Police Lieutenant Diana Mooney could hear her rapid heartbeat and the rasp of her breath as she quickly traversed a torch-lit, stone corridor. She stopped suddenly, her mind reeling, as a passage to the left branched away from the corridor she occupied.
The Lieutenant turned toward the passage and backed against the cold, stone wall, darting glances right, left, and forward. Trying to relax, she looked down to where blood dripped from her fingers.
‘Which way?’ she wondered as her heart began pounding once again.
Every corridor she had taken since entering the first seemed to terminate in a dead end.
‘Wait,’ Diana silently told herself. ‘When did I enter this labyrinth? Who knows I’m here? Where is here?’ Her chest heaved as she muttered a curse. ‘I don’t even know where I am!’
She was lost, hopelessly lost, trapped inside the maze--with no way out!
At one point, she had scratched the walls with her fingernails to mark her progress. Unfortunately, her nails had slowly ground away to nothing and she had tired of the merciless pain drawing her fingertips across the stone inevitably caused. All the scratches and bloody lines on the walls revealed was she had been going around in circles, covering the same path over and over and over again.
She felt like an Athenian condemned to be sacrificed to the minotaur in King Minos’ labyrinth. Theseus had killed the monster and escaped with the help of Ariadne’s golden twine and Deadelus’ wise advice. Diana had neither of these assets.
New fears began to pile on top of the police lieutenant’s labyrinthphobia – fears such as the fear of being lost and the fear of dying alone. The policewoman felt her knees bend as she slid slowly down the stone wall to the floor – despondent, sobbing, and trembling with her head bowed.
‘How long have I been trapped in here? Has it been hours . . . or days?’
In any event, all she had to look forward to was utter exhaustion, followed by dehydration and then death.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light, as if someone had taken a picture.
The flash distracted her for a moment. ‘I wonder what that was?’
#####
Batgirl awoke to find herself stretched out on the floor of a room no wider or longer than she.
‘How did I get here? What’s the last thing I remember before I woke up?’
Disorientated, Batgirl resolved to examine her bonds. Her bare wrists and ankles were bound inside stringent cowhide cuffs–
That fact triggered a memory. ‘My gloves and boots are gone . . . taken by the Scarecrow!’
She remembered being on a beach . . . and the tide coming in . . . and drowning!
“Oh!” Batgirl said aloud. Being on the beach had been a drug-induced hallucination.
The reason for Batgirl’s drowning, an act of vengeance for Nora Clavicle’s death, had not been real. While it was true the fiendish feminist had vanished into time, Batgirl had been as much a victim of Clavicle’s mad, temporal experiments as the villainess herself.
Batgirl blinked and thrashed in her bonds. ‘Is this real?’ she wondered.
Batgirl resolved to find out. She dug her fingernails into her bare palms.
“Ow!!”
‘This certainly feels real,’ she decided. Then, however, she began to doubt the evidence provided by her own senses. ‘Doctor Bergman, though, is a master at creating illusions indistinguishable from reality.
‘Either way, what am I supposed to do? Just lay here?’ As the Dark Knight Damsel contemplated her situation, she stared upward. Then–
Is it my imagination or is the ceiling . . . descending!?’
Batgirl’s eyes first narrowed, then widened in horror as she watched the lowering shape above her. The whole ceiling wasn’t coming down, just a clear form – a shape that appeared to exactly match . . .
Batgirl’s body!
The descending object was like the top half of a mold of Batgirl, with a slightly extended lower edge. It looked as if it would cover Batgirl exactly, like a second skin. She would be completely immobilized.
‘Will I be able to breath?!’ Batgirl wondered.
The body mold had started at the ceiling, which Batgirl estimated to be ten feet above her. Now it was nine feet away . . . then eight . . .
Batgirl could feel sweat beading all over her body as the clear, seemingly plastic shape continued its inexorable descent. Seven feet . . . six.
Gotham’s Greatest Female Escape Artist thrashed about wildly. The best for which she could hope was to somehow twist out of line, so the see-through shroud wouldn’t fit flush with the floor. Then she would still have a chance.
Five feet. Batgirl noticed no matter how she contorted, the transparent cast matched her every movement! No matter what she did, it seemed destined to fit exactly on top of her!
Four feet . . . then three . . . two.
Batgirl wrenched violently at the bonds on her wrists, hoping against hope she could tear herself free. The restraints were designed in such a way that even dislocating her thumbs wouldn’t buy her freedom!
“NO!” Batgirl screamed. Twelve inches . . . then six . . . then–
The clear material settled silently onto the floor. Once there, it was surprisingly rigid. Batgirl couldn’t move it, not at all. The material pressed lightly on her body, but prevented her from moving significantly. Even deep breaths were impossible. Her eyelashes brushed the inner surface of her custom-fitting tomb when she blinked.
The only saving grace was that somehow, air passed through the plastic-like membrane. Batgirl was able to breath through her nose. Opening her mouth, though, was impossible. The material kept her chin immobilized, like a too-tight chin-strap.
Multiple fears began to gnaw at Batgirl’s mind. ‘How long will I have to stay like this? Will I ever get out?!’
Panic began to rise in the heroine’s gut as her stomach churned. She had to fight off the urge to hyperventilate, to become hysterical.
Even hurting herself, though, was impossible. Batgirl couldn’t smash herself to pieces against her plexiglass prison. At most she could only push certain parts of her body against it a tiny bit. She was held in place too completely.
Batgirl’s panic banished the terrible memories of drowning and her questions about the Scarecrow’s abilities where illusion was concerned. Her frantic mind wandered.
Batgirl remembered reading as a young girl about Floyd Collins, the Kentucky spelunker who had caught the attention of the entire nation in 1925 when he was pinned under a rock in a tiny cave, alone, for eighteen days before dying. The story had then terrified her.
The thought of something similar happening to her now did likewise.
The Scarecrow smiled as she observed Batgirl’s wide eyes as the heroine inhaled and exhaled through her nose, fighting to remain calm. The captive was still tied down to a gurney, with thick leather straps running just below her collarbone as well as across her waist and knees. The expressions continuously being etched on the redhead’s pretty face did not convey pain and anguish, but growing fear transforming into delicious terror.
The biochemists fear toxins were working perfectly. Batgirl’s amygdala – the small, almond-shaped structure in the brain which regulates fear in mammals – was under relentless chemical attack.
‘Two for one,’ the Scarecrow thought. ‘Taphephobia, the fear of being buried alive, twinned with its close counterpart, the classic claustrophobia.’
The Scarecrow had hooked Batgirl up to several medical instruments. ‘Hmm. Heart rate is getting dangerously fast and her blood pressure is too high. I don’t want to kill her . . . at least not yet. It is too soon, much too soon.’
Scarecrow looked over at a shelf full of vials of carefully labeled chemicals. Behind her mask, her eyes brightened as she found the vials for what she was looking. ‘Ah, perfect! This combination will have an even lower risk of immediate death, but her torment should be exquisite!’
Using a hypodermic needle, Doctor Bergman withdrew a small quantity of liquid from one of the vials. Repeating the procedure twice with other vials, she then introduced a drop from each into the drip bottle above the catatonic heroine.
‘Now, while I wait for this to take effect, I’ll check in on dear Lieutenant Mooney.’
#####
Batgirl was lost in a haze. As her awareness slowly grew, she could tell she was once again restrained. In an instant, she was aware of the intake of her own breath. She recognized her bonds this time were neither leather straps; chains; ropes; nor metal or plastic bands. This feeling was all too familiar.
She was being held in place by other people’s bodies!
Batgirl knew that, most likely, only one person could be responsible –
Nora Clavicle.
This time, though, there were some significant differences. For one thing, Batgirl felt as if she was falling . . . no, that wasn’t quite right. The sensation was more like floating, but the Dark Knight Damsel could tell she wasn’t suspended in water. ‘Very strange,’ she thought.
Second, the touch of the other people’s bodies against hers was different. She could feel the material of their clothes – or, more likely, costumes – more clearly somehow.
Third, someone was right in her face. She could feel the warm breath on her lips as he exhaled. Already, in fact, a couple of times their faces had touched before they each jerked back. From their brief encounters, Batgirl could tell this other person was male.
‘Why can’t I see?’ Batgirl wondered, more annoyed than anything else. As unpleasant as Nora’s human knots were, the heroine had survived every one. ‘I don’t see why this time should be any different.’
Batgirl smiled to herself. ‘This time, I can’t see anything.’
Then it hit her. The answer was, Batgirl was blindfolded!
Suddenly, the familiar voice of Batgirl’s nemesis began to speak.
“I have you to thank for this human knot, Batgirl. By sending me back in time, you permitted me access to lost ancient knowledge.
“You are all tied in the . . . Gordian Human Knot!"
“What is the Gordian Human Knot?” a voice asked right in front of Batgirl's face, which made her flinch slightly. Batgirl recognized the voice as Robin's.
“Let me tell you, Boy Bow-Knot,” Nora began. “The Gordian Human Knot is of infinite complexity. Therefore, it requires many more victims than, say, the Siamese Human Knot.
“Also, you may – for an instant – be relieved to lean it does not strangle with motion. Please feel free to struggle all you want."
Until now, the victims had tried to remain absolutely motionless, thinking that if any one moved, it would doom them all to a horrible, strangled death. Upon Nora's invitation, everyone began to try to disentangle themselves from each other. The whole web of flesh heaved and wobbled like a massive balloon full of water, the details changing, but always returning to its original, vaguely pyramidical-shape.
“There is, however," Nora continued, "one unique, diabolical feature of the Gordian Human Knot. As I can see you are discovering, just like the Gordian Knot of old, it IS IMPOSSIBLE TO UNTIE!"
“I don’t believe it!” Batwoman declared.
“If that’s so, why have I never heard of it?” Batman asked. The Caped Crusader’s store of arcane information was unmatched.
“Because, Batman,” Clavicle answered, “until now, the Gordian Human Knot was also impossible to tie.”
“What’s different now?”
Batgirl recognized Flamebird’s voice. Batgirl wondered, ‘Just how many of us are in this knot, anyway?’
“Haven’t any of you guessed, even though you’re blindfolded? Here, let me show you.”
Heavy footfalls sounded on metal. Then–
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” said ElectraWoman.
“Electra-Lost in Space!”
‘What is DynaGirl talking about?’ Batgirl wondered. Nora Clavicle was all too glad to provide the answer.
“For those of you I haven’t reached yet, DynaBrat is right. You’re in a giant satellite, in orbit around the Earth!”
‘That’s the first sensation I couldn’t place!’ Batgirl realized. ‘Weightlessness!’
“It was impossible to tie the Gordian Human Knot on Earth because the ground got in the way,” the Green Hornet concluded.
“Great,” said Kato despondently.
“Don’t feel lonely, though,” Nora teased. “Even after I leave, this camera will continue to beam an ever-changing view, as you tumble through space, of your hopelessly knotted bodies down to Earth, for everyone in the world to enjoy!
“The only way you can ever hope to get out of that human knot is, if, somehow, eventually, you can reach some sort of cutting tool and you cut off one of your . . . ha, Ha, HA . . . limbs!”
“You fiend!” said Batman.
“Yes, aren’t I?” agreed Clavicle. Her voice sounded close. “Now, Batgirl, you’ll see why I waited to remove your blindfold until last!”
Batgirl didn’t like the sound of triumph in Nora’s voice. As her blindfold was untied, she understood why.
‘I’m . . . naked!’
Batgirl instinctively tried to pull her arms and legs in to cover herself, but was held fast in the tangle of limbs. Now she knew why this knot had felt different! Her bare skin was touching the costumes of the other, still-clothed, crimefighters.
Worst of all, her cowl and mask were gone, too!
“Barbara Gordon,” Nora Clavicle announced exultantly. “Who would have thought the mighty Batgirl was the woman I saw so long ago at that civic luncheon in your father’s honor?”
‘My father!’ Barbara thought, horror-stricken, as she became aware of the implications of her situation.
Only after a moment was Barbara able to take stock of her surroundings. Right in front of her face was Robin’s. In fact, as someone’s left hand was pushing against the back of her head, it was all she could do to keep from kissing the former Boy Wonder.
Barbara’s right arm was draped across ElectraWoman’s back. Babs could feel her right hand wedged underneath the blonde’s left breast. Barbara’s left hand was stuck behind Robin’s neck, trapped up against someone else’s leg.
An arm ran across Barbara’s back, while a pair of legs pressed against her sides, meeting at and crossing the small of her back.
The bottom of someone’s boot pushed against Barb’s left butt cheek. Her upper left leg was trapped between a bent leg and the side of another person’s butt. That lower limb was lodged between the knee of the bent leg and the side of a person’s head. Barbara’s bare left foot had been rammed between two people’s heads.
Someone’s right hand was stuck high on the outside of Barbara’s right leg. A face was pushed against the outside of her right knee, while a hand seemed to hold the back of her right ankle. The foot was positioned among a knee, forearm and back of a woman’s head.
“Well, I must be going,” the mad feminist announced, “but don’t worry, Miss Gordon. I’ll personally convey an invitation to Police Commissioner Gordon to tune in to the Clavicle Network’s first broadcast from space!”
The knotted crimefighters slowly tumbled as they floated in the large, cylindrical chamber, some twenty feet long. Barbara was able to watch as Nora ponderously moved across one of the two oval ends of the room. In zero-G, terms such as floor or ceiling were meaningless. The Lunatic Lesbian was wearing magnetic boots that enabled her to walk in the weightless environment. Eventually, Nora made it to a hatch, stepped through and closed it behind her.
Barbara couldn’t be sure how many there were with her, tied in the Gordian Human Knot. Eight victims had spoken. She would make nine, but there could have been more. For a long time they floated silently, tumbling until they bounced softly against a side of the chamber, then rebounding in the opposite direction.
Robin broke the silence, although with a whisper. “Barbara . . . I mean, er, Batgirl, I’m sorry.”
Barbara’s response contained a confidence she didn’t feel. “Don’t worry about it, Robin. Our first concern is getting out of this knot.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Gordon,” Batman said. There was something in his voice neither Barbara nor Batgirl had ever heard before. “I’ve been carefully examining this human knot. I’m reluctantly forced to agree with Ms. Clavicle’s analysis. This is the first truly inescapable bondage I’ve ever seen.” Then his voice got very quiet. “Unless I can figure out how to sacrifice one of my limbs.”
“No!” Flamebird screamed.
“There’s got to be another way!” ElectraWoman declared.
“If so, I don’t know what it is,” Batman said sadly.
Batgirl tried to shut out the voices around her. ‘This isn’t real, anymore than the beach or the plastic shroud! I know I’m still in the tunnels underneath Gotham State University!’
Batgirl felt her heart pounding inside her chest. Even though she “knew” this situation was an illusion, she hadn’t been able to calm herself.
The heroine tried to coldly, dispassionately consider circumstances. ‘What fears are the Scarecrow trying to produce in me this time? Fear of falling? Gymnophobia, the fear of being naked?’
Despite her effort to remain calm, Batgirl could feel the all-too-familiar adrenaline rush of imminent danger. The sensation caused a shadow of a doubt to flit across her mind.
‘Is Scarecrow right? Am I addicted to danger?’
Then another, more horrible thought occurred to the Dark Knight Damsel.
‘Maybe I’m having this hallucination because the Scarecrow has removed my mask!’
Batgirl had long acknowledged her greatest fear was that her father, Police Commissioner Gordon, would someday discover that she, Barbara Gordon, his daughter, was Batgirl. This illusion was preying on that fear – the fear of exposure, not just of her body, but of her secret identity to the entire world, including to her “Daddy.”
Barbara thought about the day when she was a child and her father told her “Mommy” had died of cancer. As awful as her mother’s death was, it was not unexpected. Even as a little girl, she could sense her mother didn’t have long to live.
‘No, the worst thing about that day was the look on his face – the sadness, the disappointment, the helplessness, the agony.’ Barbara had resolved to do everything in her power so as to never see that look again.
‘But what if Daddy finds out I’m Batgirl from some third person: some villain, or the press, or even Batman? I couldn’t bear it!’
Barbara resolved right then and there to tell her father his daughter is Batgirl . . . someday.
‘Wait a minute. I don’t seem quite so scared anymore . . .’
#####
Moments earlier, an ebony-gloved hand had removed the IV needle from Batgirl’s right forearm. Next, the rescuer had taken a flash picture of the heroine, tightly bound on the gurney. After the expenditure of great effort, razor-sharp claws severed the thick leather straps and cowhide cuffs restraining Batgirl. Finally, the Dominoed Daredoll’s liberator slipped silently away.
Batgirl fought back to awareness. With a start, her eyes popped open. The drug-induced hallucinations receded like the bad dreams they were as she struggled to sit up.
“Oh, my head . . .” Batgirl said aloud, putting her bare right hand to her cowl. She was gratified to learn it was still in place. Bleary-eyed, she cast her gaze around the cell.
A wave of dizziness almost caused the heroine to fall as she leaned over to look under the gurney. There, in a neat pile, lay her utility belt, gloves and boots.
Batgirl’s legs almost gave out from under her as she slid off the gurney. Once she steadied herself, she gingerly sank to a seated position to put on her boots. Midway through the process, she was struck with a sudden thought.
‘Diana!’
Chastising herself for not thinking of the lieutenant earlier, Batgirl swept up her belt and gloves. As she did, her keen mind registered something she had been too disorientated to notice earlier.
‘My bonds were cut, as if by a razor. Who released me? Where are they now? . . . and where is the Scarecrow?’
The mystery of the identity of her emancipator was pushed to the back of her mind as she raced to the next cell. As Scarecrow had said, the villainess had moved the policewoman from the brownstone basement into the biochemist’s underground lair. She found Lieutenant Mooney looking even worse for wear than her friend had she didn’t know how many hours ago.
Diana’s hair was matted; her clothes soaked with sweat. She still shrank from Batgirl’s touch, lost in the hellish nightmare in which the Scarecrow had trapped her.
Batgirl reached into her utility belt for her cell phone. “Damn,” she said when there was no signal. ‘Do I try to haul Diana out of here or do I go above ground and call for help?’
The Purple-Clad Protector resolved not to leave her friend behind. Despite Mooney fighting her, Batgirl was able to get an arm around the lieutenant’s back and under the opposite arm. She knew the quickest route to the surface, but their journey was much more difficult than Batgirl expected.
Her ordeal at the hands of Doctor Bergman had left her exhausted. It was almost more than she could do to put one foot ahead of the other, much less drag the still terrified Lieutenant Mooney along. A trip Batgirl could have usually made in less than a minute took the better part of half an hour.
She was just about to open the door that led to the surface, when she heard the sound of running feet from around the corner. ‘If that’s Scarecrow . . .’
Batgirl set the lieutenant down as gently as she could and prepared for battle. She tried to assume a fighting stance, but felt her muscles quivering as they tried to support her weight. She was nearly spent herself and felt her balance might falter any second. On the verge of collapse, she waited.
Around the corner of the tunnel appeared a red and Lincoln green-clad figure.
“Robin!”
Batgirl fell to the floor, unconscious.
The Scarecrow watched, hidden in the shadows, as Robin bent over the worn out crimefightress. Once again, Doctor Bergman rubbed the back of her bare head with a bare hand, her gloves and mask tucked under her black belt.
‘If I ever find out who cold-cocked me . . .’ the Scarecrow seethed. It seemed unlikely Robin was to blame. Attacking from behind was not a hero’s style. Besides, it was even less likely he would have left her unrestrained.
‘This plan has certainly gone south,’ the brilliant biochemist decided. ‘I’ve got to come up with something else . . . perhaps something more practical . . . more lucrative.’
The Scarecrow made her way quietly down the tunnel, away from Batgirl, Robin and Lieutenant Mooney. ‘For now, though, it’s time for a strategic withdrawal.’
A little more than an hour later, Batgirl drowsily opened her eyes. She was propped up against a wall, next to where she had fallen, just short of the door that led from the old Arkham Asylum tunnel system to the outside world.
“How are you doing?”
Batgirl looked up into Robin’s concerned eyes. Seeing her long-time friend put her immediately at ease.
The feeling lasted all of four seconds.
“Diana!”
“Don’t worry, Batgirl. She’s safely at Gotham City Hospital by now. The EMTs took her away almost an hour ago.”
Batgirl heaved a sigh of relief.
“I also had them look you over. They wanted to take you in, too, but when they said all you needed was some rest, I convinced them to leave you here with me.”
“Thank you, Robin.” The situation of trying to protect her identity while receiving medical treatment was one Batgirl sought to avoid whenever possible. “How did you find us?”
Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck two. “Late yesterday afternoon, I began to suspect it was Doctor Grace Bergman, not Catwoman, who had murdered Delisha Davis. Everyone, though, kept telling me she was still in Gotham State Penitentiary. Finally, I went out there and convinced Warden Crichton to let me have a look.”
Batgirl regarded the Twenty-Something Titan, who was some seven years younger than herself. “And?” she prompted.
“There was nothing in her bunk but–”
Batgirl cut him off. “Let me guess – a scarecrow.”
“That’s right. The guards were so frightened of her, they did whatever she told them.”
“And then you came and rescued me.” Batgirl said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Thanks again, Robin.”
A look of puzzlement crossed Robin’s face. “But, no, Batgirl, I didn’t. I searched the tunnel system, looking for the Scarecrow, but I didn’t even know you had been captured. I heard someone near this door and came running.”
‘Then who could it have been?’ Batgirl wondered. 'Batman? Batwoman? Flamebird?’
Later that morning, the day before Halloween, the Fearsome Fivesome met with Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara again in the former’s office.
“I’m pleased to report Lieutenant Mooney is doing well and should be back on duty soon,” the Chief reported.
“That is good news,” said Batgirl.
“But now we have two super-villainesses at large,” Flamebird impatiently declared. “Catwoman and Scarecrow!"
Batman spoke. Robin had noticed how much better his mood had been once it had come to light Catwoman had not killed anyone. “Criminals are often most dangerous when their plans go awry. With that in mind, plus the fact she’s already committed murder, I think, for now, we should focus our attention on–
“GET DOWN!”
As he was speaking, Batman had just happened to look out one of the large windows in the Commissioner’s office. Coming toward them was a small rocket!
The missile impacted the bullet-proof glass with a dull thud. The nosecone had been made of a putty-like material. Instead of the expected explosion, there was a high-pitched whine.
The sound increased in frequency until the window shattered! Immediately thereafter, a large crow flew in the window, dropped a bundle and flew out!
“Careful!” Batman cautioned as Batwoman reached for the package.
Batwoman examined the delivery. “It’s just a note.” The woman in yellow and black read the message. “Scarecrow wants
$ 100 million or she says she’ll release her fear toxin on the general public tomorrow.”
“Halloween,” the Commissioner observed.
“Holy Extortion!” declared Robin.
“The note also says, to prove she’s serious, there’s going to be a demonstration . . . within the hour!”
“How will she spread her chemicals?” Batgirl wondered. “Through the water supply? In the air?”
Batman waved his right hand back and forth. “We may not have to worry about that yet. Scarecrow is making this up as she goes along. No matter how brilliant she is, she still needs supplies.”
“Won’t she just steal what she needs?” Flamebird asked.
“No, I see what Batman means,” answered Batwoman. “Why take the risk of stealing certain chemicals when it’s easier and safer to just buy them?”
“Right,” praised Batman. From his utility belt he pulled out a wireless phone with a screen. “I’ll have the Batcomputer compare the known ingredients of the Scarecrow’s fear toxin with suppliers in and around Gotham City.”
Meanwhile, on fashionable Fifteenth Avenue, Professor Timothy Chumley of Gotham State University walked into Spiffany’s Jewelry Store, wearing a duster.
“May I help you, sir?” a well-dressed clerk asked the distinguished-looking man.
At his words, a look of sheer terror affixed itself upon the professor’s face. He reached underneath his long coat and pulled out a machine gun.
“I’ve got to kill you all! It’s the only way to save everyone!!”
Pandemonium erupted as a hail of bullets issued from the gun’s barrel. Fortunately, the professor’s unbridled panic and unfamiliarity with the weapon prevented him from hitting anybody. Cases throughout the store, however, were shattered by the fusillade.
In the next block, Officers Montoya and Pelzman were on routine patrol in a black and white. Pelzman’s partner had a checkered career.
Five years ago, the Mexican-American policewoman had risen to the rank of Detective. At that point, Renee had helped Batman capture Selina Kyle in Batgirl’s body. Shortly thereafter, though, Montoya had been embroiled in a scandal involving a uniformed policeman’s wife. She was then demoted.
Renee heard the unmistakable sound of automatic gun fire. “Come on, Pelzman, let’s go!” Her handsome partner engaged the siren, while Montoya called it in.
Less than twenty seconds later, the patrol car pulled up in front of Spiffany’s, just as the last of the customers and clerks poured out of the venerable establishment. It seemed as if every pane of glass in the place had been broken.
Montoya and Pelzman took a position on the far side of their squad car, facing the front of the store. In short order, Professor Chumley staggered out, a look of absolute fear on his face. He held the machine gun carelessly in his left hand, pointed at the sidewalk.
“Put it down, mister!” Montoya shouted. Both she and her partner had their guns trained on the academician.
“There’s only one way! Only one way out!!” the man muttered. With his right hand, he reached inside his coat and snapped a belt buckle in place.
ZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTT
The trustees of Gotham State University wouldn’t have to worry about paying Professor Chumley his pension.
“Darn it all,” Batman said, in as close as he would ever come to profanity. “Nothing! No record of any unusual purchases of the chemicals Scarecrow needs to make her fear toxin.”
“Maybe she already had stockpiled what she needed,” offered Batgirl.
“Or maybe she bought the stuff with cash at a place that doesn't have its inventory connected to the internet,” suggested Batwoman.
“Or maybe she did just steal the stuff,” Flamebird said grumpily.
The Commissioner’s telephone rang. “Excuse me.” He took the call, the expression on his face getting more serious by the second. After he hung up, Commissioner Gordon solemnly relayed news of the events at Spiffany’s to the assembled crimefighters.
”That was the Scarecrow’s demonstration” Batwoman declared flatly.
“Professor Chumley was on staff at Gotham State University,” the Commissioner informed the group. “His specialty had been the study of nervous breakdowns.”
“That poor man,” said Batgirl, “driven to rampage and suicide by fear . . . brought on by that heartless fiend!”
“It’s hard to believe,” Chief O’Hara said sadly.
Five masked faces looked at him. Flamebird spoke for them all. “No, Chief, it isn’t, not if you’ve ever been exposed to Scarecrow’s chemicals.”
Robin pounded his right fist into his left palm. “We’ve got to keep Scarecrow from releasing that stuff on the populace!”
“But how?” the Chief asked helplessly.
“I’ve spoken at length with Mayor Linseed and Governor Hataki. Paying the ransom is out of the question,” the Commissioner announced.
“There’s only one way,” Batman declared. “Commissioner, Chief, I suggest you have two-person teams at strategic points along the water system, as well as having the above-ground pipes monitored from the air.”
“Good thinking, Batman,” the Commissioner agreed. “I’ll also ask the Mayor and Governor for help from the National Guard.”
“Excellent,” said Batman. “Then, have as many of your officers as possible on the beat tomorrow night. The five of us will also spread out and cover as much of downtown as we can. Everyone on patrol will be issued new, improved Batantidote pills,” Batman held up his hand, “but with strict instructions not to take them unless absolutely necessary. To do otherwise would risk rash behavior.”
“We’ll do as you say, Batman,” said Chief O’Hara.
“Thank you for your confidence,” Batman responded. Looking at the masked crimefighters, he continued, “I suggest we get some rest. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to bring a very long night.”
A half an hour before midnight, Barbara, dressed only in a sheer nightgown, stared out the glass sliding door that led onto the balcony of her eighth floor apartment. Even though she had been exhausted the night before, now she was wide awake.
“We’re all missing something, Charlie,” Barbara said to her pet bird, now hidden behind his nightly birdcage cover, “but I can’t figure out what it is.”
Barbara had just about resolved to give up and try to go back to sleep, when her eyes spotted something unusual in the sky. She peered at it curiously, even grabbing a pair of binoculars she kept handy, to try to determine what it was.
“It does seem to be slowly coming this way,” she told her unseen pet, “but I can’t quite make out what it is.” Barbara decided to heat up a cup of milk in the microwave and then come back to take another look.
A couple of minutes later, Barbara was again staring out into the night. After sipping her warm, white beverage, she sat the cup down and once more took up the binoculars.
“Ah, I can see it now, Charlie,” Barbara said. “It’s an advertising blimp.”
‘Strange,’ thought Babs. ‘It’s kind of late for a promotional flight.’
“Oh, well,” said Barbara aloud. “I guess Gotham is ‘The City that Never Sleeps.’”
The librarian finished her milk and was about to go back to bed when, on a whim, she decided to have one last look at the aircraft. ‘I wonder what it’s advertising?’
Peering through the binoculars, she could clearly read the words, “THE WORZEL.” on the side of the blimp.
“That’s the new hybrid, fuel-efficient car that’s just been introduced.” Barbara said aloud. She headed toward her bedroom. “Good night, Charlie,” she called over her shoulder.
Barbara was settling back under her covers as she thought about what she had just seen. ‘I wonder if that car is named after Worzel Gummidge, the English character created by Barbara Euphan Todd? Those books are still popular with the children at the library.’
As she turned onto her side, Barb smiled at the memory of the happy children when she introduced them to the character at the library’s “Story Hour.” ‘Ah, yes. Worzel Gummidge, The–’
Barbara shot out of bed like a rocket!
‘SCARECROW OF SCATTERBROOK!!’
Barbara raced into her Batgirl nook and grabbed the cell phone out of her utility belt.
With it being so late and Diana in the hospital, Sergeant Goldberg was on duty. “Hello?” he asked.
“Bill, this is Batgirl!” Barbara said in her disguised voice. It was all she could do to keep from talking too fast. “The Scarecrow is getting ready to attack! In twenty minutes it will be midnight, not only technically Halloween, but also, literally, tomorrow!”
Goldberg had been fully briefed on the situation, but, naturally, had not expected this development. “How do you know?”
“There’s a blimp over downtown right now, that, unless I’m sorely mistaken, has Scarecrow’s fear gas on board! She doesn’t expect to get the money – this time. She just wants to cause mass hysteria!”
The words chilled Goldberg to the bone. “What do you want me to do?”
“Alert everyone!” Batgirl declared. To her, that course of action was obvious. “But first, patch me through to Batwoman.”
“Batwoman?” questioned Goldberg.
“Yes!” Batgirl snapped, clearly exasperated.
“Okay, ma’am, you got it!” Goldberg replied.
Batgirl quickly selected a rendevous point far enough from her apartment to avoid suspicion, but close enough to allow the meeting to take place as soon as possible.
“Hello?” Kathy Kane sleepily said. “Commissioner?”
“Batwoman, this is Batgirl. I need one of your Bat Gyros – immediately!! The future of Gotham City may depend on it!”
Batgirl convinced Batwoman there was no time for the Distaff Duo to change into costume. Batwoman agreed to send the spare Bat Gyro to the designated rendezvous point, but also told Batgirl she and Flamebird would be following shortly. The software magnate also gave the Curved Crusader an over-the-phone crash course in how to pilot the unusual vehicle.
Kathy guided the Bat Gyro to Batgirl, while Betty put on her Flamebird costume. The Goggled Gal didn’t want to wait for her mentor, impatiently tapping her boot as Kathy Kane started to pull on the Batwoman costume. ‘I hope Batgirl will be alright,’ thought Flamebird.
Batgirl jumped aboard the Bat Gyro, flipping off the remote control. Before leaving her apartment, Barbara had ingested one of Batman’s Batantidote pills. ‘I hope it doesn’t make me too reckless, but for what I’m planning, it probably can only help!’
Fortunately, the design of the Bat Gyro’s control systems was user-friendly. Batgirl took off into the night. She consulted the watch on her wrist. ‘Less than five minutes to go.’
Countless neon lights joined with street lamps and car headlights to give the air an eerie glow. Batgirl quickly located the advertising blimp in the night sky over Gotham City.
The new Bat Gyro pilot maneuvered her vehicle even with the top of the blimp, on the same side of the balloon as the door on the gondola suspended beneath. Toggling a switch, a black rope ladder fell out of the bottom of the one-person whirlybird. The engines of the blimp were much louder than that of the Bat Gyro in stealth mode. ‘With any luck, I’ll be right on top of Scarecrow before she even knows I’m there.’
Batgirl had little doubt Scarecrow was aboard the gondola below the blimp. ‘I haven’t seen any henchpeople with her this time. Besides, if I know Scarecrow, she’ll want a bird’s eye view of the havoc she plans her fear gas to cause.
‘Now, this is the tricky part.’ Batgirl had to match the speed and course of the Bat Gyro with that of the blimp. It would have been a difficult task, even for an experienced pilot.
Batgirl looked at her watch again. ‘One minute to go! This will have to do!!’ Batgirl set the controls and swung her boots out into empty space, before finding a foothold on the ladder. She quickly began her descent.
The spinning blades of the Bat Gyro caused Batgirl’s cape to flutter. The heroine climbed down the rope ladder faster than was prudent, considering the sidewalks of Gotham waited hundreds of feet below.
The pace of the blimp was languid as its forward progress was hindered by a slight headwind. Risking a quick glance down, Batgirl realized the target Scarecrow had chosen for the bloated, gaseous dart.
‘Police Headquarters!’
With a mere three rungs of the ladder remaining, Batgirl finally came even with her target, the door of the gondola. As she had observed at a distance, the door had a large window above the handle, large enough for Batgirl to smash through. If, however, it resisted her initial impact, she took a tiny Bat-Bomb out of her utility belt, similar to the device Scarecrow had used on her father’s office window.
Inside the gondola, the Scarecrow was poised over a valve. She started to turn it, just as Batgirl arced toward the door’s window.
Time had run out!
The points of Batgirl’s high heels struck the window simultaneous with the soles of her boots. The four-pronged attacked shattered the glass and Batgirl swung onto the floor of the compartment in a slight crouch, dropping the unneeded Bat-Bomb onto the floor.
The Scarecrow whirled at the sound of breaking glass. “Batgirl!? Where did you come from?!”
“That doesn’t matter,” Batgirl said, straightening into her familiar hands-on-hips pose. “What does matter is where you’re going – back to Gotham State Penitentiary!”
“You’re too late, Batgirl!” Doctor Bergman crowed. “I’ve already started to release the fear gas!” The nose of the blimp started to dip.
The true horror of the Scarecrow’s plan started to dawn on Batgirl. ‘She’s not just releasing tanks of her chemicals. The blimp itself is full of them!’
“By the time this blimp reaches the ground, Gotham City will be in a state of complete consternation! I, of course, have taken the antidote. After what happens here, no one will ever dare refuse any of my demands!”
The Scarecrow pulled a handgun out of her belt and aimed it right at the bat on Batgirl’s chest. “I doubt you usually suffer from hoplophobia, the fear of firearms, but my fear gas should be starting to work on you already!”
Batgirl felt a slight tremor of trepidation, but reasoned that could have been caused by many things. So far, the new Batantidote was allowing her to remain in control.
“While I’d much prefer to have you die of fright, other so-called super-criminals have frittered away far too many opportunities to get rid of you. I’m going to do the job myself right now, in the simplest way possible!”
Batgirl watched as Scarecrow’s finger tightened around the trigger. Timing her move perfectly, she dove to the side as the bullet crashed into the door behind her.
As she moved, a stray thought passed through Batgirl’s head.
‘I wonder if Fear Gas is flammable?’
Instantly, Batgirl learned the answer to her question.
WHOOOOOSH!
Flames shot from the hammer of the gun up Scarecrow’s arm, setting the straw in her costume on fire! The scream forming in the back of the villainess’ throat gave the crackling flames an insane counterpoint. Batgirl would never forget her ghoulish glimpse of Scarecrow’s fingers clawing at her blazing mask and hat. In less than a second, the gondola was ablaze.
Instinctively, Batgirl threw herself out the door to escape the inferno. In a heartbeat, she realized how foolish her reaction had been!
‘The blimp started descending the moment Scarecrow began releasing the gas! There’s no way the ladder can still be within reach!!’
With no hope of success, her hands and feet desperately grasped for the rope ladder she knew would not be there.
‘This is it. This time I’m really going to die.’
Miraculously, her hands found purchase!!
‘This is impossible!’ Batgirl thought.
”YES!” cried Flamebird. The twenty-year old heroine had refused to wait for Batwoman and had flown off on her own BatGyro, a minute or two ahead of her aunt. After coming within some hundred feet of the blimp, the Girl Wonder had analyzed the situation. Flamebird then had taken remote control of Batgirl’s gyro and had it descend to a point with its trailing rope ladder dangling below the door of the gondola.
Batgirl looked up. Coming closer, illuminated by the flames of the burning blimp, was the goggled heroine. Batgirl gave Flamebird a grateful wave, then made her way up the rope ladder.
Far below, the remains of the flaming blimp hurtled earthward. Lacking a metal frame like a dirigible, the falling wreckage looked more like a burning marshmallow than the Hindenburg.
The fear gas was oxidized harmlessly in the conflagration. Thermal updrafts buoyed the blimp over the city. Finally, it fell into the Atlantic.
‘The Scarecrow couldn’t possibly survive that crash, to say nothing of the fire,’ Batgirl thought.
‘Could she?’
Batgirl’s gaze remained momentarily fixed on the remnants of the blimp as her mind reviewed the events of the last few minutes. She inhaled when she realized how improbable her own survival had been. Exhaling deliberately, she brought her mind back to the present.
Batgirl steered the Bat Gyro to follow Flamebird. The Girl Wonder maneuvered to land upon the roof of Police Headquarters.