FOR THE ANSWERS TO THESE AND OTHER NOTABLE QUESTIONS, READ ON.

Batgirl is an Overachiever

As soon as Sirena and her mesmerized band members left, Batgirl could feel the speed of the wind increasing from the giant fans. Not only was the force of the air painful, but the chair to which she was bound was starting to move backward.

She wasn’t travelling that quickly yet, but she didn't have far to go. Soon the Dominoed Daredoll would be tumbling into an abyss.

Batgirl tried to estimate how far she was from the hole in the floor behind her. She made her best guess, but couldn't be sure. All she knew was the drop was getting closer and closer. Now that she was nearer, however, she could tell that the pit didn’t span the length of the room, but was perhaps only twenty feet in length.

‘If I can just steer myself away from the perpendicular,’ she thought, ‘the wind might actually help me.’ She still was going backward as she strategized, but, as always, she did not panic.

‘Think, girl, think!’ Batgirl knew that often a book Barbara Gordon had read long ago could hold the key to her escape from a deathtrap.

It wasn’t a book, however, but a day off in the summer years ago that sprang to mind. She remembered when Barbara had gone sailing with Bruce Wayne near his beach house on Ambergris Bay, just outside Gotham City, about a week after the day when Louie the Lilac kidnapped Bruce and Dick Grayson.

Barbara had spent only about an hour on Bruce’s boat, but the proud millionaire yachtsman had tried his best to educate Barbara on the finer points of sailing. She suddenly recalled the concept of "tacking," that is, directing the path of the boat at an angle, away from a straight line.

Such a procedure enabled a sailor to travel in a direction against the wind in a zig-zag pattern. Batgirl didn't need to actually travel toward the fans, but an adaptation of the concept might save her life.

'If I can use my body like a sail, I might be able to skirt the edge of the pit!'

There wasn’t much time. Batgirl had to act -- now!

Batgirl's thighs were bound to the chair and her legs were tied together. She couldn't generate enough down force through her boots to decisively impede her progress or tip over the chair, but she hoped she would be able to turn her body to the right at a forty-five degree angle. The heroine desperately tried to re-direct the chair.

At first, nothing, as the winds continued to bear down on her. Finally, however, there was some success, as she managed to turn her torso sideways in the chair, ever so slightly.

She was attempting this maneuver while still being buffeted by the artificial breeze. Batgirl again could feel the chair turning.

‘Keep it up!’ she thought.

She did exactly that, as she repeatedly tried to twist her body. The chair, however, still was drifting ever closer to the fifteen-foot drop. At this point, it was no more than a few feet away.

Batgirl’s chair had now turned to a forty-five degree angle. The Curved Crusader could see clearly what she had to do to avoid injury . . . and probable eventual death. She was heading toward the corner of the pit, a spot where the walls met at a right angle. If she could just make it past there, she would be safe.

Her fate would be decided in the next few seconds. Batgirl steeled herself. She couldn’t help but wonder if her whole body would soon have the sensation of nothingness underneath it, then impact. 'This is it!'

Empty space yawned behind her. She could feel her heart pounding. The moment seemed to last minutes, rather than less than a second. The chair, though, skidded past the oubliette!

The chair careened to a safe haven at the back of the large room. She was still traveling fairly fast, though, and was closing in on the side wall. An impact was unavoidable, so Batgirl tucked her head to protect it from the inevitable blow.

BAM!

The Purple Paragon’s left shoulder absorbed most of the impact, which knocked the chair -- and her -- over.

‘Just when my RIGHT shoulder was starting to feel better!’ she thought ruefully, although Batgirl realized it could have been much worse.

There was one positive to the collision. The chair broke in a couple of places. It was then an easy matter for the escape artist to get free from her bonds. Her left shoulder hurt, but everything else seemed to be in working order.

The wind still was going strong, so, instead of trying to walk, Batgirl crawled to the exit, thereby getting under most of the effects of the rushing air. It took a while, but she finally reached the door, her left shoulder still aching.

‘From now on, I have to remember to put a tube of Atomic Balm in my utility belt!’ she thought with a wan smile.

Sirena and her minions had left the building long ago. There was nothing for Batgirl to do but return to her apartment.

‘I wonder what Siren’s next move will be?’

MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE PLANETARIUM . . .

Siren's mesmerized minions already had delivered one set of painful whacks to Batman's legs, and were in the midst of another.

All of them had strange costumes, of course, even the two brunettes who evidently were supposed to represent Gemini, although they were not twins. Both were decked out in white Greco-Roman gowns that appeared to be hand-me-downs from the Siren.

The blows to his legs had begun to weaken Batman. The pain in his shins and thighs was intense, although luckily, for the most part, the Siren's Zodiac Zombies had spared his knees, taking only a few shots at them.

He assumed, based on what Siren had said before her departure, that next they would be taking aim at his abdomen, chest, and shoulders. He could probably withstand most of those blows, although one or more direct hits to the chest could prove fatal, if there was any speed behind them. Fortunately, the Diabolical Diva's dazed dupes were moving very deliberately in their hazy state of altered consciousness.

What really concerned Batman was what might happen when they eventually took aim at his head. He tried not to think of that, and instead focused his mental gymnastics on a possible escape.

It suddenly occurred to the Caped Crusader that his legs were moving slightly. Apparently, the repeated bashings with the croquet mallets had an unexpected side effect. The Zodiac Zombies had unwittingly loosened Batman's bonds, ever so slightly.

One of the continual flaws in the plans of both Siren and Sirena was the fact both evil enchantresses often relied on ordinary people to do their dirty work, rather than experienced henchmen and henchwomen. The problem was, non-criminals often weren't as proficient in performing assigned tasks, such as tying and binding heroes and heroines for deathtraps, which gave crimefighters just enough of a figurative window to escape.

Although there wasn't nearly enough slack for Batman to free his legs, he was pleased with the discovery he could move them at all. The question now was simple – what next?

Batman was pondering that question as the thirteen planetarium employees, the latest regular citizens to be transformed into mindless servants of the Siren, slowly began delivering hits to his abdomen and chest, just as the Dark Knight had expected. The slack on the bonds restraining his legs gave him just enough maneuverability to sway his hips slightly.

As he did, the bonds around his midsection loosened a tiny bit. The subtle, back-and-forth motion also made it tougher for the Zodiac Zombies to score more than glancing blows with Batman's chest. Siren hadn't programmed them for any alterations in the plan, or to respond to any countermoves by Batman.

Finally, they were up to his shoulders. Batman continued to shimmy as much as he could. 'This isn't quite the Batusi,' he thought, harkening back to the dance he had once performed with the Riddler's henchwoman, Molly, 'but it might have a much better outcome!'

That dance, so long ago, had ended with a drugged Batman, writhing on the floor. He hoped these maneuvers would save him from a much worse fate.

He rocked from side to side as the Zodiac Zombies took their shots. Finally it happened. His right arm came free!

The euphoria of that realization was tempered by the fact he was hit next by the "twins," both of whom took one shot. A man wearing a bull’s head would strike next, followed by Stafford. The platform was rotating counter-clockwise. That meant, once Stafford had hit Batman again, the first go-round of the second phase of the Siren's plan had ended. After thirteen more body blows, the Caped Crusader's head would be the target.

There wasn't much time left. Batman reached into his utility belt, frantically searching for the Batarang needed to effect his escape. He planned to throw the Batarang at the wall in hopes he could hit the button on the control panel that would stop the platform from rotating, thus putting an end to the all the body blows.

He first found his pair of Bat-cuffs, while several Zodiac Zombies nailed him with hard shots. 'Why not?' Batman thought. He summoned up his strength and tossed the Bat-cuffs at the control panel. Unfortunately, he missed, although just barely, the button controlling the rotating platform.

'Darn it!' Batman thought, but he consoled himself with the fact he had it measured very well. All he needed to do was find the Batarang and make the next throw count.

“Taurus” was now standing next to him, raising his club to strike. Stafford would be next, and then – well, Batman didn't want to think about it. He found the Batarang just after the bull-headed man hit him, and let fly.

BANG!

A direct hit! The platform ground to a halt and Stafford, apparently stunned by the stoppage, put his mallet down.

A weary, bruised and battered Batman breathed a sigh of relief. The eyes of all his unwitting tormentors, however, remained vacant. The Dark Knight realized it might be quite some time before they came out of their respective trances. At least, they seemed to have no further desire to batter him.

Batman pulled his Bat-cellphone out of his utility belt and speed-dialed Robin.

WHAT IS GOOD NEWS FOR EVERYONE ELSE IS QUITE UNSETTLING TO THE CURRENT RESIDENTS OF A CERTAIN BEACH HOUSE.

"Of all the ruddy luck!" Siren exclaimed after watching the news the next morning. "I can't believe both Batman and Batgirl got away relatively unscathed. Blast it all!"

"If I had just pushed Batgirl into that giant hole, Siren, we probably would have gotten rid of her right then and there," Sirena said. "I still don't understand why you didn't tell me to do that instead. It would have been so much simpler."

"My dear, once we have the forces of law and order at our mercy," Siren responded, "it's so much more fun to let them twist in the wind – literally, in Batgirl's case – and ponder their impending demises. I also, to be quite honest, didn't think you had it in you to physically push Batgirl to her death."

"At that moment, I was so angry at her," Sirena recalled, "that I could've done it very easily." Sirena shook her head at the missed opportunity.

"I suppose I underestimated your ability, young lady. I cannot be critical of you, considering that I also was unsuccessful in eliminating the Caped Commoner, Batman. That all is in the past. Incidentally, Sirena, did you leave any instructions with your backing band?"

"I sent them home, Siren. I figured you or I could trigger them again if we need them in the future."

"Very good thinking, young lady. I did much the same with Chandell's former henchwomen, except I instructed them to leave Gotham City in order to evade capture by the authorities. Thus, it is time now for us to focus on the next step in our criminal plan, one against which those soon-to-be-baffled Bats will be powerless."

"What's that?"

"I have composed and sent an e-mail to all of the singers I've rendered speechless, offering them the use of their voices once again."

"I assume there's a catch."

"You are thinking right along with me, Sirena. I will restore their voices, as long as they consent to be transformed into sirens themselves."

The Siren looked above her as she beamed with pride.

"Think of it, Sirena. Multiple sirens, wreaking hypnotic havoc on Gotham City . . . and perhaps the rest of the country. Maybe, even, eventually," the Siren paused for effect, "the WORLD!"

The Siren closed her eyes and pictured Carrie Maria hypnotizing a millionaire record executive; Kelly Lewiston stunning a bank teller; Shana Finn mesmerizing the crowd at an awards show; Stefanie Gwynn hypnotizing the male crew on a movie set; and Hope Mountain beguiling the guards with her voice as she gained access to – the U.S. Mint!

"Hmmm," Siren said. "What names would I give to all of them?"

The Diabolical Diva considered Parthenope, Ligeia and Leukosia, which were names of the sirens in Greek mythology. 'Those are much too difficult to pronounce,' Siren thought.

Sirena's mind raced, while the Siren placed her arms over her breasts and caressed herself. That is, until Sirena's angry voice interrupted the British beauty's reverie.

"Well, where does that leave me?!" Sirena said in her angriest tone. "I thought I was your protégée?"

"Do I detect a little insecurity? Don't worry so, Sirena. I don't expect all of them to take me up on my very generous offer . . . but if at least one does, imagine what it could mean."

"Yeah, it could mean you won't need me around anymore," Sirena said as she placed her hands on her hips and glared at her mentor. "So, I'm not good enough, Siren. Is that it?"

"That is not the case, Sirena. Quite simply, it is a case of there being strength in numbers, young lady. The more of us there are, the harder it will be for law enforcement to keep pace with all of our malevolent maneuvers and sonic spells. It benefits all of us, I assure you."

"And you especially," the blonde-turned-brunette beauty said with a sneer.

Siren could see that her apprentice was angry, and knew that talking it out probably wouldn't help much.

"Young lady," Siren said, invoking the same almost-motherly tone she often used on mesmerized men, "why don't we talk about this again tomorrow? I'm sure when you have more time to reflect upon it, you will realize I'm doing this for both of us."

Sirena didn't think she would change her mind, but said, "All right. We'll talk about it again in the morning."

LATER THAT NIGHT . . .

Sirena was running as fast as she could. She didn't quite know where she was going, only that she had to get away.

She stopped short, however, when she turned a corner and saw pop singer Britany Fears reclining on a large blue staircase. The beautiful blonde was draped in a long, clingy, sleeveless silver gown that showed off all of her curves, complemented perfectly by silver, high-heeled shoes.

Needless to say, this was not the Brit that Sirena was seeking.

"Britany! What are you doing here?" a startled Sirena asked.

"I live here, my dear. What, exactly, are you doing here?"

Sirena again was taken aback as she struggled to say, "I need to talk to Siren about the next step in our plan."

"There's no need to," Britany replied. "I've already talked to her, and you're not involved."

"What do you mean by that, Britany?" Sirena demanded.

The silver-clad songstress didn't answer the question, and instead said, "Kristina, will you please stop calling me Britany? Call me by my new name, Sirena."

Sirena's eyes widened. "Noooooooooo!" she yelled.

Her own screaming woke up Sirena. She was bathed in sweat and breathing heavily.

‘I have to confront my Fears . . . er, fears!’ she thought. ‘This has gone far enough. It's time to talk to Siren . . . and this time, I won't take no for an answer!'

THE NEXT MORNING, IN COMMISSIONER GORDON'S OFFICE . . .

"Apparently, all of the silenced singers have received e-mails from the Siren," Commissioner Gordon said.

"Ransom notes, I assume, Commissioner?" Batman asked.

"Yes, but very unusual ones, Caped Crusader. She has offered to restore their voices, but only if they submit to what she refers to as a 'treatment.'"

"’Treatment,’ Commissioner?" Batgirl wondered. "What does she mean by that?"

"Well, she said it involves volunteering for ‘electronic therapy,’ whatever that means. She promised that the experience would be both 'beneficial' and ‘exhilarating' for all of the women."

"Say no more, Commissioner," Batgirl said. "Her plan is obvious. She wants to transform all of them into sirens! You all may remember when she tried doing that to me. She failed, but had success with her young sidekick."

"None of them have agreed to her demands . . ." Gordon paused, then continued worriedly, ". . . as far as we know."

Batman proposed, "If someone did–"

"– then we might be able to flush out Siren!" Robin concluded.

"Exactly, Robin!" Batman said.

"Be careful," Commissioner Gordon warned. "We obviously don't want to put any innocent people at risk."

"I think we could provide adequate protection," Batgirl said, trying to allay her father's fears.

"Of course, I have the utmost confidence in all of you, but I know firsthand how cold and calculating the Siren can be."

Although, in fact, the Commissioner remembered nothing about the two occasions in which he had been enslaved by Siren, not even the pleasant, carefree feeling as he mindlessly did the Siren's evil bidding.

"All we need to do," Batman explained, "is persuade one of the speechless songstresses to contact Siren and communicate that she is willing to undergo the experiment."

"Batman, my woman's intuition tells me we should try Hope Mountain first," Batgirl said.

"Any empirical reason for that assertion?" said Robin, showing off his vocabulary, although he quickly added, "Of course, I do trust your instincts, Batgirl."

"Of the five women," Batgirl continued, "she is the only one who didn't actually meet Siren face-to-face. Thus, she likely will be less terrified in Siren’s presence, and better equipped emotionally to convince Siren that she actually wants to undergo the ‘treatment.’"

"That's very good thinking, Batgirl," Commissioner Gordon praised, privately pleased at his daughter’s excellent idea.

Lieutenant Mooney walked into the Commissioner's office and announced, "We traced the IPO. It led us to a computer in New Guernsey. Undoubtedly, Siren has borrowed some unfortunate person's e-mail address, most likely a male, and is using it."

"So we still don't know the exact location of her current hideout," Batman said, "because it's almost assuredly on Short Island rather than in New Guernsey."

"We'll keep working on it," Mooney promised.

SHORTLY THEREAFTER, AT HOPE MOUNTAIN'S HOTEL SUITE . . .

After a brief hospital visit, Hope Mountain had stayed in Gotham City, hoping that the Siren would be captured and her stolen voice restored.

The gorgeous songstress was wearing an expensive black dress and a melancholy expression as she silently welcomed the Purple Paragon of Virtue into her hotel room.

Batgirl decided it would be best if she visited her alone, even though Mountain was not equipped, at least at the moment, to participate in any "girl talk." Thus, her end of the "conversation" with Batgirl was accomplished with the help of a laptop computer.

"We know we didn't protect you successfully the first time around," Batgirl said. "That's why we want to assure you that no further harm will come to you."

"It's not your fault," Hope typed. "You tried to warn me about picking up the phone too quickly, but I picked it up anyway. My manager still hasn’t regained his voice either, although at least he’s no longer under that awful woman’s spell."

"So you'll help us?" Batgirl asked.

"Well, I must admit," Hope replied via her laptop, "the thought of adding three or four octaves to one's voice is something that's tough for any singer to turn down."

Batgirl's expression turned to surprise, but Hope quickly smiled and began typing again.

"I want my music and my voice to inspire people, not enslave them. Anyway that I can help you, I will."

Batgirl shook her hand and said, "Thanks.” She added, "Just e-mail Siren and let her know you're interested, and you want to know what the next step in the process would be."

Mountain nodded and began composing her e-mail.

LATER THAT DAY, THE TWO SIRENS DEFINITELY ARE NOT HARMONIZING.

“I have wonderful news, Sirena. Hope Mountain has returned my e-mail and has agreed to submit to the siren treatment.”

“Well, whoop-de-damn-do,” the young enchantress responded, trying her best to make her disdain as obvious as she possibly could. “You realize, it could be a trap, don’t you?”

“Of course I’m aware of that, young lady,” Siren said, “and that is why I will take the necessary precautions, such as having Ms. Mountain picked up at a neutral location by one of my minions and driven here. That will make it all the more difficult for the Tiresome Trio and/or Leufftenant Mooney and her law-enforcement ladies to ascertain our location.”

Instead of speaking again, Sirena merely glared at Siren, so the devious diva continued to reveal her plans.

“Once Hope Mountain is converted successfully into one of us, it will only be a matter of time before the other divas follow suit. Soon, I will have a small army of sirens to command!"

"I thought you actually cared about helping me fulfill my dreams," Sirena whined, referring to her concert, which had been set up by the Siren.

Siren looked at her young charge sternly. Pouting was something the Siren hadn't done since she had received her sonic powers, and she didn't want Sirena doing it either.

"Sirena, I seem to recall you once being surprised that I chose not to double-cross a man. You, of all people, should know me by now. I didn't mind helping you accomplish your dreams, but it merely was a happy by-product of my larger scheme."

"But I thought you actually cared about me as a human being . . . well as a meta-human, anyway," Sirena said in a pleading voice.

"Oh, I do empathize AND sympathize with you, Sirena. Honestly, I do care about you as well. I care about myself a lot more, however, and that always will be the case, young lady. I will not change that for anyone."

With that, Sirena stomped off. 'Well, I can't worry any more about her for now. She'll come around,' the Siren decided.

The beautiful Brit turned her attention to happier thoughts. A particle accelerator was needed to turn someone into a siren. The closest one was in Prefolk County, well east of the beach house. Siren had scouted it out weeks in advance. Of course, she wasn't concerned in the least about her ability to penetrate the tightest of security.

THE NEXT DAY, IN GOTHAM CITY AND ON SHORT ISLAND, THERE ARE PLENTY OF EARLY RISERS.

It was 6:15 a.m. when Hope Mountain welcomed the Terrific Trio to her room at the Chessman Hotel in downtown Gotham City.

"I didn't sleep much last night," she typed. She looked at the three heroes in turn, then confessed, "I'm nervous."

"There is no need to be anxious," Batman assured her and then asked, "would you mind removing the ring on your left hand?"

"I'd rather keep it on," she said. "It's my engagement ring."

Through her gloves, Batgirl snapped her fingers. "Oh, that's right," she said, "your fiancé is Tom McDraw, the famous country and western star."

Mountain nodded and typed, "Yes. We were on separate tours and he flew here immediately when he heard what had happened, but I pleaded with him to go back out on the road. I told him there was no reason for both of us to be silenced."

She looked up at the Terrific Trio and then looked down at her keyboard again as she shook her head. "It's like he's singing for both of us right now," she typed.

All three costumed crimefighters were impressed by her courage and selflessness. They knew then Batgirl had made the right choice.

Batman said, "I promise, you will have to be without that ring for only a few hours. We have a similar-looking one with a tiny, built-in transmitter. It will allow us to track your movements and thus, locate Siren."

Batman produced the ring from his utility belt.

Hope looked puzzled. "I thought you would want me to wear a wire," she typed.

Batgirl looked at the screen and shook her head. "No, with Siren's incredible powers, she might be able to hear us talking to you. We very much doubt she'll suspect there’s anything unusual about this ring."

Hope was reluctant, but her response was, "OK. I'll do it."

MEANWHILE, BACK ON SHORT ISLAND, A SEDUCTIVE SINGER IS ABOUT TO FIND OUT WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE STUNNED HERSELF!

At the same time, the Siren awoke early for the big day, but didn't hear anyone else in the house.

"Sirena! Where are you?" the English evildoer called out.

There was no answer. Then Siren saw it, a piece of paper on the shiny, mirror-like table in the living room.

Siren picked it up, her hands actually trembling slightly as she kept reading.

Siren was astonished. 'I can't believe it!' she thought. 'How could she leave all of this behind?'

Introspection then settled into the British beauty's being – for the first occasion in quite some time. 'Maybe I was too hard on her,' Siren thought. 'Maybe I overestimated her ability to adapt.'

Siren shook her head. The vain vocal vixen didn't want to admit, even to herself, that she had made a mistake.

‘Now I really NEED to transform Hope Mountain!’

It was 7:10 a.m. and Peter Cass was getting dressed in the same hotel efficiency studio that had been his home for the last fifteen days. He had been told his beach house was being painted, yet, for some reason, he had no inclination to call and find out if the process was close to being completed.

His cell phone rang and the successful publishing executive answered.

"Good morning, Mr. Cass," said the sultry voice with the familiar British accent.

Cass' slight smile faded and he immediately became glassy-eyed.

"Hello, Siren," he said in a monotone. "What is it you desire?"

"How nice of you to ask. I trust you still remember how to get to your house?"

"Yes, Siren, I do. It's at 523 Mermaid Drive."

"Correct, my enchanted executive. I want you to call in sick for work today. I need you to pick up a young lady at the corner of Willow and Bryer Streets and transport her to your former house. She is eight stone, nine pounds–”

“She is what, Siren?” Cass asked. Usually, a mesmerized minion wouldn’t interrupt, but the need to follow the Siren’s orders to the letter over-rode the man’s deference.

“Oh, I forgot. Even though you Colonials still use the English system, you never got around to using stones.” The Siren did some quick calculations in her head. “She weighs 121 pounds, is five feet, nine inches tall, has honey-blonde hair and brown eyes. Is all of that understood?"

"Your wish is my command, Siren."

"Splendid. This young lady has a severe case of laryngitis, but I believe I can cure her." Siren laughed. "I want you to be here by 0900 hours sharp. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Siren." Cass left the room and immediately got into his car.

Siren had instructed Hope Mountain to be waiting at the corner of Willow and Bryer Streets in Point Watchout, not far from the Siren’s temporary headquarters in Short Beach. She was wearing a sweater on this warm, breezy morning, yet cold chills were going through her.

‘How do I know this will work?’ she thought.

After all, there was no way for her to communicate with Batman, Robin or Batgirl, not only because she was without her voice, but because she wasn’t wearing a microphone. She had to take it on faith that the transmitter in her ring would work, and that the Terrific Trio, as well as Lieutenant Diana Mooney and her Anti-Siren Task Force, would be able to track her.

These thoughts were on her mind as a silver Jaguar pulled up to the curb. A medium-built man with sandy hair combed to one side and a hands-free cell phone attached to his right ear got out of the car and walked over to her.

"Are you Hope Mountain?" he asked.

She nodded, “Yes.”

"Pleased to meet you," he said, extending his hand. "Siren sent me to bring you to her house."

Hope shook his hand with some trepidation. He seemed normal enough, not at all like the glazed-over zombie she expected.

Cass opened the passenger-side door and Hope climbed in. She was quite nervous, yet kept reminding herself that the Siren wouldn't take a chance on hurting her. After all, the Diabolical Diva wanted to transform her into a villainous vocal vixen.

Siren had considered having Cass blindfold Mountain, but decided against it. The entrancing Englishwoman reasoned, in her present condition, that there was no way Mountain could communicate her location to anyone. Once she could speak again, she would be well on her way to becoming part of the enchantress' evil entourage.

Cass had just begun driving when his cell phone sounded. It was the Siren.

"I trust you've picked up my passenger," she said.

The mere sound of the Siren's voice returned him to a trance, and his speech, which before had seemed natural, now became labored and robotic. Hope's eyes widened and she could sense the fear sweeping through her body.

"Yes, Siren," the mesmerized driver said. "We are on our way to your house right now. We should be there in about five minutes."

"Make sure no one’s following you first," Siren replied, "but get here as quickly as you can. I will be waiting."

"Yes, Siren," he repeated as his mesmerizing mistress terminated the call on the other end. The car suddenly accelerated.

Because Hope couldn't carry on a conversation, all she could do was stare at her driver, who was continually looking in the Jag’s rear view mirror, as well as checking the sky overhead. As she gazed at him, she couldn't help but wonder, 'What must that be like? To have any man at your service, at any time. Wow!' Although the beautiful singer knew the feeling of 20,000 people screaming and chanting her name, she couldn't imagine what it must be like to be a siren.

She didn't really want to be one, yet couldn't help at least considering the possibility. The captor of her voice wouldn't have been surprised. Like many criminals, the Siren preyed on human frailties.

The evil diva knew from personal experience what it was like for a singer to be without her voice. She was counting on the psychological toll it would take on her victims to make them more amenable to her diabolical designs.

For a split second, Mountain could envision herself as a siren. She took a deep breath, however, and quickly ended the daydream.

'I want my voice back,' she thought, 'but I don't want to be like her.'

Cass was satisfied they weren’t being followed. Soon the car stopped in front of a beach house. Siren’s mind-controlled servant, as he had been programmed to do, quickly got out of the silver car and opened the door for his unnerved passenger.

The hypnotized executive led the way up the walk to the front door. Mountain strode besides him, as purposefully as she could, correctly deducing that the Siren was watching from the window.

Cass turned the key in the door – his key, the one he hadn't used in over two weeks – and slowly opened it. Hope wasn't quite prepared for what she saw.

'This,' she thought, 'is the Siren?'

The woman who had held a city, a region and an industry in fear for over two weeks stood before Hope Mountain. Siren was dressed rather inconspicuously, at least for her, as she wore a plain white, strapless Greco-Roman gown with a thick bracelet adorning her right wrist. Siren had decided it would be counter-productive on this important day to tote her usual horizontal bouffant to the nuclear facility, and instead had let her long brunette locks tumble behind her. Hope couldn't believe that this petite, though beautiful, woman could have millions of people running scared. At a glance, the English enchantress certainly wasn't physically imposing, as she stood three inches shorter than Hope. She soon gave a demonstration, however, that showed the silenced singer exactly who was in charge.

Cass had been staring at Siren since returning to his house for the first time in weeks. Siren beckoned him with her right index finger and he walked toward her.

"Mr. Cass," she said, "I must tell you two things. First, I wish to remind you that you will protect me at all costs, should we run into any resistance from the authorities at any time today. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Siren," he said in a monotone.

"Second, the upcoming conversation does not concern you in the least. With that in mind, I want you to sleep until I awaken you for our journey to Prefolk County. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Siren," he replied and immediately closed his eyes.

Hope was amazed, both at Cass' single-minded devotion to his mesmerizing mistress, and the fact that he was sleeping while standing. The evil Englishwoman caught her shocked expression.

"Impressive, isn't it, young lady?" she asked rhetorically. "In a few hours, you also will have that kind of power over men. In fact, I may be in the market for a leufftenant, a second-in-command, if you will, if a certain person doesn't return very soon."

Mountain nodded as approvingly as she could and pointed to her own mouth.

"Ah, yes," Siren said. "I will keep my promise, mostly because we have much to talk about before you become a siren."

The cunning criminal crooner pulled the Voice-Eraser from her silver handbag. She examined it while she spoke to Mountain.

"Professor Charm's re-design was quite ingenious," the Siren said. "He made a couple of simple modifications to enable me to reverse the polarity on this devastating device."

Hope mouthed the words "What do you mean?"

Siren read her lips perfectly and said, "All I must do, my dear, is reverse the setting and it will restore what it has taken. Open wide."

Hope did as she was told. Siren pointed the device at her fifth victim's mouth. As she did, the device buzzed and Mountain felt some pain in her throat, as her vocal cords tightened.

She clutched at her throat. There was still discomfort, but it felt almost normal.

"Can you say something?" Siren asked as she put the device back in her bag and put her purse on a table.

"Thank you," Hope said with a rasp that soon became clearer. "Thank you very much."

"My pleasure," the villainous vixen said. "If you are to become a siren, my dear, a voice is mandatory equipment."

Hope began clearing her throat and warming up her voice as the Siren turned to the sleeping Peter Cass and re-activated him.

"Mr. Cass," she said.

The dupe opened his eyes immediately. "What is it you desire, Siren?"

"You are about to drive us to Prefolk County," she said. "I trust your car has an almost full tank of petrol, as I requested?"

"Yes," he responded. "I took care of that this morning."

"Splendid. Then let's be on our way. Come with me, Ms. Mountain. This will be the best day of your life, I promise you. First, however, I need you to relax so that I can place you in the proper frame of mind."

The Siren was about to perform her visual hypnosis on the beautiful songstress when she heard it – the sound of a helicopter overhead! She stuck her head outside the door, peered up into the sky and immediately recognized it as the Bat-Copter. She turned and glared at Hope.

"I know you signaled them in some way," she said ominously.

“No, I–” Hope began as Siren stared at her, furious.

"Seize her, Peter!" she yelled at Cass. He immediately grabbed Hope from behind.

"We will simply take an alternate means of transportation, so that we may lose those Bat-dolts," Siren said. "Even if he follows us, Batman won’t be able to stop me. Mr. Cass! Can you remember how to pilot that boat of yours docked in the back?"

"Yes, Siren, if it will please you," he responded, still grasping Mountain, who was unsuccessfully struggling to break free.

"Stupendous!" Siren exclaimed. "We can reach the nuclear facility by boat. It merely will take a little bit longer, that's all. Come with me."

The mesmerized man followed the seductive spellbinder, still clutching the reluctant Hope Mountain. They all exited onto the back porch of the house.

"If you don't start behaving yourself, my dear," Siren said, her arms folded and wearing an evil grin, "I may be forced to take more drastic measures to subdue you. I don't think you want that."

That was when the Siren heard another frightening noise off in the distance.

A motorboat!

Two motorboats, actually: one carrying Batgirl, Lieutenant Mooney and two female officers from the task force, and another ferrying four other female officers. All eight of them were wearing sunglasses, and not merely because it was a cloudless day.

The two boats came right onto the sand and Batgirl and the female officers quickly climbed out. Batgirl and Diana realized right away that Siren’s young charge wasn’t in sight. The commotion distracted Cass, who was torn between his orders to protect Siren and restrain Mountain. His momentary indecision enabled Hope to break free from his grasp. She ran back toward the house while Siren screamed, "No!" The evil enchantress knew she just had lost the one card she had left to play.

She was about to try to pursue Mountain, but Diana Mooney yelled, "Don't even think about it, Siren! The rest of my task force already has secured the house."

Batgirl chimed in, not attempting at all to suppress a wide smile. "It's over, Siren," she said. "You'd better come -- quietly!"

'I don't appreciate being made sport of by that Purple Pest,' Siren thought. The defeated diva then shook her head. 'She is, however, right.'

Siren stood on the beach, waiting for the inevitable, a crestfallen look on her face as her luxurious hair waved behind her in the ocean breeze. Three uniformed officers surrounded her.

“So where is your apprentice, Siren?” Mooney asked.

“I do not know. She left early this morning and did not leave a forwarding address,” the Siren said, bitterness oozing from her voice.

"We have a couple of bits of business here before we take you into custody," Batgirl said. "I'm sure you know what they are. Tell your dupe to join us inside the house."

Siren nodded.

"Mistah Cass," she said, ramping up her accent a notch. "Follow us."

The officers flanked the Siren as she walked up the steps and through the back door, with Cass close behind. Waiting inside the house were Batman, Robin, Hope and several other female officers from the GCPD.

Batgirl jerked a thumb at Peter Cass. "Can you get him out of that spell?"

"Yes, and I assure you that it will not take an antidote note," Siren said. "He is not under my sonic spell. He merely is acting under a post-hypnotic suggestion. All I need to do is take him out of the trance and negate the suggestion, once and for all."

"Then do it. Now," Batman commanded.

Siren hated being the one on the receiving end of orders, but knew she had no choice. She sidled up close to Peter and began talking to him.

"Mr. Cass, when I count to the number four, you will come out of your trance," Siren said. Her accent became more overpowering as the anger rose within her. "Furthahmaw, you no longah will lapse into a trance at the sound of my voice. Is that cleah?"

Cass nodded, “Yes.”

Siren counted, "One. . .two. . .three. . .faw!"

As she finished, Cass blinked his eyes and began shaking his head. He looked around and was shocked to see the Terrific Trio.

"Batgirl, Batman, Robin!" he said, eyes wide with shock, "what are you doing in my living room?"

"It's a long story, citizen," Batman said.

The civilian then noticed Siren. "You're beautiful," he blurted out. "Who are YOU?"

Before Siren could say anything, Batgirl stepped in.

"Only your worst nightmare," Batgirl replied, "and that of any man . . . but not anymore."

'I hope,' Batgirl added to herself in thought.

Several uniformed female officers, all wearing sunglasses, walked over to the Siren. As they began to give the Diabolical Diva the Miranda warnings, she wordlessly put her hands behind her back as the women slapped the handcuffs on her.

Batgirl beamed as she looked on. This was the moment for which she had been waiting, a moment that sometimes seemed as if it never would arrive.

Hope also watched this scene with pride. Batman walked over and shook her hand.

"We trust you didn't have too many anxious moments, Ms. Mountain," he said. "We appreciate your bravery through this ordeal and we all are in your debt. Thank you so much."

"Likewise," Robin added with a smile. "Your courage leaves me, well, speechless."

"What you've done won't be forgotten," Batgirl said.

Diana said, "I am going to nominate you for a Civilian Commendation for your outstanding work."

"I couldn't have done it without all of your encouragement," Hope said to the assembled crimefighters, costumed and otherwise. "I'm glad I could be of help, and I can't tell you how good it feels to have my voice back. Oh! I just thought of something. We need to restore all of the other singers' voices. The Siren said she just had to reverse the polarity, or something like that, on that gizmo of hers and the effects would be reversed. It's in her bag on that table."

"We'll make sure that's taken care of," Batgirl said, "now that the Siren is in custody."

It felt so good for Batgirl to say those words.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, IN COMMISSIONER GORDON'S OFFICE . . .

Barbara had stopped by to visit her father on the way to the library. It would be nice to leave soon and be able to go to her regular job without worrying about the Siren's next move. Lieutenant Mooney walked through the doorway.

"Lieutenant," the Commissioner said, "I take it you are here to brief me on the Siren's arraignment last night."

"Yes, it went off without a hitch, sir. We provided extra security, but the Siren didn't try anything. Because of the magnitude of this criminal, Mr. Dent handled the arraignment personally. He charged her with six counts of grand larceny, one for each of the voices stolen plus Mr. Cass' beach house."

"But, Diana, weren't some of her crimes committed outside Gotham City, in Bahama County?" Barbara asked.

"You're right, Barbara," Mooney answered, "but Mr. Dent spoke with the DA over there and he agreed to waive jurisdiction."

"It seems, Barbara, that nobody else really wants the problems that go with trying to keep the Siren in custody," Commissioner Gordon said. "I understand Harvey also is attempting to gain restitution from her to the singers for their lost revenue and extra medical, hotel and travel expenses."

"What about the singers besides Hope Mountain?" Barbara asked. "What about their voices? Oh, and what about Mr. Foreman, Hope’s manager?"

"We brought them all together last night," Diana said. "Three of them were still in or near Gotham City, and the other two flew in as soon as they heard the news. They met with Siren in her holding cell, and she used her device to restore all of their voices."

"You then confiscated it, right?" Gordon asked to be sure.

"Of course, Commissioner. Our lab technicians are looking at it as we speak, trying to find out what makes it work and if there's anything about the technology that we can apply."

"That is SOUND thinking, Lieutenant," the Commissioner said.

"In any event," Barbara said with a smile, "I don't think we'll be HEARING from the Siren for quite some time."

All three of them chuckled softly.

MANY WEEKS LATER, AFTER A SPEEDY TRIAL, ONE CELL BLOCK AT GOTHAM STATE PENITENTIARY HOUSES A SINGLE PRISONER.

Siren stared at the drab, barren walls surrounding her as she sat on her unmade cot. She still was wearing the Greco-Roman gown she had been clad in when she was arrested, as it was the policy of Warden Crichton to let arch-criminals wear their own clothes.

'At least this is some reminder of what I had,' she thought sadly as she tugged at her gown. It had been some six years since she last had been confined in Gotham State Pen.

Just then, a muscular uniformed woman wearing sunglasses turned a key in the lock and entered the cell. She was carrying a tray.

"Breakfast time, Circe," she said.

Siren looked at the tray, which had orange juice, toast, eggs and dry cereal – Cheerios, coincidentally. She wondered if that was supposed to be a joke.

She stared at the toast in disdain. "I don't suppose you have scones?" she asked. The English enchantress had petitioned the warden several times to have the British biscuits added to the breakfast menu.

"No, this is what you get. There are no substitutions here, unless you have allergies or bona fide religious dietary constraints."

"No, I merely have good taste," Siren responded as she grabbed the orange juice. "Please bring the rest back. I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite."

"Suit yourself," the guard said. She picked up her walkie-talkie and said, "Prisoner No. 1708 refuses to eat breakfast."

"Roger that," came the answer.

"I'll be back in four hours with lunch. Maybe you'll have an appetite then."

"Maybe," Siren said as the guard left.

The downcast diva took a sip of the orange juice as tears welled in her eyes.

Back to Batgirl Bat-Trap stories

Back to the Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage!