THE MOST SHOCKING EVENTS HAVE YET TO TRANSPIRE!

Robin and Flamebird Save the Day

Robin and Flamebird stared at one another, shivering as the chill wind blew. Neither could be certain the considerably cold breeze was the only contributing cause. Soon, both knew, Katherine Kane would unwittingly send the shocking, deadly current through their bodies as well as Networld’s now darkened Christmas tree. Helplessly, they waited.

“We’ve got to get out of these sinister circuits!” Flamebird exclaimed. “Otherwise, we’ll be turned into a couple of charcoal briquettes in a matter of seconds!”

“We’re not dead yet, Flamebird.”

Her lips twitched, betraying the ghost of a smile. “You’ve though of something?”

“Well, I realized how stupid Playgirl was by letting us talk to each other.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she hesitantly concurred. “Two minds are always better than one in situations like this.” She vainly wrenched at her shackles, grimacing as only pain and the chink of her chains shifting rewarded her efforts.

“Right,” Robin enthused. “That’s the spirit.” He felt he had to try to keep his perky companion’s spirits up. ‘If we’re both scared and depressed, we’re dead!’ he thought.

“Okay,” Flamebird said. “Let’s think this through. Playgirl has used these pipes to hold our arms and legs straight, while we’re wired into Networld’s electrical circuitry. They’re freezing, by the way.”

“I know,” Robin said. “Try to ignore those pipes. The cables on our shackles and those bars are the real problem.”

“Good point,” Flamebird agreed. “If the cables were not clamped to our shackles, Playgirl’s plan would simply fail. There’s a pleasant thought.”

“You’re right!” Robin exclaimed. “The way these circuits are set up, we ground them. It’s hard to predict the result of a short circuit we might somehow cause.” Robin paused for a moment, thinking. “There can be no doubt Playgirl is one of the most ruthless, deadly opponents any of us have ever faced . . . but I think these connections we’re discussing might be exploited to become the key to our escape!”

“I’m listening,” Flamebird eagerly said.

“Well, Playgirl is relying heavily on our immobility. She didn’t bother to have her men do anything more than clip the clamps into place when she set up this circuit. It seems to me the clamps could have been made a lot more secure.”

“You're right, Robin! I’ve been thinking about these pipes, too. Aren’t they more than Playgirl needs to hold us in place if her paralysis juice is still working?”

“Holy Timetables, Flamebird! I think you’re on to something! Playgirl must have used the pipes to make sure we’re still helpless after her stuff wears off.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Can you move your arms and legs at all?”

Flamebird nodded and shifted her chains again. “I can barely move. That’s what got me thinking about the pipes. What about you?”

“I can’t move much, but I can move! Let’s put some strain on those electrical cables ”

Together, Robin and Flamebird moved their feet the few millimeters their leg restraints allowed. Both immediately decided this method would prove too slow. They bent their legs as much as the pipes permitted and jumped forward a few scant inches. Together, using a combination of both techniques, they advanced across the roof. To an uninformed observer, the speed of their advance might have generated the same thrill as watching drying paint. Nevertheless, the cables set to carry the fatal current through Playgirl’s intended victims were drawn slowly taut and this fact kindled real hope in both of them.

“Now what?” Flamebird asked. “I can’t move forward any more.”

“Now, we’ve got to get these clamps to release. If I’m right, we’ll be home free if we can manage that feat.”

“Well, we could try leaning forward, I suppose.” They did, but felt only the strain of their bondage taken up in their shoulders. Flamebird vainly searched the darkness surrounding them for inspiration. Instead, she spotted the face of a distant clock. “Robin,” she said, in a very small voice. “It’s nearly midnight!”

“Holy Deadline!”

Far below Playgirl’s intended victims, her unwitting puppet, Katherine Kane, was preparing to illuminate the Christmas tree and, in so doing, launch Networld’s last-minute holiday advertising blitz.

She inhaled and let her breath out slowly as she reached across her desk in response to a buzz on her intercom. Barely contained excitement and anticipation had kept her going since she had returned to the office from her dealings with the police. Now, the moment for which she had been preparing her employees the past few months was at hand. ‘Maintain your poise,’ she told herself silently. “Yes, Jeffrey,” she calmly said.

“They’re ready for you, ma’am.”

“I’m on my way.” She stood and glanced at a mirror, nodding with satisfaction one last time before moving deliberately to her outer office. “Let’s go,” she briskly said, passing through the room. Jeffrey followed her, somehow matching her rapid pace until they arrived in the wings of a crowded auditorium on the main floor of Networld’s headquarters. There, the emcee stood looking positively elegant in his tuxedo, waiting at a microphone beside an enormous switch.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment for which you have all been waiting has arrived. To illuminate the company Christmas tree and launch Networld’s newest advertising campaign, which we expect will revolutionize home computer use nationwide and around the world, it is my pleasure to introduce the Chief Executive Officer of Networld, the one and only, Ms. Katherine Kane!”

Katherine Kane stood still as applause erupted in the chamber. She signaled the emcee and began to stride slowly to the microphone, waving. She reached center stage and faced the audience, putting her fingertips against her lips before spreading her arms.

“Thank you,” she said, lowering her arms. “Before we get this show on the road, I’d like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for your commitment and dedication to this project. Our hard work is about to pay off handsomely. So, without further adieu, let’s get this countdown going!” Spontaneous applause erupted in the room. Katherine pointed above her. “Allow me to direct your attention to this counter!”

The audience stared expectantly at the numerical display. Anticipating.

On the roof, Robin strained to see the clock face that had transfixed Flamebird, but he could not.

“Any time you’re ready, Ms. Kane,” the head operator, watching the tree lighting ceremony from the wings of the stage, said.

“Please begin,” Katherine Kane responded.

The audience of Networld employees began to shout the numbers as the countdown commenced. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Flamebird!” Robin shouted from his place beside her. “How much time?!”

“Less than ten seconds!”

“We only have one chance now!” Robin cried. “Lean back and whip your legs forward!”

“Okay!”

Katherine Kane’s audience went on chanting. “Five! Four! Three!”

Robin and Flamebird simultaneously leaned back until their balance failed, then whipped their lower bodies forward.

“One!” the crowd in the auditorium shouted, erupting into applause as Katherine Kane reached for the switch.

Cables fell harmlessly away from Robin and Flamebird’s lower bodies and together they let their legs slide over the edge of the roof. “Hold on!” Flamebird shouted.

Katherine Kane’s fingers wrapped around the switch.

Neither Robin nor Flamebird relished the idea of plunging to the street after miraculously surviving a hideous deathtrap on the roof of one of Gotham City’s leading companies. Desperately, they flung themselves simultaneously forward, curling their fingers and preparing to grip the edge of the roof with their shackled hands.

Katherine Kane pulled sharply down on the switch!

Two small explosions heralded an intense light that illuminated the Darling Duo as excruciating pain tore at their shoulders. They gasped involuntarily before crying out in pain, as their shoulders suddenly bore their weight. The bells, whistles, and seasonal music incorporated in Networld’s display became audible as they both dangled desperately from the roof of Networld’s headquarters. Sweat streamed along their arms and flowed down the length of their bodies, despite the winter wind blowing around them.

“I wish I could bend my legs and push off this wall!” Robin loudly lamented. He had been looking for a conveniently situated window they could crash through or a platform, such as a fire escape, onto which they could drop.

He found nothing!

The painful sensations of the frigid pipes holding Robin and Flamebird’s arms and legs straight; the agony in their fingers caused by the backward position of their hands; and the nearly intolerable strain of their weight on their shoulders all combined to torment the Darling Duo more cruelly than Playgirl’s deathtrap. Their strength was ebbing away rapidly.

“We can’t hang around here forever,” Flamebird grimly said.

“Right,” Robin agreed. “It’s time for a crash course in gymnastics.”

“Okay,” Flamebird said. She inhaled and let out the breath quickly. “Ready? Go!”

Simultaneously, they lifted their lower bodies and shot their feet straight up, before thrusting them sharply back. Gritting their teeth as pain shot through their shoulders, the pair held their precarious positions.

“Push!” Flamebird cried, following her own advice and collapsing onto the roof. She panted, savoring the sensations telling her she was alive as her thoughts turned to Robin. She hurriedly looked one way and then the other before feeling incredible relief as she realized Robin lay panting beside her. They were safe, but both could feel the adrenaline rush that had allowed them to live fading, giving way to excruciating pain as their tortured muscles protested.

Slowly, the pain subsided and the young heroes breathing became more normal. Flamebird held her arms straight above her and rolled onto her back, laughing with uncontrolled delight. “We’re alive, Robin! We made it!”

The happy girl’s words tore Robin from his own agony. Hearing her told him she was also alive, free from Playgirl’s sinister circuit. He knew they were also both safe from the fateful plunge their escape had nearly precipitated. These facts made him glad and he could not help smiling. “Yes, Flamebird, we made it,” he quietly agreed, rolling over.

She, however, was not listening. Flamebird was still laughing and because her laughter was infectious, he joined in. Side by side, they lay with their arms stretched above them, seized with uncontrollable mirth for a long moment. In the end, their laughter left them both breathless. Utterly spent, together, the young crimefighters closed their eyes and slept.

Katherine Kane got home late. She hung her coat in the front closet and stepped into the living room where she froze. Playgirl lay on the white couch, resting comfortably on her side wearing a long, royal blue gown. She smiled, resting her head comfortably on the backs of the fingers extending from her bent arm. She held her opposite arm against her body and rested her hand on the upturned, bent thigh beneath her gown. “Good evening, Ms. Kane. I’m sorry to, like, intrude upon you at this late hour, but you and I totally have things to discuss.”

“Jenny . . . Jenny Hefner, isn’t it?” Katherine Kane coolly asked. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in any more of your games.”

“That’s not my real name, as you well know. Call me Playgirl. I’m here because I found some design specifications that might interest you. They were in your safe when it, like, flew into my hands yesterday, you know?”

“So, you’re the one who stole my safe?”

“Totally.”

“You must have been rather disappointed, just getting plans. I’m sure criminals such as yourself would rather have cash.”

“Oh, I already have plenty of money, Ms. Kane, but I’m sure a billionaire such as yourself can appreciate how one can never really have enough.”

Playgirl sat up and Katherine Kane sank into a comfortable chair to face her uninvited guest. “So, you’re here to sell me back my design specs?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Playgirl confirmed. “My price may surprise you.”

Katherine Kane turned her head, quizzically regarding Playgirl. “I’m not sure it matters. I didn’t get where I am in life by allowing myself to be blackmailed.”

“No doubt that’s true. I could, however, like, sell your plans to any of your competitors if I were after money, or waltz out of here with any number of the lovely, expensive nick-knacks with which you’ve surrounded yourself.”

“True. So, what do you want?”

“I want to rule the world, and, to that end, you will turn over 49 percent of your shares in Networld, including all the ones for which you have options, to me.”

Katherine Kane shook her head and laughed. “I don’t know whether you’re insane or you’ve been playing one of your own games too long. None of my shares in my company are for sale at any price!”

“Oh, you must have, like, misunderstood,” Playgirl said with mock concern. “I didn’t say anything about buying your shares. I want you to just give them to me. Consider yourself lucky. Last time I tried, like, to relieve you of all your assets, you know? Now I’m asking for less than half of them."

Kathy smirked. “You are crazy.”

“Maybe you’ll wish you had felt differently when your plans find their way into your competitors’ hands . . . or maybe even into the public domain. I’ll give you until midnight tomorrow to change your mind. By the way, when you exercise you stock options, be sure to, like, tell the press.”

“If I were to exercise all of my options, that action will send a false signal to other stockholders. It’s tantamount to price fixing.”

“Smart stockholders invest with the help of experienced professionals, you know? If those pros give investors bad advice, that’s totally not our problem. Exercising stock options is, like, totally legal, and I feel like investing in your company. I need to be going now. Please think about what I’ve said.”

“I’d have second thoughts about leaving here if I were you, Playgirl. The security system is state of the art and there is such a thing as citizen’s arrest!”

“Not it this case, Ms. Kane,” Playgirl said, her Valley-girl persona dropping away as it often did when she was deadly serious. “My associates will put your plans on your company’s web site unless I countermand their order to publish your secrets before a prearranged time. I’ve also lined up messengers to deliver notes about the plans to your competitors, notably Carson Bridges, Gotham City’s other computer tycoon.”

“I know that . . . that loser!” Katherine Kane angrily said. “If you’re going, Playgirl, get out of here! Before you leave, though, hear me well! You will neither blackmail me nor get away with trying to pressure me in any way—not ever!”

“I’ll go,” Playgirl said, smiling at her reluctant hostess. “Of course, you realize I’m leaving you with a choice. We’ll, like, talk about it some more tomorrow, after you’ve had time to consider whether you’d prefer to hand over less than half your company to me or lose it all. You only spent your adult life making your company what it is. So, think carefully. Goodnight.” Playgirl stood and moved toward the front door. Just before leaving the room she looked over her shoulder. “Oh, I suppose I should thank you for helping me eliminate Robin and Flamebird.”

“WHAT?!” Katherine Kane demanded.

“Oh, there’s no way you could have known, but my people wired them into the circuit illuminating your great big Christmas tree. Your precious heroes went up in smoke the second you threw that switch. I can’t tell you what a happy holiday you’ve given me. Now, Merry Christmas, killer.” Playgirl’s laughter echoed as Katherine Kane’s simmering anger bubbled over.

Kathy fought the despair rising in her chest. She considered going after Playgirl and exacting revenge, no matter what the consequences, but realized many super-criminals had previously thought they had killed one or more of Gotham’s costumed heroes. She prayed Playgirl had made the same mistake.

The beautiful billionaire stalked to the grandfather clock in the hall. Viciously, her finger jabbed the concealed button on the side of the clock before she moved both hands straight up. She wrenched the clock toward her on its hidden hinges after the telltale click. She slammed the unique door behind her, before the clock returned to the correct time and went on ticking. In the sunken alcove beyond the clock, Katherine Kane pulled on her sleeveless, yellow leotard, centering the black bat over her unfettered breasts. She tightened her wide, black belt around her waist just above her hips and took comfort from the weight of the Bat Kit hanging from it. She slipped on her knee high boots, turning down the cuffs before clipping the yellow cape to her shoulders and putting on her wide, black domino mask and hiding the elastic band beneath her hair. Her elbow length black gloves completed her costume before she flung herself down the slide, across the Bat Cavern, and into her Bat Gyro.

Anger tinged her cheeks as she flew toward Networld Headquarters. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Robin and Flamebird’s bodies clearly visible in the pool of light in which the Christmas tree stood. She landed and rushed to Flamebird, checking her pulse and watching with relief as the blonde woman’s chest rose and fell. Robin was also alive when Batwoman crouched over him. “Thank Heaven!” Batwoman softly said, pulling her Bat-laser from her Bat-Kit and returning to Flamebird. She could feel the tension draining from her body as relief washed over her.

Eyelids fluttered beneath the goggles as the blonde woman awoke. “Batwoman, how?”

“Katherine Kane had an uninvited visitor when she got home. It was Playgirl and that vile villainess thanked me for killing both of you before she left.”

“I suppose you had to let her go.”

“I’m afraid so.” As Batwoman spoke, she turned her tool to its lowest setting and began cutting the pipes and chains away from her partner’s limbs. “I’m glad Playgirl was wrong about you two getting killed.”

“It was a near thing.” Flamebird said. She went on to describe the deathtrap and how she and Robin had escaped. “So,” she concluded, “Playgirl wants to make Networld her playground.”

“It’s not going to happen! She also thinks she’s going to take over the world and that isn’t going to happen either.”

“Katherine Kane should protect her company,” Flamebird said, massaging her wrists. “Do you have a change of clothes in your corporate Bat Cavern?”

“Of course, but–”

“Go take care of business. Playgirl has set things in motion with which you’ll have to deal. Robin and I will go after her and we’ll get her. Don’t worry. As long as she thinks we’re dead, capturing her will probably be easier. She’ll be off-guard.”

Batwoman was about to protest, but thought for a moment and nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You’ve had a late night and if Playgirl is going to try a hostile takeover of Networld, you’ll need to be on top of your game, so to speak. Catnapping at the office may be just the thing.”

“Okay. I’m convinced.”

“Good. Do me one other favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Land your Bat Gyro at Police Headquarters.”

“Okay. Is there anything else?”

Flamebird smiled, glancing at Robin. “Get out of sight before I free Robin.”

Batwoman smiled knowingly. “Good luck to both of you.” Batwoman flew her Bat Gyro away by remote control, then entered the Networld building through the rooftop door.

Robin felt strong fingers kneading his shoulder muscles as he awoke. “This is one great way to wake up from a bad dream,” he murmured. “Flamebird?”

“It wasn’t a dream, but we’re alive and my Bat-laser took care of our restraints. We should be going after Playgirl once we’re back in fighting shape.” Flamebird looked him over appraisingly. “In your case, I don’t expect the recovery to take long.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to returning the favor for this massage. It feels great.”

“I’m glad you approve,” the girl softly said, her mouth very close to his ear so her hot breath seared his cheek. “Try moving your shoulders. I’m hoping they don’t ache and aren’t too stiff.”

Robin moved his shoulders experimentally. “All better for now,” he said. “Your turn.” They switched places and Robin’s fingers went to work on Flamebird’s shoulders.

“You’re good at this,” she said, once the tension had left. “I could kiss you.”

“We should go after Playgirl, but I don’t think Katherine Kane is in mortal danger like we were.” Robin smiled. “To paraphrase Playgirl, you should, like, totally kiss me, you know?”

Flamebird giggled. “You’re warm,” she said after he reciprocated by initiating another kiss.

“So are you.” They kissed again.

“Hold me while we warm up. We should be at our best when we go after Playgirl, don’t you agree?”

”Certainly.” They kissed yet again.

Katherine Kane had taken personal command of her war room, from which she could monitor her entire computer network by the time Robin and Flamebird had finished warming each other up. “Come on in. I’m glad to see you both alive. Playgirl suggested I might have killed you.”

“Playgirl tried to kill us,” Robin confirmed. “Had she succeeded, the deed would have been her doing, not yours.”

“Playgirl’s plans failed, though, as super-villains murderous plans usually do. Before she left us to die, however, Playgirl indicated she was coming after you.”

“She has indeed come after me, Flamebird. Playgirl wants Networld and expects me to hand it over on a silver platter. I can promise both of you that is not going to happen!”

“What makes her think she can just make you hand over your company?” Robin asked.

“She stole the plans for the next generation of my signature software,” Katherine Kane said. “She imagines she can cripple me by handing it to my competitors or putting it in the public domain.”

Suddenly, a red light began to flash and a loud buzz sounded.

“Kill the sound,” Katherine Kane commanded.

“What’s going on?” Flamebird asked.

“Someone is trying to hack the company website. I want the source of this attack tracked. Let me know as soon as we’re sure we know from where it is coming.”

“Do we know this assault is coming from Playgirl?” Robin asked.

“It’s likely, but we can’t be 100 percent certain,” Katherine Kane said.

“Will you be able to hold off this cyber attack?” Flamebird asked.

“I’ll be fine for awhile,” Katherine Kane said. “I’m betting Playgirl will give up if it takes longer than she expects to hack my website. She’ll be afraid of the countermeasures like the one I’ve employed to try to track her down.”

“That means she’ll move to other lines of attack,” Flamebird said.

“Who else could help her get control of Networld?” Robin asked.

“Other members of the Board of Directors might be persuaded to turn over their shares to her. Even with all of them and all of our outstanding stock, she still wouldn’t have more shares than me,” Katherine Kane said. “Still . . . .”

“How will she go after these Board members?’ Robin asked.

“That’s hard to say,” Flamebird said. “Which Board members have the most shares?”

“Jay Stevens or Newt Gardner,” Katherine Kane said.

“We’ll have to split up to protect both of them,” Robin said.

“I can have another Bat Gyro waiting for us at Police Headquarters,” Flamebird said. “We’ll be able to cover more ground from the air.”

“Good thinking.”

“Thanks. We may not have a moment to lose!”

“Quick! To the Redbird!”

As they descended in an elevator to the street, Flamebird said, “Wait a minute. You parked the car at Lacey’s Department Store before Playgirl caught us.”

“Don’t worry,” Robin assured her. “I moved it to the front doors of this building by remote control while we talked to Ms. Kane.”

“You’re wonderful,” the Girl Wonder said as the elevator doors opened. Flamebird raced to the car. Robin smiled and unlocked the vehicle's doors with another remote control as he followed and watched her appreciatively.

Later, Playgirl felt a hand shake her awake and opened her eyes to see Avalon Hill leaning over her with a worried expression on her face. “Boss, I’m sorry to wake you, but there has kind of been a development.”

“What are you talking about?” the Gangster Gal of Games drowsily demanded.

“The time limit for hacking Networld’s web site expired without success, so I sent the boys to pick up Newt Gardner’s son and attended to the robbery at Jay Stevens mansion myself.”

“Did the boys bungle their job?”

“No.”

“Did you?”

“No. The money and other stuff is on its way to the roof, according to plan . . . and the boys have had no trouble of which I am aware.”

Playgirl smiled sweetly. “Then . . .” She was suddenly wide awake and her attitude changed in an instant. Nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing, she demanded, “what the hell is wrong?!”

Avalon Hill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m—I’m not sure exactly how to tell you this, but–”

“Fine! Get out of my way!” Playgirl slid from beneath the bedclothes and reached for a black shirt she began to pull on over her bra and panties as she stormed up the stairs.

“Someone is coming,” Avalon Hill explained, following her mistress.

“Who? Batman? Batwoman? Batgirl? The police?”

“I really think it would be better for you to see for yourself.”

“Then, I will! Get to the controls to bring in our creations. While you’re at it, listen for last minute instructions over the intercom.”

When the beautiful blonde stepped onto the roof of the abandoned factory for the once famous Figures Toy Company, which had gone bankrupt, she was not surprised to see a pack of stuffed dogs gripping several gym bags, brief cases, other small items of luggage, as well as a jewelry box in their mouths and with their paws as they flew toward her on rockets specially installed in their tails. The thing that made her stride away from the door and stare was Flamebird following on her Bat Gyro. As the one-woman aircraft landed, Playgirl’s open shirt was blown back along with her hair.

“Not quite, Playgirl,” Flamebird said. “I’m about to show you just how alive I am!”

“Even if you somehow survived, you should, like, never have found me!”

“It’s funny how that happened. I was preparing for my final approach to Jay Stevens’ mansion when your conniving critters crashed through the windows with their ill-gotten gains. I knew I was too late to stop the robbery, but realized you had given me the perfect opportunity to recover the loot, find your hideout, and nail all of you. Following your sinister stuffed animals was simplicity itself.”

“So, clever girl, you followed the dogs here. I suppose they may be of additional use to me,” Playgirl said. As the villainess spoke, she rested her hands on her hips and let a cunning smile curl her lips. “Avalon, have our pets see to the young lady.”

Instantly, the stuffed dogs let go of the luggage and merchandise before bounding toward Flamebird, who stared incredulously at them.

As they all leaped at her, Flamebird dodged, but was too slow to get completely out of the way. They collided with her and many bounced off their target, littering the roof. Those that had leapt past her turned and leaped at her once again, as she turned to face them. Flamebird was dismayed, retreating a step and raising her arms defensively. As the stuffed animals she faced leaped at her head and body, the dogs that had bounced off of her charged at her legs. Vainly, she moved her legs, trying to maintain her balance as the stuffed animals collided with her again and again. Slowly, the combined weight of the dogs slamming into her chest, and the others undermining her balance, got the better of her. Flamebird ultimately felt her legs crumple beneath her as she fell onto her back.

She was surprised when the soft, felt mouths clamped onto her arms and legs before the strange stuffed animals began dragging her slowly into the building.

“Business before pleasure, Flamebird,” Playgirl said. “I have a considerable amount of loot to gather before I can toy with you and lure Robin into my clutches. I assume he survived, too. Anyway, there should be plenty of time. After all, I’ll have to decide precisely how to destroy both of you.” The door closed, cutting off Flamebird’s view of the scantily clad villainess before the heroine could respond.

Despite her best efforts, Flamebird could not keep her head from bouncing off several steps as the heroine’s stuffed, canine captors dragged her down a staircase at the end of a long hallway. She blacked out long before reaching the bottom.

Meanwhile, Robin stared in disbelief at a platoon of toy soldiers who had apparently bound a young boy to the mattress of his bed before dragging the mattress from its place, picking it up, and carrying it from the house; across the lawn; and into a waiting van with the engine idling. Milton slid from the passenger seat and put away the extending, gentle ramp up which the toy soldiers had marched their burden. Once the mattress was inside, Milton closed the van and returned to the passenger seat. Bradley pulled away instantly.

Robin flung a homing tracker at the van, and grinned as its magnet stuck to a side panel. He returned to his borrowed Bat Gyro and followed the vehicle from the air without difficulty, keeping out of sight. When the getaway van stopped, Robin landed and hurried toward the abandoned factory of the Figures Toy Company. A corrugated, metal garage door had opened and nearly closed by the time Robin had reached a position from which he felt he might have leapt onto the van.

Abandoning his initial strategy of swift stealth, Robin charged at the closing door, diving and rolling beneath it to regain his feet before Milton and Bradley realized what had happened.

“Hey! What the–”

A green-gloved fist interrupted Milton’s question, knocking the thug to the floor. Bradley was waiting as Robin turned toward him. The thug swung and Robin blocked, counterpunching. Milton gripped Robin’s ankles and pulled as Bradley sagged. As Robin fell, Milton began to stand, leaping at the colorfully-costumed hero, who rolled aside.

Bradley was regaining his feet as Milton attacked. Milton missed Robin and hit Bradley, taking him out of the fight.

Robin had regained his feet by the time Milton had gotten back off the floor. Batman’s protege launched a combination at the thug. Milton blocked a number of Robin’s blows, but found the young man’s barrage to be relentless. It finally ended and Milton crumpled to the floor, moaning.

Robin shackled the henchmen with Batcuffs from his utility belt and turned his attention to the getaway van. He opened the back doors and regarded the sleeping child bound to the mattress. The little boy stirred as Robin watched him.

“Who are you?” the child asked, only half-awake.

“I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

“Scotty. If you’re Robin, what are you doing in my room?”

“Well, it’s a long story, Scotty. I’ll tell you what. Could you please go back to sleep for me? Tomorrow this will all seem like a dream.”

“Are you sure?” the child drowsily asked.

“I’m sure, Scotty. Go back to sleep.”

“Well, okay, Robin.” Robin watched as the boy turned his head back to his pillow and closed his eyes. He retreated from the back of the van and gently closed the door. Robin turned to the garage door beneath which he had entered as a door leading deeper into the factory opened.

Avalon Hill took in the scene with a sweeping glance. “Well,” she said. “It seem we have another uninvited guest. I’ll have to congratulate you on your survival and dealing with the boys.”

“It looks like it’s about time I dealt with you.”

“We’ll see,” Avalon Hill replied, a trace of amusement and challenge in her voice. “Are you sure you fully appreciate the situation?”

“That sounds like a loaded question.”

“Aren’t you the bright boy.”

“Holy Instant Replay! You said I was another uninvited guest. What have you done with Flamebird?”

“Your concern is so touching,” Avalon Hill said. She chuckled and continued, “You’ll find out, soon enough.”

“I asked you a question and I think you’ll answer me sooner or later. You didn’t bring your baseball bat.”

“Oh, I won’t be needing my bat to take care of you this time,” she confidently said, displaying a remote control. “I have a small army at my command.” She pushed a button on her control, prompting one window of the van to shatter and a barrage of tiny darts to impale Robin.

“Holy Pincushion! What have you . . . done to me?”

“Nothing permanent. Playgirl has reserved that particular pleasure for herself. The drug on the darts will function in a very few seconds, and then we’ll all have another toy with whom to play.” Avalon Hill’s laughter ushered Robin into velvety darkness seconds after he collapsed at the henchwoman’s feet.

Flamebird stared at Robin with anxious eyes as he revived. “Robin,” she softly said.

“Flamebird,” he replied softly, smiling. “You’re safe?”

“So far, but it looks like we’re both a little tied up.” The heroes were outdoors, in a secluded courtyard among the Figures Toy Company factory complex. Both stood among separate sets of three closely placed, metal stakes, with their ankles bound to the central stake. Their arms were stretched straight down at their sides, with their wrists secured to the outermost stakes. Each binding had been drawn completely taut and their knots had been tied very tightly. Expertly.

“We’re tied up all right,” Robin agreed. “Do you have any idea what Playgirl plans to do with us this time?”

“Not specifically,” Flamebird said. “I have a bad feeling they plan for both of us to be dead before they’re finished, though. I’ve gathered we’re to participate in some sort of twisted game.”

“It looks like we’re about to find out,” Robin said, nodding toward Avalon Hill, who wheeled two racks into their field of vision from which more than two dozen pairs of balls dangled from thin, leather straps. Playgirl followed her henchwoman closely. The sun was shining brightly and, despite the seasonal cold, both villainous women were barefoot, but otherwise dressed for physical activity. Playgirl sported a metallic, blue bikini and Avalon Hill wore cut off sweat pants and a Gotham City University t-shirt molded to her curvaceous upper body.

“You are, like, so totally perceptive, Flamebird,” Playgirl said. “Before you two die, Avalon and I will enjoy a bit of sport.”

“What are you planning?” Robin demanded.

“I’m a little disappointed in you, Robin. Flamebird is the blonde, so you’re supposed to be the smart one,” Playgirl said, laughing and indicating the suspended pairs of balls. “These are bolas, weapons of prehistoric origin still used on the plains by some tribal people in the world. They are capable of entwining you and holding your arms or legs in place – unless, of course, we go for your throats. In that case, one of two things could happen. You’ll either be strangled to death, or the weight of the balls at either end of these leather strands could snap your neck.”

“Fiends!” Robin raged.

“Totally. Avalon and I are still learning to use these beauties, so it should take little while before we can, like, threaten you effectively.”

“You’ll never get away with this!” Flamebird cried.

Playgirl ignored her, reaching for a bola. She paused, seeming to change her mind. “Avalon, let’s start by wrapping up their ankles. Then we can work our way up.” Playgirl was thinking rapidly. ‘I was kind of rough on her earlier. Avalon was instrumental in Flamebird’s capture and took Robin down single-handedly. She deserves some recognition.’ Aloud the villainess said, “The first shot is yours. As I recall, you wanted to play with Robin.”

“Thank you, boss,” the younger woman enthused, licking her lips and taking a bola. “It will be my pleasure. I’ll wrap up his career as soon as you’re ready.”

“Like, go ahead!”

Avalon Hill nodded, whirled the bola overhead and let it fly close to the ground. The weapon wrapped around Robin’s ankles and the ropes stretched parallel to his legs repeatedly. The Twenty-Something Titan felt his shoulders take the strain as the restraints were drawn tightly against him.

“Good throw. Now, it’s my turn.”

Playgirl whirled a bola and sent it toward Flamebird’s legs. The leather strap encircled her ankles and arm restraints, while both balls orbited her several times in opposite directions. At last both came to rest and held the strap in place, where it restricted circulation to her feet and pulled mercilessly downward at her shoulders.

Over the next hour, Playgirl’s body glistened and Avalon Hill’s t-shirt darkened as they whirled their weapons overhead and sent them flying toward their increasingly helpless targets. Bolas wrapped Robin and Flamebird’s calves; knees; thighs; waists, to which their wrists were now firmly bound; forearms and abdomens; elbows and chests; forearms and shoulders; and finally their foreheads.

“They’ve drawn it out,” Robin murmured.

“Now they’ll finish us off,” Flamebird whispered. Entwined as they were, they both found it difficult to breathe. “They left us our utility belts. Can you reach anything . . . that will save us?”

“The only thing I can think of would take time to free us,” Robin said. “Way too much time.”

“We only have a few more seconds,” Flamebird fearfully said. “Neither of them has missed yet.”

“Shall we eliminate them simultaneously?” Avalon Hill asked.

“Why not, you know?” Playgirl agreed, reaching for her last bola.

Together, Playgirl and her pulchritudinous playmate began to whirl their bolas overhead.

“Kill shot!” Playgirl delightedly cried.

“Kill shot!” Avalon Hill repeated, exuding pleasure and satisfaction as she raised her hand so that Playgirl could slap her palm.

“Yes!” both wicked women enthused.

The weapons straightened, parallel to the ground as they hurtled toward their victim’s throats.

Flamebird closed her eyes and heard a tiny sound escape her throat as she exhaled what she imagined to be her last breath.

Robin watched Avalon Hill, who rested her hands on her knees as she turned, waiting to assess her handiwork. For him, seconds crawled as the bolas closed on their murderous marks.

The straps arrived and both victims heard a single telltale knock!

Robin and Flamebird slowly realized they were still alive as the bolas entwined their shoulders, instead of their necks, as everyone had expected.

What had that knock been?

Simultaneously, they realized the answer. Balls on opposite ends of the flying weapons had collided and knocked the straps askew the critical inch that kept the bolas from completing their murderous task.

“Boss,” Avalon Hill hesitantly said, straightening, “they’re both still alive.”

“I can see that!” Playgirl angrily said, glaring at her captives with hands on her hips. She shrugged and became philosophical. “Well, their survival just goes to show the role luck plays in sports.”

“We can get more bolas. Would you care to play a second round?”

“I’ve a more engaging notion, Avalon,” Playgirl said, her voice betraying new amusement. “As you may know, I told the boys to put together an enormous model bomber while you and I played with our ancient weaponry. Once the model is complete, we can make use of little Scotty, letting him fly the plane over Gotham Harbor and, like, drop those two off “ She indicated Robin and Flamebird and laughed.

The younger woman lit up with malicious delight. “So, before takeoff, we load the captives as bombs so the bolas will act as ballast, dragging them down to their watery graves?”

“Totally!” Playgirl enthused. “Listen, Robin and Flamebird. You’ve gained a short reprieve, so you, like, have a little more time to contemplate your coming extinction. We’re off to check on the chariot that will carry you both to oblivion. Shortly after our return, you’ll, like, fly the unfriendly skies – briefly. Come!” The wicked women took their leave. The lower portion of Playgirl’s bikini accentuated her movements during the ravishing rogues’ retreat as Avalon Hill’s ponytail swung, counter-pointing the rhythmic sway of her well-rounded hips.

Flamebird turned from Playgirl and Avalon Hill’s retreating figures to regard Robin. He was looking in the same direction she had been. “At what are you looking, Robin?” Gotham City’s youngest costumed guardian asked suspiciously, raising one eyebrow behind her goggles.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied. ‘Perhaps too quickly,’ he realized, shrugging mentally.

“Let’s focus on what’s really important here,” the young heroine sweetly suggested. “You had an idea you thought might be too time consuming before we survived the last bolas those two threw at us.”

“I have a knife in my utility belt and the inside edge of my Batarang is razor-sharp. If I can just reach them, we may have a slim chance,” Robin said.

“I was thinking along similar lines, but the time needed worries me,” Flamebird said. “Now that my arms are pinned to my sides, I think I can just reach my utility belt.”

“Great!” Robin encouraged.

“I may have thought of a way to beat the clock, so to speak.”

“Better and better,” Robin enthused. “Keep stretching your fingers.” Both heroes concentrated on following Robin’s suggestion.

Much later, voices heralded the villains’ return. “It’s a brilliant plan, boss.” Bradley complimented.

“I love it,” Milton agreed. “I’m sure they’ll make a big splash before they die.”

“You know, we’ll have the plane back once our ‘guests’ have been dealt with,” Avalon Hill thoughtfully said.

“I’ve been considering that fact,” Playgirl admitted. “I think we’ll use this precise method to get rid of Batman and Batwoman . . . but Batgirl’s end should be considerably more spectacular. I believe the model plane’s weapons – or perhaps more functional substitutes – should be installed. Then, we’ll engage Gotham City’s first good girl in a dogfight to the death, specifically hers, with the United States Air Force or Navy. I’m sure those professional fliers will easily blow her out of the sky for us.” The criminal quartet laughed. “Enough of our future plans. We have two birds to eliminate right now.”

“So, you’re still planning to kill us,” Robin said.

“I have totally not been given, like, a good reason to change my plans, Boy Blunder,” Playgirl pointed out.

“I guess it’s time to do something about that,” Flamebird said. As she spoke, she activated something she held in her hands behind her back. A beam of light extended upward, slicing through the leather straps of the bolas entwining her body. The weight of the balls to which these straps were attached pulled them away from her.

“That’s impossible!” Playgirl raged.

“Wrong, Playgirl!” Flamebird disagreed, turning the implement in her hand. “It’s a Bat-Laser.” As she spoke, the bola balls fell away from her lower body.

“Right!” Robin agreed. “Ever since Flamebird pulled it from her utility belt, both of us have been playing possum, waiting for you to come back.” As Robin spoke, Flamebird stepped behind him and cut away his bindings with her Bat-Laser.

“Now, it’s our turn to capture you!” Flamebird said.

“You’ll never catch me! I’ve got, like, three tricks up my proverbial sleeve, aces if you will,” Playgirl declared. “These two stand in the way of all our fun and games and will only continue to do so. Remove them from the board!”

Milton, Bradley, and Avalon Hill rushed toward Robin and Flamebird as the Darling Duo charged. Flamebird passed between the male thugs and fired both elbows outward into their ribs. As she reached Avalon Hill, the henchwoman launched a kick.

Robin was surprised when the doubled over thugs lunged at him simultaneously and took him to the ground. Together they pinned his shoulders and began to slam his head repeatedly into the turf.

Flamebird and Avalon Hill, meanwhile, circled one another until the men left Robin lying motionless and began creeping toward the female combatants. Avalon Hill saw them coming and shifted so Flamebird kept her back to the oncoming men. The heroine was unaware of them until each seized one arm and together they firmly held her in place. Avalon Hill paused to favor her enemy with a triumphant grin as she began to batter Flamebird with body blows.

Robin recovered and saw how Flamebird was being literally manhandled. He regained his feet slowly and stepped behind Milton.

The thug felt a hand fall on his shoulder and green-gloved knuckles collide with his mouth as he turned. Robin stepped toward Bradley and unleashed a devastating combination into the other man’s side. Bradley crumpled.

As the thugs holding Flamebird were taken out, the Girl Wonder retreated a step and Avalon Hill followed, increasing her pace. She realized too late she was doing exactly what Flamebird wanted. The goggled girl leaned into Robin while he lifted his crimefighting partner. Avalon Hill was dismayed as red boot heels hit her in the face and sent her crashing painfully to the ground, where she lay still.

“Nice work, Flamebird,” Robin complimented.

“Thanks,” she replied shaking his hand. “Where’d Playgirl go?”

“I don’t know, but we’d better get after her.”

“I left my Bat-Gyro on the roof and she knows it!” Flamebird said. “You take care of her gang and I’ll go after her!” Robin could only nod.

Flamebird pounded through the abandoned factory and burst onto the roof. She was startled by what she saw. Playgirl had reached a gap in the side of a dark blue, cylindrical craft with a silver rail around the top and a matching ring around its base. A central steering wheel was mounted parallel to the floor of the unusual craft, which somehow hovered in place.

“Stop, Playgirl!” Flamebird commanded. “You can’t escape!”

“I, like, beg to differ, you know?” the villainess said, climbing inside and slamming two sliding doors into place. Moments later, the vehicle’s engines engaged and carried Playgirl into the sky. “Bye bye, Birdie.”

Flamebird had just reached her Bat-Gyro when Robin rushed onto the roof. “Holy Flying Saucer! She’s getting away!”

“Not if I can help it!” Flamebird said.

“The other Bat-Gyro is on the ground,” Robin said.

“Hop onto my lap. I’ll fly you down and we’ll go after her.”

“Are you sure we have time?”

“No problem. I’m already tracking her on the Portable Bat-Radar. She is not going to get away!”

Robin sat on Flamebird’s lap and smiled as her arms wrapped around his waist. “Ready?” she asked. “Here we go.” Their flight to the ground was rapid and Robin was dashing to the other Bat-Gyrot the second Flamebird released him. By the time Robin had strapped himself in, Flamebird had already taken off again, relentlessly hunting Playgirl.

Playgirl knew Flamebird would be after her shortly and used the brief, initial respite while Robin joined the pursuit to prepare. Searching the saucer quickly, Playgirl found a machine gun she leveled at the approaching heroine.

Flamebird calmly toggled a switch near her hand and the hail of bullets directed at her disbursed harmlessly around her.

As Playgirl frowned a second craft moved to intercept her and she changed her field of fire to attack Robin.

“Quick, Robin,” Flamebird directed over her headset radio. “Activate the Bat-magnetic field and reverse the polarity!”

Robin obeyed and more of Playgirl’s bullets were harmlessly disbursed as they neared him. Playgirl furiously hurled her weapon aside, swearing and beating the steering mechanism as the weapon skipped off the top of the double doors, through which Playgirl had entered, and fell away from the craft.

Seeing Playgirl was disarmed, Flamebird decided to try a different, more aggressive approach. She signaled Robin and the Bat-Gyros maneuvered to positions above the villainess’ flying saucer. Together, Robin and Flamebird began descending toward her, systematically forcing Playgirl slowly toward the ground.

Playgirl sped up, went through a series of turns and was dismayed as her efforts failed to shake off the Darling Duo. Closer and closer the Bat-Gyros came and Playgirl flew lower and lower. She knew her enemies would ultimately force her to land and she needed to prepare a surprise reception in order to evade capture. Playgirl wondered whether she had anything else to use against them aboard her getaway craft.

Sirens interrupted her search and she realized a small squad of police was following beneath her, keeping her in sight. Angrily she shook her fist at Robin and Flamebird.

Infuriatingly, both heroes grinned in response and Playgirl continued her search.

The Bat-Gyros whirred even closer, pressing their advantage and forcing Playgirl yet closer to the ground. The time to counterattack had come. “Ladies first,“ the villainess muttered, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

Robin and Flamebird had been alternating aggressive approaches at Playgirl’s getaway craft, which moved her continuously closer and closer to the ground. The villainess waited until Flamebird swooped toward her and aimed a long, black funnel at the teenaged heroine. A plume of flame issued from the wide end of the funnel, forcing Flamebird to retreat and giving Playgirl room to maneuver, climbing away from her pursuers.

“She’s hot stuff now!” Flamebird said. “Be careful, Robin.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Robin replied over the radio, pulling a handful of items from his utility belt as he modified his course to intercept Playgirl’s climbing craft. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” Flamebird replied. “Just get her on the ground.”

Robin swooped toward the grinning villainess and brought his craft above hers as she launched her attack at him. He let go of the handful of items and retreated.

The flames engulfed the tiny objects falling toward Playgirl, which burst into a ball of flame in midair. The shock wave from the explosion struck Playgirl and slammed her against the floor of her craft, tearing the flamethrower from her hands. The flying saucer’s engines could not hold its position in the face of the explosion’s shock wave. Playgirl hung on desperately as her craft fell the short distance to the ground, where it recovered, hovering. Police swarmed toward her with drawn weapons and the Bat-Gyros approached her from above. Escape was impossible.

“Give it up, Playgirl,” Chief O’Hara ordered. “I’ve got a playpen all warmed up for you – the paddy wagon!”

The despondent villainess emerged from her craft, still wearing nothing but her bikini and the ornate sandals she had found aboard.

Robin and Flamebird landed and moved quickly toward the scene of the arrest.

Playgirl regarded them as two officers escorted her toward the waiting vehicle. “What did you do to me?” she demanded.

“I dropped a couple of small explosives and a few capsules of compressed air above you,” Robin explained. “They would have been completely harmless, if you hadn’t fired that flamethrower at me.”

“That was, like, so totally unfair!” Playgirl complained.

“You gave in to your own murderous impulses, Playgirl, and it cost you,” Flamebird said.

Playgirl smirked. “Congratulations. You won this round, but our game is far from over. Don’t either of you dare to dream I’ve had my last turn!”

Robin shook his head. “Batman has warned you you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“You could offer an employer a lot, if you’d just give up your criminal ways,” Flamebird said. “I bet even Katherine Kane might offer you a job. With your beauty, intelligence, and competitiveness . . . .”

“Never!” Playgirl replied. “You two don’t realize why I keep on playing these games, even after Max Chessman made me rich, do you?”

“No,” Robin admitted, “but I’m always interested in how the criminal mind works.”

“Well, Batgirl is such a worthy opponent, and you two have just proven to be totally in her league–”

“Why, thank you,” Flamebird said, interrupting.

“I get it!” Robin said, as realization struck. “It’s the game. You can’t resist the challenge. You’re compulsive. That’s why you continue to pursue an impossible goal.”

“Totally, Robin – except it’s not impossible. Next time we play, you are, like, so dead, you know?”

“Are you being figurative?”

“You’ll find out! You think taking over the world is impossible? You’ll see. I’ll show you – I’ll show all of you!”

“Take her away!” Chief O’Hara ordered. “She’s beginning to annoy me and, besides, I really don’t want her out here half-naked, shivering in the cold.”

Ultimately, Robin and Flamebird were left alone. “Does Playgirl’s threat worry you, Robin?” the beautiful, blonde heroine asked.

“Not really,” Robin replied. ”I’ve seen some other super-villains behave similarly when they’ve been captured. We may not have seen the last of her, but the threat is probably more hot air than anything else.”

“Hot air sounds good right now . . . but I don’t know,” Flamebird worriedly replied. “I think Playgirl’s plans to murder Batgirl typically involve more preliminary torture and unavoidable pain.”

“Well, Playgirl has promised to give us a chance to learn whether your fears are well-founded.”

“Part of me is scared to death, but another really doesn’t care.”

“Really. Why not?”

“We beat her this time, all by ourselves, and, therefore, we can do it again!” Flamebird declared, grinning.

“That’s the spirit!” The crimefighting companions held one another, smiling. “We have better things to do right now than worry about Playgirl, anyway.”

“Really?” Flamebird asked, lilting her head and looking at Robin sideways. “What sort of things did you have in mind?”

“We have a successful case to celebrate and besides, it’s Christmas. ” he replied, drawing her to him and gently kissing her. “Merry Christmas.”

Flamebird’s grip tightened as she responded to him in kind. “Happy New Year,” she said huskily.

They did not speak again for a long time.

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