A Royal Bat-Hunt

“We’re slowing down,” Flamebird observed fearfully.

“Good,” Batwoman answered over the headset. “We’ll burn fuel more slowly. We’ve got to regain control of the Bat-Gyros.”

“How? I can barely move a muscle.”

Batwoman looked around, carefully examining every inch of the metal restraints immobilizing her. “We’ll have to think our way out of this. If we struggle too fiercely against these metal bands, we’ll be cut to ribbons.”

Flamebird took in and let out a deep breath. At least the metal bands were not constricting against her chest, she mused and began to examine the deadly restraints herself. “I’ve got it!” Flamebird said. “The bands have locked us to the seats magnetically. If we can reverse the polarity of the magnets, we’ll be free!”

“Good analysis, Flamebird,” Batwoman said. “You may have come up with the key to our second problem.”

“Oh,” Flamebird said. “I see what you mean. Being free and flying on a course we can’t control isn’t much help.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Flamebird. Britannia has slipped up somewhere. Criminals always do.”

“I wish I had your faith, Batwoman.”

“Let’s review our assets. She has allowed us to continue to speak to one another.”

“That’s right! We can combine our brain power.”

Batwoman turned her head toward her partner, smiling. “Wait. We can move our heads.”

“Yes,” Flamebird agreed. “Do you think we could move the channel control on our headset radios?”

“It’s worth a try, Flamebird.”

“Let’s do it.”

Both heroines began to issue Mayday calls while rubbing the channel knobs of their headset radios against the sides of the Bat-Gyros.

Elsewhere in the Gotham City skies, the Batcopter was about to land at Gotham Airport.

“Batman, this is the tower. You are cleared for landing at the pad near the Bat-Hanger. Over.”

Just as the Caped Crusader was about to respond, another voice cut in on the same frequency. “Mayday! This is Flamebird. Please respond!”

“Flamebird,” Batman said calmly. “I read you. Please describe your situation. Tower, please move to an alternate frequency. Over.”

“Batman, it’s great to hear your voice! Batwoman and I have lost control of the Bat-Gyros to a criminal called Britannia. We’ve just passed over Shore Island Sound, and Britannia doesn’t intend for us to ever come back!”

“Hang on, Flamebird. I’m on my way!” Batman patched his headset through to the mobile Batphone in the Batmobile.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Get that for me, will you Batgirl?” Robin asked. He was giving the Dominoed Dare Doll a ride back to the Airport to collect her motorcycle.

“Yes, Commissioner?” the Curved Crusader said.

“Quick, Batgirl! This is Batman. Batwoman and Flamebird are in trouble, courtesy of that mad Englishwoman, Britannia. Meet me at the Batboat!”

As Flamebird signaled Batwoman she had made contact with the Caped Crusader, Batgirl relayed Batman’s instructions to Robin. He executed an emergency Bat-Turn and the Dynamite Duo were headed toward the Batboat’s mooring.

They arrived at the Batboat just as Batman had begun to cast off. In the time it took Batgirl and Robin to get out of the Batmobile, slide down the Bat-pole, and climb aboard, the Caped Captain had finished launching the craft. Soon they were skipping across the waves at top speed.

With the roar of the Batboat engine in the background, Batman explained the situation to his young companions. Robin and Batgirl worriedly scanned the sky with Bat-Binoculars as Batman guided the craft through the water. If the Bat-Gyros had run out of fuel while the Terrific Trio had been racing to the Batboat, their heroic efforts would be for naught.

Tense minutes passed. Then – “There they are!” Robin called, pointing to a pair of specks in the sky. Batman turned the Batboat toward them.

As the rescuers approached, Batwoman and Flamebird both spotted them and tuned their necks to watch the Batboat draw closer. The Distaff Duo was unable to speak to each other, as they had been unable to match radio frequencies again. Batwoman felt the tension in her body ease, while Flamebird strained against her restraints as the Batboat approached.

“Robin, Batgirl,” Batman said, “we’ll need to reel them in to cut them loose. Prepare the Batzooka to launch two Bat-Hooks.”

“Roger,” Robin said. He and Batgirl scrambled into the back of the boat to prepare the equipment.

”We’re ready, Batman,” Batgirl reported, moments later.

“Good. I’ve calculated the proper position and we’re just about there.” The Caped Crusader cut engines and let the boat drift to a stop. “Stand by. Launch on my mark. Three. Two. One. Launch!”

In the air, Batwoman and Flamebird felt their Bat Gyros begin to slow noticeably as the Batboat took up its launch position.

“This is it, Batwoman!” Flamebird shouted. “We’re going down!”

“Inhale, Flamebird!” Batwoman yelled and took her own advice.

The flying heroines filled their lungs as the motors coughed and the rotors came to a stop above them. The inevitable fall seemed quite sudden and was punctuated by the launch of the Batzooka. Two hooks flew toward the spot the Bat-Gyros had occupied seconds before the aircrafts hit the water.

“Holy Splashdown! We're seconds too late!”

“Quick!” Batgirl ordered. “Take off your cape! We’ll dive after them!”

“Right!” Robin agreed.

“Use the Bat-Hooks to bring the Bat-Gyros to the surface!” Batman said tersely. “I’ll prepare the Bat-Winch for dual operation!”

His companions did not respond with words, but dove into the water. Seconds later, the lines trailing from the Batzooka angled more sharply downward.

Flamebird was looking up as the water closed above her. Down into the murk she felt herself dragged. The heavy Bat-Gyro would reach the bottom in seconds and then begin to lodge on the continental shelf. She knew she had to keep her mind focused on the hope the Dynamic Duo’s presence represented. There was a slim chance she would not die - that Robin, the Boy Wonder, would save her. Her lungs were beginning to literally ache for fresh air.

Batwoman lost sight of her partner immediately. Then she had something more important on which to concentrate. Her descent through the salty waters brought her Bat Kit to within reach of her hand. With almost superhuman patience, Batwoman opened the kit, hoping the tool she needed would not fall from her reach immediately and become lost forever among the shifting ocean sands. Her fingers slid slowly over the tools, selecting the one she wanted and extracting it with exaggerated care. Batwoman let some air out of her straining lungs.

The tool she had selected was a pair of metal snips. She turned the tool so the metal band binding her wrist was between the blades. She gripped the handles and squeezed for all she was worth. The snip sounded eerie in the underwater gloom, but it meant her hand was free. Letting out more air, she turned the tool toward the abdominal restraint and cut it. Her shoulder came free next and she was able to clip the bands restraining her lower body. By the time she turned her attention to the other arm, her lungs were nearly empty. When the Bat-Gyro fell away from her body, she felt as though she were sky diving. Her body seemed to remain suspended in place.

Robin pulled himself down through the water with powerful strokes. Ahead of him he could just make out the dark shape of the aircraft-turned-anchor, to which Flamebird was fastened. He reached the descending weight a moment later and slipped the Bat-Hook beneath the propeller. With a sharp tug on the rope, he signaled Batman to begin reeling in the line. Robin pulled himself down, finding handholds on the Bat-Gyro as he proceeded. Once in position, he ascertained Flamebird was bound with metal bands rather than ropes. A pair of metal snips from his utility belt took care of them in less than a minute and Flamebird’s limp body slumped against him.

Robin knew Batman’s winch would never get the Girl Wonder to the surface fast enough. He also knew there was no way to utilize his belt’s emergency air supply for an unconscious victim underwater. He gripped her and kicked himself upward off of the seat. His powerful bare legs churning, he drew Flamebird up, up and away toward the surface of the Atlantic and the safety of the waiting Batboat.

Batgirl saw the shape ahead of her separate into two and felt her heart rate increase. She got closer and recognized the yellow costume of Batwoman. The Brunette Bat had managed to free herself from her bindings and had begun to make her way to the surface.

‘Why then’, Batgirl wondered, ‘isn’t Batwoman rising faster?’ Then the answer hit her, as she grudgingly let some air from her lungs. Batwoman had exhaled already and would drown long before her body reached the surface of the water. Batgirl knew drowning victims could become panicked and inadvertently doom their would-be rescuers. To save her crime-fighting comrade, Batgirl knew she would have to be careful.

The Dominoed Dare Doll swam behind the other woman and let her arms curl around Batwoman’s shoulders. Then Batgirl began to kick rapidly toward the surface with her muscular legs, praying she and Batwoman would reach their goal in time.

Robin broke the surface and raised Flamebird’s head into the air a couple of seconds before Batgirl and Batwoman came into view. Batman reached over, lifted both Batwoman and Flamebird by the armpits in turn and carefully lowered them to the deck. Batman swung to check on Robin and Batgirl.

“See to Batwoman, Batman!” Robin said, scrambling aboard.

“Good thinking, old chum.”

As Batman and Robin began to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the Distaff Duo, Batgirl looked at the lines trailing from the Bat-Winch. One was perpendicular to the water and the other trailed off at an angle. “I’ll try to salvage the other Bat-Gyro,” she said.

“Okay,” Batman said quickly between breaths.

The Dark Angel of Gotham City dove into the water again, following the angled line to the Bat-Hook at the end. Then, she began to look for the sunken craft. Seawater stung her eyes and her lungs had just begun to protest when she spotted it. Another powerful stroke brought her close enough to attach the Bat-Hook. She then began to swim upward.

She broke the surface and greedily inhaled before boarding the Batboat. Next she started to reel in the Bat-Gyros using the Bat-Winch. “How are they?” she asked anxiously, glancing at the Dynamic Duo and their patients.

Batwoman coughed and felt her head turned to one side to keep the water she spat from her lungs from returning from whence it came. “Thank you, Batman,” Batwoman said gratefully. “How is Flamebird?”

As if in answer to her partner’s question, Flamebird coughed and spat water from her lungs. Robin remained bent over her and saw her smile as she turned to look at him. “You did save me!” she said. The Boy Wonder was surprised and a little embarrassed, as Flamebird’s arms encircled his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She kissed him slowly, tentatively and released him with an even wider smile. “Thank you, Robin,” she said softly. “You saved my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded, his voice quavering slightly. “Is there anything else you need?”

“If you could hold me and spread a blanket over us, that would be nice. It’s very cold.”

Batwoman and Batgirl also wrapped themselves with blankets as Batman steered the heroes toward land. During the voyage, they discussed the circumstances that had brought all of them together.

“Britannia has shown herself to be as determined and deadly an opponent as any of us have ever faced,” Batman said.

“That was a very close call,” Batwoman agreed.

“What do you think she’ll try next?” Flamebird asked.

“Didn’t she go to ground after she made an attempt on your life in Londinium, Batman?” Batgirl wondered.

“She did. Yet, she may merely have been putting her criminal ducks in a row to begin operations in Gotham City.”

“Holy Sequel! Do you think she came to Gotham City because she failed to kill you in Londinium, Batman?”

“Perhaps. The next move in this game may very well be Britannia’s. Our task is to be ready when she strikes.”

“Ready to nab her, you mean?” Flamebird asked.

“Yes. It is, however, worthwhile to remember she was once an eminent professor of British history at Oxford. If she were to revert to her original self, the menace of this maniacal, would-be monarch could be forgotten, perhaps forever,” Batman explained.

“Wow! You make her sound like King Tut,” Flamebird replied.

“An apt comparison, Flamebird,” Batwoman praised.

“We need a lead,” Robin said, slamming his fist into his glove.

“Flamebird and I believe a Constable Ferguson may be responsible for sabotaging the Bat-Gyros,” Batwoman said.

“That’s right. I hate to accuse a police officer, but he was the only person besides Batwoman and me who was anywhere near the Bat-Gyros.”

“Talking to him may provide the lead we need,” Batgirl said.

“Speaking of the Bat-Gyros,” Batwoman said. “I’d like to get them fixed before we question him.”

“Maybe Robin and I could work on them,” Flamebird suggested. “What do you think, Robin?”

The young hero hesitated, but agreed when the teenage girl squeezed his hand. “We might find a clue in the device used to imprison you,” he remarked.

“Good thinking, Robin,” Batman said. “Why don’t Batwoman and I talk to the constable while you two work? If we go about it correctly, we may scare up a clue.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him afterward,” Batgirl volunteered. “If he is a crook, he may go running right to his boss.”

“Be careful, Batgirl,” Batman warned. “While Britannia herself is not physically imposing, there’s no telling how many people she has working for her.”

“I will, Batman. At the very least, I hope he leads me to her headquarters. If I’m lucky, maybe I can get an idea of what she is planning,” Batgirl said. She turned to Batwoman and Flamebird. “Who knows? I might prove Constable Ferguson had nothing to do with the attempt on your life.”

“We have a plan then,” Batwoman said.

“We also have vehicles spread all over the place,” Batgirl pointed out.

“Yes,” Batman said thoughtfully. “Batwoman, why don’t you drive the Batmobile to Police Headquarters? I’ll fly Batgirl to the Airport, we’ll pick up her Batgirlcycle and meet you in Commissioner Gordon’s office.”

Both women enthusiastically agreed. Batwoman was thrilled to get an opportunity to drive the Batmobile, while Batgirl looked forward to another ride with Batman holding on tightly to her.

As they finished their discussion, Batman guided the Batboat back to the pier, where the heroes separated to tend to their appointed tasks.

After a brief introduction to the Batmobile’s controls, Batwoman drove off. Batman and Batgirl roared away in the Batcopter.

Batwoman was the first to arrive at Police Headquarters. When the Batgirlcycle arrived, Batgirl excused herself and went to have a word with her friend Lieutenant Mooney. Batman joined Batwoman in conference with the Commissioner.

The Lieutenant was frowning at a file as Batgirl knocked on her office door. “Come in, Batgirl. Have a seat and tell me how I can help you.” She closed the file and put it aside to give her friend her full attention.

“I need any information you can give me about Constable Ferguson. Batwoman and Flamebird suspect he may be involved with an attempt on their lives that just failed.”

“That is a serious allegation.”

“Agreed. For now, let’s call it a suspicion. Even if it is wrong, the Constable may know something or have seen something that will shed light on the attempt.”

“Do you suspect anyone else of being behind it, besides Constable Ferguson?”

“Batman said a criminal called Britannia, whom he encountered in Londinium, was responsible,” Batgirl explained. She went on to describe how the attempted murder had been carried out.

Lieutenant Mooney nodded. “I’ll get you any information I can on Britannia and the Constable, Batgirl. As far as I know, he has been at headquarters all afternoon. Should I email you?”

“Sure, Diana. Thank you.”

“In the meantime, let’s have a look at the roof.” Lieutenant Mooney stood just as the phone rang. She picked it up. “Yes, Commissioner,” she said. After listening she said. “I’ll send him to you at once. Goodbye.” Lieutenant Mooney tapped another key on her phone. “Get me Constable Ferguson.”

“I did congratulate you on your promotion, didn’t I?” Batgirl said. “You seem very comfortable in this office.”

“Thanks and you did, several times.” Mooney grinned and picked up the phone as it rang again. Her voice became very pleasant as she spoke. “Constable, I have good news. The Commissioner wants to see you.” A moment later she hung up. “All right, Batgirl. Let’s check out the roof.”

Once they arrived, it appeared deserted. They split up and began to search meticulously, working toward one another. Suddenly, Diana Mooney cried out triumphantly. Batgirl hurried to see what she had found.

“There is a black bag hidden in this vent. I’ve got a forensic team on the way. Should I call in the bomb squad?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Batgirl said. “Wait for your team to see what is in the bag. I need to get ready to follow Constable Ferguson.”

“I’ll email you anything I find out, along with that other information for which you asked.”

“Thank you, Diana. I’ll be in touch.”

Constable Ferguson arrived presently at Commissioner Gordon’s office and spotted Batman, Chief O’Hara, and the Commissioner talking. “You sent for me, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, I did, Constable. Come in and sit down. This is Batman.” After Batman shook his hand, the Constable moved to a chair. “Chief O’Hara and I asked to see you because of an incident that occurred earlier this afternoon upon which we hope you might shed some light. Between you and Batman, we’ll have the case solved in no time.”

“Begorra! That we will,” Chief O’Hara said, smiling with a jovial nod.

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“An international criminal named Britannia tried to kill Batwoman and Flamebird.”

“Those two women you sent out earlier on those Bat-Gyros? They flew away. I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand how this Britannia could have killed them.”

“Have you ever heard of Britannia, Constable?” Batman asked.

“I know she tried to kill you in Londinium, Batman. I have no information since then.”

“She disappeared shortly after her attempt on my life. You’re certain you have no idea what happened to her?”

“No more than you have.”

“I didn’t speak to the press in Londinium about my encounter with Britannia,” Batman said. “How did you come to be aware of it, Constable?”

“I get on with Superintendent Watson, Batman. I asked him if you had been any help with the case when word of Britannia’s crimes stopped circulating among the men. He told me all about what happened to you. I hope the Superintendent was not talking out of turn.”

“No, Constable. Your curiosity is natural, understandable, and a sign of a good police officer,” Batman said. “Now, to more urgent questions. You were the last person we know of to see Batwoman and Flamebird before they left. Who else did you see?”

“I saw Lieutenant Mooney and Robin, the Boy Wonder.”

“No one else?” Commissioner Gordon asked. “Any little thing could be vitally important.”

“I believe I’ve told you everything, sir.”

“Take a minute to think about it,” Chief O’Hara encouraged. “You’re certain there is nothing else that will help us solve this crime?”

Constable Ferguson paced the length of the room and returned to his position in front of the Commissioner’s desk. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I can’t think of a bloody thing! It’s a tragic business. Batwoman and Flamebird were revered and will be missed.”

“Not as tragic as you might think, Constable,” Batwoman said as she stepped out from behind the draperies.

Constable Ferguson stared at her as his jaw fell slack. He was able to speak a few seconds later. “What the–”

Batwoman interrupted. “Now, why don’t you tell us why you did it, Constable? How long have you worked for Britannia?”

“You!” Constable Ferguson said, pointing at her open-mouthed. “They told me you were dead!”

“Who told you I was dead?” Batwoman demanded. She began to approach him.

Constable Ferguson glanced at the Caped Crusader and the Commissioner.

Batman’s voice was quiet as he began responding to the Constable’s unspoken question. "We told you an attempt had been made on Batwoman and Flamebird’s lives.”

“We never said the attempt was successful. The only reason you would have had to think it was would be if you were involved.” As Batwoman finished the explanation, she continued approaching him with the inexorability of doom.

The Constable darted fearful glances at each of his interrogators and spun away from them, dodging around Batwoman.

“Stop him!” Commissioner Gordon shouted, reaching for the phone as the Briton dashed from the room. Chief O’Hara stepped toward the fleeing man and encountered Batwoman’s restraining hand.

“Let him go, Commissioner,” Batman said, resting a gloved hand on the Commissioner’s. “He may lead us to Britannia’s lair.”

Chief O’Hara made certain Constable Ferguson would be able to leave the building without difficulty. Then Commissioner Gordon’s phone rang. After listening a moment, the Commissioner said, “Send her in, Bonnie.”

Lieutenant Mooney entered the office, carrying a black bag and a file folder. “Batgirl and I found these tools hidden on the roof in a ventilation shaft. I’ve also brought the file with all of the particulars on Constable Ferguson. My people are gathering as much information on Britannia as they can.”

“Good thinking, Lieutenant,” the Commissioner complimented.

“You had a team look at the tools, Lieutenant?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“Yes, sir. They didn’t find a thing.”

Batman emptied the black bag onto Commissioner Gordon’s desk and began to replace the items one by one. ”These appear to be perfectly ordinary tools which could be used for countless mundane tasks.”

“Why hide them, then?” Batwoman asked.

“Lieutenant Mooney is probably correct about these tools having been used to booby-trap the Bat-Gyros,” Batman said. “I think it would be more productive to deduce Britannia’s next move than to go over her past crimes, no matter how recent.”

“We may find more clues at Ferguson’s apartment,” Batwoman suggested.

“An excellent thought, Batwoman. Ferguson will lead Batgirl to Britannia. With luck, a call on the Constable’s lodgings could tell us what his boss is planning. Let’s go!”

“To the Batmobile?” Batwoman asked.

Batman nodded and led the Dark Knight Duo from the room.

“With that step completed,” Britannia was saying half an hour later, “the last piece of Our royal raiment will have been acquired. Then We will be ready to address Our new subjects properly.”

The Beautiful Blackguard had commanded that her hair be taken down, so that it flowed over her shoulders in a lustrous black wave. Her red dress left her right shoulder bare, along with a matching triangle of flesh at the abdomen. Her long skirt magnificently showcased her legs with the slit along its left side, and her breasts swelled provocatively within the bodice.

She paused in the elaboration of her plans as a commotion outside the chamber doors distracted everyone. A moment later, the doors burst open and Constable Ferguson inserted himself into Britannia’s presence. Her handmaidens attended their queen, while a small group of large men looked on with interest and admiration, listening carefully to her every word with rapt attention.

“Britannia! Britannia, I’ve seen Batwoman. She and Flamebird escaped your trap somehow!” Constable Ferguson said, falling to his knees before her.

“Silence!” Britannia said angrily as she stood, approaching him slowly. Menace filled her voice as she stopped within a step from him. “Constable Ferguson, you’re interrupting! How dare you? How many times do you think you can slip away from Police Headquarters in one afternoon without being noticed? You were to keep your targets from becoming suspicious!”

“But, they suspected me at once!” Constable Ferguson protested. Ferguson suddenly realized he was arguing and hurriedly transformed his manner, to employ an approach to which he hoped his malfeasant mistress would be more receptive. He began, “I beg a thousand pardons, Your Royal Majesty. I have to report–”

“Royal Men at Arms, seize him!” Britannia ordered. Hands gripped the hapless man and hauled him to his feet. Britannia slapped him across the mouth. ”We are aware of your failure and are very displeased. You are a stupid fool!”

“Please, Your Royal Majesty, I beg You–”

“Silence!” Britannia shouted. “We do not appreciate having to repeat Ourselves, and We are not interested in your pathetic excuses!” She strolled back and forth in front of him, thinking aloud. “This building has cellars descending deep into the bowels of the Earth. The floors above the cellars rest upon solid, wooden beams. If this fool were suspended from one such beam, We could amuse Ourselves at Our leisure with his punishment.” She stopped walking, laughed harshly, and turned to her Royal Men-at-Arms. “Take him away! Then, see to the details.”

“No!” Constable Ferguson screamed. “Please–”

Britannia turned to face her sniveling prisoner and frowned. Then she snapped her gaze back to her Royal Men-at-Arms. “Why is he still here? Remove him–NOW!” she ordered. Mercilessly, the Royal Men-at-Arms obeyed. Everyone ignored Constable Ferguson’s receding cries.

Seconds after the Royal Men-at-Arms sealed the audience chamber, a bell sounded to summon the Royal Guard Captain into Britannia’s presence.

“Your Royal Majesty sent for me?” he said once he had fallen to one knee and obtained her attention.

“We did. A man burst in here a moment ago as though your guards’ challenge had never been uttered. We will not tolerate another such occurrence.”

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty.”

“You will punish the guards responsible for the security breach and see that the others learn from their mistake. We will count on your leadership to prevent future incidents, Captain. Are We clear?”

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty.”

“Good. Go do Our will.”

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty,” the Royal Guard Captain said. He went.

Britannia returned her attention to her plans. “Royal Handmaidens, We will complete the preparations for the acquisition of Our Crown Jewels. Then, Our coronation will be at hand. So be it.”

An unseen figure had watched as Britannia turned on Constable Ferguson. Now, this purple-clad pursuer followed the Royal Men-at-Arms as they dragged their prisoner down into the cellar. At the foot of the stairs, they traversed a passage and entered a cold room with Spartan furnishings, a beamed ceiling, and a naked light bulb for illumination.

Constable Ferguson had been hung by the arms from a rope thrown over a beam by the time his shapely shadow burst through the door.

“Batgirl!” Constable Ferguson exclaimed.

“Batgirl?” one of the Royal Men-at-Arms inquired.

“That’s enough, gentlemen,” Batgirl declared, halting and resting her hands on her hips as her legs spread to shoulder width.

“Wrong, Batgirl!” another Royal Man-at-Arms disagreed. Gotham City’s Dark Angel responded by advancing and launching a showgirl high kick at the brigand who had addressed her. He went down instantly.

A second Royal Man-at-Arms lunged at her. The speed with which she spun out of his way was surprising, but the two sharp pains exploding from his side really should not have been. He focused on the voluptuous vigilante, gritted his teeth, took in some air, and launched a punch. A gloved palm swept the blow aside and another combination of punches hit their marks, causing the man to collapse, moaning in pain.

“I’ll have you down from there in just a moment, Constable,” Batgirl said.

“Thank you, Batgirl,” the foreign lawman said. “I say, I never imagined I’d be rescued by one of Gotham City’s masked marauders, particularly after I pledged my life to Britannia’s service.”

“We all make mistakes, Constable. You’ll have the opportunity to make amends for that decision in just a moment,” his ravishing rescuer said.

“That may not be necessary,” Ferguson said. As he spoke, he wrapped his legs around Batgirl’s upper body and held her in place as the Royal Men-at-Arms she had dispatched regained their feet. “By turning you over to my Queen, I can make up for my perceived failure and inspire my colleagues to do Her royal will.” Constable Ferguson laughed as the thugs detailed to go to work on him closed in on his pretty prisoner. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Now, Batgirl,” the first said, “we get to have some fun.”

“He’s right, Batgirl,” the second Royal Man-at-Arms agreed. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Batgirl absorbed the first few blows without suffering too much from their ill effects, but entwined in Ferguson’s legs, she was unable to counterattack and discourage the abuse she knew would only get worse. Soon, only being suspended from Ferguson’s legs kept the Svelte Sentinel on her feet. As the condition of the Dominoed Dare Doll became apparent to her captors, they let Constable Ferguson down. They then returned to work on her fallen form. She was unconscious by the time they had finished.

Britannia’s Royal Men-at-Arms laid their voluptuous victim as their mistress’ feet when she arrived to supervise the prisoner’s punishment. Constable Ferguson fell to his knees before her. “I give You Batgirl, Your Royal Majesty. May justice be tempered by Your tender mercy.”

“You have done well,” the demented despot declared. “Arise and approach, Constable Ferguson.” Her minion obeyed and was rewarded by the quasi-queen raising her hand.

“Thank You, my Queen,” Constable Ferguson said and kissed her knuckles.

“Fortune has smiled upon you, Constable.” Britannia said with a delighted laugh. “We will overlook your failure where Batwoman and Flamebird were concerned in light of this tribute.”

“Thank you, Your Most Royal Majesty,” the former prisoner said gratefully.

“Very soon, the rest of Gotham City’s terrorist heroes will be following clues We left for them at your apartment. We extend Our compliments to you and will grant you the privilege of disposing of Batgirl when the time comes.”

“Thank you, my Queen.” Constable Ferguson said. “Your service is my pleasure.” Ferguson paused uncertainly. Reaching a decision, he boldly plowed ahead. “I’m a little surprised, if I may say so, that You do not dispose of Batgirl immediately. She is a very formidable opponent, from everything I’ve gathered.”

Britannia nodded. “You are right. We have decided We may have commanded your punishment too hastily. Batgirl and the Dynamic Duo rescued Batwoman and Flamebird from their fate. Therefore, We will gain control of all of Gotham City’s heroic defenders before beginning to eliminate them. We are certain their concern for one another will minimize their effectiveness,” she said. Then she laughed. “You have sewn the first seed of their destruction. Congratulations.”

She turned her attention to her other men. “Now, We have the trappings of Our dominion to finish gathering and taxes to levy on some of the more renowned Colonial privateers. At the same time, We expect Gotham City’s caped champions to interfere, so be prepared to deal with them. No matter how the loss of their comrades, which We shall perpetrate presently, is effecting them psychologically, they must not be underestimated. Constable Ferguson is quite correct. Batman and his ilk are quite formidable. Now, as for Our prisoner Batgirl, Our Royal Handmaidens, Camilla and Sarah, will take her to Our new residence.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Most Royal Majesty,” Constable Ferguson said. “Where will Your Majesty take up residence?”

Britannia led her minions from the cellars and rejoined her Royal Handmaidens. “We have learned millionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne has a seldom used beach house on Ambergris Bay near Gotham Point. Because he was the American marauder with whom We were dealing when We first encountered the terrorist Batman, We will quarter Our loyal subjects on his property, as is Our right.”

“Shall we take Batgirl there, Your Majesty?” Camilla asked.

“Yes. There are a number of other preparations you may begin to make as well.” Britannia spent a few more minutes issuing instructions and then concluded her commands, “Select half a dozen men to help you with all of the preparations We have commanded. They may go when the work is complete.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Would You have us do anything of a direct nature with Your enemy?” Sarah asked hopefully.

“We will dispose of her in due time,” Britannia said, laughing. “Take her away and guard her well, while Our work proceeds. Soon, other traitors will join Batgirl and keep her company before she dies.”

The Batmobile pulled up outside Constable Ferguson’s apartment building. Its occupants located his apartment and separated to approach it. Batman Batclimbed the outside of the building, while Batwoman made her way to the door from the hall inside.

They entered the apartment simultaneously and found it deserted. Without a word, the pair began to search. They were thorough, but left the rooms looking as though they had never been invaded.

“Do you have any idea why the Constable would be interested in Marie Antoinette’s Tiara?” Batwoman asked.

“He may have been looking for a side job at Trieste Jewelers. That company owns it, according to my records,” Batman suggested.

“Maybe. Ferguson has a number of articles about expensive jewels and the Gotham City jewelers who sell them.” Batwoman searched further and snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! I think he was more interested in an event at which they would be displaying their famous, expensive pieces.” she guessed.

“The Marie Antoinette’s Tiara is a symbol of royalty,” Batman observed. “Britannia may wish to obtain some regal-looking trappings before launching her ultimate crime wave. What else does Constable Ferguson seem to know about this event?”

“It looks like Trieste Jewelers will join Hummerts, Spiffany’s, U Magnum’s, the Forever Jewel Company, and others at a special event they are sponsoring this afternoon at the Kronos Building. I think it may be part of grand opening festivities.

“Good thinking, Batwoman. I’ve had my eye on the opening of the Kronos Building for some time, since it seemed like an irresistible target for the Clock King. If Britannia plans to crash the opening, we have to be there to stop her.”

“Should we go now or finish searching here?”

Batman answered by retrieving a page from Constable Ferguson’s printer. “Look at this.”

“What did you find?” Batwoman asked.

“It’s an application letter. Lord Easystreet is holding a reception honoring the Duchess of Desborough this evening. Ferguson seems to have been requesting employment as a security guard.”

“Where is the reception?”

“At the White Oakes Country Club’s clubhouse, which is rented out to private parties from time to time,” Batman answered.

“Isn’t Lord Easystreet the world’s richest man?”

“Yes, Batwoman. It fits like my glove. Britannia will rob the jewel show so that, in her mind, she can be properly attired for the reception tonight!”

“You may be right, Batman, and I’m worried. Commissioner Gordon asked Flamebird and I to investigate bodies on the grounds of a mansion on the coast. Apparently, Britannia recruited part of her gang there. I’m afraid the bodies represent those who refused to sign up. There is no telling what she might do to innocent shoppers at the jewelry event or to Lord Easystreet’s guests at this reception later tonight.”

“You’re right, Batwoman. Every second could be precious. Lord Easystreet, his guests, and the general public are counting on us. To the Batmobile!”

Meanwhile, in the exhibition hall of the Kronos Building, evil events were already beginning to unfold. Constable Ferguson was presenting credentials to the head of security.

“I say, Mr–”

“Dorn.”

“Right. I say, Mr.Dorn–”

“You said that already,” Mr. Dorn said.

“What?” Ferguson asked. Then, he recovered and continued. “Quite. We aren’t protecting the Crown Jewels here, but there is no reason not to give these timeless treasures the royal treatment they deserve.”

“I’m so glad you can help, Mr. Ferguson. You can assist in guarding the doors. Make sure our patrons are really patrons and not arch-criminals like the Clock King or Marsha, Queen of Diamonds.”

“Yes, sir,” Constable Ferguson said and began to make his way to his station. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said to the guards upon arriving. “I’ve been permitted to assist you in maintaining security on the exhibition rooms.”

“Fine,” the senior guard said to Constable Ferguson. Then he turned to his subordinate. “Why don’t you show our new friend to his post?”

“Okay,” the younger guard said. “Follow me.”

Moments after the senior guard watched them go, he was perplexed by some commotion he heard from the direction they had gone. Presently Ferguson returned and addressed him. “Someone who says you know him wants admittance, but other than knowing you, we can’t determine what business he has here. Can you help?”

“I’ll see if I can. Stay here.”

He moved off in the direction from which Ferguson had come and encountered a pair of Britannia’s Royal Men-at-Arms. He was subdued before he could raise the alarm. Once he had been bound and gagged like the younger guard, the Royal Men-at-Arms joined Ferguson at the door.

As if on a schedule, the mad monarch appeared.

“The way is clear, my Queen,” Ferguson said.

“Well done, Royal Infiltrators. Now, quickly collect Our prizes. The rest is not of interest to Us at present.” Britannia led the way into the room. Hundreds of displays of jewels had been arranged, with perhaps tens of thousands of individual stones available for customers to purchase. “Come. Our prizes await.”

“Wrong, Britannia!” Batman said.

“The only thing waiting for you is a padded cell!” Batwoman added.

“We will deal with them. The rest of you, see to Our prizes!”

“Yes, my Queen!” Ferguson said.

“Hail Britannia!” the Royal Men-at-Arms cried simultaneously.

Britannia stooped and opened a bag on the floor. She withdrew reproductions of the Scepter of Supremacy and Marie Antoinette’s Tiara, handed them to her Royal Infiltrators, and remained crouched as the Bat duo approached. Her men moved off to exchange the displayed treasures with the duplicates she had provided.

“I don’t trust her, Batman.” Batwoman said.

“Caution would be advisable, Batwoman,” the Caped Crusader agreed.

“Stand up and raise your hands, Britannia!” Batwoman ordered. “Your royal reign of terror is over.”

“As one of your navel officers once told one of Ours, Batwoman, We have not yet begun to fight!” Britannia declared. She hurriedly straightened, holding a metal tin in each hand. Her thumbs pried the lids from the tins in a continuous motion that sent their contents billowing toward her approaching, would-be captors.

Batman and Batwoman found themselves enveloped by a cloud of tiny, brown particles. Both were momentarily blinded and could not help inhaling some of the debris swirling around them. “What is this stuff?” the yellow-clad heroine demanded.

“It has a faintly bitter taste,” Batman observed aloud, “which leads me to believe this substance is laced with a poison called aconitine,” Batman said. “This vegetable poison is obtained from the root or leaves of the monkshood plant, commonly known as wolfsbane. It can easily be mistaken for parsley or horseradish, but has an extremely debilitating effect on the central nervous system. Fortunately, the effects of the dose we’ve received should be temporary.”

“Excellent. You’ve identified Our toxic tea, and We expect it to function any second now,” the foreign fiend informed her victims with a delighted laugh.

Britannia was right. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed Batwoman as she glanced helplessly at her partner. Batman’s knees buckled seconds before she toppled to the floor herself.

Later, Britannia led an entourage of half a dozen Royal Men-at-Arms dressed in red coats, white trousers, and knee-high black boots into the White Oakes Country Club clubhouse, where a man in a tuxedo stopped them.

“Whom may I have the honor of announcing?” the well-dressed gentleman asked.

“You may announce that the Queen, Britannia, has arrived,” the royal rogue told him.

The man consulted a clipboard he took from a table within easy reach. He frowned. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t see a Britannia or any queens here on the official guest list. If madame is not expected, I regret that I am not permitted to announce her.”

“What!?”

“Sorry, lady. If you ain’t on the list, you ain’t gettin’ in.”

“Why did your voice change just now?”

“Freeloaders don’t rate my professional voice, lady!”

“Are We to understand,” Britannia began, glaring at the doorman, “that you take me for a common gate crasher!?”

“Ya’ got it, lady.”

“Do you know with whom you are dealing, sir!?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, reverting to his professional voice. “I am dealing with an uninvited guest. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave, and I’ll have no qualms about calling security, if I must!”

“We tire of this functionary,” Britannia declared. “Escort him elsewhere!” Two of her Royal Men-at-Arms stepped forward and lifted the hapless doorman. “You are fortunate We do not have you punished,” she informed him before her Royal Men-at-Arms carried him off. His protests were followed after a moment by a smack and a grunt and he fell silent. “Come!” Britannia ordered once her pair of Royal Men-at-Arms had returned. They passed into the White Oakes Country Club clubhouse.

“Should that do it?” Robin asked.

“I hope so,” Flamebird said. Robin was strapping into one of the Bat-Gyros while Flamebird was bent over the headset radios. “There.” Flamebird put a headset on Robin’s head and adjusted hers. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Switch to the police frequency “

Robin heard a report being broadcast. “Calling all cars. A robbery is in progress at the White Oakes Country Club clubhouse. Perpetrators are led by a woman and can be distinguished by red coats reminiscent of Colonial era British soldiers. Please respond.”

“I think we can beat the police there if we hurry,” Robin said after both returned to their original frequency.

“All right. Follow me and stay close. Let’s go!” Flamebird said, “Up, up and away!”

As the Boy and Girl Wonders raced to the scene of Britannia’s crime, Batman, who had found himself alone when he recovered from the tranquilizing effects of the toxic tea, was also responding to the police alert. The Caped Crusader reached for his new hands-free Bat-headset, and activated the Mobile Bat-Phone to contact Chief O’Hara.

“Begorra! Batman, it’s good to hear your voice. Listen. I’ve cordoned off the rented White Oakes Country Club and I was about to lead a squad of men to arrest this woman Britannia.”

“Chief, please wait for me to arrive. Batwoman and I have had an encounter with this foreign devil. We were incapacitated and when I woke up, Batwoman was gone. I have a strange hunch Britannia is after Robin, Batwoman, Batgirl, Flamebird and me.”

“You think she’s committing crimes to draw you, the girls, and the Boy Wonder into her cruel clutches?”

“Partially . . . and, Chief. I think both Batwoman and Batgirl would legitimately object to you calling them ‘girls.’”

“Sorry, Caped Crusader.”

“In any event, it is impossible to predict how Britannia would react to the show of force you have planned.”

“How do you want me to play it, Batman?”

“I urge you to leave Britannia to Robin, Batwoman, Batgirl, Flamebird and me. As long as her attention is focused upon us, the balance of the population should remain safe.”

“I thought you said she was trying to catch all of you.”

“I did, and that presents our best opportunity to apprehend her.”

“So, you’ll turn the tables, so to speak.”

“Precisely.”

“I’ll play it your way, Batman. Where are you? I’ll arrange for you to get here with maximum possible speed.”

“Thank you for your trust, Chief, and for the help with the traffic. Ordinarily, I would be loath to accept such a generous offer, but with lives at stake, every second counts!”

The Batmobile roared the rest of the way to certain danger with Chief O’Hara’s men directing traffic out of his way, saluting smartly with hats over their hearts as he drove past.

“Look. It’s Batman!” a young mother behind the wheel of a convertible said, pointing him out to her son in his car seat in the back.

“Isn’t he speeding?” the youngster asked, staring after the Batmobile.

The police officer directing traffic overheard the child’s question. He walked over to the car. “Young man, most of the time Batman and police officers are the safest drivers on the road, following the same laws and traffic regulations your mother does. Sometimes, though, you’ll see the Batmobile or a squad car traveling at a high rate of speed. When you do, you can be sure Batman or the police are in hot pursuit of a desperate criminal.”

“Oh,” the little boy said. Then he cheered. “Go get ‘em, Batman!”

“Thank you, officer,” the woman said.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Now, move along.”

The Bat Gyros landed on the lawn in front of the clubhouse at the White Oaks Country Club. As the rotors stopped whirring, the Batmobile pulled to a stop.

“Where’s Batwoman, Batman?” Flamebird asked, as she and Robin joined the Dark Knight.

“I am truly sorry, Flamebird. Right now, I don’t know. Britannia attacked us earlier this evening and Batwoman was gone when I recovered. The rapidity with which she followed that crime with this attempt leads me to believe Batwoman has not yet been harmed.”

Flamebird’s gaze dropped to the ground. “We can hope, can’t we?” Flamebird asked.

“Sure we can,” Robin said encouragingly. “Have your heard from Batgirl, Batman?”

“No, old chum. There is no telling into what peril she has fallen. Perhaps we’ll find the answers to our questions inside.”

“Let’s hope so, Batman.” Robin answered.

“Come on!” Flamebird urged, nodding and leading the way toward the clubhouse.

As Britannia and her Royal Men-at-Arms entered the rented White Oaks Country Club clubhouse, the dance floor was full of slowly undulating bodies. The band on the stage provided soft background music; patrons surrounded the bar; and the Right Honorable Lord Easystreet’s guests were deep in several conversations.

His Lordship politely disengaged himself from his conversation with the Duchess of Desborough to welcome the new arrivals. As he approached, he muttered, “What happened to that fellow I put on the door? I swear, if he’s wandered off, so help me I’ll–”

“Lord Easystreet,” Britannia said.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I’m sorry. Since my man did not announce you, I am at something of a loss as to exactly who you are. I’ve invited so many people. You understand, of course.”

“That’s all right, Easy,” Britannia said sympathetically. “We will handle the introductions. We are Britannia, your Queen. Now, tell Us. Are you still the world’s richest man?”

“I am accustomed to being addressed as, ‘My Lord,’ madam.”

“We will address you in whatever manner We choose! Are you still the world’s richest man, ‘My Lord?’” The last two words dripped with sarcasm.

Lord Easystreet cleared his throat. “Well, I am. In fact . . .”

“Yes,” Britannia prompted as Lord Easystreet hesitated. “Answer your Queen.”

He had stopped speaking involuntarily when his jaw dropped. He had had time to review the conversation in his mind. He slowly became aware of the awkwardness of the pause. With visible effort, he exhaled, closed his mouth, and permitted himself a smile as he began to extemporize and, he hoped, draw the conversation back from the brink of insanity. “Excuse me, Britannia. What did you say you were?”

“We are your Queen, Easy.”

The old gentlemen cleared his throat again. “I don’t understand.”

Britannia smiled at him patiently. The man was, after all, like her – of noble birth. The infirmities of age excused his failure to immediately recognize his rightful Queen. “We have come to deliver a proclamation, Your Lordship. We are sure You will excuse Us.” She stepped past him and straightened to her full height as she mounted the stage. Slowly, she let her imperial gaze sweep the room, gathering all of Lord Easystreet’s guests into her audience.

“Who is that?” someone asked.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t announced,” someone else answered.

“What is she going to say?” another guest inquired.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Britannia began. ”We are Britannia, your Queen.”

Astonished murmuring swept the room.

“Silence!” Once her audience had obeyed, the statuesque speaker continued. “You are hereby requested and required to remit the taxes Our agents will specify presently. We strongly advise you all to surrender you valuables willingly. Failure to comply will result in suffering, and the fault will lie with you subjects, not the Crown. Royal Men-at-Arms, gather Our tribute!”

“Hail Britannia!” the Royal Men-at-Arms said simultaneously.

“I’ve told you before, Britannia,” Flamebird began. “Taxation without representation can lead to revolution.”

“Britannia,” Batman said, stepping into the room and moving away from Flamebird. “Please abandon this madness. Think back to when you were an eminent professor of British history at Oxford.”

“Ah, the terrorist Batman!” Britannia said. “We see you’re now running around with younger women.”

Batman stiffened.

Britannia continued. “It will be you and your followers who are history. We have previously found all of you guilty of treason against the Crown.”

“Batman and I are patriots, and so are Batgirl, Batwoman, and Flamebird! To think otherwise is absolutely insane,” Robin declared.

“None of us have ever even been on trial,” Flamebird protested.

“We tried you in abstentia,” Britannia explained dismissively.

“We don’t have time for your delusions, Britannia,” Batman said. “Surrender!”

Britannia ignored him. “The penalty for treason is death, Batman. Royal Men-at-Arms, execute them!”

The red-coated henchmen advanced on the heroes. Batman and Robin stepped forward and began trading blows with the men in the lead. The second pair of Royal Men-at-Arms worked their way behind the Dynamic Duo and attacked.

The two remaining men came for Flamebird. They clasped air as she sidestepped, positioning herself to land a shattering kick to one attacker’s abdomen. The man doubled over and felt his arm seized. Flamebird spun and launched him at the next man’s legs. When they collided, the Royal Men-at-Arms fell in a tangle of limbs.

Robin felt the man behind him and darted to one side as a blow whipped past his head from the front. This blow impacted the man attacking from behind. As the beaten man sagged, the Boy Wonder turned and executed a fast combination of punches that made the opponent ahead of him gasp and suck wind.

Batman also anticipated an attack from behind and fired an elbow backward to meet it. This maneuver connected and the upward movement and subsequent smack, when the back of Batman’s gloved fist also connected, preceding the thug’s body collapsing to the floor.

As the Dynamic Duo turned their attention to their remaining opponents, severely pummeling them about the head and shoulders, Flamebird snapped her foot into the chin of the first head to emerge from the mass of men lying entwined before her. Her victim fell, unconscious. The remaining man felt his head seized and lowered into her rising knee. As he straightened, Flamebird pivoted and fired her leg at his upper chest and knocked him to the floor.

The victorious trio shook hands all around as Britannia’s men moaned.

“Very impressive, Flamebird,” Batman complimented.

“Gosh, yes!” Robin agreed.

Flamebird demurely pivoted on one foot. “Thank you, Dynamic Duo.”

Meanwhile, the masquerading monarch glowered at her fallen minions. “You are all pathetic! We will deal with these birds and their mentor Ourselves!” As Batman, Robin, and Flamebird turned their attention to Britannia, she had set aside the Scepter of Supremacy and retrieved a case from its place against her thigh. She opened the case and extracted a dart with a slightly discolored, bluish tip. Accurately, she sent it flying toward Batman. As it impaled the Dark Knight, Robin saw Britannia aim a second missile at him. Unfortunately, he did not have room to leap out of its path or turn aside. The dart hit him. He fell.

“Robin!” Flamebird cried as she stepped away from the fallen heroes, gaining room to maneuver. Britannia’s next dart flew past her and embedded itself in a wall. “You’ll have to do better then that, Britannia,” Flamebird said. She glared menacingly at her assailant. “Tell me where Batwoman is!”

Britannia ignored her question and moved to throw another dart. Flamebird pulled something from her hip and leaped into the air. She saw Britannia preparing a fourth dart and spun, hurrying to throw the Batarang in midair. Her calculation of the angle between her slightly elevated position and her target was a little off, and the Batarang arrived low, slicing the skirt of Britannia’s dress.

The villainess might have moved to avoid the missile, but was concentrating on her aim. She had not yet thrown her fourth dart as Flamebird jumped. In midair, the young girl made a perfect target. Britannia’s dart hit the Girl Wonder just before the be-goggled heroine landed. Flamebird collapsed almost instantly.

The rogue ruler let her hands settle on her hips, threw her head back, and laughed until her Royal Men-at-Arms began to pick themselves up. Batman, Robin, and Flamebird lay helplessly at the feet of the gleefully laughing villains. “The knockout drugs have worked perfectly, as We knew they would. Now, We will attend to Flamebird Ourselves, and We will travel in the Batmobile. She will not die, at least not yet. As for the other two,” Britannia began. The mad monarch’s instructions were quite detailed. “While you attend to that, We will change into something more suitable before seeing the Dynamic Duo off on their final journey,” Britannia said.

Meanwhile, Constable Ferguson arrived at Bruce Wayne’s beach house on Ambergris Bay near Gotham Point. Camilla and Sarah were moving around, crouched on the beach and smoothing the sand with their hands.

Ferguson cleared his throat. “May I ask what you two ladies are doing?”

“Following Her Royal Majesty’s commands, just like you,” Camilla said, looking up at him and straightening. “We’ve just finished, in fact.”

“Come on,” Sarah said, returning to her feet and moving toward him to indicate the unconscious woman he carried over his shoulder. “We’d better get Batwoman out of sight.”

Britannia’s recently recruited rogues had chosen backless, one-piece bathing suits, which displayed the union jack on each of their beautiful bodies. Ferguson smiled appreciatively as the breathtakingly beautiful Britons passed him. He turned to follow, carrying his beautiful burden.

Batgirl had been expertly hogtied and stuffed in a chest with a rag smelling faintly of chloroform. Camilla nodded and Ferguson set Batwoman down. Sarah produced a length of rope and a knife and bound the new prisoner in similar fashion. Batwoman was placed in the trunk with Batgirl, before the lid was closed and locked.

“Now, we have the rest of the afternoon to entertain an Englishman,” Camilla said happily.

“A much younger and handsomer one than we used to serve,” Sarah observed.

“What about your duties to Our Queen?” Ferguson asked.

“We’re quite prepared for Her Royal Majesty’s arrival,” Sarah said with just a hint of patronizing in her voice. “You’ll want to blend into the scenery at that point.”

“What did you have in mind until then?”

“Just put yourself in our hands,” Sarah said. “We’ll take good care you.”

“Both of you?”

The picturesque pair had come to him from opposite directions and pressed themselves provocatively against him. “Of course,” Camilla said. The three of them laughed as Ferguson felt the Royal Handmaidens’ hands unbutton his shirt, massage him, and rest their heads on his shoulders. Ferguson slid his arms around his comely companions’ waists as they led him upstairs. It was going to be a delightful afternoon.

Later, the Girl Wonder felt the numbness of her fingers and toes as the effects of the knockout drug wore off. She tried to move, but could not. She was sitting. A moan escaped her lips a second before her eyes flicked open. Britannia regarded her captive with interest from a couch on which she was seated with her long legs stretched along its length.

Flamebird was seated in a wooden chair. Her knees were bound together as well as her ankles, which were also affixed to the chair. A chord had been cinched between her thighs, wound around her abdomen, crisscrossed over and around her breasts, and wrapped around her shoulders to utterly immobilize her upper body. Her arms were secured to the arms of the chair at the wrist and elbow. The only part of her body Flamebird could move was her head.

“What are you going to do with me, Britannia?” the young heroine demanded.

“We would offer you a chance to save your friends’ lives. All traitors to the Crown face lawful execution at Our convenience. Your friends are numbered among them.”

“Batwoman and I have escaped you once before!”

“Your youth and tenacity are part of why We have graciously granted you a chance to declare your allegiance and fealty. You, Flamebird, have your whole life in front of you. We fear your traitorous allies would sacrifice themselves to misguided principles – unless you save them by joining forces with Us. Colonial propaganda has colored your views. If you see the light, We can consider sparing your friends.”

Flamebird’s mind worked feverishly. ‘Perhaps if I pretend to play along . . .’ “First, if I may, Your Majesty, a question.”

Britannia’s ears perked up at the change in tone of the teenager’s voice. She didn’t really expect Flamebird to join her, but she would welcome the honorable young heroine into her service. There was something Britannia didn’t entirely trust about her Royal Handmaidens.

“What do you wish to know?”

“Since you are Britannia, Queen of England, who is Elizabeth II?”

Britannia’s eyes flashed. “That pretender from the House of Windsor!” She became quite agitated. “We can trace Our lineage back to–” Britannia stopped cold. She stared off into the distance, unblinking.

After a full thirty seconds, Flamebird reached a decision. She broke the silence. “Batman told me your were once some kind of professor. If you wish to return to that law-abiding lifestyle, I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Otherwise, I’ll oppose you with every fiber of my being!”

Flamebird’s words brought Britannia back from wherever she had been. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yes. Please, let me help you.”

“We have told you what We require, and would have you agree of your own free will.” Britannia stood, crossed the room, pulled a cloth from a drawer behind her prisoner, and used it to gag the red-clad heroine. Flamebird protested through the gag and struggled as the mad monarch removed the Girl Wonder’s utility belt and tossed it carelessly aside. “Happy struggling, Flamebird. We will have eliminated the Dynamic Duo by the time you free yourself. If you come to rescue Batwoman and Batgirl, We promise you will perish with them as well.”

Flamebird’s struggles and protests continued. Britannia opened the door to leave, revealing Flamebird was being held on one side of an apparently residential street. Before the villainess left, she turned and blew her prisoner a kiss. “Your friends stand condemned, but you have been given the opportunity to live. Please consider the chance We've bestowed upon you. We urge you to take advantage of it. Once your friends are gone, We will make Our offer again.” Britannia said. “Ta ta for now.” Then, she was gone.

With no one to hear her, the Girl Wonder’s protests fell silent, but her vain struggles went on.

A short time later, Britannia parked the Batmobile in front of the incongruously posh tearoom in an underdeveloped Gotham City suburb, from which the mad monarch had directed the Distaff Duo’s fateful flight. Inside, she could hear her Royal Men-at-Arms dutifully preparing to do away with the Dynamic Duo, as she had commanded.

She decided to get cleaned up and change after a busy day of Royal Visitations. In her preparations, she put her hair up as a concession to her position and the image she wished to project. The rest of her outfit contrasted dramatically with her regal presence. Her legs slid into the briefs from a royal blue bikini, and draped a long sleeved, pale work shirt over her shoulders and fastened it carelessly at her abdomen with a knot. Thus prepared, Britannia made her way to her next port of call.

Batman and Robin’s death chamber had an artificially maintained, tropical climate, which nurtured shrubs and flowers, while making visitors glisten with sweat seconds after settling into one of the woven bamboo seats arranged within the spectacular, indoor garden.

“Are Our guests prepared for Our Royal Tea Party?” she inquired, leaning her hips against the back of a bench.

“They are in position as You commanded, My Queen,” the Royal Man-at-Arms in charge answered. “They have not yet recovered.”

“Revive them!”

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty.”

The Royal Men-at-Arms approached the prisoners. They had been bound tightly and suspended perpendicular to the floor in porous, canvas bags from which only their heads emerged. The bags rested beside a gigantic tea kettle, the top of which was visible above the floor. In accordance with Britannia’s command, the Royal Men-at-Arms removed the top of the enormous kettle and set it aside. Then, the bags containing Batman and Robin were lowered gently into the cold water that filled the kettle, their heads remaining well above the surface.

Britannia grinned wickedly as her captives began to shiver involuntarily. “You have all done very well,” the pretty pretender proclaimed. “Now, go!” The Royal Men-at-Arms obediently took their leave. “Royal Guard Captain,” she cried just after they disappeared.

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty,” he said, reappearing and straightening to attention.

“As you go, turn up the heat in this chamber to maximum. We will then want Our Royal Coach standing by when We depart for Our rendezvous on Ambergris Bay.”

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty,” the Royal Guard Captain said. Then, he disappeared.

“This water is freezing, Batman,” Robin complained as his teeth chattered.

“I suspect that to change all too quickly, old chum.” Batman said.

“History tells Us that a revolutionary tea party was held in Boston Harbor before Our armies lost a few skirmishes with you Colonials,” Britannia said. “Tonight, two American heroes will perish at a tea party We will throw for you.”

“You’re too kind,” Robin said.

“Not at all,” the reigning rogue replied.

“You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble, Britannia,” Batman said.

“You’ve demonstrated the necessity of such preparations, having survived Our encounter in Londinium.”

“The tricky part of that escape was making sure not to damage a national treasure,” Batman revealed.

“What are you talking about, Batman?” Robin asked.

“In Londinium, Britannia tied me to the gears of Big Ben and left me to be ground into bloody pudding.”

“Holy Unjust Desserts!”

“We have always been curious as to how you survived,” the aristocratic archfiend admitted.

“It was simple. I poured a compound from my utility belt among the gears, causing them to fuse together. With the instruments of my death rendered immobile, I could concentrate on rubbing my ropes against the gears’ sharp edges until they cut me free. Dissolving the compound fusing the gears restored the clock’s function, leaving the authorities nothing more expensive to do than reset the time.”

“Very clever, Batman,” Britannia complimented. “We suspected something like that, which is why We had your utility belt burned, along with Robin’s.”

“So, what’s next on your crooked agenda for us?” Robin asked.

“We offer you a choice.”

“A choice?” Batman repeated.

“We have found both of you guilty of treason against the Empire and her Crown. The penalty is death. Yet, you both have earned a reputation as ace crime fighters. Understand, Batman, Our aims are just. Join the side of right. Together We would crush the Colonial pirates who looted the Empire in the past. You may even save your female allies, who also face the fate of traitors.” Britannia crossed the room slowly and leaned forward, resting her hands on the rim of the kettle. ”Other rewards are also possible. We could find several uses for you both.”

As Robin watched their wicked warder, he realized his body had adjusted to the cold temperature of the water. The sweat pouring from her bare legs and soaking her shirt demonstrated the cruel contrast between the positions of the prisoners and their keeper. He was aware his gaoler was gorgeous, but Robin’s condition kept him utterly numb to her charms.

“Your offer is quite tempting, Britannia,” Batman said. Robin shot a questioning glance at his mentor. Robin has seen Batman overcome overtures offered by women like Catwoman and Marsha, Queen of Diamonds. He could not believe Britannia, despite her considerable beauty, would succeed where they had failed. “Your goals, while noble as you present them, are misguided. My life, as well as those of Batgirl, Batwoman, Flamebird and Robin, is pledged to upholding the laws of the United States of America and of the State of Gotham, as well as the ordinances of Gotham City. I cannot refocus my energies for any reason, no matter how pleasant such an offer might be.”

“That’s right, Batman!” Robin enthused. “You tell her!”

“So be it! You’ve both heard the expression steaming jungle, We trust?” The captive crusaders nodded. Britannia laughed. “Well, you’ve chosen to die in such a place.” She retreated a step and turned to a chair beside which controls and a cup of hot tea waited for her. She sat, sipped her tea, and touched the control. “Delicious.”

Batman and Robin slowly became aware of the water around them warming. They vainly tried to keep the horror and helplessness from their faces as Britannia studied them, sipped her tea, and laughed.

“You ghoulish fiend!” Robin raged.

Britannia laughed harder at the Boy Wonder’s outburst. “We think you’ve guessed it.”

“Boiling us alive, Britannia?” Batman asked. “I would have thought you’d devise a more civilized fate for us.”

“It is the fate of Colonial barbarians, Batman. First, every ounce of water in the kettle will be warmed. Then, the water will begin to bubble around you. The bubbles will rise faster and faster, resulting in steam which would normally be released through the kettle spout. Slowly, every drop of water will be boiled out of the pot and every inch of each of you will be scalded in the process. By the time the water is gone, every ounce of meat on your bones will be boiled to the point it will fall away from your skeletons of its own volition.”

“Diabolical!” Batman said.

“Regardless, you’ll be quite incapable of opposing me afterwards. We understand Batgirl once saved you from a similar fate concocted by the Penguin. We assure you, she won’t save you this time.” Britannia laughed and clapped her hands to summon more Royal Men-at-Arms. “Bear Us from this chamber!” she commanded. The men lifted the chair in which their queen reclined and she set her empty cup aside.

“Goodbye, Batman and Robin. We will dispose of your terrorists comrades next,” Britannia proclaimed as she was carried from the steamy death chamber.

Batman and Robin stared at one another as the temperature of the water around them increased.

Flamebird ceased her struggles to rest again. The ropes had rubbed holes in her orange hose and were well on their way toward rubbing her flesh raw. Her cheerleader skirt had hiked up above her hips and her top had come askew as she fought vainly against her bonds. Aside from ruining her appearance, her struggles seemed to have accomplished nothing, and Flamebird knew her gag muffled every cry she made. She realized she would have to rely on herself to escape.

Tension drained from her body as she slumped in the chair, relaxing. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the dull pain in her neck told her she had slept. It was impossible to know for how long. There was something trying to emerge from the maelstrom of despair assailing her mind. A fact was tantalizing her, trying to tear itself from the murk and confusion of her thoughts. What was it?

Flamebird blinked and let her eyes refocus as she listened for the answer.

There was silence. She was looking at the answer.

A ring of unfinished wood was beginning to emerge from where the dowel had been glued into a hole drilled in the seat of the chair. Flamebird turned her head and saw a similar ring of unfinished wood becoming visible beneath the other arm of the chair.

Flamebird’s eyes narrowed behind her goggles. She clenched the muscles in her arms and wrenched her wrists upward.

Something enveloped her, warming her all the way to her toes, as the arms of the chair detached. Immediately, she leaned forward as far as her bonds would allow. She felt the strain her movement put on the chair.

A creak from the chair sent Flamebird’s body backward. Her movement was rewarded by a crack. Her efforts now were bearing more fruit than her earlier, aimless writhing. She hardened the muscles of her legs and pulled her feet as far forward as they would go. Then she brought them back forcefully and heard another crack. Leaning forward again, Flamebird was able to put her feet on the floor. She also noted how the chair wobbled as she moved.

Flamebird inhaled through her nose and bent forward, balancing on her bound feet. Then she exhaled and straitened at the same time. The force her body exerted on the chair reduced it to kindling. Flamebird’s hands were tearing the gag from her mouth as she gratefully filled her lungs. Seconds later, she had extricated herself from her limp bindings, done her best to repair her appearance, and buckled the utility belt around her waist again.

Outside, Flamebird discovered she had been held in a cabana near the White Oaks Country Club pool. She ran to where the Bat-Gyros had landed.

When Britannia arrived, Camilla and Sarah left the exhausted Ferguson and helped their queen change into a pink bikini and sunglasses. “The preparations are complete?” Britannia asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent, Camilla. Ask Constable Ferguson to prepare the prisoners!”

“With pleasure, Your Royal Majesty!” Sarah said.

Ferguson arrived on the wooden deck with Batwoman and Batgirl slung over his shoulders. Camilla and Sarah pointed out a spot on the beach where the prisoners were unceremoniously dropped. Ferguson set upon them instantly, winding ropes tightly around their wrists and ankles before tethering the bound beauties between four metal stakes.

Meanwhile, Camilla and Sarah returned to their queen, who showed them to a garage where they climbed into a dune buggy with a large spotlight on the back. Camilla drove back to the beach where Ferguson had just finished securing the captives.

“The vehicle's engine will power the light?” Britannia asked

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty,” Sarah said, “as soon as I’ve finished making these connections.”

“Splendid,” Britannia said. “We trust Our Royal Handmaidens were able to entertain Constable Ferguson adequately this afternoon?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Constable said.

“Good. We felt you deserved a reward for your fine work capturing Batgirl and helping Us infiltrate the jewel show. We trust you made the most of it.”

“Your Royal Majesty may depend upon me,” Ferguson said, as he splashed water from the bay on the prisoners’ faces.

Batgirl moaned and Batwoman blinked. They shook themselves awake, realized they were bound on the beach, and stared at each other.

“It will take a minute for the light to warm up, Your Royal Majesty,” Sarah reported.

“Very well,” Britannia replied.

Camilla rotated the light, aiming the black bat painted on the lens toward Gotham City.

“Exquisite,” Ferguson remarked.

“Turn on the light and leave Us,’ Britannia ordered. “You have all done well.” She stepped from the dune buggy and regarded her captives.

Constable Ferguson switched on the light just before Britannia’s shapely sycophants linked arms with him. The threesome climbed the stairs that led from the beach.

“I wondered how long it would take to get around to this,” Batgirl said, struggling vainly against her bonds. “It’s dusk. I’ve been out for awhile.”

“Soon you’ll both be taken out, once and for all,” Britannia responded.

Batgirl stained to look at their captor. “That’s not a very regal outfit your wearing,” she observed.

“As sovereign, We can wear whatever We wish,” Britannia declared.

“What have you done with Flamebird?!” Batwoman demanded.

“Oh, We expect her shortly. The light will see to that.” Just then, the light snapped on and projected the shadow of a bat into the sky. Britannia stared up into the cloudy, early evening sky.

“Simulating the Bat-signal,” Batgirl said. “Batman, Robin, and Flamebird will realize it is not coming from Police Headquarters.”

“Batman and Robin will be dead quite soon,” Britannia explained with a delighted laugh. “We told Flamebird We would have to do away with both of you. She will race here to try and save you, disregarding My warning that to do so means certain death.”

“She won’t fall for that,” Gotham’s pretty, purple-clad partisan declared.

“Believe what you will,” Britannia said.

“Flamebird will assume one of us is responsible for the signal and race to our rescue,” Batwoman said. “Fiendish.”

“Precisely, Batwoman,” Britannia agreed, giggling. “You two are lying in the center of an enormous mine field my minions laid this afternoon. The explosives were captured during the Falkland Islands War. Before We leave, We will arm the field. As it gets dark, the Bat-signal will lead the winged avenger right to you. She will swoop in and land close by, blowing you all to smithereens in the process.”

“We’ll have to warn her off,” Batgirl decided aloud.

“She won’t be able to hear us over the sound of the Bat-Gyro,” Batwoman said.

“It seems Britannia had given our fate some thought,’ Batgirl said glumly.

“We have,” Britannia agreed. “In the unlikely event Flamebird does not come to rescue you, you’ll be drowned by the morning tide!”

“Then they’ll wade out, cut us loose, and our bodies will be swept away, eliminating any evidence,” Batgirl lamented.

“Exactly,” Britannia said, nodding.

“Very efficient.” Batwoman agreed.

“Well, My dears, We’ll be running along and arming the mines. We need you to be ready when Flamebird arrives.” Batgirl and Batwoman watched as the ravishing faux royal turned on her heel and crossed the beach to the house.

Minutes later the mad matriarch reappeared. She regarded her doomed captives from the wooden staircase as the yellow shirt she had slipped on to combat the chill night breeze fell open. “The mine field is now armed, ladies! Flamebird will be here to rescue you soon. Please bid her farewell for Us. Goodnight and Goodbye – forever!”

Before either of the comely captives could respond, the voluptuous villainess turned on her heel and vanished. The echoes of her laughter remained to taunt the bound beauties on the beach.

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