So, both Shame and Calamity Jan wore empty holsters as they danced and the Penguin’s umbrella was nothing more than it appeared as he waddled among his incarcerated companions, approaching the buffet table. The Joker’s boutonniere was merely a harmless flower as he took full advantage of his opportunity to openly socialize with his curvaceous doctor, who had called herself Harley Quinn when she had worked with him under the influence of Catwoman’s personality altering drug, Cataphrenic. Poison Ivy watched the party disapprovingly, sipping fruit punch and wishing she were wearing her wrist-mounted dart launchers.

The planned climax to the party was to be the arrival of Santa Claus, who would present gifts to everyone. The jolly old elf, however, was about to be utterly upstaged by his companion, a blue-eyed blonde woman in her late twenties, who preceded him into the corridor outside the party room. Her long legs, well-rounded hips, and ample chest were displayed for casual inspection since she was wearing nothing but a wide, green ribbon wound around her chest and tied decoratively into a bow from which ribbon strands dangled strategically.

Playgirl’s Power Play

By Mr. Deathtrap

“In disguised person,” the villain responded.

“What are you doing with her?”

“Playgirl?” the disguised villain asked.

“What do you mean?” the girl tartly demanded.

The guard ignored her and went on addressing False Face. “You can’t take her in there while she’s dressed like that!”

“Why not?” Playgirl demanded, capturing the guard’s attention.

“We have rules!”

“Listen, Flatfoot. We’re both unarmed. You can, like, search us, if you want,” she offered, favoring the guard with a knowing smile. “The rule is totally no weapons.” The guard stared at her as she crossly regarded him.

“There is a dress code here!”

“Don’t be lame!”

“Regardless of the time of year or the nature of a special occasion, there are rules and it’s my job to enforce them!”

“I think you, like, said all of that. So, gag me with a spoon.”

Playgirl and the guard glared silently at one another. “I was thinking about taking you back to your cell!” the guard threatened.

“In your dreams!” she dismissively replied.

The guard stared momentarily and took a deep breath. “You misunderstand–.”

“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!” False Face jovially bellowed.

The prisoners in the room beyond the closed door began to applaud.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the guard quietly demanded. “I can have both of you taken back to your cells.”

False Face shrugged, smiling benevolently at the guard and Playgirl smirked.

“Hey!” the Joker loudly demanded. “Where is he?”

With a muttered curse, the guard glanced into the room before looking at False Face and Playgirl again. Playgirl grinned triumphantly, loudly chanting, “Santa! Santa! Santa!”

Other prisoners began to echo her a moment later. “Santa! Santa! Santa!”

The guard scowled at the new arrivals, darting a glance at the closed door behind which an increasingly boisterous party went on chanting. “Santa! Santa! Santa!”

Presently, the guard stepped aside with a helpless shrug and the seasonally-attired pair entered to a rousing cheer.

“Now listen, fellow criminals, and you will hear, how Playgirl and I get out of here,” False Face said, once he had obtained the prisoners’ attention.

“You just arrived,” the responsible guard, who had followed them inside, protested. “Besides, that story is about Paul Revere and is told to children.”

“Totally,” Playgirl confirmed, chuckling. “He’s False Face. He just recited a false quote and, by the way, he and I also came here under false pretenses. Not to worry, however. He is right. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

“What?” the guard asked. He turned to False Face, who was addressing his audience.

“Have a good rest, ye ladies an’ gentlemen,” False Face invited as he stooped to spill the contents of a sack while Playgirl reached into both of his pockets and withdrew two masks and a remote control. She used the control to activate the bombs her perfidious partner poured from his sack and handed False Face a mask before slipping one on herself.

“He did it again,” the guard pointed out. “The real song title is God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and–”

The hapless guard hit the floor, where Playgirl flung him with a martial arts throw after properly setting her feet. Seconds later, he and everyone else in the room, except the masked criminals, fell fast asleep.

“Shall we go, my dear?’ False Face asked.

“Totally. As long as you’ve saved a few of your bombs,” the barely-dressed blonde replied, stooping beside the fallen guard to quickly go through his pockets.

“Fortunately, I have.” They left the room arm-in-arm and made their way to the prison machine shop, dispatching guards they encountered on the way with more gas bombs. Once there, Playgirl pulled a cover away from a pair of jet packs. “Our chariots, darling,” she said.

False Face laughed. “I see you’ve kept up your end of the deal.” He pulled off his hat and began to peel the beard and mustache from his face.

“Totally. You’ve done very well yourself. Now, let’s get out of here.”

“Won’t you get cold?” False Face asked, unbuckling his wide, black belt and beginning to shrug out of the furry, red coat.

“The friction of the air is surprisingly warm. Besides, you’ve forgotten about the flight suits. Mine will slip right on,” Playgirl said, indicating a pair of shimmering, teal blue outfits. She was right and both outfits fit as closely as a second skin.

Ten minutes later, the criminal couple flew across the sky, bound for the abandoned penthouse playground once used by Mr. Lewis Enstone, multimillionaire toy magnate, before marrying one of his many playmates had begun to seem like such a good idea.

“We did it,” the Master of Disguise crowed. “Now, I’m free to learn the identity of the criminals who have impersonated other criminals while committing crimes over the past few years. They’ve stolen part of my act, so I expect to be getting a healthy cut of what I imagine are considerable spoils.”

“Your goal sounds lucrative,” Playgirl said. “Did I tell you I think you make a great Santa Claus?”

False Face laughed. “You can be my helper any time you want.”

“Listen. I’m totally serious,” Playgirl said. “As Santa, you could, like, go anywhere and the jolly old elf is already scheduled for several appearances around town.” Playgirl’s eyes sparkled. “You could literally steal Christmas!”

“It’s a good idea, and you would have a hard time impersonating Santa Claus,” her companion conceded with a smile.

“Whatever,” Playgirl said dismissively. “I was just thinking out loud, you know?”

“I’m sure you have your own plans.”

“Totally. They should, in fact, already be, like, well underway. Still, I should thank you for helping me out,” she replied, before going on after a slight pause as she unzipped her flight suit, “of jail, that is.”

“That’s hardly necessary,” False Face said, smiling. He could not take his eyes off her.

“Really,” she persisted. “Our escape would have been much harder to pull off without you. Santa’s appearance at the prison-wide party was the best possible means to incapacitate practically everyone.”

“That comprehensive touch was unnecessary,” False Face disagreed. His eyes remained fixed upon her. “You could literally have taken off any time you wanted. Why did you wait for me?”

Playgirl grinned and pulled the green ribbon from inside her partially unzipped flight suit. “As always, I’m playing a game, False Face,” she explained.

“Really?” he softly asked. “I sincerely hope you’re winning.”

She smiled. “Totally!” Her shoulders moved and the flight suit revealed more of her bare flesh. “We’re both winners, darling.”

“I see.” He reached for the ribbon and tugged against it gently, drawing her toward him. “Speaking of pulling things off, did I tell you how fabulous you looked wearing that ribbon?”

“No, but I’m listening.”

False Face began his description and stopped as Playgirl stepped toward him, pressing her lips against his. When the kiss broke, she put her fingers to his lips. “Actions speak louder than words.”

“You’re so right.”

“Mr. Enstone kept quite a bit of wine here among his many treasures. Get us a bottle before we get comfortable.”

“Why not?” False Face asked. “As long as we’re taking advantage of the amenities.” He kissed her again and tugged gently at the bow again. This time it slowly came undone. He had peeled away the top of her flight suit before the kissed ended.

“Please get the wine before we do the rest,” Playgirl said, turning and folding her arms across her chest. “I’ll be in here.” She stepped toward a door.

“As you wish, my dear,” False Face gallantly said. “I love your mind.”

Playgirl turned her head and whispered, “Hurry.”

“You changed your hair,” Playgirl observed.

“I was tired of my old look and thought the change might make me harder for the cops to recognize. Do you like it?” Avalon Hill asked. She had been a strawberry blonde when she had previously worked for the Gangster Gal of Games. As a first-time offender, Avalon Hill’s sentence had been light and she was already out on parole.

“I do. Now, let’s, like, get down to business. Have you made all of your deliveries?”

The henchwoman regarded her employer seriously “Yes, boss. Before I get into that, let me say it’s good to see you again. Your escape is all over the news, but the cops are busy jumping at shadows while they search for False Face.”

Playgirl laughed. “He makes a magnificent red herring, among other things. Now, while the cops play Hide and Seek, you and I can proceed with my holiday plans. So, tell me, like, all about your good work so far.”

“Okay. Katherine Kane and every other member of Networld’s Board of Directors has received a crate of your dolls, action figures, or stuffed animals. The boys delivered these to their homes over the last few days. Each toy was equipped ahead of time to your exact specifications.” Avalon Hill explained.

“You hired some men to make these deliveries?”

“I rehired Milton and Bradley.”

“Those losers?” Playgirl queried. She regarded her employee coldly. “I fired them, Avalon!”

The henchwoman took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know, but at the time Catwoman didn’t really give you much choice, did she? Three of her cats beat both of them up–”

“Twice!” Playgirl sternly cut in.

“Yes,” Avalon Hill conceded, taking another deep breath. “Hear me out, okay?”

Playgirl nodded.

“Thanks. The second time Catwoman’s cats wiped the floor with your men, our late feline friend brought you along to watch. Following her demonstration, I honestly can’t imagine any other way you could have dealt with the situation, under the circumstances.”

“You may have a point, but didn’t those cats, like, put the boys in the hospital?”

“Well . . . yes,” Avalon Hill said, her eyes mischievously sparkling. “You wouldn’t know it now, though. They have both been thoroughly physically rehabilitated and have continued to work out. The intensity of their work shows beautifully. They have developed the most fabulous physiques. After I interviewed them, I could not imagine how you could have a single complaint about such marvelous muscles.”

“I’m sure you were very thorough,” Playgirl said, favoring her henchwoman with a smirk.

“My dedication to my work–”

“Is, no doubt, its own reward,” Playgirl said.

Avalon Hill grinned and spread her hands.

“Still, I think, given your arguments, we might proceed with the boys,” Playgirl held up a hand, “on a trial basis. After all, Milton and Bradley’s replacements didn’t really work out.”

“They betrayed us and tried to kill us, as I recall,” Avalon Hill said dryly. “We’ll have to make a point of properly repaying them for their kindness.”

“You make a totally good point.” Playgirl had paid attention to new arrivals while she had been imprisoned and knew the Parker brothers and their sister, Legs, who had orchestrated the deadly episode under discussion, had just been incarcerated. Curious, she asked Avalon Hill, “Do you have any idea where they are?”

“Well, no. I’ve been keeping rather busy interviewing potential new henchmen for you.”

“I’m sure you have.” With a mental shrug, Playgirl elected to drop the matter and move on. “All right, have the boys get their butts in here. We have work to do.”

“Boys!” Avalon Hill said, depressing a key on an intercom. “Front and center! The boss wants to see you.”

“Yes, Playgirl.” Milton and Bradley said simultaneously, stepping into the room smartly. “Thank you.”

“Welcome back into my good graces, guys. Now, let’s, like, get to work.”

Katherine Kane’s niece, Betty, was a rising star on the women’s professional tennis tour. She trained hard at home, where her aunt had installed state-of-the-art facilities, and hired the best available, private coach. While her hard work had not yet made her one of the top ranked players in the world, it, along with her good looks, had garnered her the honor of and revenue from licensed action figure sales. A box of action figures had been anonymously delivered to the mansion the previous night and Betty had left it in the living room.

Incredibly, that afternoon, Betty Kane’s action figures began moving on their own, slowly breaking free from their packaging and the larger box, demolishing both from the inside in the process. The figures then really went into action, disbursing throughout the mansion. Searching.

The figures’ first find was Katherine Kane’s study, where they embarked on a much more intense search. Some of the figures stationed themselves facing the walls and raised one arm straight up. A thin wire shot from these action figures’ upraised hands to become embedded in the ceiling. The wires then retracted, pulling the action figures upward. As the figures ascended, they began to swing, scanning the walls as they moved.

Once the walls had been fully scanned, the suspended action figures converged on an ornate mirror they smashed to pieces, revealing a hidden safe. The action figures shook the safe together in a coordinated effort. Slowly, they eased the heavy metal box from the wall and pressed themselves against it with magnets, which held them firmly in place.

Meanwhile, other action figures scaled the wall and found places on the walls of the safe to attach. When all of the action figures had positioned themselves, each parallel to the next and facing the same direction, rockets in the action figures’ legs fired, propelling the safe from its place in the wall, through a picture window directly across the room, and into the clear, blue sky! Betty Kane heard the crash of the glass and saw her replicas hurtling heavenward with the heavy safe among them. Grateful her formal tennis practice had ended for the day, the young athlete hurried inside and examined the broken window, the shattered mirror, and the hole in the wall where the safe had been. Betty plopped down in the leather chair behind her aunt’s desk and reached for the phone.

“This is Katherine Kane’s office. My name is Jeffrey. How may I help you?” the software executive’s personal assistant said in response to Betty Kane’s call.

“Hi, Jeffrey. This is Betty. I need to speak to my aunt if she is available. Something has come up at home.”

“You are okay? That’s the first thing she’ll want to know.”

“I’m fine, but I think it’s important I speak to my aunt.”

“I see. Let me see if she can take your call, Betty. You know how busy she is, especially at this time of year.”

“I understand. Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“What’s happening, Betty?” Katherine Kane asked when she came on the line moments later.

“Believe it or not, all of the action figures of me that were delivered last night just flew off with the safe from your study.”

“What?” Katherine Kane asked. She knew her niece would not have called unless she felt the situation was urgent and Betty would never have invented an emergency just to speak to her. Regardless, the story was too incredible to have been invented. The software executive nodded superfluously, listening carefully as Betty repeated her account of recent events.

“Are you calling from the study?”

“Yes.”

“Good, the line there is secure and we can speak freely. I take it you want to look into the robbery?” the brunette beauty asked.

“Well, yes.” Betty admitted. The curly-haired blonde and her aunt were the only people in the world, with the exception of the mysterious Montezuma, who knew Betty Kane was the secret alter-ego of Gotham City’s Goggled Guardian, Flamebird, and that Katherine Kane was the civilian identity of the older, similarly superheroic, and equally marvelous-looking, Batwoman.

“You know I won’t be able to get away from work until next year. Networld’s holiday advertising campaign is going to be murder. So, since I won’t be available to help, I think it would be best for you to recruit another partner with whom to work,” Katherine Kane said seriously.

A grin curled the corners of Betty Kane’s mouth. “Great! I have someone in mind already,” Betty happily said. “Since I’m at the crime scene already, I’ll get started on my own. How much was in the safe?”

“Not a cent,” Katherine Kane replied. “It contained design specifications for the next release of our latest software package.”

“I thought you were rolling that out now.”

“No. We’re rolling out a tweaked version for home users, hence the ad campaign. The next release will be much more powerful, more user-friendly, have exhaustive documentation, and we’ll sell it with round-the-clock customer service. What was stolen is a package introducing brand new capabilities. If my competitors found those plans, Networld’s market share might be diminished dramatically within a year.”

“Do you want the police looking into this robbery?”

“I’ll have to let them in order to protect our secret identities. Besides, they should already know about it, assuming the security system is on.”

“You’re right,” Betty thoughtfully said. “The police may be on the way. I’ll have to hurry if I’m going to get a head start in my investigation.”

“I’ll let you go, but do you have any idea who might be behind the robbery at all?”

“It could be anyone.” Betty said. “I’ll know more in a little while. Would you like me to call you if I learn something definitive?”

“No, we need to safeguard our secret. You should think of a reason to be out when the police arrive.”

“I understand. Good luck with the ad campaign, Aunt Kathy. Merry Christmas”

“Good luck with your investigation, Betty, and Merry Christmas yourself. Bye.”

“Bye.” Both women hung up.

Betty Kane began carefully gathering samples of the physical evidence littering the study and the ground outside the shattered window. She placed each item in a separate, plastic bag. As Betty worked, she tried to avoid making it appear she had disturbed the crime scene for the sake of the forensics teams that would soon be gathering their own evidence.

Betty paused as she traversed the living room to examine the remains of the action figures’ packaging. After a moment she shrugged and moved to the grandfather clock in the hall. She moved both hands straight up, pushing a concealed button on the side of the clock. After a click, the clock swung open on hidden hinges, acting like a door. The young athlete passed through, closing the door behind her before the clock returned to the correct time and went on ticking. Betty descended a short flight of steps to an alcove where her Flamebird costume waited beside Batwoman’s. She changed and stepped to the top of a slide where she sat and slid quickly down to the Bat Cavern, holding her evidence. There, she began removing the glass shards she had gathered from their evidence bags for analysis.

Meanwhile, at Playgirl’s playground, the voluptuous villainess was concluding her latest criminal stroke and setting her immediate agenda.

“Avalon, turn on the homing beacon.”

“Right, boss,” Avalon Hill said. Milton and Bradley watched in understandable admiration as the henchwoman sashayed across the room, her ponytail providing a provocative counterpoint to the seductive sway of her hips. She threw a switch and returned to her breathless admirers favoring them with a knowing smile.

“So, the contents of Katherine Kane’s safe are nearly ours?” Bradley asked.

“The safe should arrive within seconds,” Playgirl predicted.

“Look!” Milton said, pointing at the sky. “Here it comes.”

As if on cue, the safe and the Betty Kane action figures magnetically pressed against it landed. The criminal quartet eagerly surrounded their prize. “All right, Avalon, open it!”

“No problem,” the curvaceous henchwoman confidently said. She bent over the safe to listen to the tumblers as her fingers manipulated the dial.

“You really do have magic fingers,” Bradley said.

“Flatterer!” Avalon Hill accused as she pulled the door away from the front of the metal box. She grinned as she met his gaze with sparkling eyes. “Don’t stop talking.”

“Now,” Playgirl said, as her hand dove into the safe and began to withdraw papers.

“You’ll give us our cut now, won’t you, boss?” Milton eagerly asked.

Playgirl laughed. “I haven’t stolen wealth from Katherine Kane yet, my perfidious Playmates, merely potential,” she explained, eagerly examining her prize.

“I don’t get it,” Milton admitted. “What do you mean?”

“These are plans for the next generation of Networld software. It’s practically priceless.”

“So, we’ll sell it back to Katherine Kane or auction it to her competitors,” Avalon Hill predicted, returning her attention to her criminal mistress.

“We will not!” Playgirl declared, putting her hands on her hips and grinning wickedly as her eyes flashed. “These plans are worth more money to us than Katherine Kane or any one of her competitors could ever put in our hands.”

“Wait a minute. It we can’t sell it, what good is it?” Bradley asked.

“It is the key to exquisite, delicious power and I will savor that power’s acquisition.” As she spoke, Playgirl’s helpers realized her Valley Girl façade had been replaced by a businesslike manner and a faraway look had come over her as her reverie continued. “Once that power is mine, everyone will play by my rules, first in Gotham City and then . . . all over the world!”

“You’re seriously going to take over the world?” Milton asked, staring at his employer with undisguised awe.

“In due time, Playmates, and one step at a time. Control of the entire world is merely my minimum possible objective,” Playgirl replied, grinning. “Before we pursue that sinister strategy, however, we need facts. What's the current price of a share of Networld stock?”

Avalon Hill's fingers flew over a keyboard. She reported the figure.

“Good. Now, imagine that price being lowered precipitously.”

“Investors could lose their shirts,” Bradley said.

“Their unfortunate losses are their problem! Now, suppose we sold a considerable amount of stock before the price fell?”

“Do we have any shares of Networld to sell?” Milton asked.

“If we buy it after the price falls, then we’ll have it to sell,” Avalon Hill explained.

“Huh?” Milton asked, completely confused. "How can we sell shares before we buy them?"

"Big investors do it all the time. It’s called selling short and it’s perfectly legal. We would, of course, retain the difference between the price at which we acquire the shares and the price at which we unload them,” Avalon Hill went on. “We’ll become very rich on paper."

“Totally,” Playgirl confirmed. “We’ll raise operating capital, with which we’ll repurchase the shares we sold at the deflated price. Unfortunately, the vast majority of Networld stock is held by a relatively small number of people. There aren't too many shares on the market. Our problem will be to persuade those holding huge numbers of shares to part with some of their stock.”

“You mean people like Katherine Kane?” Milton asked.

“Ms. Kane is at the very top of a little list I’ve checked repeatedly to determine with whom I will have to play naughty and with whom I can play nice. Our dealings with Networld’s chief will gauge the accuracy of my planned approaches.”

“You’re going to exchange the Networld plans for part of Katherine Kane’s stock?” Bradley asked.

“Precisely. Ultimately, I’ll take over the entire company. With Networld’s assets at my command, the entire world will be my playground and I can take care of a great deal of unfinished business,” Playgirl dreamily said. “Revenge is a dish best served cold and it will be delicious when the time comes.”

“Who are you planning to punish?” Bradley asked.

“Oh, that is a different list entirely. Right now, Max Chessman, the Parker siblings, and Batgirl are at the top,” Playgirl answered.

“Boss, with all due respect,” Avalon Hill said. “Didn’t Batgirl save both of our lives?”

The amusement left Playgirl’s voice as she responded. “Experience has taught me she’ll do everything in her power to foil any plans against our would-be killers we might concoct. Getting rid of her is the best way I know to assure the success of our revenge. I know it sounds like playing rough–”

“I see,” Avalon Hill said.

“What if Ms. Kane refuses to deal?” Milton asked.

“You’ve already put the means for us to acquire more Networld shares into play with other executives on the Board of Directors. I’m sure they’ll part with their shares, should I be compelled to ask.” Playgirl laughed and the others joined her after a moment.

“Brilliant!” Avalon Hill said. “The toys we doctored and delivered will hand us Networld on a silver platter!”

“We’re getting ahead of schedule,” Playgirl said seriously. “Before completing my masterplan, we have problems with which to deal, obstacles to overcome.”

“You’re talking about bats,” Bradley said.

“Male and female,” Milton agreed.

“Not to mention a couple of little birdies,” Avalon Hill said.

“Totally,” Playgirl said, allowing her façade to emerge once again. “These obstacles will have to, like, be removed—permanently!”

“How are we going to get them out of our way?” Milton asked.

“Falseface dressed like Santa Claus for our escape last night. This fact and his penchant for being everywhere will prove totally advantageous to us--and fatal to our enemies,” Playgirl predicted. “I also carefully planted a few seeds last night.”

“So you broke him out of jail to shift suspicion away from us?” Bradley asked.

“I planned for the wheels of justice to totally go skidding in, like, the wrong direction,” Playgirl crowed. “They have, too, given what Avalon told me the media have been reporting.”

“So, your stratagem is working,” Avalon Hill said. “There could be a problem. Won’t Falseface get upset?”

“He’s a big boy, and I”ve already, like, compensated him for the inconvenience,” Playgirl said, her voice taking on a nostalgic, dreamy quality. “He might even do away with a few bats for us.” She shrugged.

“Well, according to the paper, Santa Claus has a busy schedule of appearances at department and toy stores around Gotham City,” Bradley said. “I guess we’ll be making sure Falseface is blamed for a few robberies?”

“Totally.”

“Which one will we hit first?” Milton inquired.

“Wherever Santa is scheduled to first appear,” Avalon Hill answered, laughing. “You’re brilliant, boss.”

“Avalon, boys, that is totally true.”

The criminal quartet laughed until Playgirl let her hands fall away from her hips and led her gang out. Soon, their wicked work would begin.

Dick Grayson had finished all of his work for the semester at Gotham State University and knew his friends were returning to their families for the holidays. This time of year gave him the rare opportunity to patrol the city streets on his own as Robin. He made his way to the storage facility where he kept the Redbird, changed, and hit the streets. He had nearly finished one circuit of the patrol pattern he had devised when his silent alarm detector drew his attention. “Holy History Repeating Itself! It’s at F. A. O. Swartz, the upscale toy store, on fashionable Fifteenth Avenue!”

The last time he had responded to such an alarm at that toy store, he had encountered the teenage, psychic twins, Passion and Ecstasy, who had already overpowered Batgirl with their strange power. The scantily-clad scofflaws had ultimately left him bound against Batgirl’s back within the coils of a toy slinky, which they said would squish both captives into yuckpaste at the slightest movement.

As he parked, he returned his mind to the present, searching for the cause of the alarm. He found no obvious means of egress, but bypassed the alarms and locks on a door to investigate the alarm further. Near the Santa Clause display, he found a quartet of open, empty packages adorned with wrapping paper, bows, and ribbons. “Holy Trojan Christmas Presents! I wonder who snuck in here.”

His question was answered when he came upon Playgirl, Avalon Hill, Milton, and Bradley crouched around the open safe in the manager’s office. They had just finished collecting its contents.

“Your shopping spree is over, Playgirl!” the young hero confidently said.

“Well,” Playgirl said happily. “I totally wondered which of the bats would, like, come out and play with me first. It seems it wasn’t a bat at all.”

“I didn’t come here to play. Give yourself up!”

“Too bad you don’t want to play, Robin,” the Gangster Gal of Games said. “You have no idea of how much fun we could have.”

“Save it, Playgirl. All I want to do with you is put you back in jail.”

“You’re so dull, Robin,” Avalon Hill said. “I think your problem is you’re all work and no play. It’s such a shame.”

“Thank you, ladies,” Robin politely said. “I’m really very flattered. Now, would you and your men care to come quietly?”

Avalon Hill laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Don’t toy with him, boys,” Playgirl ordered. “Get him!”

Milton and Bradley charged at Robin and pushed him back against the wall. Robin set his feet, but felt his hands seized and held against the wall while the thugs’ free hands went to work on his solar plexus, battering him mercilessly.

Robin closed his eyes and centered himself before sharply pulling his arms downward and pressing his palms together. Robin fired both elbows outward into his attackers’ chins as he exhaled. He opened his eyes at the sound of that impact and stepped toward Milton. The thug had retreated a step and Robin closed the distance, firing a combination of punches that doubled the henchman over.

Bradley came to his partner’s rescue, gripping Robin’s shoulder and spinning the hero into the perfect position to land a devastating blow. Robin blocked instinctively and counterpunched, staggering Bradley. Milton had recovered and leaped onto Robin’s back.

The former Boy Wonder’s elbows shot backward, stunning Milton, whom Robin sent sprawling with a looping punch and momentum he generated by turning sharply. Bradley tried to spin the red-breasted crimefighter around by the shoulder again and received an elbow to the ribs for his trouble.

Bradley doubled over and felt Robin ‘s knee slam into his chin. Then he was tumbling head over heels and landed outstretched on his back. Finally, a green hand filled his vision before lifting his head and slamming it to the floor once.

“Game over, Playgirl,” Robin said, breathing a little hard. “I’ve dispensed with your men. “I don’t like fighting women, but I will if I must. Please come quietly.”

“If you can get through my female reserve, little boy, I’m all yours,” the Gangster Gal of Games said, laughing. Then her voice went hard. “Batter him, Avalon!”

‘This is going to be fun,” Avalon Hill said, curling her fingers lovingly around a baseball bat. “Robin won’t fight me as vigorously as he did the boys.”

“Don’t kid yourself. I won’t just let you use me for batting practice!”

“Hardly,” Playgirl agreed. “Still, she’s right. I know you’re chivalrous and we women are going to take every advantage. Begin!”

“With luck, I’ll rekindle your interest in baseball, Robin!” Avalon Hill said, laughing as she swung her bat in an overhead arc Robin dodged. He ducked under a lateral swing and turned to avoid the next. All the while, the speed of the bat increased. Robin knew he would likely break a bone if he blocked the bat with his forearm. He might catch the head of the bat in his gloved hands safely, but the girl was swinging the weapon wildly enough he felt a better approach would be to take advantage of a mistake she would likely soon make.

The bat came in low and Robin jumped over it. Avalon Hill grinned and lunged at him, turning and swinging at his legs again. The bat connected behind his knees without causing pain. Robin, however, landed off balance and collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Avalon Hill took advantage, swinging for his head with an overhand stroke. Robin’s palms blocked the blow, gripping the bat head and immobilizing the weapon, but the girl had other weapons. Her toe slammed hard into the side of his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Nice work.” Playgirl complimented.

“It was my pleasure,” Avalon Hill replied. “Now, what shall we do with him?”

“Nothing. My ultimate plan for him would be slightly premature just now. Don’t worry. He’ll catch up with us again, and when he does, we’ll take care of him and any of his crime fighting cohorts he brings along -- once and forever!”

“I guess there won’t be time for me to toy with him a bit before the end,” the henchwoman sadly predicted. Playgirl shook her head.

Milton and Bradley picked themselves up off the floor before Avalon Hill could pursue her agenda further.

“You got him!” Milton said, a mixture of awe, relief and embarrassment in his voice.

“Nice going,” Bradley concurred.

“The boss said it’s time we were all going. Grab the loot,” Avalon Hill said, bowing mockingly. “Will we still be able to frame Falseface for this job, now that Robin knows we pulled it?”

“By the time anyone is ready to make a case, Robin won’t, like, be around. Besides, the frame need not fit perfectly,” Playgirl pointed out. “We only need to give the cops pause before they, like, come after us. I totally want more heroes to toy with before they die. It’s like . . . my Christmas present to myself.” Playgirl laughed. “Let’s go.” The criminal quartet took their leave, not sparing the unconscious Robin a second glance.

Later, someone else crouched over Robin’s prone body.

“Robin, are you all right?’ a concerned female voice asked.

Robin felt a hand gently patting his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. Concerned eyes gazed down at him through yellow goggles that complimented the curly, blonde hair framing his rescuer’s pretty face.

“Flamebird,” Robin weakly said. “What are you doing here? What hit me?”

A red-gloved hand reached down and helped the short-panted hero to his feet. The gloves matched the girl’s boots, but what Robin’s attention was drawn to was her lovely legs in their orange hose that rose and flared around her shapely hips. A red, cheerleader skirt hung from her waist and this garment matched her v-necked top as well as the choker at her throat. Her free hand was retrieving something from the belt encircling her waist. “Take this,” she offered.

Robin held up a restraining hand. “I’m okay. Thanks, Flamebird.”

“It’s my pleasure. I was hoping to find you, although not like this,” she said, shrugging. The slight movement drew Robin’s attention to the orange fringe of her top, which matched her unique cape. It draped her shoulders and flowed along her back, separating at her waist and falling behind the backs of her thighs. Cloth triangles extended from the edges of Flamebird’s cape, creating the illusion of flames dancing down her back whenever she moved.

“Well, it’s good to be found. Playgirl can be a formidable opponent,” Robin said.

“Playgirl?” Flamebird queried. “The police and I were operating under the assumption that Falseface was behind this robbery. Officers found a false quote just before I found you.”

“Holy Cross-Dressing! Falseface may be the Master of Devilish Disguises, but if that was him disguised as Playgirl, he is more adept than any of us imagined!”

“Maybe you should tell me the whole story.”

Robin told Flamebird his story and he told it again to Chief O’Hara and Commissioner Gordon once the Darling Duo had retired to discuss the case in the comfortable confines of the latter public official’s office.

“So, you saw Playgirl and we found a note suggesting the crook was Falseface,” Chief O’Hara said.

“It looks that way to me,” Robin replied.

“They did escape together from the Gotham State Penitentiary Christmas Party last night,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“Our only clue is the Santa suit Falseface wore to the party,” Chief O’Hara said. “Apparently, his old henchwoman, Blaze, made it for him in prison. I’ve assigned an officer to question her.”

“Well,” Commissioner Gordon asked, “could Playgirl and Falseface be working as a team? Perhaps the security tapes will answer that question.”

“Speaking of working,” Robin began, returning the conversation to the present. “How did you get on the case, Flamebird?”

“I learned a wall safe was stolen from the private study at Katherine Kane’s mansion. The robbery was straightforward enough, but the perpetrators were odd. It seems they were all toy action figures of Betty Kane!” Flamebird’s analysis of the physical evidence from the Kane mansion robbery had yielded no additional clues to the thief’s identity. The young heroine’s intuition had told her the toy store break-in might be connected and she hoped her investigation would generate a lead.

“How did you hear about that robbery?” Chief O’Hara asked. “I just got a report about our interview with Katherine Kane following that robbery. Ms. Kane has been busy all day and we haven’t been able to locate her niece, Betty, whom we expect will call in at some point.”

“Well,” Flamebird said, hesitating, “it’s my business to know such things, Chief.” She flashed a brilliant smile at the men in the room. “Besides, as a woman crimefighter, I’m entitled to a few secrets.”

The men glanced at one another, recalling how Batgirl had adopted a similar attitude on such matters when she had begun her career.

“Maybe the note you found at the toy store will have a clue to the criminal or criminals’ identity,” Flamebird suggested, returning her companions’ attention to the case.

Robin took the note from the Commissioner and read:

“Do you have any idea what it means?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“Well, it has a false quote,” Flamebird said. “The famous CBS western was called Have Gun, Will Travel.”

While Flamebird would never have admitted it to the men with whom she discussed the crime, she was hoping Robin was right about Falseface not being involved in the toy store robbery. The Insidious Impersonator had placed her in her first deathtrap ever and she doubted the sight of the villain laughing at her impending fate behind his unmoving, plastic mask would ever fail to fill her with irrational terror.

“So, Falseface was involved!” Chief O’Hara said. “False quotes are his trademark.”

Mentally, Flamebird shuddered, but tried to keep her face from betraying emotion.

“Maybe not,” Robin said, raising a hand. “The beginning and end of the note refer to games.”

“Playgirl?” the Commissioner asked.

“Possibly,” Flamebird said, smiling with more happiness than any of them would ever know. “The note also contains two true quotes. The first is the title of an Alfred Hitchcock movie, To Catch a Thief, and the second is one of Sherlock Holmes’ catch phrases.”

“Holy Conundrum! This message is a play on words!”

“I get it,” Flamebird enthused. The game is afoot and if we have game, we travel!”

“Do you think the Riddler is involved?” Chief O’Hara ventured.

“No. I remember reading about his arrest after that clothing-related caper he pulled with Catwoman,” Flamebird answered. Robin raised an eyebrow, remembering where Flamebird was during that affair.

The Goggled Good-Girl quickly changed the subject. “Never mind. I think, though, that Robin is on to something. To travel by foot, one must wear shoes or boots, which must first be laced. So, if I’m right, the crooks will strike next at–-”

“Lacey’s Department Store! Quick, Flamebird,” Robin urged. “To the Redbird. We may not have a moment to loose.”

“I’m with you, Robin,” Flamebird agreed. “Let’s go!”

The Darling Duo dashed through the double doors with their yellow and orange capes fluttering behind them.

“Chief, there are two things in Gotham City evildoers can expect to have descending upon them at any moment,” the Commissioner said.

“Fire and brimstone, sir?”

“Robin and Flamebird!”

Both Robin and Flamebird had been to Lacey’s Department Store many times in their respective guises as Dick Grayson and Betty Kane, but both of their adventures had also taken their crimefighting alter-egos there in the past.

Robin shivered as he recalled how he and Batgirl had investigated a scheme to convert the store customers into mindless zombies. The Curved Crusader had gone under cover on that case, selling negligees and encountering the now-deceased, devilish Doctor Tito Daka. Robin had been led to the Wizard, who had covered him with birthday cake and given him a pair of burning dynamite candles. The Boy Wonder had been compelled to hold these as he was rolled along the loading dock ramp bound to a wheeled desk chair.

Flamebird recalled how the Joker had incapacitated her and Batwoman before binding them precariously beneath a Christmas tree in the store’s window display. At that time, any move by either would have choked both of them and the laughing gas the Clown Prince of Crime had released in their environment had been intended to make their deaths inevitable.

“So,” Robin said, tearing Flamebird from her own bad memories, “whom do you think we’re up against?”

“It could be just Playgirl, or both her and Falseface,” she replied. “Of course, the sign at the store says Lacey’s is the place to go when you just don’t know.”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Robin said, grinning as he parked the car. “We’ve heard no alarms. If we’re right about this being the target of a robbery, our crooks are being more careful this time. You don’t suppose it’s a trap?”

“That’s always possible. Maybe this situation calls for an unconventional approach,” Flamebird suggested, reaching for the rope and Batarang at her hip.

“Good thinking.” Robin complimented, retrieving his own climbing gear.

Robin smiled up at his companion as Flamebird led the way up the wall. Together they crouched momentarily beside each of the store’s skylights, peering into the store far below, searching for criminal activity.

When they saw Playgirl, she stood beside a roped-off display absently swinging her arms at her sides. The young villainess wore jeans and a pink sweatshirt with a dog silk-screened onto it. She smiled tightly as she calmly spoke to her three assistants.

“Well, there she is,” Flamebird said, relieved to see no sign of Falseface. “Do you have any idea what she’s saying?”

“Not a clue,” Robin responded. “Why don’t we go down and ask her?”

Flamebird worked at the skylight momentarily. “After you,” she said. “She may not be expecting me.”

Robin nodded and slipped into the store, dangling from his rope. Flamebird watched his descent briefly before following.

“What could be keeping him?” Playgirl petulantly demanded. “Avalon, how hard did you boot him to the head?”

“He’ll recover, boss,” the brown-haired beauty assured her mistress.

“He might have needed a little help from his friends to figure out where to find us,” Milton suggested. “You know?”

“The more help he brings,” Bradley elaborated with hope, “the fewer bats we’ll have to deal with later.”

“True,” Playgirl agreed, favoring her minions with a wicked grin. “Still, I could have, like, waltzed away with most of the store’s inventory by now!”

“Robin always was annoying with his ‘Holy This’ and ‘Holy That’,” Avalon Hill said. “By the way, I like that sweatshirt you picked up.”

“Thank you,” Playgirl said. She smiled and her thoughts returned to Robin and her anger flared again. “I just wish he would be punctual!”

Suspended from the ceiling, Flamebird caught Robin’s eye and nodded. Robin gave her the thumbs up and finished his descent, retaining his hold on his rope.

“Here I am, Playgirl! I’d hate to delay your return to prison!”

“You’ll never catch me, Boy Blunder!” the Gangster Gal of Games replied. “It’s totally time for round two, boys! This time I mean it – get him!”

Robin retreated with his Batrope, and swung toward Milton and Bradley. His feet impacted the centers of their chests and knocked them over.

Avalon Hill cast an anxious, questioning glance at Playgirl.

“Go ahead, Avalon,” she said. “He’s all yours.”

“Batter up,” she said, grinning happily and hefting her baseball bat. As she approached Robin from behind, a pair of boots hit her side and knocked her to the floor.

“Baseball season is over, Avalon! Let’s let the boys play by themselves, shall we?“ Flamebird asked, wrenching the bat from Avalon Hill’s hands and tossing it carelessly aside. “I’d rather take you out in a fair fight.”

“I don’t need a bat to take care of you, Flamebird,” the henchwoman said, regaining her feet.

“I’m delighted to hear it,” the curly-haired cutie said. “Come on!”

As her minions engaged the Darling Duo in combat, Playgirl retreated to a position beside a wheelbarrow containing several liquid-filled balloons.

Green fists stunned Milton and Bradley before Robin focused on Milton. The thug was dismayed as Batman’s protege fended off his attacks, counterpunching forcefully. Robin’s opponent was starting to show signs of tiring when a hand fell on the hero’s shoulder, pulling Robin backward.

Avalon Hill sprang at Flamebird, slamming her shoulder into the center of the heroine’s chest and knocking her off balance. The heel of the henchwoman’s hand followed, hitting the same spot and taking Flamebird off her feet. The Girl Wonder scissor-kicked at Avalon Hill’s legs, catching the henchwoman at the ankles and behind the knees. Playgirl’s long-haired lackey fell flat on her face.

Bradley turned a shoulder into the elbow Robin fired back at him as the Titan pivoted toward the thug. The fast-moving fist following the blow landed and doubled up the thug. An expertly executed combination sent Bradley flying through the air to land hard on his back. Robin glanced at Milton, who started to rise, but then fell back to the floor.

Flamebird, meanwhile, had risen to her knees and spun, catching Avalon Hill in the face as the henchwoman begun to rise. Flamebird offered Robin her hand. The more experienced crimefighter helped her to her feet and they shook hands. The Darling Duo turned to face Playgirl.

“So,” the villainous vixen said, “you, like, mopped the floor with my people.”

“That’s right, Playgirl.” Robin said.

“Now, it’s your turn,” Flamebird declared.

“Well, before you haul my butt back to jail, I’d like to offer both of you a few of my balloons.” Playgirl tossed a balloon to each of them. Robin and Flamebird moved to catch the flying spheres, but were surprised when the balloons popped, splashing the heroes. Playgirl lobbed more spheres at her pursuers and smiled as balloon after balloon burst against Robin and Flamebird, exposing them to the liquid inside.

“I don’t think these are water balloons!” Flamebird cried. “What’s happening to me?”

“I don’t know, Flamebird,” Robin replied. “I’d advise quickly taking a Universal Bat-Antidote Pill. It should counteract any chemicals Playgirl may be using.”

“I . . . I can’t!” Flamebird responded. “My hands won’t move!”

“Holy Freeze-Frame! I can’t move either! Why can we still speak, though?”

“The paralysis juice in my balloons has, like, totally attacked your larger muscles!” Playgirl explained, laughing delightedly. “Neither of you are now capable of moving either your arms or legs! My next move, naturally, will be to see that neither of you can make a move against me--ever again!”

Milton, Bradley, and Avalon Hill returned to their mistress, grinning wickedly at Playgirl’s handiwork.

“Shall we get back to battering them?” Avalon Hill asked, glancing with hope at her fallen baseball bat.

“They don’t stand a chance now.” Milton predicted.

“I like these odds a lot better,” Bradley agreed, slamming his fist into his hand and laughing.

“No,” Playgirl happily said, raising a restraining hand. “I’ve devised a more seasonal send-off for these two. We’ll position and immobilize their limbs before taking them away. Everything we’ll need should be easily obtained, right here at the store. Let’s get to work.”

“You were right, Robin,” Flamebird said, once the criminals had gone to retrieve their tools. “It was a trap . . . the entire time.”

“I wondered why they didn’t spring alarms for this job, when they had at the toy store,” Robin lamented. “For what it’s worth, I wish I’d been wrong.”

The paralyzed pair remained conscious yet virtually immobilized as Milton and Bradley cut metal pipes open lengthwise and fitted them over the heroes’ straightened elbows and knees. Once these restraints had been welded back together, they effectively immobilized both captives completely. The wicked welders also positioned a metal bar between each captive’s knees. Finally, handcuffs shackled their wrists behind their backs Avalon Hill assisted the men with their wicked work, which following Playgirl’s demonic directions to the letter.

The men then carried the helpless heroes over the rooftops of Gotham City to the roof of Networld’s headquarters, where an enormous, unilluminated Christmas tree was surrounded by velvet ropes. The helpless heroes were set inside these ropes with their backs to the towering tree. Then, they were left alone to ponder their fate and enjoy the panoramic view of Gotham City, spread out beneath and before them. Christmas lights of all colors shimmered gaily in the distance.

“What’s this all about?” Flamebird fearfully asked. “Surely Playgirl didn’t leave us here just to freeze to death!” The blonde heroine had begun shivering.

“I’m not sure, Flamebird, but I don’t like it,” Robin replied, quivering involuntarily himself.

Presently, Playgirl stepped over the velvet ropes to address her helpless, shivering captives. Avalon Hill followed, maintaining a respectful distance as she regarded the scene with a wicked, knowing smile. “I hope you two aren’t too uncomfortable,” Playgirl said. “The boys are putting the finishing touches on a little electrical work.”

“We’ll be fine,” Flamebird defiantly predicted, “as soon as we get out of here and put you back behind bars.”

“Oh, neither of you is going anywhere, except to oblivion. What time is it, Avalon?”

“Just after eleven, boss,” Avalon Hill said, glancing at her watch. “Here come the boys now.”

The thugs each carried a coil of cable in each hand, which trailed behind as they approached. They moved behind the captives and clamped a cable to each pair of handcuffs’ chain and to the bar between each captive’s knees.

“We’ve finished, boss,” Milton announced.

“Right,” Bradley agreed, “and at midnight, Robin and Flamebird are, too.” Both men stepped behind the velvet ropes, joining Avalon Hill before admiring their handiwork.

“Totally,” Playgirl concurred. “In less than an hour, Katherine Kane will personally kick off Networld’s last-minute Christmas advertising campaign by lighting up this tree. The campaign is totally aimed at consumers and has gotten, like, a lot of press.”

“So, how do you plan to connect our deaths to Networld’s advertising campaign?” Flamebird asked.

“With parallel electrical circuits,” Playgirl answered. “I told you the boys were doing some electrical work. What I neglected to mention was how it would be directed – at both of you!” The villainess laughed.

“You fiends!” Robin raged.

“You have, like, no idea how right you are,” Playgirl delightedly said. “I’ll explain. This Christmas tree, to which we’ve wired both of you, has been the center of Networld’s initial campaign hype. So far, no one has seen it illuminated. When Ms. Kane throws the switch, all of Gotham City, except for the two of you, of course, will be in awe of the beautiful, seasonal display. Apparently, it will be quite newsworthy. Networld employees have worked hard on this tree, incorporating lots of bells and whistles, some of which will reportedly be bells and whistles.” Playgirl and her minions laughed, anticipating the remainder of the explanation.

“Holy High Voltage!” Robin looked down at where the cables were clipped to the bar between his knees and stretched his fingers toward the cable linked to his wrist shackles.

“Totally, Boy Blunder. I believe the voltage will be in the neighborhood of, like, 50,000 and when it comes, it will do an electrifying job on you in a matter of seconds. You see, you’re both set to conduct every bit of it as your lives reach their totally shocking conclusions.”

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Flamebird said. “Why did you choose an innocent Networld executive as our killer?”

“I prefer to think of her as my unwitting puppet, but since you’re more than just, like, a pretty face, Flamebird, I’ll tell you,” Playgirl replied. “This company’s sexy software CEO was robbed earlier today. Her losses in the robbery and the guilt she’ll feel after both of you die should cause her a good deal of mental anguish. After she’s suffered awhile, I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade her to sign over her shares in the company to me. The bad publicity your deaths will generate should send the Networld stock price plunging and Ms. Kane’s mind over the edge. Any rash actions on her part will also influence the share price and would be kind of a bonus.”

“Listen to me, Playgirl,” Flamebird softly began. “I’ve met Katherine Kane and I know her well enough to be certain your plan cannot succeed.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Playgirl thoughtfully said. “I’ve heard about how you and Batgirl thwarted Sandman’s plans to marry and murder Ms. Kane after he kidnapped her. Networld has other board members, though, and I’ve put some other pieces in place to cover certain contingencies as the game goes on. Meanwhile, I’m totally prepared to let the game, like, play out, you know?”

“Playgirl!” Robin raged. “You are not a nice person!” As he struggled, Robin found no means of reaching either of his cables.

“This is simply business, Boy Bird-Brain. You’d understand eventually, if I were to allow you to grow older. Since I won’t, I’m sure you’ll both find your finish as illuminating as I’ll find it delicious. We should, like, be going now, gang. Katherine Kane will soon engage her circuit and light these two up, just like the great big Christmas tree. I’d hate to miss that totally shocking display.” She and her minions favored their helpless victims with laughter before Milton, Bradley, and Avalon Hill turned away. “Bye bye, birdies. I’ll give your regards to my pretty, unwitting puppet when I see her later. Merry Christmas.” Playgirl said. The blonde beauty waved briefly to her victims, blowing them parting kisses before retreating over the velvet rope and following her sycophants from the rooftop. Their delighted laughter continued, echoing in the night briefly. Then, Robin and Flamebird were utterly alone again.

“What a hideous fate,” Flamebird fearfully said. “Do you have any ideas about how we might escape, Robin?”

“I’m not sure, Flamebird,” Robin admitted. He vainly tried to bend in his restraints and shook his chains in frustration. “Not yet! Try not to worry. We’ll get out of this.” He did not admit, however, as he encouraged her, that he had no idea how to proceed.

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