Playgirl Is Back

Batgirl stood high above her fans at the Batman Hilton, as they watched her remain where she was and began to realize something was wrong.

Hadn’t she shouted something about being stuck? Many had reached for cell phones by the time Batgirl was knee deep in the cake’s potentially fatal filling.

She realized almost instantly the cake was tall enough to prevent her from throwing a rope to a nearby building and climbing to freedom. The buildings were too far away. She had a tiny laser she could have used to cut herself free from dry cement or epoxy. This device, however, would not cut through the cake fast enough to free her. She also had a canister of ammunition from Mr. Freeze’s ice gun. Unfortunately, it was too small to be of much use. If she didn’t come up with a plan soon, her belt would become buried in the sand, making every implement she carried harder to use.

Meanwhile, at Police Headquarters, Commissioner James Gordon had decided to respond to a flurry of phone calls about Batgirl’s impending fate.

The Commissioner crossed his office and lifted the cover from the Batphone. He picked up the receiver and was speaking to Alfred moments later.

"I’ll summon him, sir," the butler said.

Moments later, Batman was on the line. "Yes, Commissioner."

"Batman, I have reason to believe Batgirl is in danger outside the Batman Hilton."

"Thank you, Commissioner Gordon. I’ll attend to it immediately." Bruce Wayne put the phone down, lifted the head on his bust of Shakespeare and turned to the bookshelves sliding aside behind him. "Come on, Dick, to the Batpoles."

Batgirl threw her Batrope to the top of the ladder she had ascended to the top of the cake. With the rope she planned to haul herself to the ladder, where she hoped to win a struggle with the quicksand’s deadly suction. It was a desperate plan, but it was all she had devised so far.

When she spotted the Batmobile coming, she breathed a sigh of relief. The Dynamic Duo might have a better idea. She could always hope.

"Holy Rerun!" Robin exclaimed. "Someone trapped Batgirl on a giant cake. I’ll bet it’s full of quicksand."

"It looks that way, old chum," Batman agreed. He reached for a bullhorn and raised it. "Don’t worry, Batgirl. I’ll be up to get you in a minute with my heel and toe Batrockets."

"No, Batman!" Batgirl called. "If you fly up here, we’ll be shot down and you may not make it at all!"

"What do you suggest?"

"You’ll need to make the cake harmless!"

Batman thought for a moment. "Quick, Robin, warm up the Batbeam. Set it for cutting."

"Right, Batman!"

"Hang on, Batgirl. We’ll have you out in a moment. How far have you sunk in?"

"I’m hip deep, Batman! Please hurry!" She had removed her belt and slung it over one shoulder. While her spirits had soared when Batman and Robin had arrived, she still found herself in the familiar yet curious grip of excitement mingled with fear, which always thrilled her in these potentially deadly situations.

Robin had set up a tripod mounted projection system and begun to feed power to it. "I’m ready, Batman," he said moments later.

"Good. Cut a slice from the lowest tier of that cake."

"Check."

"Here we go, Batgirl," Batman called.

Robin activated the Batbeam and sliced vertically into the side of the cake. Quicksand began to seep from the cut in the lowest tier of the cake. Robin pivoted the projector to move the Batbeam across the top of the tier. The initial seepage of quicksand had become an ooze as the Batbeam continued cutting . Once he had cut two yards across, he began a third cut parallel to the first. The side of the cake began to buckle as the third cut began. With the beginning of a fourth cut parallel to the second, the side of the cake bulged and collapsed sending quicksand gushing out to cover the ground for several yards if front of Robin’s slice. The Boy Wonder finished the final cut and shut off the mechanism.

Above them, Batgirl felt herself pulled downward forcefully and tightened her grip on her rope. She pulled herself upward slowly, hand over hand until she dangled from the ladder as quicksand slid away from her lower body. Moments later, she swung a long, shapely leg over the edge of the hollow cake; waved to the crowd; moved to the ladder; and descended to where Batman and Robin waited. All the while cameras clicked vigorously and the crowd applauded loudly.

At the back of the crowd a blue-eyed blonde was moving away from the scene of Batgirl’s escape.

"Thank you, Batman and Robin. I think I owe you my life again."

"It’s a pleasure to return the favor, Batgirl."

"Holy Dittos, Batgirl. Glad to help. Do you know who attacked you?"

"Yes, I do, Robin.” Just then a hoard of reporters rushed the crimefighters. “I think, though, we have obligations to the press before we can discuss this further."

The staff of the Batman Hilton set up a room for the Terrific Trio’s press conference and gave Batgirl time to clean quicksand from her costume. Then she, Batman, and Robin accommodated the reporters. When it was over, they made their way to the manager’s office.

"Please sit down," the manager invited. "You know Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara." The Terrific Trio nodded. "Let me assure you we at the Batman Hilton had no idea anything like this would happen when we asked Batgirl to pose on top of the cake."

"I’’m sure you didn’t," Batman said. "How did you acquire the cake?"

"It was donated anonymously. I’ll ask someone to get the note that came with it."

"Thank you," Batgirl said. "Could you ask them to make a copy of it as well."

"Of course. The police have taken fingerprints from it and I understand they only found members of the hotel staff had handled it."

"Fingerprinting is standard procedure," Chief O’Hara said. "The envelope told us the same thing. It was totally blank, except for the sticker with this hotel’s address on it."

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY WITH OUR COMPLIMENTS. ANONYMOUS," Robin read.

"What good is that?" Chief O’Hara asked helplessly.

"More than you might think," Batman said. "Note the quality of the paper."

"It does seem expensive, Caped Crusader," Commissioner Gordon said, running the paper over his fingertips.

"Corporate stock," Batgirl said.

"That means if we find the abandoned factory or warehouse this came from, we nail the crooks," Robin said, slamming his fist into his glove.

"I don’t see Playgirl hiding out at a warehouse or factory," Batgirl disagreed.

"Playgirl?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"The Gangster Gal of Games," Batman said. "I’ve heard of her."

"Batgirl has put her away twice in the past few years," Chief O’Hara said.

"Shouldn’t she still be in jail then?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

In fairness, if Playgirl had been involved in the conversation, she would have been as surprised as any of them she was free.

Weeks ago, a guard had come to her cell and unlocked it. "Playgirl, get your cute butt out here," he had ordered. "I’m delivering you to your next trial."

"Another one?"

She had smiled recalling her first trial when she had arranged for a magnesium flare to explode right between the judge and District Attorney Harvey Dent. The blinding flash had enabled her and the accomplice she had recruited to escape. Her second trial, where she had been convicted, had involved no fireworks of any kind. Playgirl’s attorney, Lucky Pierre, had begun to regard his comely client as on omen incongruous with his moniker, a portent of ill fortune best avoided.

"Let’s have ‘em," the guard had said, ignoring Playgirl’s question.

He had turned her around and handcuffed her wrists behind her back. Then they had made their way to a waiting police car. Instead of heading to Gotham City’s courthouse, they had turned toward the city’s outskirts.

"Where are we going?" Playgirl asked once they had driven beyond the city limits.

"You’ll see." They had arrived presently at a courthouse in a small town about an hour outside Gotham City. "This is the place. In you go," the guard had said, guiding his prisoner up the courthouse steps and opening the door for her.

Once Playgirl had been delivered to the only courtroom, the officer had returned to the car, where his junior partner was carefully reading their orders. "All we have to do is deliver her here?"

"That’s all, kid. Ready for lunch?"

"Isn’t there a contact to take her into custody?"

"No."

"Aren’t you at all worried?"

"No. I’m hungry."

"So, do we pick her up again after lunch?"

"Getting her back is the locals’ problem."

"Fine!" the junior officer had conceded, realizing he would never win. "Let’s eat." The victorious senior officer had already pulled away.

Inside, Playgirl had been surprised to find the courtroom utterly deserted. She had stood stock still for a long moment, staring. After awhile, she had noticed an orange card on the table at which the defendant would sit. She had approached to examine it more closely.

"GET OUT OF JAIL FREE," she had read aloud. "Someone plays Monopoly."

She had turned to retrieve the card and discovered a key taped to the reverse side. She had smiled, using it to unlock the handcuffs. She had kissed the card and returned it to the table, when she noticed the lettering on the back. It read, "A FRIEND."

"Thanks, Friend. I’ll get some clothes and a little cash tonight after they roll up the streets around here. Then, tomorrow, I’ll be back in Gotham City where everyone will play by my rules before I’m finished." She had laughed for a long time before leaving the courthouse, a free woman.

"The font on this note is unusual," Robin said.

"Perhaps a session with the Batcomputer will help us identify it," Batman said.

"Could that be a clue, Caped Crusader?" Chief O’Hara asked.

"Perhaps. You don’t mind if we borrow this note for analysis?"

"Not at all," the manager said. Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara nodded.

‘‘There’s something else," Batgirl said. "This shadow on the copy might be a watermark. With a little computer enhancement, I might be able to identify it."

"I don’t know, Batgirl," Robin said glancing at both notes. "On the original, the mark looks like a smudge."

"We’ll see," she responded.

"It seems we have our work cut out for us," Batman said. "Quick. To the Batmobile."

"We’ll keep you posted," Batgirl promised and took her leave.

Later the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave and its occupants leaped to the Batcomputer where Batman set to work on a database search. "Now, Robin, let’s scan your document and see if we can identify that font."

"Right, Batman," he said placing the document on a scanner.

"Once we know what it is, we can cross reference with a database I set up through the Wayne Foundation of all the companies worldwide with whom I have done business. We can figure out which companies use the font in their business communications and then which of those companies have property, plant, and equipment in Gotham City.”

"This could take time."

"Agreed."

"I’ll need to get some reading done for school while we wait." Dick Grayson was a top student at Gotham State University and often brought books to the Batcave when he was fighting crime to take advantage of the slow times.

Meanwhile, Barbara Gordon scanned the shadow from her copy of the note into a program on her home computer. "Okay, Charlie," she said to her bird. "This program will enhance this blurry shadow and project what it is likely to be. With luck, a recognizable image will emerge. I think it is a watermark rather than a smudge. It will take time for the computer to show me what it looks like though. That’s just as well. While this works, I need to get some sleep.”

Elsewhere, Playgirl was looking over an exclusive casino from behind a mirror cunningly designed for that purpose. She was watching a well-dressed man playing chemin de fer. He was winning often enough to worry her. Inevitably, the call came to raise the limit. The manager looked at her. "Do it. Then have the dealer take a break and have the stand-in start with a new deck." The manager nodded. "Also, if the gentleman leaves before the original dealer comes back, ask our Security Pawns to have a discreet word with him about counting cards."

"You’re in a bad mood today, Playgirl," a man said stepping into the room. "Letting some of them win some of the time is good for business. It gives the rest of the suckers hope."

"I’m sorry, Max. Is he a regular?"

"His name is Bond. He has been my guest a number of times at different properties around the world."

Playgirl was looking at Bond’s credit line. "Never heard of him. On second thought, let Mr. Bond play." She turned her full attention to Max. "I’ve missed you," she declared.

She had gotten used to him coming upon her suddenly. In fact, that was how they had met.

Shortly after her "escape," Playgirl had sneaked into the casino to make some money. Not through robbery, but with modifications to the video gambling machines. She had used a similar technique to recruit the accomplice who had enabled her to escape custody during her first trial. Anyone winning a certain amount of money would see an image of her enhanced by subliminal signals designed to direct their winnings to her.

"Good evening," a male voice had said behind her as she prepared to leave.

Playgirl had spun to face the man. "Oh my God," she had said before recovering her wits. "I didn’t expect to, like, find anyone here."

"Neither did I."

Playgirl had mastered her emotions quickly. She had exhaled and let a smile play across her lips as she breathed in. "I guess you’re, like, wondering what I’ve been doing," she had said.

"That question had sprung to mind."

"Here. Let me show you," she had said activating one of her subliminal weapons. "Look!" The man had looked at the screen she had indicated. Playgirl had watched him lean closer to get a better view, waiting for her subliminal sequence to repeat a couple of times before leaning her head on his shoulder and putting her arms around him, stroking his chest lovingly. "The idea is," she said, letting her voice take on a seductive quality, "if you like what you see, you’ll soon want to do as I tell you. Do you?"

"Oh, yes."

"Good. Anyone who happens to win excessive amounts of money at these machines will be compelled to make a generous donation to my retirement fund. You do think that’s clever, don’t you?"

"Oh, yes. I certainly do."

"You won’t tell anyone, will you?"

"Oh, no."

"Excellent." Playgirl had smiled and slid her hands lower to massage his abdomen. "That makes me very happy. Now, I need you to tell me exactly who you are."

"I am Max Chessman," he had said. His voice had taken on a mechanical cadence.

"You own both this casino and the associated hotel. Right?"

"Quite right."

"Well, isn’t that magnificent? I think you and I will get along famously, Max. I am Playgirl and as of now, you will play by my rules, especially tonight. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Tell me what you understand, Max."

"I am your playmate, Playgirl."

"That is very nice." She had reached for the machine and turned it off. "I think you’ve had enough for now. Max, tell me what you want me to do with you."

"You may do with me whatever you wish."

"Your voice sounds unusual. Why?"

"I am a Briton."

"An Englishman. Then these businesses aren’t your only sources of wealth?"

"Oh, no. They are only the latest properties to open as my worldwide hotel empire expands."

"Splendid. Look at me." He had turned his head toward her and pulled his mouth to hers. "This is going to be even better than I thought." she had said after breaking the kiss. "Would you like to continue?"

"Very much, Playgirl."

"Take me upstairs," she commanded.

The next morning, fresh from the shower, Playgirl had pulled on a black shirt and begun to button it as she spoke to her newly recruited minion, hotel magnate Max Chessman. "Good morning, Max. I’d like to spend a little time this morning defining the parameters of our relationship going forward."

"What a good idea," Max had agreed.

"I’m glad you agree. I will be running the show around here from behind the scenes. You’ll make a fabulous figurehead." She had paused to review the conversation in her mind. Then she had begun to think aloud. "Wait a minute. What did you just say?"

"I said I thought discussing our ongoing relationship was a good idea."

"I don’t remember asking what you thought. You shouldn’t be speaking unless I specifically tell you to or I ask you a question. That must mean the subliminal indoctrination--"

"Failed," he had said, smiling. His single word had stopped Playgirl dressing. "I suppose I have your attention," he had remarked as she stared at him.

"Yes. You do. I know what you are telling me is utterly impossible."

"Yet, you know I couldn’t have started this conversation if you had succeeded."

"Precisely. So, what exactly is going on, and how exactly did you do it?"

"I realized who you were five minutes after you broke in. My security is, to say the least, good. Naturally, I was curious as to exactly what you were doing, since it obviously wasn’t a straightforward robbery. I decided to find out. I took the precaution of wearing a set of very sensitive contact lenses. I’m afraid they filtered your visual subliminal signal."

"Contact lenses! Again they beat me with contact lenses! Batgirl would still be lost in my virtual world if it weren’t for contact lenses! And you are supposed to be my wonderful willing puppet, but your wore contact lenses. Then, you just like played along– played me! I totally do not like being played for a fool! I am Playgirl! You, my dear, are about to learn I am not to be toyed with!" She had been furious and was very nearly shouting.

"Oh, stop it!" he had responded sharply. "I’ll be the first to admit I was a well-treated slave. Thank you very much." His tone had softened disarmingly as he continued letting a mocking smile curl the corners of his mouth. "My ego is absolutely on Cloud Nine. Think about it. You are a very beautiful, very talented woman. Now, can you honestly blame me?"

She had thought about it for a moment and laughed. "I suppose not. Okay, you are, after all, a world renowned opportunist. I vaguely recall the media’s trepidation when you bought Gotham City’s historic Chessmen Building. That purchase was awesome free publicity."

"Yes, I let them worry for a few months about my changing the name of this Gotham City landmark to reflect my own. I think I played it out rather well. You remember my invitation to Gothamites when the hotel opened, don’t you?"

"Of course," Playgirl had said quoting, "’’Join me at the Chessmen for service by Chessman.’’ Doing the ads yourself was a stroke of genius."

"It seemed appropriate. How would you rate the service, by the way?"

"I have to admit, I can’t complain. It turned into quite an eventful and enjoyable evening. On the other hand, Max, I can’t imagine everyone having the opportunity you gave me to enjoy such exclusive executive service." She had resumed dressing with a smirk, sliding into a belted gray skirt and a pair of black shoes. "Now, of course, the question is, like, where do we go from here?"

"First, you will drop the Valley girl act. I know it is an act because you stopped it altogether while we played out our little game last night. Second, I would like to hire you.’’

"I don’t play those games professionally, darling! You know exactly what I was after. My plans didn’t work out. That happens. You won. But, I am NOT the prize!"

Max Chessman had laughed. "You’re angry and you have a very high opinion of yourself."

"You got it! I also have no intention of staying here and listening to you gloat! Now if there is nothing else, I’ll be going. Thank you for everything!" She had walked purposefully to the door and glanced over her shoulder at him, letting her voice soften. "I mean that," she had said. "Thank you."

"Playgirl, please wait," he had said seriously as the grin he had been wearing transformed into a gentle smile. "I really didn’t mean to offend you. If I did, I apologize. I could use your technical expertise and knowledge of Gotham City."

"Now you’re offer is starting to interest me," she had said turning and leaning against the back of the door. She folded her arms while transforming her face into an impassive mask. "What will you want me to do?"

"First, I’ll need you to ask your retirement fund donors to give their money to Chessman Charities instead of to you. I’ll then be able to compensate you from those funds. Using those assets makes things easier on my accountants. I’m sure you’d agree salaries can be much too consistent."

"Second?" she asked coolly.

"I’ll need you to help me clear away obstacles I’ll have to confront in Gotham City."

"What kind of obstacles?"

"The kind that might object to some business I have plans to do here. Let’s say I’d like to take out a sort of insurance policy."

"How proactive of you," she had said crossing the room and seating herself at the mirror. She had reached for a brush and begun to stroke her hair. "I can’t believe you’d have let me leave and be seen like this."

"I take it you’re beginning to find my offer of employment interesting?"

"I might be. Assuming you are referring to the three obstacles which come instantly to my mind. Of course, Mrs. Harriet Cooper and the Gotham Women’s Decency League can be formidable in their own way."

"So they warned me shortly before the casino opened. It seems Mrs. Cooper’s Gotham City Film Decency League scored a few victories and became more ambitious," he agreed laughing. Then he returned to business. "I understand you and Batgirl have some history."

"It’s true I’ve encountered her in the past. When it comes to Batman, Robin and Batgirl, I think the sooner they are dealt with the better."

"Batman and Robin have earned a certain reputation."

"I assume I’ll have all the resources of the Chessman Hotel empire at my disposal to deal with them for you?"

"Naturally."

Playgirl had set the brush aside and turned in her chair to face him. "Listen. If you know as much as you seem to about Gotham City, I’m sure you’ve already come up with a way to get rid of its heroes permanently, should the need arise."

"I have had a few thoughts. However, I like to delegate things like that to experts when I can."

"You’re quite the executive. As tempting as the chance to do away with the Terrific Trio in a manner of my choosing is, their murders would raise my profile considerably. So, why should I take the risk?”

"Well, I honestly think you’ll try to kill them eventually yourself. So, I don’t believe you’re concerned about becoming known as the mastermind behind their ultimate destruction," Chessman had said. He had realized he would be able to continue manipulating her emotions like a puppetmaster as the dreamlike ecstasy his prediction had conjured within her transformed her businesslike demeanor. He had played his next card. "Besides, your cooperation would guarantee I would never be tempted to have you arrested for breaking into my casino last night."

"You wouldn’t dare! After everything we did, you’d——"

"I have a tape of you breaking in. Even if you could prove I let you take me to bed under false pretenses. That type of thing happens all the time."

"I’m sure you’d know! Why don’t you tell me why you really want me? Because if you imagine you are stringing me along to get me back in bed after we have our little chat, I have news for you!"

Max had held up his hand and stopped her. "I’ll tell you what. Instead of exchanging threats, why don’t you order us breakfast while I get cleaned up. While we eat I can explain my need for your technical expertise. Can I persuade you to wait? Please?"

"I want the tape you spoke of."

"Of course. I’ll see to it now." Max Chessman had picked up the phone and contacted one of his Security Pawns. "Good morning. I want the casino security tape from last night sent up to the King’s Suite as soon as possible."

"Very good, sir. I assume you’d like to keep a copy of your evening with the young lady?"

"Splendid."

"We’ll dub in the sound."

"Thank you." He had smiled at her as he hung up. "You’ll have your tape shortly. If you’ll excuse me."

Playgirl had ordered breakfast and hung up. She had been starting to feel better. Of course, she had been given every right to be furious. He had taken advantage of her. Never mind she would have done exactly the same thing in his place. In fact, she had been trying to do to him what he had done to her. Though, if he really had something interesting for her to do of a technical nature, it might be worthwhile for her to set her anger aside. She would almost certainly be given carte blanche access to everything of a technical nature his company owned. If not, she would be able to get such access fairly quickly. Who said Chessman had to know about all the money she would make from their joint venture? Given time, she could learn more about him and find other ways to manipulate the hotel magnate. He deserved that. He had tried to blackmail her, after all. Killing the Terrific Trio would also be a bonus. Delicious.

Once Chessman had returned, he found her sitting before a breakfast of champagne and omelets, slipping a video tape into her purse. She had poured him a glass, smiling and picking up her own as she settled back in her chair. "Truce?"

"Agreed. I see you like to live well." He had raised his glass to clink hers.

"When I can. Now, besides having Batman, Robin, and Batgirl killed, how can I help you?"

"You are an expert at manipulating visual media and associated technology. I need someone to help me crack certain satellites’ security systems so I can sell what these eyes in the sky see to certain clients."

"It does sound challenging."

"It will be. I’ll be able to do it eventually, of course. But if you help, I’ll pay you a lot of money and give you the chance to kill your enemies. while helping me with other pesky local problems in Gotham City."

"I would be an employee?"

"A consultant. I need your help with things I can’t hire just anyone to do."

"How about a partner?"

"What did you have in mind?" Chessman had asked carefully.

"I am interested in the newer audio communication technologies. If you can enable me to pick the brains of people who work with them, I could piggyback my subliminal signals on telephone carrier waves. That would put the world in our hands to do with--" She had paused dramatically before concluding, "whatever we wish. And nothing would be able to stop us."

Chessman had thought for a moment. "Those people would be in Japan. I’ll speak to my people in Tokyo. It may take time, but I’ve been learning things like that for years. I’ll see what I can do."

"Fair enough." Playgirl had extended her hand and Chessman had shaken it.

"In the meantime, I may have some other little chores for you."

"I wasn’t proposing that sort of partnership!" Her voice had taken on a dangerous edge.

"Professional chores, my dear."

"We can certainly discuss other professional tasks you might wish me to perform. However, anything else would be strictly extracurricular." Though it had annoyed her at the time, Playgirl had been unable to prevent a smile from playing at the corners of her mouth. "Of course, nobody said that was totally out of the question."

"Of course," Chessman had replied. He had been smiling too.

“Have you eaten?" Playgirl’s patron asked.

"No. I’ve had a busy day."

Max offered her his arm and led her to a private table in the back of the restaurant adjoining the casino. As they concluded their meal with coffee, talk turned to business. "I saw Batgirl on the news. Do you know what happened?"

"I tried to kill her in public. Onlookers called the police. The police called Batman. Batman showed up and saved her. Drat!"

"Can we expect them?"

"Yes. It will take time for them to find us, but they’re coming. Don’t worry. When they show up, I’ll deal with them."

"Will our operations be exposed?"

She laughed harshly. "None of them will be around long enough to do any damage." She grinned wickedly. "I’ve planned a short stay for each of them——a very short stay."

"Very well. I’ve lined up a Japanese communications expert for you to talk to by satellite tomorrow. I’d also like you to do some bill collecting. A few local suckers have too much credit at my foreign casinos."

"They’re called customers. Remember?"

"As I’ve heard you say so often, whatever."

"You’ll have our Security Pawns pick them up tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Fine. You’ve cheered me up enormously, Max. Thank you."

"Really? I’m so glad. I could send a bottle of wine up to the King’s Suite for us. It might help us celebrate your newly improved mood. That is, if you’d like to?"

"You’re taking advantage of me again." She was not angry this time. Her voice had become quite impish.

"Do you mind?"

"Not really." She pretended to consider his invitation. "All right. Why not? I accept. It could turn into a perfect evening. I’ll powder my nose while you make the arrangements."

"But of course." Max made a call and led her to his private elevator by the arm. They lingered inside for a time. When they left the elevator a bottle of white wine in a silver ice bucket was chilling just outside their suite. Max opened the bottle and poured with professional skill. He watched her breathe in the bouquet and sip from her glass. "I trust the quality is satisfactory?"

"It is superb, Max. Perfect, in fact. Shall we go in?"

"All the way, my dear," he said and let her guide him.

At that moment, in the Batcave, Robin sipped coffee and glanced at the Batcomputer.

“I see you’ve picked up a new habit at college,” Batman observed. “Fruit juice would be much more healthful, you know.”

“Holy Caffeine, Batman! A little coffee won’t hurt me!”

“True, Robin. Used in moderation, there’s nothing wrong--”

Ding!

Batman’s dissertation was interrupted by the bell of the Batcomputer.

"I think we’ve got it, Batman!"

"Oh?"

"The font is European. It’s used primarily in Great Britain. According to Bruce Wayne’s database, the only company with property, plant or equipment in Gotham City using this font is Chessman Hotels.”

"Chessman Luxury Hotels, Robin," Batman said. "Headed by Mr. Max Chessman, who built a worldwide empire from a single Londinium property, or so the story goes."

"Maybe we should pay Mr. Chessman a discreet visit?"

"Agreed. To the Batmobile."

Barbara awoke to find her computer had completed its task. "Well, Charlie, it seems Playgirl sent this from the Chessman Luxury Hotel at the Chessmen Building in Gotham City. That would explain the high quality paper the note was sent on. I think I’d better pay that establishment a quiet visit as Batgirl. I should also inform the police and coordinate with Batman and Robin. Speaking of Robin, he thought the watermark was a smudge. Trying to be one of the guys in front of Batman, Chief O’Hara and Daddy!" Triumphant, Barbara paused. "I love being right!" She cleaned herself up and spun her bedroom wall to make her tantalizing transformation into Batgirl. Moments later she was riding away.

Meanwhile, Playgirl waited for Chessman’s Security Pawns to drag the first debtor into her casino office. "Hi. Welcome to the Chessman Luxury Hotel and Casino at the Chessmen Building. It is totally time for you to, like, pay the check."

"What are you talking about? Who are you? I had just arrived at my club and was making arrangements to have my car washed when these men grabbed me and brought me here. This is outrageous."

"Calm yourself, Mr. Drysdale. Give me his wallet, okay." One of the Security Pawns handed over his wallet.

"Hey! You can’t do this to me! I’m a bank president! Before I came to Gotham, I worked for years with millionaires in Beverly Hills! This is robbery!"

"Let me explain. About two weeks ago, I sent a letter out to everyone who had a certain debt level at our casinos. My letter said your debt level would trigger a higher interest rate after a little time. I, like, suggested immediate steps would need to be taken to settle or the casino would take, like, action. Well, you, like, didn’t pay, so we kind of acted."

"I got your letter. It didn’t say anything about kidnapping!"

"Whatever. Let’s cut to the chase. Here is what you owe." She handed him an invoice that made his jaw drop.

"You have got to be kidding," he said when he had recovered.

"Not at all. Hey! Is this a debit card? It was issued by your bank." She took his card by the edge and slid it into a reader. "That is so cool! I totally think it was a good idea to move your bank's headquarters to Gotham City. There are so many millionaires here, you know." Playgirl began to list them, "Bruce Wayne, Katherine Kane, William Dozier, Howard Horowitz, Lord Easystreet--"

"And Max Chessman, who seems to make his money through racketeering and strong arm tactics," Drysdale observed acidly.

"Anyway, we were talking about your debit card. I'll, like, need your PIN number." Drysdale sat silently, staring in disbelief. "Don't be lame. Look. I know you are right handed, because you used your right hand to take your invoice. Unless you tell me the number, I'm going to have one of my Security Pawns break the little finger of your left hand and each finger all the way to the thumb, until you, like, talk. I'd really hate to have to have my man move on to your right hand. You know."

"I can’t believe you are threatening me. Who are you?"

"Didn’t I tell you? I’m Playgirl."

"Oh my God. You were on America’s Most Wanted last year!"

"Totally. That was, like, so bogus. Boys, take hold of his little finger. Don’t break it until I, like, tell you to. Okay? I need that PIN number, Milburn."

Drysdale sighed and told her.

"Oh, good. That’s what is says on this scrap of paper. I, like, had to be sure, you know." She typed on a keyboard. "I’ll, like, take the funds from your primary checking account. Okay?" There was a pause. "The transfer is complete. It has been a real pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Drysdale. Oh, I, like, terminated your credit with the casino to keep us from having to, like, talk to you again. Now, this is important. We just had a friendly chat. If you give us trouble over this we will have to, like, talk again and I will be very, very upset with you. Okay?" Playgirl filled her voice with sweetness as she implied her threat, but the steely quality of her eyes left no room for argument.

"I can’t believe this just happened."

"Whatever. Take Mr. Drysdale back to his club, boys. He’s had, like, a rough day and could probably use a drink. Okay?" She followed them from the office and surveyed her waiting victims. "Next!"

Playgirl made herself a drink while the men hustled the next unlucky gambler into the room. Ten interviews led to ten transactions and the list was complete.

"I learned the cake came from the Chessman Luxury Hotel at the Chessmen Building," Batgirl said.

"How could Playgirl be hiding out there?" Chief O’Hara asked.

"I’ll find out when I pay them a visit."

"Before you go," Commissioner Gordon said, "you might want to take a look at this. It arrived for you this morning."

Batgirl opened a large white envelope with the words BATGIRL: YOU’RE NEEDED printed in black letters on it. She opened it and read aloud.

Dear Batgirl,

We have never been introduced, but both investigated the Red Headed League after they recruited at a book faire some time ago.

It is imperative we make you aware of a man called Max Chessman and some of his activities. He poses as a hotel executive, but is in reality an international information broker who uses kidnapping and certain unsavory interrogation techniques to obtain his information. Several of his hotel guests have disappeared under suspicious circumstances around the world. He is quite ruthless and has an astounding array of resources at his disposal.

Please be very careful in any dealings you may have with him and forward any useful information you may obtain on him to the answering service named below. Thank you for your cooperation.

Best regards,

The Ministry

"It sounds like a crank letter to me, Batgirl," Chief O’Hara said.

"I don’t know, Chief. This Ministry seems to know Batgirl investigated Bookworm’s Red Headed League," Commissioner Gordon said. "Are you familiar with The Ministry?"

"No. But I do recall some unusual people talking to Bookworm at that faire. As I recall, one was a gentleman in a bowler hat and tweed suit carrying an umbrella. He seemed to be with a tall athletic-looking brunette. I didn’t think anything of it at the time since I was after Bookworm," Batgirl said. "Do you know who dropped this off?’’

"I’ll check," the Commissioner said. He leaned over and spoke to Bonnie, his secretary, through his intercom. Moments later the reply came. "It seems this was delivered by a courier from Sir Sterling Habits’ office at Gotham City’s British Consul."

"Would he know any more about this Ministry?" O’Hara asked.

"I doubt he could say even if he did," Batgirl mused. "I’m sure that is true of the answering service as well. Still, this is probably something Batman and Robin should know about."

"That’s right," Commissioner Gordon said, snapping his fingers. "I should have called him sooner about this Chessman Hotel clue."

"He may have reached the same conclusions already," Batgirl predicted. They were all looking at the red phone across the room, but Batgirl placed the call because she was closest to it.

"Yes, Commissioner," Batman said holding the phone so Robin could hear after pulling the Batmobile to the side of the road.

"Batman, this is Batgirl. I’ve just gotten some information that Playgirl may not be the only criminal we are after at the Chessmen Building."

‘‘Wait, Batgirl. Yes. That’s it. I knew something was bothering me about that note from Chessman Luxury Hotels. What did it say again, Robin?"

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY WITH OUR COMPLIMENTS. ANONYMOUS," Robin read.

"How does that help us, Batman? All that tells us is it was sent by a group."

"Precisely, Robin. It confirms Batgirl’s information."

"You mean Playgirl is working with one of our old arch enemies?"

"Possibly, or perhaps a new fiend is planning to plague our fair city."

"My information suggests you haven’t faced her partner," Batgirl said.

"Holy Whodunit, Batgirl!" Robin said, loud enough for Batgirl to hear. "Who else is there? Green Hornet? Black Scorpion? Red Claw? Blueberry Muffin?"

"I’m not familiar with a villain called Blueberry Muffin."

"Sorry, Batgirl. That was a Freudian slip on my part. I’m hungry. What were you saying?"

"Believe it or not, I’ve been warned about Max Chessman."

"Can you share your source for this information?" Batman asked.

"While we’re talking over the phone, let’s just call it a kind of anonymous tip. I thought you should know, though."

"I’m glad you called. Robin and I are right around the corner from the hotel. We were just about to check in with you."

"No problem."

"Thank you, Batgirl. Would you like us to wait for you?"

Batgirl thought for a moment. "It might be just as well if I follow you."

"Very well. We’ll see you soon."

"Be careful."

"Thank you, Batgirl," Batman said. "Goodbye."

"How did you know he would be on to the clue already?" Chief O’Hara demanded after everyone had hung up.

"Batman and I had almost the same information to work with and I had figured it out," she explained.

"Yes. But how did you know the Caped Crusader would follow up on the clue before checking in with us?" O’Hara persisted.

"All I had to go on was my female intuition. I’d better get after them." Batgirl swept out of the office with a wave.

"She has more going for her than female intuition, Commissioner. A lot more."

"She certainly does, Chief. She certainly does."

Meanwhile, Playgirl sat in a command center on a disused floor of the hotel working at hacking the satellites. "I think my command override program is ready to transmit," she murmured. An alarm sounded prompting her to lean over and execute a command on a console beside her with one hand, while turning off the alarm with the other.

"Now, if the security probes I’m sending do their jobs, I can override this satellite’s command hierarchy before it orbits out of range." She sat back and watched the indicators on her console. "Excellent, it’s working. To prove it, we’ll download a series of photos." She worked for a few more minutes and grinned as the fruits of her labor began to appear on a series of overhead monitors.

The phone in front of her rang and she reached for it.

"Yes," she said and listened. "Are you certain it is just Batman and Robin at this point?" She paused to hear the answer to her question. "Very well. Open a window to the executive offices and have a patrol of Security Pawns wait to capture them. I want the fight in the lobby to avoid having to clean up the office afterward. Also, have a pair of Mr. Chessman’s maids from the inner payroll meet me here. Together we’ll clean up the mess. Any questions?" She waited. "Good. Patch through the security feed from the executive office suite lobby."

The Batmobile pulled up outside the hotel. "How do you want to go in?" Robin asked.

"If memory from Bruce Wayne’s international travels serve and if the layout of Mr. Chessman’s hotels is consistent, that open window should take us into the hotel executive office suite. Perhaps an unobtrusive visit would be in order."

They Batclimbed to the window and stepped through into the deserted office lobby. Batman moved to the doors to the offices and stepped back suddenly as they burst open to admit a trio of Max Chessman’s Security Pawns. At the same time, three more Security Pawns burst through the door from the hall.

"It’s a trap!" Robin warned, as the Dynamic Duo retreated to the center of the room and maneuvered back to back, preparing to defend themselves. The Security Pawns approached menacingly, surrounding them.

The fight began as each hero’s first attacker felt himself seized and yanked forward to collide with his cohort. Batman and Robin stepped around their falling attackers and launched stunning combinations at their nearest foe.

Robin suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. The Boy Wonder spun, lowering his center of gravity and, at the same time, sending his attacker into the man he had been pummeling.

Batman pressed his attack, making the opponent in front of him back away as his remaining enemy crept up from behind and lunged. Suddenly, the back of Batman’s gloved fist materialized before the creeping Security Pawn and flashed toward him with the force of a rocket. The end of that rapid journey coincided simultaneously with a pronounced smack and an excruciating pain. Blood spurted from the man’s crushed nose seconds before blackness overwhelmed him. Batman lowered his arm and whipped it upward on a second journey which impacted the other Security Pawn’s chin. Batman’s assailant’s body hurtled backward and upward until a wall got in its way. The Security Pawn slid slowly toward the floor where he came finally to rest.

Robin waited for his first attacker to rejoin the fight and quickly realized he would be facing both of the men he and Batman had incapacitated initially. He feinted, attacked and was dismayed to feel the man take hold of his arm. The other man gripped his free arm as he moved to extricate himself from the first man’s grip. Together Robin’s enemies moved the Boy Wonder toward the open window. "Batman, help!" the Teen Thunderbolt cried.

Batman spun toward his partner and moved quickly to help him. The Security Pawns had lifted Robin when the Caped Crusader arrived and spun one by the shoulder to knock him to the ground with his other hand. Robin got his feet under him and took advantage of the man’s grip on his arm. He reached for the man’s wrist with his free hand and turned to drape the thug over his back as he dropping to one knee as he snapped the man into the air. The man landed on his back and remained still.

As the Dynamic Duo turned to their remaining opponents, the Security Pawns fled. Our heroes pursued and subdued them as they waited for an elevator to arrive.

When the elevator opened it was empty. Robin stepped toward it and felt Batman’s restraining hand on his shoulder. "Careful, old chum. This could be where the trap is really sprung."

Carefully, Batman and Robin stepped inside and turned to face the closing doors.

The floor of the elevator fell away as the car began to ascend, dropping our heroes into space. They landed hard and felt sharp blows applied to the back of each of their heads. The maids Playgirl had asked for, Camilla and Sarah, stood over them, grinning wickedly at their handiwork and their mistress.

"Good work, girls," the Gangster Gal of Games said. "Take them up to my rooftop playground while I slip into something more comfortable." Playgirl issued other instructions and smiled as her minions summoned the elevator and dragged the Dynamic Duo inside.

When they recovered, Batman and Robin found the dull ache in their heads miraculously evaporating as each took in the vision of the responsible villainess. Playgirl stood before them barefoot on a swing. She wore a yellow flower-patterned bikini and sunglasses with blue lenses. A mural behind her of the seaside made her outfit seem appropriate.

"We meet at last, Batman and Robin," she said conversationally.

"Playgirl?" Robin asked.

"Totally," the voluptuous villainess said.

"What are you doing?" Batman demanded.

"Wouldn’t you boys like to know?" she asked. "I’m about to leave both of you swinging at my mercy for the rest of your short lives."

As Playgirl paused to chuckle, the Dynamic Duo realized she was being quite literal, referring to their having been bound to a pair of swings opposite the one she occupied. They heard a crunch from behind them and turned their heads to see Camilla and Sarah, Max Chessman’s malevolent maids, nibbling at apples.

"Oh, my head," Robin said, as pain throbbed behind his temple once again.

"Oh dear, did we hurt you?" Camilla asked with mock sympathy.

"Are both of you from England?" Batman asked.

"He IS every bit the detective the internet claims," Sarah said. "It’s rather a shame they have to die."

"What are they talking about?" Robin asked.

"Permit me to, like, explain, okay," Playgirl said, prompting Batman and Robin to turn back to her. She regarded her prisoners with a wicked smile. "I’m sure you noticed you’re tied to the swings. Girls, show them the rest." Camilla and Sarah moved into view and bent to retract a pair of panels beneath Gotham City’s senior guardians. As the maids stood, they swallowed the last of their apples and tossed the cores into the newly-opened wading pool. Instantly, angrily hissing bubbles engulfed the apple cores and dissolved them completely.

"Holy Bubble Bath, Batman!"

"Precisely, Boy Wonder. Beneath you is a pool of acid," Playgirl explained delightedly.

"A corrosive cocktail of acids, in fact," Camilla said.

"Blended perfectly to keep it from exploding," Sarah agreed with an exaggerated bow.

Playgirl continued, "I expect it will dissolve your flesh quite rapidly. Oh, I realize your costumes are acid resistant and maybe even acidproof. However, I also know it will be quite impossible to protect your exposed flesh forever, particularly after, like, extended immersion. I assure you the pool is more than deep enough." She chuckled wickedly.

"You fiendish females," Batman said.

"Oh, it gets better, Caped Crusaders. Remove their belts." Batman and Robin watched Camilla and Sarah as they approached and obeyed. The maids set their trophies on a nearby cocktail table and returned to positions behind the prisoners. "Cool," Playgirl said. "Elevate them." The Dynamic Duo heard machinery and felt their swings lifted high above the pool. "Now, give them a little push."

Batman and Robin felt hands push them from below. They began moving forward and back. Camilla and Sarah caught them as they swung back and propelled them forward to build momentum. Then, they swung the prisoners again and again.

"Isn’t that fun?" Playgirl asked, giggling girlishly. She seemed to have begun to genuinely enjoy herself. When her victims did not respond, she moved on. "Well, it’s going to be fun for me, too. Before I leave you, the switches over there will be thrown and activate the ratchets from which your swings are suspended. The ratchet will lower your swings by one chain link each time your bodies reach one end of their arc. All of that will stop when you’re totally immersed in the acid, of course. Then the only question will be whether to leave you dissolving until what’s left of your bones can, like, be spread on toast." Playgirl said laughing. "Uh, oh. I, like, used the word totally correctly. Isn’t that cool?"

“Your use of the English language is as corrupt as your morality!” lectured Batman.

"You’ll never get away with this!"

"I bet you say that to all the pretty villainesses, Boy Blunder," Playgirl said. "I will SO, like, get away with this, you know. I hope you enjoy your final dip. Bye bye."

"Don’t you see you’re playing a dangerous game, Playgirl?"

"Oh, Batman. You’re so right. Except, of course, I’m winning. And it’s time I, like, bid you the fondest of farewells," she said, waving to her caped, costumed captives. "Come on, girls. Let’s go. It’s getting chilly up here. Besides, we’ll have Batgirl to deal with soon enough." Playgirl’s chuckle as she stepped from her swing with a seductive stride coincided with a stiff breeze, making it unclear whether her body quivered with cold or laughter.

Playgirl blew her victims kisses and wiggled her way from the pool area followed by the British babes in her employ. "Oh, Camilla, Sarah, throw the switches."

Camilla and Sarah paused to playfully pull the levers, which would slowly make the Dynamic Duo descend to their doom. Seconds later, the women had gone.

"Holy Clean Sweep, Batman! Batgirl is walking into a trap just like we did!"

"Yes, Robin. We have our own problems to solve before we can help her." As he spoke, Batman felt himself lowered closer to Playgirl’s pool of peril.

"How long do you think we have?"

"Longer than Playgirl thinks."

"I hope you’re right, Batman. This looks bad."

"It is always darkest before the proverbial dawn, Robin. We must cling to hope."

HELP IS ON THE WAY, BATMAN. BUT, IT’S ALSO EXPECTED!

When Batgirl arrived, she spotted the Batmobile and the open window to the executive office suite. She Batclimbed there and found the rooms deserted.

The wreckage littering the waiting area testified to the intensity of the battle that had taken place earlier. "They were here," she murmured. A tool from her belt let her into the locked office and she looked at everything, leaving the room apparently undisturbed. The most interesting thing she found was the hotel layout. "Private floors not open to the public," Batgirl said aloud. "Interesting. I wonder if they ever will be?" She left the room and moved to the staircase to explore the private floors.

In the command center, Playgirl had slipped a black dress over her bikini and discarded her sunglasses. Max Chessman stepped into the room and moved behind her. "What is the situation?" he asked.

Playgirl brought up the scene of Batman and Robin descending to their doom on the swings. "I’ve dealt with the Dynamic Duo. We spotted Batgirl outside a few minutes ago. I’ll intercept her as soon as I figure out the pattern of her movements."

"Security informs me she’s just begun to explore the private floors. I’d rather she didn’t learn too much about our operations."

"I’ll deal with her. Have the Security Pawns recovered?"

"Yes. I’ll have them meet you."

"Very well. I’ll let you look over the satellite downloads while I take care of her. Enjoy." She tapped a key and brought the photos the satellite had taken up for Chessman to examine.

"Oh, by the way, once you’ve dealt with Batgirl, our friends in Japan are ready for you to talk to certain of their guests."

"I think I’m going to be a happy woman tonight, Max."

"You won’t be if Batgirl leaves here."

"Oh, she’ll leave here, but we’ll be escorting her out in a pine box!"

After Playgirl left, Chessman summoned Camilla and Sarah. "Well, what do you think?"

"If her plans for Batgirl are anything like what she is doing to Batman and Robin, Gotham City’s first good girl is in big trouble," Camilla said.

"Could be. On the other hand, she’s bringing all these local heroes in unnecessarily. I don’t see exactly why you’re using her," Sarah declared.

"Jealous?" Max asked, smiling.

"I think I’m going to be a happy woman tonight, Max," Sarah repeated sarcastically.

"She got us the satellite photos faster than our experts would have," Max said.

"You don’t mean the conference we worked so hard to get those companies to organize here will turn into a waste of our time now?" Camilla asked.

"No. The targets we’ve selected for kidnapping and interrogation will still have valuable information we can extract. Playgirl’s contribution may allow us to expand the pool of targets or dig a little deeper. We’ll have to give that some thought."

"Her expertise is helpful and she may clear away some local hurdles. But, I still don’t like the risk," Sarah responded.

"I may need to give the police someone."

"What an interesting idea," Camilla said. She and Sarah both smiled at the thought.

Max put his arms around his maids. "Ladies, both of you know perfectly well why I had you brought here from home. Using Playgirl was an opportunity I simply couldn’t pass up."

"We noticed you haven’t missed even a single opportunity," Camilla said.

"She can’t compare to either of you, you know," Chessman insisted.

"You say the sweetest things," Sarah said, leaning closer to him.

"Listen, both of you. Playgirl will be busy this afternoon talking to those communications experts in Japan."

"What are you proposing?" Camilla asked with mock surprise.

"I’ll need you to fill me in on what Playgirl does to Batgirl and bring me up to date on our preparations for the conference. I see no reason we shouldn’t make ourselves comfortable for what could turn into a very long meeting."

"You’ll be all worn out for tonight," Sarah said.

"I’m almost finished with Playgirl anyway. When I no longer need her, I think I’ll let you two attend to the necessary details."

"He really is having wicked ideas today," Camilla said, grinning.

"We’d better go see about Batgirl’s doom," Sarah pointed out. "Otherwise, we won’t have much to talk about later. Wouldn’t that be a shame?"

Before they left, Camilla and Sarah put their arms around him and slowly kissed Max on both cheeks as their hands slid over his upper body with loving care.

"Bye bye, Max. See you later," they said together and left.

"Promises," Max murmured happily as they walked slowly from his sight, putting on an impressive show. "Promises."

Batgirl used the stairs to reach the first of the private floors. She heard the lock click behind her as she stepped through the door into the hallway beyond. "It seems they know I’m here," she said quietly. She moved to a corner and peeked around in time to see an elevator open. Playgirl stepped out. Batgirl took a deep breath and stepped into view. "Hold it, Playgirl."

"Batgirl, at last we meet again," Playgirl said placing hands on her hips and spreading her legs to shoulder width.

Batgirl matched her enemy’s pose. "As a duly deputized agent of the law——"

"You are hereby placing me under arrest. Blah blah blah," Playgirl said.

"That’s right."

"Don’t be lame. Boys!" Three doors on either side of the hall between the women at each of its ends allowed six Security Pawn to emerge simultaneously. "Destroy her!"

Gotham City’s Dominoed Dare Doll leaped into the air and snapped her feet into the chin of each of the leading Security Pawns. As they went down, Batgirl realized she was vulnerable in midair. The second pair of opponents passed her and turned to grip her upper arms as she landed. In the nanosecond before she regained her balance, they flung her into the wall and hammered her with their free hands.

Her head reeled from one impact as she felt the other man knock the wind out of her. She gasped helplessly as she was hurled at the other two men and felt their arms slam into her upper chest to smack her violently to the carpet, which did little to lessen the impact.

Instinctively, she moved her legs together, taking one man behind the ankles and at the waist simultaneously. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and realized another man was preparing to drop a knee into her abdomen. She raised an arm defensively and felt his knee slide past this puny defense.

Before the devastating attack could land, she straightened her raised arm and felt her fist impact the man’s pelvis from below. He gasped as pain exploded from the point of impact. He collapsed harmlessly, groaning.

Batgirl did not have time to savor the neutered attack. She felt her arm seized and yanked backward. A shadow loomed overhead as her other shoulder was gripped and her legs were disengaged from the man she had upended. Seconds later, she felt herself dragged to her feet.

Playgirl slipped through one door and emerged a moment later from another to take in the action from another angle. The Security Pawns had Batgirl spread like a starfish against one wall and were raising knees repeatedly into her vulnerable lower body. "Bring her in here," Playgirl ordered, "but keep working on her."

One man backed off, letting Batgirl’s battered body sag against his partner. When the first man was ready, the one holding their victim shoved her to him. He pushed Batgirl into the room, where she tried to regain her breath and maintain her balance. She felt herself pitch to the floor and took in some air. She wondered if she would be given a chance to pull herself together and turn the tide of the fight. She had her answer seconds later, as her enemies fell upon her. She felt herself bounced off of a wall and flipped high into the air. The man who had thrown her retrieved her after the floor rose up to hit her hard. Given she was as helpless as she had been since the fight had begun, Batgirl was a little surprised to feel her feet leave the ground again. She felt her handler lift her above his head and begin rotating. Spinning above the thug’s head, Batgirl felt herself getting dizzy.

"I think that will do," Playgirl said. "Drop her and bring her belt to me."

Batgirl was suddenly falling and stopped when she hit the rug with a smack. It didn’t hurt as badly as she expected. Perhaps her body was numbing to pain. She felt her belt buckle detached and the belt slid from her waist.

She was slowly becoming aware of the amount of damage Playgirl’s goons had inflicted as she watched them join their mistress. Batgirl moaned. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I’m going to, like, kill you, you know. With this," Playgirl said, grinning wickedly and inclining her head to indicate a transparent sphere she was holding above her right shoulder.

"What is that?"

"I’m so glad you asked," Playgirl said, returning her gaze to her victim. "I call it a Death Bubble."

"How original."

"Not really. The bubble is a devious derivation of fire fighting technology I developed for my own fiendish purposes. Even if I do say so myself, and I do." She chuckled wickedly and stepped forward to hold the bubble above Batgirl where she could see it more clearly.

"As you’re about to discover, it’s an improvement over the bubble gun I used to capture you last time we met."

Batgirl recalled how she had literally burst into Playgirl’s boudoir as the villainess had been in a state of relative undress. Playgirl had produced the weapon and attacked Batgirl with small, gas-filled bubbles which had burst and placed the curvy crimefighter at her enemy’s mercy.

Now, helpless again, Batgirl wondered exactly how the Gangster Gal of Games planned to realize her obviously deadly intentions this time.

"It’s growing," Batgirl observed, pointing to the Death Bubble.

"Yes, Batgirl. It’s growing because I’m letting it feed on oxygen from my hands. I can do that safely for a few more seconds. If I hold it too long, however, the bubble will treat my body like an oxygen rich snack and this would happen to me instead of you." Playgirl’s wicked chuckle had evolved into a laugh as she let go of the bubble and leaped back. The bubble drifted lazily toward the fallen heroine. Batgirl tried to roll aside, but settled back as pain suddenly wracked every inch of her body, eliciting a gasp. The bubble struck her as she let out a low moan. It broke and expand around her, totally enveloping her body.

"How?" Batgirl asked, recovering her voice, which registered both shock and surprise.

Playgirl’s laughter subsided. "The walls of the bubble are a semisolid form of halon, the chemical foam in fire extinguishers, which devours oxygen."

"You could make it grow by moving your hands apart?"

"Precisely, Batgirl. Of course, now that its greatest potential source of oxygen, namely you, is inside the bubble instead of outside, it will stop expanding and begin slowly shrinking, conforming all the while to the shape of your body."

"I’ll fight this with my dying breath, Playgirl!"

"You’ll lose, Batgirl. You see, carbon dioxide will pass right through the walls of the bubble each time you exhale. Inhaling, however, will hasten your end by removing oxygen from the bubble’s interior."

"Asphyxiation. Very creative, Playgirl."

Playgirl laughed. "Oh, it’s much worse than that."

"How could it be?" one of the Security Pawns asked.

"You guys go clean up the mess in the hall. This is totally girl talk." Playgirl returned her attention to her victim. "Sorry about that. What was I saying? Oh, yes. The human body is, like, 70 percent water, you know, two hydrogen atoms for every atom of oxygen. So, like I mentioned, the bubble is shrinking to the shape of your body, right? At that point, you turn into, like, the oxygen buffet. The bubble will feed much more quickly because it will be in actual contact with your flesh. When it’s finished, well, there won’t be much left."

"You’ll——"

"Spare me. I’ll never get away with this. Right. Totally. Who is going to, like, stop me?"

"There are always Batman and Robin."

"Not any more, Girlfriend. Oh, I didn’t tell you. They’re swinging their way to a fatal dip in my pool of acid as we speak. No help there." She paused and laughed. "Well, listen I’d love to stay and chat while you die. But, I have a meeting to, like, attend. Isn’t that totally cool?"

"We’ll stop you, Playgirl, whatever you’re planning."

"Oh, Batgirl! Bon Appetite." Playgirl sighed and turned away to leave, locking the doors behind her with yet another delighted laugh.

Aching, Batgirl moved to push her hands through the skin of the death bubble. To her horror, it bent instead of breaking. "I was afraid that wouldn't work. This is going to be harder to escape from than I thought!" She resolved to try again. She rolled onto her side and calmed herself, spreading her arms slightly. Suddenly, she thrust her leg forward with a karate yell.

Again the bubble only bent to keep its occupant contained!

(Original image by Cage, modified by the author)

HAS PLAYGIRL WON?

WILL HER DEATH BUBBLE DEVOUR BATGIRL?

WILL BATMAN AND ROBIN BE EATEN ALIVE IN HER BEASTLY ACID BATH?

OR WILL BATGIRL BURST HER BUBBLE?

MIGHT BATMAN AND ROBIN START SWINGING TO THEIR OWN TUNE?

AND WHAT ARE MAX CHESSMAN AND HIS MALEVOLENT MAIDS PLANNING?

THESE AND OTHER FIENDISHLY FROLICKSOME QUESTIONS TO BE ANSWERED,

AT THIS BAT-TIME ON GAME DAY NEXT WEEK!

SAME GAME SERVER!
SAME GAME WEB SITE!

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