by twof
The auroral display filled the night sky in a riot of colors. Without the glare of the city’s light pollution, Gothamites, who bothered to look up, were treated to a rare spectacle of nature.
Electrical power came back on before Batman and Robin made it half way to the Commissioner’s office. Barbara was further behind in the journey to her apartment from Wayne Manor.
By the time Batgirl arrived at her father’s office, the Dynamic Duo were already in the midst of their consultation with Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara. The four males acknowledged their female colleague’s arrival, then continued their conversation.
“You were saying, Batman,” James Gordon summarized, “that you think the Northern Lights might have had something to do with the blackout?”
“Yes, Commissioner,” Batman explained. “Such a phenomena has happened before. On March 13, 1989, intense storms on the surface of the sun created large, bright aurora, which caused major power disturbances, resulting in a blackout over a large part of Canada.”
“Holy Solar Wind!” Robin exclaimed.
“Was there any unusual criminal activity during tonight’s power failure?” Batgirl asked.
“A couple minor instances of looting, but nothing my police force couldn’t handle,” Chief O’Hara said with pride.
“Well, in that case, since we seem to be dealing with a natural phenomena-” Batgirl’s conclusion was interrupted by the buzz of the Commissioner’s intercom. Gordon picked up his phone.
“What!?!” An expression of alarm filled Jim Gordon’s face. “Bring her right up!”
“What is it, Commissioner?” the Chief of Police asked.
“A Gotham State University co-ed who has been missing since November just turned up downstairs. She says she’s been held prisoner by The Penguin . . . that he’s responsible for the power outage and that she has messages from Penguin for both Batman and me!”
“The Penguin!” Batgirl grimly declared. She had already experienced more than her share of run-ins with that foul, waddling bird, both as Batgirl and as Barbara Gordon.
Robin was wondering which of his fellow students would appear. His question was answered when an African-American woman about his age was ushered into the Commissioner’s office. It was obvious the young track star had been through quite an ordeal. She clasped her biceps with her opposite hands as she pulled a Gotham City Police Department issue overcoat tightly around herself.
Chief O’Hara gently led her to a chair, while Commissioner Gordon ordered her escort, Officer Goldberg, to get the woman something to drink.
Robin dropped to one knee in front of the heptathlete's and looked up into her eyes. The fierce competitiveness he remembered seeing there in the past was gone, replace by a disturbing hollowness. “Delisha - that’s your name, isn’t it?” Robin asked softly.
Delisha nodded.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
Batgirl knelt next to Robin. “Take your time,” she offered.
Goldberg returned and handed the young woman a steaming cup of coffee. She took a sip and then began her story. “My friend . . . Jenny Akasofu . . . and I were kidnaped. The Penguin wanted to know where Jenny’s grandfather was. She wouldn’t tell him, but when he threatened me . . .” Delisha began to sob.
Chief O’Hara looked at Batman for an explanation. The Caped Crusader obliged, “Jenny Akasofu is the other student who’s been missing for months. Her grandfather is Doctor Syun-Ichi Akasofu, one of the world's leading experts on the aurora borealis, the Northern Lights. No one has been able to locate him since his granddaughter disappeared.”
“I was taken away before Jenny divulged her grandfather’s location. I never saw her or The Penguin again. One of his goons kept me prisoner until tonight. He explained that there had been a power failure and that, somehow, The Penguin was responsible.” Delisha then looked up at Commissioner Gordon. “Then he told me a message to give to you, Commissioner.”
Gordon looked down kindly at the comely co-ed. Delisha confidently relayed the villain’s demands, “I’m to tell you that unless The Penguin is given one billion dollars and a full Presidential pardon, he will cause a power blackout in Gotham City of unprecedented scope. He claims he has the capacity to knock out all private generators and vehicles, as well as the electrical grid. You are to broadcast acceptance of his terms within one week, over all the major networks, or . . .” Delisha let the threat hang in the air.
“Were you given a message for me, too, miss?” Batman asked expectantly.
“Yes, Batman,” Delisha answered. She then recited the villain’s clue. “I am to tell you that The Penguin can be found in a place of high latitude with the same name as an Allied leader.”
Delisha took another taste of coffee. “That’s it?” questioned Chief O’Hara.
“What does it mean, Batman?” asked the Commissioner.
“I’m not sure,” Batman answered thoughtfully. He then became business-like. “Commissioner, I suggest that this young lady be allowed to call her family. Then maybe you can get her some warm clothes and something to eat before you take her full statement.”
“Excellent idea, Batman,” Gordon agreed. “Goldberg, see to it.”
“Yes, Commissioner.” Goldberg offered his arm to Delisha.
The college athlete took one more sip of coffee, then got out of the chair. Before turning to leave, she said, “Batman, please try to save Jenny. I hate to think what that bastardly bird’s been doing to her all this time!”
“We’ll do everything we can, miss,” Batman resolutely responded.
After Delisha and Goldberg had left, Gordon said, “Brave girl.”
All murmured their agreement. Then Batgirl began the analysis of the clue. “Our first task is to figure out where Penguin, and presumably Dr. Akasofu, are. Same name as an Allied leader: that could be Churchill, Stalin, Roosevelt or Truman.”
“I suppose he might mean a World War II general as well, or perhaps one of the United States’ current allies?” Batman posed, “but, I agree. For the moment, let’s concentrate on those four names.”
“A place of high latitude - Holy North Pole! That could be in the Arctic!” Robin deduced.
“Or . . . since we are dealing with The Penguin, old chum, in the Antarctic!” Batman concluded. “And off the coast of Antarctica is . . . Roosevelt Island!”
“Saints preserve us, you’ve done it again, Batman!” congratulated Chief O’Hara.
“I’ll try to get through to President Bush, Batman,” offered Commissioner Gordon. “Perhaps he will authorize an all-out assault.”
Batman held up his gloved right hand. “Just a moment, Commissioner. By all means, inform the President of the situation, but I’m not sure a military strike is the appropriate response.”
The Commissioner looked at Batman questioningly. “First,” Batman began, “if a large scale military operation is launched, Penguin may still have time to disrupt the power, however he is able to do it. Second, we have to consider the lives of Dr. Akasofu and his granddaughter. Finally, any U.S. military presence in the Antarctic is sure to set off an international incident.”
“What should I recommend to the President, then, Batman?” Gordon asked.
“Tell him Robin, Batgirl and I will fly down there in the BatJet. Give us time to rescue the hostages, capture The Penguin and stop his blackmail scheme.”
“Just a minute, Batman,” Batgirl interrupted. “Maybe Penguin wants us to jump to the conclusion he’s near the South Pole. Although I know the Earth’s entire magnetic field is inter-connected, wouldn’t it make more sense for him to be in the Northern Hemisphere, if his aim is to blackout Gotham City?”
The Caped Crusader considered Batgirl’s point. “Where do you think he might be, Batgirl?”
Batgirl searched her fantastic memory. Suddenly, the answer was obvious! “Why, how about Churchill, Manitoba?!”
“I don’t know, Batgirl,” the Boy Wonder contributed. “The Antarctic just seems to make so much more sense for The Penguin.”
Gordon and O’Hara looked at each other. They were not used to differences of opinion among their costumed crime fighting cohorts.
“Penguin is nothing if not devious, Robin,” Batman admitted. With a serious expression, Batman looked at the Purple Paragon. “If Robin and I fly to Antarctica, can you check out Churchill?”
“Certainly,” Batgirl volunteered, without even considering how she was going to get there!
Unlike Batman, Batgirl didn’t have her own private jet. Even if she had, though, a late winter storm had made air travel into Churchill impossible. The best Batgirl could do was to catch a commercial jet into Winnipeg and then catch a train. The Hudson Bay was scheduled to take thirty-six hours to traverse the 1697 kilometers of track between Winnipeg and Churchill.
As usual when Batgirl had to travel, Barbara used her “Barbara Wilson” alias. Not only that, but since she had several encounters with Penguin as Barbara Gordon, she deemed it necessary to wear a disguise. Barbara applied make-up to the areas of her face covered by her Batgirl mask and donned her red Batgirl wig. Before she left Gotham, she was unrecognizable as Barbara Gordon.
It was fortunate for Barbara that, compared to most people, she could do twice the work in half the time. Otherwise, she would have found it difficult to take the time off from her job necessary for her Batgirl activities. In addition, as a single person with a rather limited social life, her head librarian’s salary was enough to cover her crime fighting activities.
She wondered how Batman financed all the vehicles and gadgets he had. She guessed he must be a millionaire or something!
It was late afternoon when Barbara arrived at the old Canadian National Winnipeg Union Station. She checked one suitcase, which had hidden within it a very special Batgirl costume Barbara had created for just such a case as this. Barbara also had to bring along more cash than with which she usually liked to travel, as she anticipated Batgirl might have to rent a snowmobile or three-wheeler in Churchill. The Batgirlcycle wouldn’t be making this trip and Batgirl could hardly charge a rental on either her Barbara Wilson or Barbara Gordon credit cards!
As her train didn’t leave until 8:45, she took the opportunity to explore The Fork’s Market. Although it wasn’t very far to walk, the Gothamite was glad she had dressed warmly, as Spring-like temperatures were still a long way off for this Canadian city.
After doing a little shopping, picking up several tourist brochures about Churchill at Travel Manitoba’s Explore Manitoba Centre and eating dinner, she returned to the station just in time to hear the announcement that VIA train number 693 was ready for boarding. With an overnight bag in tow, Barbara joined the line of passengers going up the escalator to the train platform.
Since she had to book her travel on such short notice, there had been no sleeping accommodations available. Barbara resigned herself to two nights in a coach seat.
The consist of the train as it pulled out of the provincial capital was one noisy engine, a baggage car, two coaches, a dining/lounge car and two sleepers. At first it seemed to Barbara the train was going the wrong way, but that was due to the fact that the tracks had to navigate their way around Winnipeg’s two rivers, the Assiniboine and the Red.
Barbara considered the task ahead of Batgirl. It was now Tuesday night. If the train was able to stay somewhat on schedule, she would arrive in Churchill Thursday morning. That would give her less than four days to find Penguin and stop him, assuming he was even there! Not for the first time she wondered if she had embarked upon the proverbial wild goose - or in this case, penguin - chase!
Barbara settled into the routine that is life on board a long-distance train. The service manager, Kevin, made sure she had a pillow and a blanket. Barbara was able to catch some sleep now and then, but her slumber was often interrupted as passengers de-trained and boarded. She found the gentle rocking motion of the train pleasant, but was surprised at how loud it was in the cars.
The train was more crowded than Barbara expected. Although it was slow, this time of year the Hudson Bay was the only reliable means of transportation into northern Manitoba.. For many of the locals, the train was their sole means of access to the outside world.
Inuits, nickel miners and tourists seem to make up the majority of the passengers. Barbara enjoyed the opportunity mealtimes afforded to meet her fellow travelers.
Breakfast the first day was especially interesting. A young Japanese couple were heading to Churchill on their honeymoon. The man, Mamoru, was a bit older than Barbara, while the woman, Usagi, was a little younger. She was very unusual looking for a Japanese woman, with long blonde hair done up into two balls with long ponytails streaming from each.
Mamoru had spent time studying in the United States and spoke excellent English. Usagi’s grasp of the language was tenuous at best. Barbara did manage to understand her when she remarked that Barbara reminded her of an American student named Dominoe who once attended her junior high in Tokyo for a short time.
Barbara passed the rest of the day looking out the window and reading. She noticed that as they proceeded north, the trees were getting shorter and the forests were becoming thinner. Snow blanketed the ground, although it was not as deep as Barbara expected. She was interested to learn how little it snowed in this part of the world. It, though, took the snow that did fall a long time to melt.
A short time before lunch, Barbara read something in one of the tourist brochures about Churchill that made her optimistic that it would be Batgirl, and not the Dynamic Duo, who would soon be facing Penguin. A few miles outside of town was the Churchill Northern Study Centre and SpacePort Canada. Could there be a better place for Dr. Akasofu to conduct his research? And for Penguin to launch rockets that might effect the Earth’s magnetosphere?
It was after midnight Thursday morning when the Hudson Bay pulled into the tiny village of Gillam on the shore of an expanse of the Nelson River known as Lake Stephens. Barbara had finally trained herself to sleep through these stops, so she didn’t notice a furtive little man with beady eyes board the train. After the conductor took his ticket, the man walked up and down the aisles. Barbara was oblivious as he stared at her and her red hair with great interest.
The man then made his way to the vestibule at the back of the train. He hunkered down in a corner to block the wind as he spoke into a two-way radio.
“Hawking to Penguin . . . Hawking to Penguin.”
A blast of static was finally drowned out by a loud, “Wak! Go ahead, Hawking.”
“There aren’t two men on board I can see being Batman and Robin,” Hawking reported, “although, of course, I can’t check out the sleeping car passengers until they go to breakfast.”
“Phaw!” Penguin muttered to himself. He had been waiting for hours in front of the shortwave radio for his minion to call. His disappointment, though, changed to elation with his goon’s next words.
“ . . . but there is a woman who very well could be Batgirl!”
“Wak, wak, wak,” Penguin exulted. “Excellent, my fine-feathered physicist! And there is a woman traveling alone with a New Guernsey mailing address checking into the Polar Inn tomorrow! I’ll see that Albert prepares her a warm welcome!”
Even under the best of conditions, the train was scheduled to take eight hours and forty minutes to cover the 180 miles between Gillam and Churchill. An extra engine had been added at Thompson the day before. This was a safety precaution, as there were no roads on this part of the route. It wasn’t for lack of power, though, that the train went so slowly.
Up here, the track was laid upon frozen tundra. In addition, due to the shifting of the permafrost during the short summer, there was no way to keep the rails in good repair. So, even though the line was generally straight, level and had few crossings, most of this part of the route was usually under slow orders.
Thursday morning the train crawled along. The passengers were anxious to arrive at their destination, but watching the kilometer posts poke by, Barbara calculated they wouldn’t arrive before mid-afternoon.
It was a grey day with blowing snow. Based on her reading, Barbara doubted that new precipitation was falling. She surmised that the high winds off Hudson Bay were propelling old snow back into the air.
There were very few trees now and those that were hardy enough to live this far north had branches on only one side. They looked something like green flags on top of brown flagpoles, sticking up from the fields of white.
The train was even more crowded than before. Barbara discovered another passenger car had also been added at Thompson. Up here, this truly was the only mode of transportation for most of the riders.
Shortly after 3 p.m., the train arrived at the junction just outside of Churchill. As the switches were all manual, the train crew had to jump off the train to throw them so the Hudson Bay could back into the Churchill station. As Churchill was literally the end of the line, this was to allow the train to pull directly out later that day on its return journey.
Barbara was a bit shocked by her first view of Churchill. A true “city girl,” Batgirl had been a bit taken aback by her visit to rural Illinois when she and the Dynamic Duo went after Clock King. Pittsfield, however, was a major urban center compared to what she could see out the window.
The population of Churchill was just a little over one thousand. The train station was quite run-down and grungy. A huge grain terminal, barely visible in the distance through the blowing snow, dominated the skyline. The rest of the town consisted mostly of clapboard buildings that had small windows, if any. This helped keep out the winter’s cold.
Barbara thought it was the most desolate and uninviting place she had ever visited. She felt she was at the end of the Earth, a place as far from that with which she was familiar as possible.
She wondered how the Japanese honeymooners she had met would react. They had told her their visit to Churchill had something to do with the Northern Lights, but they were very vague.
Barbara’s question was answered when she got off the train. Mamoru and Usagi were in line with everyone else next to the baggage car, waiting for their luggage to be unloaded. Both were smiling brightly, despite the bitter wind. ‘Ah, young love!’ Barbara thought.
All sorts of supplies for the town were being taken off the train, including fresh fruits and vegetables for the grocery stores and restaurants in town. These items took priority, but finally Barbara’s bag was handed down and set on the platform.
A fleet of snowmobiles and three-wheelers had greeted the train’s arrival. A dark-haired Inuit boy of about fourteen approached Barbara. His eyes sparkled as he asked, “Can I give you a ride, miss?”
Barbara gratefully accepted. She understood this was Churchill’s wintertime “taxi service.” “Where are you going?” the lad inquired.
“I’m staying at the Polar Inn.”
“Really?” the boy said doubtfully. “I didn’t think they’d opened yet . . . but let’s go see. It’s not that far.”
The teen placed Barbara’s suitcase and carry-on bag in large baskets on the sides of his snowmobile. He then invited Barbara to grab him around the waist. With a roar, they took off in a cloud of snow.
In less than two minutes the pair pulled up in front of the door of the Polar Inn. Barbara hopped off and tried the glass door. It was locked.
“I told you,” the snowmobile driver smugly reminded her.
Just then a loud buzzing sound was heard. Barbara tried the door again and it came right open. Barbara turned to the driver and, with a lilt of her head, gave him a triumphant smile. The boy jumped off and collected Barbara’s bags. He sat them just inside the door.
“That’s fine, thank you,” Barbara said, handing him a ten dollar Canadian bill. He seemed satisfied and sped off, hoping to land another fare.
“Welcome!” a voice called out to Barbara. “Welcome to the Polar Inn!”
The lobby was like a motel turned inside-out. There was a large central rectangular space, with all the room doors opening out into it. In the middle of the rectangle was a glass rectangle room, which served as front desk and gift shop.
“Miss Wilson?” a burly man in his mid to late thirties asked. “My name’s Albert. You’re our first guest of the season.”
What Barbara had no way of knowing was that the real owners of the Inn were locked up in one of the rooms. As soon as Delisha had delivered his ultimatum, Penguin and his thugs had taken over Churchill’s only Canadian Automobile Association approved lodging, in hopes that the a member or two of the Terrific Trio might stay there. Their gamble had paid off.
Barbara checked in as “Barbara Wilson.” She had established a post office box address and bank account for her alter ego across the river from Gotham City in New Guernsey for just such occasions.
After Barbara had signed the registration card, Albert said, “Ms. Wilson, I’ll take your bags to your room in a moment . . . but first, I’d like you to be part of a tradition here at the Polar Inn.”
“Oh?” Barbara said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. We always welcome our guests with a steaming hot cup of Labrador tea. Part of my family’s English heritage, you see. Won’t you please let me serve you? As cold as it is outside, I’m sure it will help warm you up.”
Teatime was a tradition Barbara enjoyed during her visits both to Londinium and Sydney. She found it somewhat comforting that such a civilized practice had made it to even this remote corner of the world. “Sure! I’d love some hot tea.”
Barbara enjoyed her cup of unusual, but excellent, tea. Albert then took her bags to her room and left, telling her if she needed anything, to please just ask.
Inspecting her surroundings, Barbara was gratified to find that there was a window large enough for her to crawl through that opened out onto an alley. She wanted to get started on her mission before it got dark. The first order of business was for Batgirl to rent a snowmobile, then to check out the Churchill Northern Study Centre and SpacePort Canada.
Barbara opened her suitcase and accessed the secret compartment. Inside was her Batgirl suitcase and inside it were two costumes, one her regular purple; the other, quite different.
The costume Barbara put on was totally white, even the utility belt. Instead of her usual high heels, boots with a low square heel and tread for extra traction in the snow were included. This costume had no cape to flap in the breeze, as camouflage was one of this outfit's primary functions. The fabric was also much thicker than the Lurex of her regular costume, to provide extra warmth.
Batgirl bolted the door of her motel room, then made her way out the window. Fortunately, there were few people on the streets due to the blustery weather. Trying to stay in the back alleys, her experience at stealth allowed her to remain unobserved as she made the six blocks, practically the entire length of the town, from the Polar Inn to Tamarrack Rentals.
The proprietor’s jaw dropped open in amazement at the ghostly vision of loveliness that suddenly appeared before him. He was more than willing, however, to rent his best snowmobile to the American heroine, especially in exchange for a glove-full of United States currency.
Batgirl roared east-southeast out of town, the frozen Hudson Bay - the body of water, not the train - on her left. There was only one road and, despite the limited visibility, she was able to follow it most of the way quite easily. The bone-chilling wind off the bay, though, buffeted her as she pressed onward the almost twenty miles to the complex where she hoped to find Penguin.
Batgirl rode past the buildings and hid her transportation amidst some towering snow drifts. Her Batgirl suitcase was stowed in the luggage compartment, just in case. Batgirl prepared to approach the Study Centre and SpacePort complex, when she was suddenly brought up short by a sharp cramp across her abdomen.
“Uhhh.” ‘Must be lack of sleep or this cold air,’ Batgirl thought. She shrugged it off and headed towards what looked like the main building, her footsteps crunching in the old snow.
Moments later, Batgirl was at the door to the largest building in the complex. Like many of the buildings she had seen in and around Churchill, this one had no windows. Carefully, she tried the door handle.
The door was locked. Deftly Batgirl removed the pick from her utility belt. In less than twenty seconds, the lock had yielded and the white-clad warrior silently entered the building.
Even with the blowing snow and the onset of evening, it was darker inside the building than out. Quickly Batgirl’s eyes adjusted to the gloom.
“Ooo.” Batgirl let out a soft moan as a stab of pain crossed her gut. A second later, bright light flooded the room!
“Wah, wah, wah!” the waddling Master of Fowl Play crowed. “I see you’ve changed your look to suit the environment, Batgirl. I approve.”
“Are you going to come quietly for a change, Penguin, or will I have to mop the floor with you and your goons, as usual?” the Dominoed Daredoll challenged.
“Oh, my dear Batgirl,” Penguin calmly stated with a wave of his cigarette holder, “I wouldn’t think of depriving you of your workout. Newton! Hawking! Get her!”
Batgirl barely stifled a smirk. Unless these two were something far beyond the ordinary thugs Penguin recruited, she would be able to make quick work of them and Penguin, too. Just before she dispatched Hawking with one of her patented high kicks, it registered that she had glimpsed him in the Hudson Bay’s dining car during breakfast that morning.
Batgirl whirled to face Newton, when all of sudden she doubled over in pain! The hoodlum avenged his partner by kicking the ailing crime fightress in the face, sending her flying.
Batgirl tried to get to her feet. She hadn’t been hit that hard, but she found she couldn’t get up. Penguin, Newton and Hawking loomed over her.
“What’s wrong with me?” Batgirl groaned, more to herself than to the evil trio gleefully looking down at her.
“Wak, wak, wak!” Penguin was exultant. “You are feeling the effects of ledol, my dear Miss Wilson! Labrador Tea causes cramps and paralysis!”
Batgirl discovered Penguin was telling the truth. Now she couldn’t speak, much less move. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.
“The early settlers of this region discovered that a very weak brew of Labrador Tea had medicinal purposes. The strength that you drank, however, will enable us to take care of you once and for all!”
Penguin turned to his men. “OK, my fine feathered physicists! Let her lie there until morning. We leave at first light!”
Batgirl spent a frustrating and uncomfortable night on the floor, unrestrained except by the unresponsiveness of her own body. She had just felt the first tingling of feeling returning to her extremities when Newton and Hawking re-appeared. Both were now dressed in parkas with fur lined hoods.
Penguin, seemingly unconcerned by the prospect of the cold, arrived in his usual attire. He ordered his minions, “Take her to the Tundra Buggy.”
Newton lifted the helpless Batgirl off the floor and carried her back through the door she had entered the night before. He made his way around the side of the building to another structure that had steps leading to a second story door. Penguin’s well-muscled accomplice easily carried her up the stairs and through the door, into the building.
This was some sort of garage, little more than a huge shed. Inside, however, was something most unusual. The door led right onto the platform at the rear of a strange vehicle. Twice as wide as an ordinary bus, it looked like the trams sometimes used at airports to transport passengers across the tarmac from one gate to another. The wheels on the buggy were huge, thus necessitating entrance from a second story.
Newton unceremoniously dumped Batgirl on the floor. Penguin and Hawking followed close behind. The latter now slammed the buggy door shut, while Newton moved behind the steering wheel. He started the engine as Penguin settled into the front seat on the other side, in effect riding “shotgun.”
The buggy’s motor grumbled to life. Newton pushed a button on a remote and the garage door rolled back. The driver ground the clutch into first gear and the buggy lurched forward.
From the floor Batgirl could see little of where they were going. As more than an hour passed, she could picture in her mind the buggy trundling across the snow and ice. ‘Does Penguin plan to just dump me out to die on the frozen tundra?’ she wondered. ‘That seems rather unimaginative for him.’
Finally, Penguin announced, “This should do it.” Newton stopped the buggy, but left the engine running. Hawking moved to open the door.
Batgirl thought she now had the capability of movement. She was not, however, yet up to the task of defeating the three men. Better to be thrown out, follow the buggy back and capture them all by surprise. With the thermal protection of her snowsuit costume, she was confident she could survive following the buggy’s track back to Penguin’s hideout.
Newton picked up Batgirl. Penguin leaned in and blew cigarette smoke in his captive’s face. “Well, Batgirl, this is goodbye. We have an . . . accomplice nearby who should make short work of you. Most of his friends are out on the frozen bay, but he just didn’t want to head north this year. We recently liberated him from Churchill’s ‘jail.’”
Batgirl wondered about what Penguin was rambling. Was there some lunatic out on the ice, waiting for her? The Dark Knight Damsel remained confident. She was sure she would soon be back in action. If she could defeat Bane, what terror could one accomplice hold for her?
Newton carried Batgirl out the back door of the Tundra Buggy onto the “porch,” with Penguin and Hawking once again right behind. “Be sure to drop her on a soft spot,” Penguin instructed. “I want her to be able to fully appreciate what happens to her!”
Newton carefully dropped Batgirl over the side, onto a tall snow drift. The drop was still some eight feet, but the combination of Batgirl’s training and the relatively soft snow enabled her to survive the fall unscathed.
Batgirl feigned continued paralysis as the buggy once again set off across the snowscape. Penguin was still gazing at her from the porch when the strange vehicle disappeared from sight in the early morning distance.
Batgirl found she was able to sit. Her legs were still stubbornly refusing to cooperate, but she felt sure she would soon be on her feet, back to pursuing-
CRACK!
The heroine looked around in alarm. Evidently, the drift she had been thrown on was unstable! Her weight, along with the vibrations of the Tundra Buggy, had caused the surface to shift beneath her. Crevices began to form on three sides.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough-
"ROAR!"
Batgirl looked up. There lumbering towards her was . . .
a polar bear!
. . . and a decidedly mean and hungry looking one, too!
Frantically, Batgirl urged her legs to move. Finally, she was able to bend her right knee, but by that time the Ursus maritimus was less than thirty feet away, on the far side of a crevice. It was obvious that the beast could easily clear the drop in a single bound.
Batgirl realized the paralysis of her legs was now largely irrelevant, anyway. Even at her best, there was no way she could outrun a polar bear. For short bursts, polar bears could run at speeds of up to thirty-five miles an hour!
The bear had a long body, neck and head; short, furry ears; and sharp teeth. The animal was over ten feet long and appeared to weigh over a thousand pounds. Dense white fur covered its body.
Batgirl reached into her utility belt and pulled out a small cannister of pepper spray. She pointed it at the advancing behemoth, but then had second thoughts. ‘What if the spray just maddens him?!’
The polar bear extended his right front paw towards Batgirl, its black claws flashing. His mouth opened, a red tongue flicking at its prey. The bear was now only a few feet away . . .
HOLY POLAR PANIC!
IS THIS BATGIRL’S FATE?
TO BE EATEN BY A POLAR BEAR?
CAN ANYONE ARRIVE IN TIME TO SAVE HER?
WILL PENGUIN MAKE GOOD ON HIS THREAT TO CUT ALL THE POWER IN GOTHAM CITY?
AND WHAT ABOUT JENNY AND DR. AKASOFU?
FOR THE ANSWER TO THESE AND OTHER PENGUINISH QUESTIONS -
TUNE IN NEXT WEEK -
SAME BAT-TIME -
SAME BAT-URL!
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