Brian Allen was at his usual afternoon post at the Gotham State
Penitentiary. It was Allen's job to censor the mail sent to the arch-villains
incarcerated at the facility.
Brian was unusually young to have been given this choice assignment. Although he had a spotless record, the real reason Warden Crichton had given him this job was because Allen was too good looking!
The guard was in his early twenties. With bronzed skin, blazing blue eyes, blonde hair and dark eyebrows, Brian was gaining too much attention from the inmates - both female and male! Since being overly handsome was not a good cause to dismiss an employee, Allen had been given positions that kept him out of direct contact with the prisoners.
Brian was often surprised by the letters sent to the super-criminal wing of the prison. It was not unusual for these villains to receive "resumes" from low-class hoods seeking to join their gangs. It was common for these messages to include return addresses or phone numbers. This made it quite easy for the authorities to keep an eye on these prospective henchpeople - and to even arrest those already wanted by the police!
Far and away, however, one prisoner received the most mail. It took Allen at least a couple of hours each day just to go through her letters. Many were requests for autographs or pictures. Some were proposals for business deals, such as endorsements or "tell-all" books or films. Others were for propositions of a more salacious nature. The addressee of all these messages was Selina Kyle: The Catwoman!
Allen was given broad discretion in deciding which letters would be given to the prisoners. His authority was, however, limited in two areas. Mail with either a religious or political subject matter received the benefit of the doubt. Unless the message advocated illegal acts or violence, Brian was directed to pass these types of missives along to the inmates.
With these instructions in mind, Brian read the letter to Ms. Kyle he had just opened:
MS. KYLE:
NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD WOMEN TO COME TO THE AID OF THEIR PARTY.
ANGELA DAVIS
It certainly was short . . . and it seemed to have some sort of political
message, albeit obscure. Brian tossed it into the "To Be Delivered" pile.
If Brian Allen had been a better student of American History in the late 1960s and early 1970s or of penology, he would have recognized "Angela Davis" as a famous radical, an advocate of penal reform and a staunch opponent of sexism, racism and classism in the criminal justice system. He then might have thought twice as to from whom the message might really be . . .
Late the following morning, Warden Crichton looked up from his paperwork and took a deep breath. With a practiced hand, he lit his pipe and leaned back in his chair, puffing away.
The Warden reflected that things finally seemed to be falling into place. Governor Stonefellow's successor, Hideo Hataki, had re-appointed Crichton warden of Gotham State Penitentiary mainly because no one else could be found to take the job! Trying to keep the likes of Gotham City's super-villains locked up was a thankless job, seen as a sure career-killer.
Now, however, he was confident that his new security measures had made the facility escape-proof. Not only that, almost all the arch-criminals were safely behind bars. King Tut and Mr. Freeze were both in mental hospitals, seemingly cured of all villainous tendencies. Black Widow was back at the Old Folks Home. Only Nora Clavicle was still on the loose . . . and she was hardly a costumed criminal.
"Yes," Crichton thought, "my life has certainly taken a turn for the better. Hmmm, I wonder how I'll get along with Lloyd Knox if he is elected mayor of Gotham City."
Suddenly, an alarm bell sounded in the distance! Then another . . . and another!! Soon, every alarm in the prison seemed to be ringing, demanding attention. The lights on the Warden's telephone system lit up like a Christmas tree.
He jabbed the top indicator with his finger. "Hello! . . . What's that? Jervis Tetch is missing?? Wait a minute . . ."
Crichton hit another line. "What?!? . . . Lorelei Circe has disappeared???"
Just then, the Prison Captain burst into the office. "Warden . . . all the inmates incarcerated in the Arch Criminal Wing . . . are gone!"
"How can that be?" demanded Crichton incredulously. "Is Cassandra Spellcraft still in her cell?"
"Yes, Warden," answered the Captain, "and that daffy husband of hers as well. Only the arch-criminals, the super-villains who were repeat offenders, have escaped."
Warden Crichton put his head in his hands, with his elbows on his desk, practically sobbing, "How can this be? How can this have happened?"
Within an hour, the news was all over Gotham City. Word of the disaster reacheed Barbara Gordon at the Gotham City Public Library. During her lunch hour, she walked a couple of blocks to a secluded pay phone.
"Commissioner Gordon. This is Batgirl," said Barbara in her disguised voice.
"Batgirl! Thank goodness you've called. I assume you've heard what's happened?"
"Yes, Commissioner. Have you asked Batman to use his Special Escaped Arch Criminal Batlocator in the Batcomputer?"
"It's no use, Batgirl. It didn't work. Batman says that last time, the six arch-criminals stayed together, because they wanted more camouflage pills from Dr. Cassandra. This time . . . with so many of them . . . it seems unlikely they'll stay together. Besides, we have no idea who is behind this mass escape," the Commissioner concluded.
"I see . . ."
"But, Batgirl," the Commissioner interrupted, "Batman and Robin should be here any minute to discuss the situation. If you could be here, too . . . ?"
"I'll be right there!"
Moments later, James Gordon, Chief O'Hara, Batman, Robin and Batgirl are all gathered together in the thirteenth floor Commissioner's Office of Police Headquarters.
"Holy Apocalypse!" declared the Boy Wonder.
"Commissioner, have you been able to get in touch with Batwoman?" asked Batgirl.
"Yes, Batgirl," Jim Gordon unknowingly replied to his daughter. "She said that she and Flamebird couldn't attend this meeting, but to please let them know if there's anything they can do to help."
"Commissioner, could you please have projected on your Closed Circuit TV a complete listing of who has escaped?"
"Certainly, Batman." Gordon buzzed Bonnie and asked her to have the information presented. In seconds, pictures are displayed on the screen for the five assembled crime fighters. They watch in grim silence as their greatest foes' images are put before them:
Batgirl stared at Chief O'Hara with a strange look on her face. She had just realized who was behind this largest jail break of super-villains in history . . .
Nighttime at the Gotham City docks - a woman in her late thirties, wearing a mini-skirted business suit, walked alone towards the end of one of the piers. Waiting for her was a huge hulk of a man, standing almost eight feet tall. Bulging with tremendous muscles all over his well tanned body, he weighed over 400 pounds. Stripped to the waist, he wore tight black pants tucked into heavy, knee-length black boots. Black, finger-less gloves were on his hands, while the man sported a skin-tight black leather mask, completely covering his head and face, except for his eyes and mouth. Strapped on one forearm was a strange contraption, with several tubes running up his left arm to the back of his mask.
The giant held out a large suitcase, "Here is your money, Senorita Clavicle."
Nora took the suitcase. Bane had handled it like a matchbook. For her it was a real armful. She cautiously opened it. Packed tightly inside were used twenty dollar bills.
"Just as we agreed, Senorita. Dix million of your dollars."
"Yes . . . quite," Nora replied. She shut the case and looked at the mass of humanity before her.
"You did an excellent job, Senorita. The destruction of The Batman has begun."
"Gracias, Senor Bane . . . and now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave." Nora Clavicle turned and began to walk away from the masked criminal. Fortunately for her, the luggage had four wheels and an attached leather strap. She had only gone about five paces when she suddenly turned, pivoted and fired a gun at the man who had just paid her ten million dollars!
Six slugs slammed into the Hispanic's massive chest. He staggered back, stumbling towards the edge of the pier, a questioning look in his eyes.
"I would have released the super-villainesses for nothing," Nora explained, "but I guess letting the male costumed crooks out was worth ten million . . . however, if you thought I was going to let some man take over Gotham City . . ."
Bane toppled into the sea, his inert body sinking beneath the waves.
". . . as you can tell, you were mistaken!"
Nora walked off into the night, pulling the suitcase behind her, whistling a gay little tune.