Batgirl Steals the Show

Click here to read Part One of this story, Shame's Rodeo.

Batgirl Steals the Show

by Mr. Deathtrap

In our last installment, Batgirl was bound tightly to a flatbed, horse-drawn wagon. Shortly thereafter, Shame sent her on a one-way, two-mile trip to the bottom of a ravine beneath a damaged bridge. For you, years have passed, but Batgirl hasn’t moved even an insidious inch since we left her. As we return, neither the horses nor our heroine will be spared unless Gotham City’s Dominoed DareDoll does something soon. If you care for Batgirl, read on. The worst is yet to come.

*BATSPIN*

Hoofbeats thundered on the pot-holed pavement as Batgirl plunged toward the perilous precipice.

She struggled fiercely against her ropes, trying not to panic as her fears mingled with the excitement of danger. The bouncing of the wagon seemed to maximize the effect of every bump in the road. Shame would never know, but Batgirl suspected the nameless cosmic forces which did such things had conspired to make her short journey to oblivion as uncomfortable as possible.

Yet, the jouncing had loosened her gag. Even so, the horses’ hooves and bumping of wooden wheels on the uneven road would have drowned her cries for help - not, of course, that she had an ally within earshot, anyway.

CRACK!

That noise had been out of place. Another gunshot, perhaps? Shame had sent his horses to take their deadly plunge with a shot near their ears. Now, it seemed, the Wicked Westerner and his succulent sidekick were moving into position to witness Batgirl’s grisly demise. Perhaps, to rub it in, they had begun celebrating with more gunshots.

Suddenly, a realization struck Batgirl, snapping her from her pessimistic reflection. The scenario she had been imagining was utterly impossible. Shame would have had to send her off, race to his horse, mount up, and have galloped close to her position, all in a matter of seconds. There was another explanation for that noise. There HAD to be!

Batgirl glanced around seeking an explanation and widened her eyes as the condition of the wagon wheel to her right registered. A crack had appeared in the rim of the wheel and the side of the wagon was starting to shake.

This was the slim chance she had not dared to hope to be given. She began to throw her body from side to side. She executed each movement with more violence, knowing if she was to cause the wagon to shake itself apart in time to keep herself on level ground, she needed to act RIGHT NOW!

The wheel wobbled in response to Batgirl’s exertions. She redoubled her efforts and watched joyfully as it folded beneath the wagon.

SNAP!

Splinters flew as the wheel disintegrated. Naturally, the wagon tilted sharply and slowed as the side without a wheel dragged along the rutted roadbed.

Batgirl changed her tactics. She stretched her arms and legs, straining to touch her bindings to the pavement and hold them in place. As what was left of the wagon was dragged along, Batgirl felt the strands of her bindings torn asunder. After traveling a few fateful feet and what seemed to have been an eternity, she pulled one arm free.

Quickly she tore the gag from her mouth. "Whoa!" she shouted as she withdrew a razor sharp blade from its sheath and slashed at her other wrist. She summoned all her strength and managed to sit up and reach for the horses’ reigns.

"Whoa!" she shouted again, feeling the leather strands among her fingers and wrenching back sharply. The careening wagon slowed. Batgirl tugged more gently on the reigns and coaxed the horses to move more slowly with increasingly moderate tones. The beasts finally halted at the edge of the ravine before the remains of a bridge, where they kicked the earth nervously.

"That was close," Batgirl told them as she cut her ankles free and stood, putting her blade away. She moved forward and led the horses away from the brink of the ravine. "Time to get back to town and clean up Shame’s gang."

*BATSPIN*

Meanwhile, at the Sun Down Saloon, Shame paced. "Now, where the heck are they?" he asked no one in particular.

Chief Standing Pat puffed on a cigar.

"What did he say?" Shame asked. The tall American Indian spoke mostly through smoke signals.

"He said, 'Batman probably thought your note was a joke because we tried to use good grammar and proper spelling,'" Calamity Jan translated.

"You got all that from one puff? Never mind. FRED, I told you not to check over that note."

Fernando Ricardo Enrique Dominquez rolled his eyes. While Shame had not allowed him to punctuate the single sentence comprising the note, he had slipped a comma between Shame’s reference to Batman and rest of that sentence. Evidently, he realized, the single punctuation mark had diminished the authenticity and credibility of the message.

"All right, listen up," Shame ordered. "We gotta let Batman and Robin know we mean business. So I’m gonna send a bullet and a lock of the Mayor’s hair to police headquarters. Now, that oughta show ‘em."

"Begging your pardon, Shame," FRED said. "May I point out Mayor Linseed is very nearly bald."

"So what?"

"That means he has very little hair to send to the police," the literate Latin henchman explained patiently.

"Right," Shame said, scowling. "Chief Standing Pat could scalp him. That oughta convince the big Dynamic Dumb-Dumb I’m serious."

Chief Standing Pat puffed at his cigar eagerly.

"What did he say?"

"He said he looked forward to the ceremonial beheading," Calamity Jan said.

"What are you smokin’, Chief?" Shame demanded. "We need the Mayor. What was his name? Oh yeah, I remember. We need Mayor Linseed alive as bait to lure the Dynamic Dimwits here. When they show up, we can send Batman and Robin to join Batchick in that great cow pasture in the sky."

Chief Standing Pat puffed his cigar again.

Calamity Jan anticipated Shame’s inevitable question. "He said he can’t scalp the Mayor if we need him alive."

"All right. We can send someone into town with a message. How ‘bout that?" Shame suggested.

"Excuse me," FRED began to object.

"Spit it out, FRED. I’ve never seen anyone who takes so long to say anything."

"Wouldn’t the messenger simply be arrested?"

Shame scowled again.

"Dang it, FRED. I hate it when you make sense. Okay, we can’t send a symbolic token and we can’t send a messenger. I reckon we’ll just have to make a phone call."

"That is what all the other villains do," FRED remarked without preamble.

"Hush up, FRED!" Shame stared hard at his henchmen who stood silently. "Good."

"But, Shame honey," Calamity Jan objected. "There ain't a phone in this here ghost town."

"Oh, Calamity, do I have to think of everything?" FRED was rolling his eyes, but his boss did not see. Shame continued, "Send someone to get one. We could use one of them new-fangled cell phones."

"What about Johnny, Cavendish, and Barclay?" Calamity Jan asked, referring to the riders in black who had captured Batgirl.

"What about ‘em? Do they have cell phones?"

"We could send them, Shame honey."

"Good thinkin’, Calamity. Now, while she sends them, you two rejects from a western movie go get the Mayor—Mayor Linseed his name is. We’re gonna need him to talk to the Law when we call. Now git. Me and Calamity got some sparkin’ to do." Once he was alone, Shame muttered, "I am so glad her mother is away."

*BATSPIN*

Later, Batgirl picketed the horses in a grassy meadow near her Batgirlcycle. She was about to jog into town once again, when the sound of hooves pounding pavement stopped her. She looked at a tree across the road from the meadow and listened as the pounding hooves grew louder. A grim smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Time to trap the trappers," she said, reaching for her Batrope.

Johnny; Cavendish; and Barclay, Shame’s black clad cowboys, trotted into view moving rapidly to where Batgirl had strung the Batrope across the road.

THWING!

The rope went taut across the road seconds before the riders reached it. Their speed did not slacken as they hit the rope.

SMACK! BAM! OOF!

The riders lay sprawled on the ground, seconds after Batgirl’s ambush ripped them from their saddles.

Gotham’s Dark Angel swooped in on Barclay, drew his guns, and sent them skittering across the road. He moaned and let his eyes flutter open to take in the picture of purple pulchritude hovering above him for a too brief moment. He was only able to comprehend the impressive view for a second before strong, gloved fingers gripped his hair, yanked his head upward, and reversed direction a heartbeat later thrusting toward the pavement with titanic force.

WHAM!

Barclay’s mind merged with black oblivion. Cavendish had mostly recovered his wits by the time Batgirl’s attention was focused upon him. He went for his gun and was surprised when her boot caught his weapon and sent it flying.

POW! SOCK!

An uppercut caught him on the point of the chin to send him rocketing skyward just before a straight punch intercepted his trajectory and sent him sprawling into unconscious immobility.

Johnny, the remaining man in black, had begun to regain his feet when Batgirl stepped toward him.

BIFF!

One of Batgirl’s trademark, showgirl kicks straightened him. She moved in to finish him off as she had his partners, but paused when she realized his gun had cleared its holster and was coming to bear on its target—her.

ZING!

A bullet ricocheted off the roadbed as Johnny got off a bad shot. Batgirl crouched and spun, sending her rotating heel into Johnny’s exposed gut.

UGG!

As the horseman doubled over, Batgirl settled her leg on the ground and snapped her other foot into his chest.

ZWAP!

Her kick brought his back into violent contact with the pavement. Breathless and beaten, Johnny lay wincing with the wind knocked out of him. Unfortunately for him, Batgirl was not finished. She moved grimly toward him, looming over him ominously for a moment before leaning forward with the inexorability of doom. As she invaded his personal space, the frightened outlaw cringed.

Johnny felt himself disarmed and his gun arm wrenched painfully behind him.

Batgirl spoke. "Now, since you are the only one still conscious, it’s time to have a little talk." She moved her lips close to his ear and shouted, "You will tell me where Mayor Linseed is!"

The volume of her voice broke the spell and Johnny became belligerent. "Why should I?" he asked.

Batgirl answered soundlessly, rolling him onto his stomach, pinning his aching arm to the small of his back, and leaning her weight on it. He screamed. "Talk!" Batgirl shouted.

"I don’t know," Johnny whimpered as his mask of bravado dissolved.

"Wrong answer!" To emphasize her point, she eased her weight on his arm, pulled on it sharply, and renewed the pressure. Her victim screamed again.

"Okay! Okay! Stop it! I’ll talk!" the prisoner gibbered. Batgirl leaned back to ease the pressure on his arm. "Shame wants to convince Batman and Robin he is serious about holding Mayor Linseed hostage. He sent us to get a cell phone so he can call the police. Linseed will be put on the line to say a few words." As he spilled his guts, Johnny felt an irrational anger building within him.

"So, Mayor Linseed will be brought to the saloon?"

Johnny erupted. "That’s what I just said, you—"

SLAP!

Without a word, Batgirl Batcuffed her prisoner and rolled him over. Johnny gasped.

"Why did you roll me over?" Batgirl stared at him without expression until he shifted his weight to get more comfortable. He gasped again as pain shot through his arm. She favored him with a smile.

"If that is your opinion of me, I may as well do something to live up to it. Now, to clean up the rest of this mess"

Batgirl whistled sharply to summon the horses and bound her prisoners with their lassos before picketing their mounts in the meadow with the other horses. Then she moved to where Johnny could hear her and called the police on her cell phone.

The outlaw decided his assessment of Gotham City’s Voluptuous Vigilante was accurate, but this time was smart enough to keep his opinion to himself.

When she hung up, Batgirl bent over her captive to address one final matter. "There is one more small thing," she said quietly. "From now on, you will never EVER shoot at anyone again. If I learn you disobeyed me, I will hunt you. And when I find you, I will hurt you." She prodded his sore shoulder with her forefinger to emphasize her threat and grinned at him as the pain registered on his face. "Now, do we understand each other?"

"Yes, ma'am" he said, blanching as Batgirl touched her fingertip to his shoulder again without exerting pressure.

"I’m glad." With that, she straightened and was gone.

*BATSPIN*

Chief Standing Pat ducked his head as he entered the Sun Down Saloon, shoving Mayor Linseed roughly ahead of him. Calamity Jan noticed and broke the kiss she was sharing with her man before gently disengaging herself.

"Don’t you ever knock?" Shame demanded of his henchmen.

FRED ambled into the room and holstered his gun. "It is not customary to knock on those," he pointed out, indicating the pair of swinging saloon doors separating the taproom from the wooden sidewalk outside.

Calamity Jan was busy repairing the damage Shame had done to her pale lip gloss, while Chief Standing Pat lit a cigar so he could agree with FRED in his own way. As Shame continued glaring at his gang over the interruption, Mayor Linseed began edging toward the doors.

BANG!

A bullet lodged between the Mayor’s shoes. "Who said you could move?" Shame demanded, blowing smoke from the muzzle of his hot gun. "FRED, Chief, tie his hands behind one of those posts." Shame’s goons maneuvered their prisoner into position against a vertical beam supporting the ceiling and lashed his wrists together behind it.

"Now, listen to me, you ruffian. If you let me go, I will see to it the charges against you are minimal. Otherwise—"

PING! THWACK!

A bullet ricocheted off the side of the beam the Mayor was tied to and embedded itself in the wall.

"Now, listen up, Mayor Linseed. You are dealing with Shame here. I am the roughest, toughest, meanest, most low-down, yellow-bellied sidewinder to have ever put together a gang of varmints this side of the Mississippi. Savvy?"

The Mayor stared at him helplessly, trying to grasp his point.

"It might be safer to just ventilate him, Shame honey," Calamity Jan observed.

Shame rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and seemed to think his woman’s suggestion over. "Could be," he said. "I reckon we better demand a ransom when we call out Batman and Robin. I was thinkin’ that’s a pretty good idea. How ‘bout it, Calamity?"

"I like it, Shame honey. We’ll need a grub steak if we’re gonna buy our own spread. Mayor Linseed ought to be worth something."

"Do you mean to say you just now realized we could exchange the city’s chief executive for money?" FRED asked, incredulously.

Chief Standing Pat puffed his cigar in amazed agreement.

"What did he say?" Shame asked.

"He said he and FRED like your ransom idea," Calamity Jan said diplomatically.

"I just thought o’ that myself," the outlaw said proudly. "But, if the Mayor don’t hush up quick-like, I might change my mind." Shame favored the prisoner with a hard stare. "What happened to our men in black?"

"I believe you sent them to bring us a cell phone," FRED reminded him.

"I know that, FRED!" Shame announced. "What I mean is, how come you and the chief got back with Mayor Linseed here before they did with a phone?" FRED shrugged. "All they have to do is find someone with a cell phone and hit them over the head. How long could that take?"

"I’m sure they’ll be here soon, Shame honey," Calamity Jan said soothingly.

"Chief, go see it they’re comin’."

Chief Standing Pat puffed at his cigar and stepped to the sidewalk.

"What did he say?"

"He said he will endeavor to ascertain their location," FRED said.

"What?" Shame asked, helplessly.

"FRED said, "The Chief said he will look for them,'" Calamity Jan explained.

"Why didn’t he just say so?"

FRED rolled his eyes.

The gang waited. Shame paced impatiently. After a time, FRED turned to look at a clock. None of them spoke.

After what seemed an eternity, Shame asked. "How long has he been gone?"

"Five minutes," Calamity Jan answered.

"FRED, go find the Chief."

FRED moved to the door and peered outside. He turned to Shame and motioned for the outlaw to join him. "I think you should see this, Shame."

Chief Standing Pat’s headdress lay heaped in the center of the street, which was otherwise deserted.

"I smell bats!" Shame shouted. "FRED, Calamity, find ‘em and plug ‘em! Let’s move out!"

"Shame honey, shouldn’t I stay and guard the Mayor? " Calamity Jan asked. "Batman may be trying to lure us away from him."

Shame looked at his woman and grunted. "Right. Good thinkin’, Calamity. Come on, FRED. Let’s go." They found Chief Standing Pat bound with a lasso and suspended from the façade on the same side of the street as the saloon. "Git ‘im down." Shame ordered. Once the Chief wore his headdress again, Shame began to question him. "Now, Chief, how many were there?"

Chief Standing Pat held up one finger.

"Right. Now we’re gitin’ somewhere. Was it Batman?"