to our stand up figures of Batman, Robin, and Batgirl over there.” Joker indicated the heroically posed, cardboard figures arranged against a wall some distance away and facing Honest Gabe, Joker, Maria, Queenie, Spade and Jack O’Shea.

“Of course,” Honest Gabe said.

“If your equipment works,” the Joker said, “we’ll have a memorable confrontation to which to look forward.” He laughed and regarded Queenie. “Ladies first,” he invited. “What item in this insidious arsenal makes your heart quiver with joy?”

The blonde woman examined the items displayed on the table before them. “These look interesting,” she said.

“Oh, the wrist blades,” Honest Gabe said, grinning. “Be careful. They’re razor sharp.”

“Try them out on Batgirl,” Joker invited, gesturing at the cardboard figure.

Queenie strapped one of the weapons to her right wrist and pointed at her target, her lips curled into a wicked smile. A sharp blade traversed the distance between the henchwoman’s wrist and the target in less than a second, sliding easily through the cardboard just below the figure’s left breast and penetrating the wall behind the target, quivering.

“Good shot,” Spade complimented.

“You shot her right through the heart,” Jack O’Shea agreed.

“I was aiming for her head,” Queenie said, disappointedly. “Oh, well. I’ll get better with practice.”

“Go ahead and pick a weapon, Spade,” Joker invited.

“I don’t think I can pass these up,” the deep-voiced henchman said, indicating several black items strewn over the tabletop shaped like spades. “What are they?”

“They’re radio-controlled bombs,” Honest Gabe said, picking one up. “They’re about an eighth of an inch thick and can be stuck against almost anything.” He stepped forward and turned to Queenie. “Hold your fire while I see to ‘Batman’s’ destruction.” Seconds later, one of the spade bombs was pressed against the Batman figure’s abdomen. Spade held the radio control that would set it off.

“Now what?” the thug asked.

“First, arm the explosive by flipping open that cover. Then, when you’re ready, push the button underneath to blow your target to Kingdom Come.” Spade grinned and followed directions, causing an explosion that reduced the cutout of Batman to a heap of ashes in seconds. “That could work,” he said.

“I’m glad you like it,” Honest Gabe said. “That means the laser eyepiece is for Mister O’Shea.” Jack O’Shea lifted the weapon and slipped it in place. “Aim along a line of sight and control the weapon with the control you hang on your belt.”

Jack O’Shea tested his weapon and sliced the cardboard figure of Robin to pieces with a laser beam emanating from his eye. “Very impressive,’ he said.

“It can also be adjusted to view the entire light spectrum. That means you will be able to see electric eye beams, and the even more sophisticated gadgets used in modern security systems. Finally, you’ll be able to see through solid objects with x-ray vision. That eyepiece is a masterpiece of modern electronic versatility. I’m very proud of it.”

“Outstanding,” Jack O’Shea said. He tuned to Queenie and adjusted the control on his belt. “Very impressive,” he announced, grinning.

“What are you looking at?” Queenie demanded.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, turning to Harley Quinn, who had just stepped into view as Queenie stared at him. The comely clown was oblivious to what O’Shea was really examining as the chill in Queenie’s expression melted. Her eyes began to sparkle with amused pleasure as she recalled an afternoon she had spent with both O’Shea and Spade in a hot tub.

“Now,” Honest Gabe said, “Joker, I think it’s time to negotiate.”

“Gabe,” Joker said, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulder, “I’d like to talk to you about holding off on payment until after a field test. Let me rent them for one job and then I’ll buy them from you at a hefty premium.” The Mad Mountebank regaled the assemblage with a peal of laughter. “Why, this deal could be so good, you might decide to retire!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, don’t worry about my finances, Gabe,” Joker said smoothly. “I’m good for it.” He laughed jovially.

“Your proposal sounds fine. As long as you don’t mind paying a hefty premium, we can finalize everything after your ‘field test.’”

“Hey, Puddin’, I left some stuff at our other hideout. Why don’t I take Gabe back into town and pick it up?”

Joker turned his head toward Harley and glanced at Maria conspiratorially. She nodded, grinning.

"That’s a great idea,” he said. “Take your sweet time.”

“Hey, would you mind if I picked something up at Gabe’s while I’m there. Watchin’ the new recruits play with their toys has made me think I’d like my own weapon.”

“No, not at all,” Joker said, laughing once again. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.” She seized Honest Gabe’s hand and began prancing away. Then, she suddenly stopped. “Hey, how did you go about selectin’ all this new help?”

“Well, you remember the trouble we had recruiting at Ye Olde Benbow Taverne?”

“Sure. That guy, Don Wallace, ruined our first recruiting drive and a second became impossible after the cops hauled in almost everyone associated with the place, except her,” Harley said, indicating Maria with a jerk of her right, red-gloved thumb.

“Before the cops raided the place, I offered to let Maria help me heist all the sealed, court documents in Gotham City. While there were fewer than I first thought, they were still fascinating reading – for both of us.”

Maria raised an eyebrow as Joker paused. “It was a long night,” she agreed, choosing her words carefully, while keeping her voice neutral and trying to hold her expression.

Joker went on, ignoring his assistant’s effort completely. “One of the files in particular caught my eye. It dealt with my dear, old friend Queenie. I learned she most recently worked for the Clock King while he brought our old pal King Tut out of retirement. At the time, she worked with Spade, one of Catwoman’s henchmen, who has had multiple love affairs with Legs Parker. She’s Ma Parker’s kid, you know, and now that she’s all grown up, I can’t fault Spade’s taste in women. I’ve seen the child myself from time to time in the pen, and I can tell you--”

“Did this file deal with Spade's love life or his rap sheet?” Harley asked impatiently.

“Hey! I hear things. Anyway, Jack O’Shea,” the Joker nodded at him, “– the crooked gossip columnist who has been associated with Catwoman, as well as Eenie, one of my fantastic-looking, feline friend’s girls – was also one of Clock King’s Second Hands.”

“Nothin’ you’ve said makes it seem like that file should have been sealed,” Harley pointed out.

“You’re reporting a lot of old news,” Jack O’Shea concurred, “especially concerning the girls.”

Joker turned toward his new henchman, frowning. Then, he laughed. “Someone else Clock King worked with at that time was Doctor Liz Shaw. Apparently, she has ties to the United Nation’s Intelligence Task Force.”

“What’s that?”

“Don't ask me. I have no idea!" Joker complained. "Anyway, our gutless District Attorney, Harvey Dent, sealed the court records, since the mysterious Doctor Shaw is not in police custody. Apparently, trying to get her here for trial would have caused an international incident.”

“Maybe you should ask the Warden about her,” Harley suggested.

“I forgot all about him!” Joker said, slamming a hand against his forehead. “What did you do to him?”

“Oh, I took him to our new and improved Hall of Mirrors in the funhouse. He’ll be wanderin’ around in there with his reflections until we’re ready to let him go – assumin’, of course, we’re–” a national brand C battery theatrically appeared in her black-gloved left hand, “ever ready.”

The Joker laughed yet again. “Harley, you’re a delight! Now, why don’t you and Gabe get going? Maria and I will leave these three to play with their new toys,” Joker suggested, turning to his newest assistants. “Call me when Harley gets back.” Without warning, Joker erupted into a cacophonic crescendo of maniacal laughter and his associates all grinned.

Jack O’Shea used his new eyepiece to admire the sway of Harley Quinn’s hips as she and Honest Gabe departed.

“The look on your face tells me that thing works . . . and that it can show more than just bones,” Queenie said.

“It sure does,” he agreed, smiling appreciatively as Maria joined the Joker near one end of the park’s Tunnel of Love.

Quietly, Maria was fuming. “Your talk about that file was the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard in my life! What were you planning to do last night if she walked in on us?”

“I’d have had to leave you alone. There are secret passages in most of the rooms of most of my hideouts. Remember, I’ve been staying in these places a lot longer than Harley has been aware of them.”

“I should be mad at you, you know?” Maria said, letting her hands settle on her hips and leaning forward. “You’re obviously planning to two-time both me and Harley! Bringing in a new girl is all the proof I need! For all I know, you’ve started already and are lining up a fourth girl!”

“You’re very perceptive, Maria, but cut me some slack. After all, I’m a bad guy.” The Joker grinned at her and she could not help but smile.

“I’ll forgive you, for now, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I get another turn while Harley is out and Queenie is busy. After all, you’re very good at being a bad boy.”

Joker laughed and picked her up in his arms. “Baby, you’re the greatest!” he said, stepping into the tunnel.

“Pay attention while I prove it, again,” the girl instructed. The Pale-faced Prankster was given no opportunity to respond before Maria’s demonstration began.

A few hours later, a dim light illuminated the defunct Blossoms Flower Shop as Harley Quinn knocked. Nancy, Poison Ivy’s blonde henchwoman, opened the front door and stepped back, while her mistress lowered her wrist-dart launcher, recognizing the newcomer. “Thanks for coming, girlfriend,“ Poison Ivy said.

“Thanks again for the invite, Red,” Harley replied. “Have you done anything to B-girl yet?”

“Nothing of which she is aware—yet,” Veronica, the brunette answered. She was perched on the counter, paying almost no attention to the bound captive beside her.

“Where’s Betsy?” Harley Quinn asked.

“Behind you,” the strong, white-haired henchwoman revealed, stepping from her position behind the door as it closed.

Suddenly, a lengthy moan silenced the women, who turned to regard Batgirl as the heroine began to recover from Poison Ivy’s kiss. Veronica consulted a stop watch and wrote a figure on a pad, which was handed to Poison Ivy.

“Excellent,” the botanical bad girl said. “A weaker dose of the sleeping lipstick should probably be developed.”

As Batgirl awoke, a strange gripping sensation literally surrounded her entire body. She immediately realized her arms had been extended and entwined together above her head, where her wrists were crossed and bound, securing her twisted limbs. She cast a worried glance above her and turned her head to examine the contours of her rising and falling chest.

Something she could not identify dug into her costume and flesh behind her neck. Ignoring the slight biting sensation, she examined her bindings. Two pale strands encircled her shoulders before closely hugging her pert breasts and crisscrossing in the cleft between them. These unusual tendrils stretched across her tight abdomen before winding around her narrow waist and hips. A slight shift of her weight caused a second slight pain as her costume and flesh were again impaled, but the more noticeable sensation was the single binding threaded between her legs and run back up her body along her spine, cinching tightly into the crack bisecting her buttocks.

Instinctively, Batgirl became still as she felt the second binding, tightly wound around her thighs; knees; calves; and feet drawn taut. Her long, lovely legs were thus further immobilized.

She lay on her side atop the counter in the same flower shop to which she had traced Poison Ivy in the past. The villainess had been prepared for her then and sprung a nearly fatal trap. Helplessly bound, Batgirl wondered what perfidious plans the redheaded rogue had prepared for her this time.

Harley Quinn was first to comment on the heroine’s predicament. "It looks like she’s really getting tight now," the comely clown said, chuckling gleefully. “Hey! You took off her cape.”

“Harley?” Batgirl weakly asked. “What’s happening to me?”

Batgirl felt the familiar blended sensation of excitement and fear building within her psyche. She silently mastered her emotions, composing herself to preserve her dignity while her would-be killers gloated. Before she could begin to formulate an escape plan, however, she would need to understand how she was supposed to die.

“I don’t know, B-Girl, but I do know I’m glad I’m here to watch,” the devilish doctor said. “I’m pretty sure, though, the sensations you’re feelin’ won’t last too long.” All of the women in the room except Batgirl laughed.

“You’ve been a considerable thorn in my side since our first meeting, Batgirl,” Poison Ivy began, stepping into the bound heroine’s line of vision.

“I agreed with your original goals where the environment was concerned, Poison Ivy, but your methods have always been totally unacceptable,” Batgirl retorted. She coyly looked around the room at the Ivy League Gang before glaring at Ivy again. “Recently, though, your only goal has been to look out for yourself!”

“That was a mistake,” Poison Ivy admitted, “which I’ve rectified by helping my friends regain their freedom.”

“And now you’re going to involve them in an attempted murder?” Batgirl snorted. “Some friend!”

“I believe they’re all willing – and eager – to participate in your demise, Batgirl.” There was a general murmur of assent. “So, hearing no objections–”

“I object!” Batgirl declared.

“Your - opinion - doesn’t - count!” Harley said definitively. She raised her hand to strike Batgirl across the face, but Poison Ivy grabbed her arm.

“There’s no need for that, Harley,” Poison Ivy said calmly. She then grinned evilly and turned back to Batgirl. “Do you know what I’ve done to you?”

“Obviously, you’ve had me tied up.” Batgirl answered. She shifted slightly and felt the unusual tendrils entwining her body tighten their gruesome grip, as more of her costume and flesh experienced the strange sensation of being slightly impaled. Simultaneously, a soft, involuntary sound passed her lips with a shallow exhalation.

“Indeed,” Poison Ivy confirmed. “I said you’ve been a thorn in my side. The supple, young vines surrounding you will return the favor – with a generous rate of interest.”

“Are you slowly injecting me with more of your cunning, cruel chemicals?”

“No, but whenever you move a muscle, no matter how slightly, more of the thorns in my vines will impale you. Soon, the thorns lodged in your flesh will begin to scratch you and pull free. Then, they’ll reattach and other thorns will tear away, pulling at your flesh as they do. Over time, the thorns will penetrate the various layers of your skin, shred them, and tear them away completely. Finally, raw muscle will begin to be exposed and then be cut to pieces . . . until only your bones remain to scratch. By then, of course, whatever may be left of you will be a bloody mess and resemble raw hamburger.”

“You’ll never get away with killing me,” Batgirl predicted.

“Girls, see to the final details,” Poison Ivy ordered, pretending to stifle a yawn. “I’m not interested in hearing how Batman and Batwoman will avenge the Champion of Righteousness when she’s gone.”

Veronica and Nancy each slipped on a pair of work gloves as they moved toward Batgirl. At the same time, Betsy approached a winch into which Poison Ivy’s thorny vines had been wound. “Feel free to struggle,” Nancy sweetly invited as she and Veronica rolled the heroine onto her belly. “You’ll only die more quickly.”

The blonde henchwoman pulled Batgirl’s arms up and back, stretching the Curved Crusader’s sinews to their limits as many more of Poison Ivy‘s thorns bit into her. Veronica bent Batgirl’s knees and leaned over the captive’s body, pressing the victim’s calves back until she gasped with pain as even more thorns impaled her.

“Hold her just like this,” Veronica said. Nancy grinned and nodded, obeying.

Batgirl could do nothing to prevent Veronica from pulling down another thorny vine, suspended from an overhead pulley; sliding it beneath her thighs; winding it around her painfully bent limbs; encompassing her chest twice; and tying it off above where her heels and wrists had been joined above the curve of her butt.

“Get her up, Betsy,” Veronica ordered, as she and Nancy stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“It will be my pleasure,” the white-haired woman said, winding the winch.

The minuscule amount of slack in the vines was taken up as Batgirl’s body was lifted a yard into the air and her weight was taken by the vines Veronica had used to cradle her. The vines gripped Batgirl more tightly than ever and additional thorns bit into her flesh, while others pulled free, tearing fabric and flesh away from her. Another tiny cry was torn from Batgirl’s throat as she rotated to first to the right and then to the left, enabling thorns to chew at her limbs more rapidly.

"There," Betsy said smugly. "Now, as soon as the thorns have finished scratching her, she’s dead, and there is nothing she can do to escape." The other henchwomen joined her as she began to laugh.

“I suppose it’s possible you’ll bleed to death long before my thorns have finished scratching you,” Poison Ivy mused. Her mouth curled into a wicked, satisfied smile as she watched her attractive aides admire their heinous handiwork. “Oh, well. I’m sure you’ll regret your decision to oppose me very soon regardless. Happy shredding, my dear.”

Harley Quinn squinted one eye, cocked her head and looked at Batgirl skeptically. “Can’t she stay alive simply by holding still?”

“Holding still is much harder than you think,” Betsy said.

“Enforced motionlessness is one of the most effective means of . . . torture,” Veronica softly concurred.

“Her muscles will soon start cramping. Then they’ll twitch involuntarily,” Nancy predicted, grinning wickedly.

“Maybe, though, we should speed things up,” Poison Ivy thoughtfully said, pointing at one wall. “Harley, those switches turn on the overhead fans. Would you engage them?”

“Sure,” the curvaceous clown agreed. “B-girl is only half as cool as she’s gonna be.” The fans began rotating and the room grew dramatically cooler.

“And to help things along even further . . .” Poison Ivy picked up a watering can and sprinkled Batgirl with water.

“Don’t do this, Poison Ivy,” Batgirl urged. “My murder will accomplish nothing. Your drive and passion could be channeled in a positive direction. Don’t throw away everything you have to offer the world.”

“The only thing I’m discarding right now, my dear, is you,” Poison Ivy said. “Let’s go, girls. It’s getting chilly in here.”

“So long, sucker,” Harley called as she followed Poison Ivy and her shapely sycophants from Batgirl’s death chamber. “Happy shivering. Hey, Red, I enjoyed the show, but I have to be gettin’ back. Mister J will miss me otherwise.”

“You’re sure?” Poison Ivy asked. “You and I work together pretty well. I could really use you.”

“I really can’t abandon my Puddin’,” Harley Quinn thoughtfully objected. “He’s plannin’ a job, but I’m with you in spirit, Red. You understand, right?”

The voices receded from Batgirl’s hearing as she remained suspended above the flower shop counter. Batgirl shivered and felt Poison Ivy’s thorns tear more vigorously at her costume and flesh. She knew struggling to escape would only make her deadly predicament more perilous.

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