The Siren’s New Servant

A NEW DAY IN GOTHAM CITY . . .
AND IN YET ANOTHER NEWLY-ABANDONED WAREHOUSE,
THE SIREN HAS RECENTLY COMPLETED THE PAINSTAKING AND NEAR-HERCULEAN TASK OF . . .
WASHING HER LUXURIOUS HAIR!

Impatience had set in for the Diabolical Diva, who had grown her beautiful brunette hair particularly long, all the better to eventually construct her breathtaking, horizontal bouffant. Yet waiting for it to dry wasn't much fun. She had it wrapped almost turban-style in a towel of red, white and green, as she sat in an area that had been made up to look like a typical living room, complete with fireplace. Clad only in her underwear, the sinister seductress decided it was time for action.

'I might as well do some multi-tasking,' she thought, 'as the colonists say.'

With that, she quickly dialed a number on the phone, one she had called several times before. Thus, she knew the number by rote.

An older English gentleman quickly answered.

"No, madam, I'm afraid Mr. Wayne isn't here at the moment. May I take a message?"

"Oh, it's SOOOOO refreshing to hear the soothing tones of a fellow Brit," Siren said, her voice oozing with charm. "We seem to be so few and far between in the States these days. Pity, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. I assure you the pleasure is likewise, madam. Would you like to leave a message for Mr. Wayne?"

"No, sir. I am the only person in the world that can deliver my message to Mr. Wayne."

"Then may I tell him your name?"

Siren thought quickly before responding, "No, you may not." At that moment, a devious look washed over her gorgeous face.

On the other end of the phone, the British butler was surprised at her refusal to identify herself. Before he could say anything, though, he found himself on the receiving end of one of Siren's stunning, seven-octave notes.

"Now, my good man," she said after ending the note. "Please tell me your name."

"Alfred Pennyworth, madam," he said in a monotone.

"Oh, don't be so formal, Alfred. You may call me by my name. I am the Siren."

"We are not well-acquainted with one another, Madame Siren," Alfred said, slowly. "Thus, I do not feel comfortable calling you by merely your first name."

Siren was impressed with Alfred's trademark British propriety, even while under her spell.

"That is perfectly reasonable, Alfred," she said. "I absolutely adore British protocol. You will, however, obey every command I give you, isn't that correct?"

"That goes without saying, Madame Siren. What is it that you desire?"

"To answer that completely, Alfred, probably would take hours," Siren said with an evil chuckle. "For now, however, all I want is for you to forget this conversation ever took place, once you hang up the phone. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Madame Siren."

"You will come out of this trance at that time. You will, however, revert into a trance and be at my command anytime you hear my melodious voice. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Madame Siren."

"Splendid. In that case, it was a pleasure not speaking with you today."

"The pleasure was all mine, Madame Siren."

"You will be hearing from me again very shortly. Now please hang up the phone."

As Alfred hung up the phone, he blinked. ‘That's odd,’ he thought, trying to figure out what had happened.

‘Perhaps it was a wrong number.’

Not for the Siren it wasn't, as she flashed her dazzling smile. "George," she called out. "I am ready."

A handsome, dark-haired man quickly attended to her. "Yes, Siren," he said. "Your wish is my command."

"They tell me, George Warren, that you are the finest hairdresser in Gotham City," the evil Englishwoman said. "This is your chance to demonstrate that."

George nodded. "Oh, thank you, Siren," he said. "It is an honor to work on someone as beautiful as you."

Siren smiled at the compliment, although she had heard thousands of such declarations from men and boys since she was age thirteen. Even before her vocal cords had been altered by a near-fatal lightning strike that had provided her with a stunning seven-octave note, Lorelei Circe always had a rather hypnotic effect on males, something she recently had realized.

As she leaned back in her chair, she thought wistfully about her younger days as a teenager at the prestigious Royal Academy of Musical Arts in Londinium, where boys would fetch her tea and carry her books in the hope Lorelei Circe would look their way. Over the next few minutes, while the tuneful temptress enjoyed her reverie, George swept Siren's hair back and began putting silver braids in her trademark bouffant.

As he wordlessly went about his work, Siren wore a bemused expression as she looked at him in the full-length mirror in front of them.

"You do fine work, George, I must admit. Where did you learn your craft?"

"I began my career working for the famed Mr. Oceanbring," George replied.

"He taught you quite well. Also, I must say, your blank expression and vapid personality, George, remind me of someone I once dated," Siren said haughtily.

"Yes," George said. "Thank you."

Siren laughed at the fawning response to her insult, and soon looked in the mirror approvingly at her long, swept-back, braided hair. "That is appropriately goddess-like," she said as her latest dupe nodded. "Thank you so very much, George."

"Is there anything else I can do, Siren?" the hypnotized hairdresser said, almost pleadingly. "I exist only to serve you."

Siren caressed his cheeks, one after the other, and eyed his body up and down. "I am sure I can come up with something eventually," she said with a wicked smile. "Perhaps later tonight. For now, you will return to your room and await further instructions. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Siren." George exited.

COINCIDENTALLY, AT THAT VERY MOMENT, BATMAN IS AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS, DESCRIBING THE EFFECT THE SIREN'S STUNNING NOTE CAN HAVE ON MEN.

With the Siren still at large, Batman had embarked on a project, delving into research in an attempt to find out how her power worked. Now, after several painstaking weeks and much consultation with respected scientists in the field of neuroscience, Batman was ready to make a presentation on his findings.

Robin, Batgirl, Commissioner Gordon, Chief O'Hara, Lieutenant Mooney and Detective Montoya all watched intently as Batman used transparencies on an overhead projector to better highlight his discoveries of the reasons Siren's and Sirena's stunning notes are able to overwhelm men.

"According to the scientists I've consulted, and the research I've done, I believe the Siren's high note, as well as that of her young criminal cohort, Sirena, triggers the release of dopamine in the male brain," Batman said while showing a diagram of the brain.

"Dopa-what? What's that?" Chief O'Hara asked.

"Dopamine is a chemical in the brain, Chief, that when triggered, puts the person in a pleasurable state. Somehow, the Siren's stunning note releases this chemical in the male mind, placing him in an otherwise catatonic trance, except for a highly suggestible state in which he exhibits total responsiveness to all of Siren's commands."

Everyone looked at Batman, who added, "Of course, all of this also applies to Sirena, as well."

"Are the effects the same in every male?" Lieutenant Mooney asked.

"I'm glad you asked, Lieutenant. It seems the effect is heightened if the victim sees the Siren as she is delivering the note. Somehow, seeing her in person seems to make the victim quite happy to do her bidding, as opposed to being a blank-faced zombie."

Commissioner Gordon looked at the floor at that moment. He couldn't, of course, remember being hypnotized by the Siren, but the feeling of pleasure did linger in his subconscious after each time he had been enslaved by the evil Englishwoman.

Meanwhile, Batman continued. "Once released, the dopamine makes its way to the male cerebrum. We believe the victim then goes into a delta state, the deepest state of hypnosis."

"How accurate can any of this really be, Batman?" the Commissioner asked.

"This is ALL conjecture, Commissioner, but educated conjecture," Batman replied. "Thankfully, we haven't yet had to perform an autopsy on one of Siren's or Sirena's victims, so we have no way of knowing for sure."

"Batman," Batgirl said, "this is all wonderful information . . . but if you don't mind me asking, how exactly will it help us in the fight against Siren and Sirena?"

Batman smiled. "That's a legitimate question, Batgirl. I believe I have a legitimate answer."

Batgirl smiled, too.

"We've had cases," Mooney said, "of male GCPD officers secretly working undercover for Siren under post-hypnotic suggestions."

"Indeed," the Commissioner added, "that happened very recently with two of our officers."

Batgirl nodded ruefully, remembering how Officers Miller and Nolan got in the way and impeded the potential capture of Siren and Sirena.

"How right you both are," Batman said. "By using the brain-wave Bat-analyzer, we can periodically examine male officers and thus make sure they are not acting under Siren's command."

Batgirl nodded. "Well, that certainly would be helpful."

"In fact, Batgirl, Batman has arranged for a demonstration," Gordon said.

"That's right, Commissioner," the Caped Crusader said. "One of your officers graciously has consented to let us demonstrate the effects of Siren's stunning note, and also how the brain-wave Bat-analyzer works."

Batman went to a corner of the room, toward a movable table containing an apparatus that looked like a vintage hair dryer from a women's salon, only with numerous buttons and displays on top of it. He wheeled it to the center of Gordon's office, and then took some wires protruding from it and connected them to a machine on another table. This machine had a large LED display.

"We put out the word for a volunteer, Batman, and we got numerous responses from the rank and file," Commissioner Gordon said with a slight sigh.

"I don't know if that level of interest is good or bad, Commissioner."

"I know, Batman. That's exactly what I was thinking. Anyway, we randomly selected Officer Pelzman to be our test subject." The Commissioner pressed a button on his intercom. "Bonnie, please send in Officer Pelzman."

"He'll be right there," came the answer from the secretary.

A uniformed officer of average height walked into the room. His blue eyes darted around self-consciously as he could feel everyone looking at him. "Hello, everyone," he said with a half-smile and half-salute.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Officer," Batman said. "I promise you won't feel a thing."

The officer nodded nervously as he sat in the chair and Batman adjusted the top of the apparatus over Pelzman's auburn hair, just after placing a small headset with earphones on the policeman.

Knowing the officer could not hear him, Batman pointed at the LED readout, which showed undulating waves. "This is a normal alpha brainwave pattern," the Caped Crusader announced to the room, "typical of an awake and aware adult individual."

As the volunteer settled in, Batman lifted the apparatus. As that was being done, the image of the Siren appeared on the large projection screen in the office. The lights suddenly were darkened as the Siren began to speak.

The officer's attention immediately was riveted by the ravishing rogue, clad in her favorite silver tunic.

"In exchange for the right to wear my own clothes," the English Enchantress said, rolling her eyes as she read from a statement, "I have agreed to film this as an experiment for the benefit of the Gotham City Police Department and the Gotham State Department of Corrections."

Batgirl shook her head as she watched the screen. 'Wow. She was actually in custody,' Batgirl thought angrily. Siren’s ability to evade capture, and thus, prosecution, was a thorn in Batgirl’s pretty side.

Siren put down the piece of paper, and began to let her natural charm ooze through. The sound, of course, wasn't audible for anyone else in the room, lest the other men be zapped by Siren's hypnotic voice.

"Relax, sir," she said as she stared into the camera. "I promise you will feel no pain. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact."

The Siren's gorgeous face filled the screen as she let loose with her hypnotic note.

The officer's eyes glazed over, and a wide smile played across his face.

Siren smiled. Even in a command performance such as this, the Diabolical Diva was enjoying herself.

"You are under my spell. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Siren. I will obey your commands," the officer said.

Siren sighed as she paused before speaking again. "You will let these people perform whatever tests they must perform, and you will-“ she paused and rolled her eyes again "-obey their instructions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Siren. I exist only to serve you."

The room was silent other than the officer's monotone declaration. Getting an up-close look at someone under a siren's spell was a bit unsettling for everyone, as they all thought about how quickly a man's loyalties could turn under the influence of Siren and Sirena.

"Splendid," the Diabolical Diva said with a slight sneer. Uncannily, her comments seemed to be timed perfectly so as not to coincide with the stunned officer's robotic answers. With Siren's presentation over, the DVD stopped, ending on a freeze frame of her gorgeous visage.

As that happened, disappointment became etched on Pelzman's face. He looked downward and slumped slightly in his chair, seemingly barely aware of the people surrounding him. All that mattered to him was that the Siren was gone.

"This will not hurt at all, Officer," Batman said as he again lowered the apparatus over the officer's head.

The officer said nothing, simply nodding.

Batman pointed to the brainwave readout on the screen. "Where before you had seen the classic up-and-down pattern, it is now almost a flatline," he said, "indicating a very limited amount of brain activity, despite the subject being awake."

Everyone in the room looked at the screen. A mixture of awe and uneasiness permeated the room as everyone reacted to the demonstration, which neatly displayed how powerful the Siren's voice could be, even on tape. Batman noticed how the atmosphere in the room had changed and quickly decided it was time to wrap things up.

"Officer, you may sleep now," he said, and the policeman quickly closed his eyes and slumped back in the chair, unconscious.

"So you believe, Batman, that this device can help us?" the Commissioner asked helpfully.

"I do, Commissioner," he responded. "If, because of unusual behavior, we suspect any officer of being in Siren's thrall, we should be able to determine if he is or isn't. That is, as long as he is willing to subject himself to this test."

Batgirl nodded her approval and thought, 'I hope this helps.'

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, THE SIREN IS PLAYING HER FAVOURITE INSTRUMENT!

Although she no longer played concerts to adoring fans, the harp always felt like an extension of herself to the Siren, and playing it still filled her with joy. It was especially joyful when she had a potential new crime to celebrate.

As always, she sang as she plucked, pausing to play a chord on her harp after every line:

This time, I am using a new approach

Going through someone well above reproach

He unwittingly will deliver his boss to me

Thus, my cohort and I shall be home free!

As usual, Siren giggled after singing the last line. At that moment, she noticed Sirena walking in to the darkened room. Sirena smiled at hearing the reference to her, exactly as Siren hoped she would. After Sirena recently had been brainwashed and led astray by Minerva, her mentor had promised to include Sirena in all of her plans, to preclude her from again breaking away from the English enchantress. Siren now focused on her apprentice, her green eyes fixed on Sirena’s every move.

Bedecked in jewels she recently had "acquired," in her words, the hypnotic Hispanic-American opened the Venetian blinds and stood there, letting the afternoon sun cast a shadow over her face. She was wearing a strapless white gown similar to the kind Siren had worn many times. Her hair was even lighter in color than usual, almost ash blonde, and very well-coiffed.

Her lips were glossy and almost purplish-red, and her eyebrows and eyelashes were much thicker than in the past. Sirena paused as if she were on a fashion runway, waiting for Siren to notice.

Finally, the evil Englishwoman slowly nodded her rare approval as Sirena walked past. Feeling very self-satisfied, the younger woman asked, "So what do you think, Siren?"

"I must say, young lady, that is a timeless appearance you have constructed, from the tasteful dress, to the impressive jewels, to your almost impeccable blonde hair. Well-played."

"Thank you," Sirena replied.

"It is much better than your usual tawdry, slag-like ensembles," the Siren added.

Sirena rolled her eyes at the inevitable verbal slap as the Englishwoman flashed a sly grin.

"I could not resist," Siren said. "I am impressed, however, at your sartorial choices. How did this happen?"

"Oh, it was just something I threw together," the young enchantress said, not wanting to admit how hard she was trying to gain the approval of her mentor, and how much effort it had taken to put together this ensemble.

"You are a bright spark after all," Siren said, "even though you so often resemble a stereotypically dumb blonde."

"Thanks, I suppose," Sirena said, rolling her eyes ever-so-slightly.

"I apologize, Sirena," the heinous hypnotist said. "Again, I simply couldn't resist. Honestly, I am glad to see you dressing more like an adult for a change. You'll find that it feels quite good."

"Thank you. You know, I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am about what happened between us." Sirena was referring to the recent schism between the two enchantresses, which had nearly resulted in Siren's demise after Sirena helped place Siren in a deathtrap while under the influence of Minerva's brainwashing hair dryer.

Siren lied slightly, saying, "It's all right, young lady. I have forgotten about that completely.

"In fact," the Diabolical Diva added, "I'm looking on the bright side. That unpleasant situation led to my discovery of Crescenda, a rather fit yet feminine young lady who acquitted herself quite well in hand-to-hand combat with that infernal colonist Batgirl. She and her unique services may well come in quite handy eventually."

"Why isn't she here with us now?" Sirena asked.

"There is no reason to place her on the payroll again until she is needed," Siren replied. "I shall be on the blower to her straight away as soon as her muscular presence is required for another potential row against Batgirl."

'I wish I had a Siren-to-American English dictionary,' Sirena thought.

Siren noticed her quizzical expression, and said with a sigh, "What I mean, young lady, is that I shall phone her immediately when she is needed for a possible fight with that purple pain in the arse, Batgirl."

"Oh," Sirena said with a wan smile. "Will Batgirl be on our trail soon?"

"Maybe, and maybe not, Sirena. The newest plan, which I already have set into motion, is so insidious that I suspect none of the Caped Cretins will be aware of it until it is much too late."

"What IS our plan this time?" Sirena asked.

"It is quite simple, young lady. Quite fortuitously, Bruce Wayne's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, is under my control. Through him, I will be privy to all of Mr. Wayne's plans, making it extremely easy for me to discern when he is at his most vulnerable before placing him under my spell."

Sirena smiled widely. "I like this already," she said.

Siren barely noticed her protégée's growing excitement as she continued detailing her plan.

"Once Mr. Wayne is in my power," Siren said, spreading her arms and looking skyward, "I shall be able to slowly bleed the Wayne Foundation accounts dry without anyone being the wiser. Even in these difficult economic times, I'm sure the Wayne Foundation coffers still are quite full. Do-gooders never rest, even during a recession."

“Siren, if you don’t mind me saying so, you do seem a bit obsessed with this Bruce Wayne guy.”

The Siren looked at Sirena sharply. She was about to rebuke her charge, but then decided an explanation was, perhaps, in order. “Bruce Wayne is the richest man in Gotham City, if not the world. Naturally, he’s one of my favourite targets."

Sirena appeared puzzled. “Is the Wayne Foundation a charity or a for-profit company? Are there stockholders?”

The Siren smiled. “Your confusion is understandable, my dear. Mr. Wayne owns the entire foundation. He’s so disinterested in business, he appoints and pays a Board of Directors to oversee the vast enterprise. Apparently, Bruce Wayne runs all his businesses, including his charitable efforts, through the Foundation his father established. He forgoes a lot of tax advantages that way, the fool.”

“I guess he’s so rich, he doesn’t mind paying taxes,” Sirena conjectured. She felt a pang of guilt at her pending complicity in ending the Wayne Foundation’s ability to do charitable work, but Siren's evil enthusiasm helped her overcome such reservations very quickly.

"Think of it, Sirena," the British brunette said, "dollar by dollar, Mr. Wayne's endowment will filter into our lovely hands."

Sirena smiled and said, "And by the time anyone realizes it. . ."

"We'll be long gone," Siren said, finishing the thought and adding a giggle.

The young blonde answered Siren's laugh with one of her own. "So what's next?"

"What is next, young lady, is that you will figure prominently in our plans." The Siren had promised Sirena that she would do her best to involve the younger woman in the Diabolical Diva's evil schemes more often after their most recent dust-up.

"What will I do?" Sirena asked, caressing herself.

"Once we discover the identities of Mr. Wayne's current male business associates," Siren said, "I shall entrust you with helping to make sure that they are completely on board with our plans."

Sirena took a deep breath and grinned. "I'll be ready, Siren, I promise you that."

"I know you will, Sirena, I know you will. They, however, will not be ready for us."

The two gorgeous sirens smiled wickedly at one another.

THE NEXT MORNING, THE ENGLISH ENCHANTRESS KICKS HER SCHEME INTO HIGH GEAR.

"Wayne Residence."

"Good day," Siren purred.

Alfred's eyes widened as he instantaneously fell under the Diabolical Diva's spell. "Yes, Madame Siren."

"Alfred, I must dispense with pleasantries and get to business immediately. Does Mr. Wayne have any special plans in the next fortnight?"

"Yes, Madame Siren. He intends to take a trip to Washington, D.C. tomorrow morning on his private jet for some high-level government business."

The Siren's eyes widened. "What exactly is he going to do there?"

Alfred's eyes darted nervously. He didn't want to displease his mind-controlling mistress, but had no choice. "I do not know all the details myself, Madame Siren," he said.

Siren knew quite well that men under her sonic spell were incapable of lying to the English Enchantress. Thus, ‘I am satisfied with the veracity of the answer,’ she thought, ‘although I am quite disappointed by the paucity of information.’

"That is fine, Alfred,” she said. “He’s not going to fly the jet himself, is he?”

“No, Madame Siren. Although Master Bruce does have a pilot license, when he flies on business he always uses one of the Foundation’s pilots.”

“Splendid,” the Siren replied, adding methodically. “I do, however, want you to provide to me the exact time and place of his scheduled departure and the name of the pilot as soon as possible. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Madame Siren. Your wish is my command."

LATER THAT DAY, AT STATELY WAYNE MANOR . . .

Bruce Wayne was in his study, looking over some correspondence that dealt with his impending trip, when he could feel Dick looking at him. He didn’t take his eyes off his work as he said, “What can I do for you, Dick?”

“Holy Eyes in the Back of Your Head. How’d you know it was me?” Dick said. “I mean, it could have been Alfred.”

Bruce finally turned around and smiled. “When one lives under the same roof with someone for a long period of time,” Dick’s mentor said, “he tends to anticipate the other person’s moves, and feel his presence. Besides, Dick, Alfred isn’t quite as stealthy as you are. It must be a byproduct of your crimefighting skills.”

Dick smiled.

“So, what’s up?” Bruce asked informally, trying to put his former ward at ease.

“Well, I don’t quite know how to say this. . .”

“Come on, I’m sure an officer of the Wayne Foundation can say what’s on his mind.” Bruce smiled.

“Bruce, have you noticed anything strange about Alfred lately?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t, well, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he just doesn’t seem like himself. He’s just a little distant. I wonder if something is wrong with him.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“No, I really hadn’t noticed anything different about him, although I’ve kind of been preoccupied with this current project, so maybe my powers of observation aren’t what they normally are. I’ve taken advantage of the brief respite which Gotham City’s ne’er-do-wells had provided us to lay the groundwork for some radical changes. I’ll bring you up to speed when I get back from Washington.”

“Bruce, it’s not like that time when the Penguin kidnapped him and Alfred developed that telltale, nervous twitch. There isn’t any real outward sign, but he just seems . . . different.”

“Well, I trust your instincts, Dick, you know that. Merely try to keep an eye on him until I get back. I’ll only be in our nation’s capital for one day, and once I return, maybe I’ll sit down and have a chat with him.”

“That’s a good idea, Bruce. Thanks for listening to me.”

“No charge, old chum.”

THE NEXT MORNING . . .

Alfred had supplied the information about Bruce's flight to Siren, which meant it was time for Sirena to become involved. Her mentor provided her with the name of the pilot that was to transport Bruce to the nation’s capital.

Wearing a violet dress and more newly-acquired jewels, the blonde beauty – using a black, retro phone – called the pilot scheduled to fly Bruce to the nation's capital.

"Hello," the male voice said pleasantly.

"Is this Mr. Bong, the pilot who flies for the Wayne Foundation?"

“Yes,” Bong answered.

Sirena then delivered her stunning note.

It was unfortunate Siren wasn't there to hear what happened next, because even the hard-to-please Englishwoman likely would have been quite impressed. Sirena no longer sounded like the giddy, giggly adolescent she usually did after hypnotizing men. No, this was a mature woman, fully in command of her awesome powers.

She summoned her sultriest and huskiest voice.

"My name is Sirena, Mr. Bong. I am the only person in the world who matters to you at this moment. You are totally under my control. Do you understand me?”

"Yes, Sirena," was the response. "What do you want me to do?"

"You are scheduled to fly Bruce Wayne to Washington tomorrow, are you not?"

"Yes, that is correct, Sirena."

"I want you to allow myself and another beautiful woman to enter the plane shortly before Mr. Wayne arrives. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sirena."

"I will call you tomorrow and give you further instructions before you take the jet out of its hanger. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sirena."

"Splendid," Sirena said, borrowing one of her mentor's favorite words. "You will remember nothing of this conversation, that is, until we speak again tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, Sirena."

AT THAT SAME TIME, ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL GOTHAMITE IS MAKING A PHONE CALL, ONLY A DIFFERENT KIND!

“Hi, Diana, it’s Batgirl.”

“I assume this is business-related,” Lieutenant Mooney responded.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know, I can just hear it in the sound of your voice. You’re worried about something, or more likely, about someone.”

“Well, yeah. After that demonstration Batman gave, I just KNOW Siren and her young sidekick are up to something. They’ve been too quiet for too long. I can feel it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you feel the same way, Diana? Doesn’t your female intuition tell you the same thing?”

“It does, Batgirl, but you have to understand, I can’t obtain a search warrant for every warehouse in Gotham City simply because my female intuition is getting very loud . . . and I would hope that you’re not about to do some hands-on investigating.”

Batgirl furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean, Diana?”

“It means, Batgirl, that some of your surveillance methods constitute breaking and entering, according to the letter of the law, or at the very least trespassing.”

Batgirl was taken aback slightly as her friend continued speaking.

“How about the first time you infiltrated Siren’s hideout? With no proof she had done anything illegal, you spied on her suite at the Grotto Arms Hotel.”

“But it worked,” Batgirl offered. “If I hadn’t discovered her plan that day, who knows? Millionaire Bruce Wayne might have committed suicide and we never would’ve known the influence Siren had on him.”

“True, true,” Mooney admitted. “I’m not saying your instincts aren’t usually correct, or that you don’t have a little more freedom in crimefighting, considering you don’t have to worry about police protocol. I’m just pointing out someone in my capacity needs more than female intuition to green-light an all-out search by my task force.”

“I understand,” Batgirl responded with a sigh.

“I mean, it’s just not feasible to try to obtain search warrants for dozens of warehouses, nor would it be feasible to execute all of them even if we did get them.”

“I know, I know,” Batgirl said, “but that doesn’t make me feel any less uneasy.”

“Me neither,” Diana admitted. “Just keep your ear to the ground, OK?”

“You know I will,” Batgirl said.

LATER THAT DAY, ON THE TARMAC OF A PRIVATE AIRFIELD, JUST OUTSIDE GOTHAM CITY . . .

Bruce entered the small aircraft, and the door immediately closed behind him. A woman in a flight attendant's uniform had her back to the millionaire.

‘That’s odd,’ Bruce thought. ‘There isn’t supposed to be a flight attendant on board for such a short flight.’

He heard the British accent before he saw the woman's face.

"My name is Lorelei and I will be your flight attendant today. I promise you quite a ride, Mr. Wayne."

A beautiful brunette stood before him, wearing a maroon uniform with a circular insignia above her left shoulder. It was the Siren!

Panic spread across Bruce's face as he looked around for an exit. Siren merely laughed when she noticed his anguished expression.

"I assure you, Mr. Wayne, all the exits, even the emergency ones, have been locked. So why don't you just sit back and enjoy the flight? In fact, that's an order."

Siren opened her mouth to release her supersonic, hypnotic note.

As the sinister sound swept over him, Bruce's expression changed from pained to placid.

"Yes, Siren," he said robotically. "Your wish is my command. I shall enjoy the flight."

"That's much better, my mesmerized millionaire," she said as she went over and patted him on the cheek. "We have much to do today."

"Whatever you say, Siren."

Upon hearing Bruce speaking in a trance, Sirena bounced excitedly out of the cockpit. She wore a uniform similar to Siren’s, only hers had been tailored to show some of the beautiful blonde’s cleavage.

“Wow. He’s pretty cute, you know, for an older guy,” an obviously impressed Sirena offered.

“So he is handsome,” Siren agreed. “Soon, his looks will be all he shall have left.”

Siren smiled and Sirena laughed.

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