Claws of the Cat

The infamous Arch Criminal Wing of the Gotham State Penitentiary housed some of the most dangerous criminal minds in the country. When incarcerated, these menaces to society were believed to be incapable of plying their devious trade, but on this bright morning, dark deeds were about to be done!

“Up and at ‘em, Kyle!” the female guard mercilessly bellowed.

The Princess of Plunder moaned. “Just give me ten more minutes.” The blonde Amazon burrowed more deeply into her pillow and shifted on the bunk where she had slept. The bunk was absolutely luxurious compared to the cold, hard floor of her cell, where she had been compelled to spend her nights for a long stretch of a recent, previous prison stay.

The guard whacked the bars near Catwoman’s head with a nightstick. “Cheer up, Selina. I’m here on official business. The Court wants you.”

Catwoman sat up, clutching her head and glaring at the guard as the clang of the bars reverberated. “As far as I’m concerned, the judges and the D. A. can all get–”

The guard slid a bag through the bars, ignoring Catwoman as the prisoner expressed her opinion. “Since your illustrious presence has been requested and we’re required to see that you appear, the Warden will permit you to wear your costume. I’ll be back in ten minutes. So, be ready!”

Fifteen minutes later, the Catwoman sat shackled in the back of a prison van as it stopped at the main gate. “This prisoner is to report to Court,” the driver said, passing papers to the guard on duty.

“This appears to be in order,” the guard said. “In fact, this is the neatest handwriting I’ve ever seen on papers like this. It’s strange, though. I didn’t think there were any more charges pending against Kyle.”

“I think you’re right. According to what I heard, she’ll be giving testimony in some international criminal case.”

“International?”

“Our friends across the pond have arrested a guy named Templar. Apparently, he was making some noise in Europe. Anyway, he wants Kyle as a character witness.”

“So, we’re letting her go to England?”

“Of course not! She’s going to talk to Templar’s lawyer, or rather barrister, at his hotel.”

“How come this guy doesn’t come here to get her deposition?”

“Don’t ask me. I just work here.”

“I’d better let you go, so to speak,” the guard at the gate said with a grin. “My coffee is getting cold. I don’t see, though, how Kyle’s testimony can help this Templar guy. I mean, consider the source!”

“Ours is not to reason why,” said the driver. As the gate was raised, he called out, “Thanks.” Seconds later, Catwoman relaxed as the van pulled through the gates.

After half an hour the van pulled into the loading dock of a Gotham City hotel. Catwoman laughed. “This place has a dubious reputation.”

“What do you mean? I remember when it opened. The owner did ads for it himself. ‘Join me at the Chessmen for service by Chessman,’” the driver quoted.

“Max Chessman has spent time behind bars more than once in Gotham City,” Catwoman declared. “Purr-haps his ‘visits’ were before your time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Gotham City’s Chessmen building is a historical landmark. Did you know the Riddler threw Robin off of it once?”

“Unfortunately, the Boy Blunder saved himself by gripping a Batarang with his teeth.”

“So, you do know the story?”

“Riddler has told me himself . . . several times.”

“Oh. Well, let’s go in . . . and remember: I’m authorized to shoot to kill if you try to escape.”

“Would I do that?” Catwoman purred. The guard’s hands shook as he rearranged the shackles and his prisoner studied him. They entered the building through the rear entrance and ascended to the luxury suites in a service elevator. The driver knocked at the door to the Queen’s Suite and waited. A redheaded woman answered the door.

“I’m here with Selina Kyle,” the driver announced.

“Bring her in.” The door opened wide and the woman stepped back to admit the prisoner and her escort. “She’s ‘ere, Guv’nor,” the redhead called over her shoulder.

“Splendid,” a tall Englishman with graying hair and glasses said, stepping into the room. “Please make Ms. Kyle comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“I need you to sign these release papers,” the driver said.

“Of course,” the Englishman said, accepting them. He bent over a desk and applied a pen carefully to the dotted lines.

“Your penmanship is extraordinary,” the driver said.

“Thank you,” the Englishman said, relinquishing the documents.

The corrections officer looked around, concerned. “Don’t you have any guards present? After all, now she’s your responsibility.”

“She’s still bound, isn’t she? Besides, my associate is well versed in both martial arts and the use of firearms.”

The driver looked at the redhead dubiously. “How long will you need the prisoner?”

“We’ll send for you when we’re finished.”

“Okay,” the driver said. He pulled out a card and handed it to the man. “Here’s my pager number.”

“Thank you,” the Englishman said. “By the way . . .” He picked up another card and handed it to the driver. “. . . please feel free to use this chit to get a complimentary breakfast at the restaurant downstairs.”

“Thanks,” the driver said. He glanced at his present and hurried from the suite.

On the couch, Catwoman threw her head back and laughed. “It worked purr-fectly, Quill-Pen. Now, get me out of these chains!”

“Blaze,” Quill-Pen said.

The titian-haired woman produced a lock pick and worked at the restraints, which fell noisily to the floor.

Quill-Pen approached his guest and took Catwoman’s outstretched, de-clawed glove as she straightened. He kissed her hand and guided her to the bar. “Can I get you something?” he asked.

“Only if you’ve got cream or milk in a saucer.” The forger extra-ordinaire raised an eyebrow. “It’s a little early for the hard stuff, Mr. Quertch. Now, let’s hear about the rest of my escape plan.”

“Personally, I fancy a trip south, to the Caribbean,” Quill-Pen said. “I only came out of retirement because of the chance to work for a world-famous celebrity such as yourself . . . and, of course, to get handsomely paid.”

“I have a cache of cash here at the casino,” Catwoman revealed. “You’ve certainly earned your money. I wonder how long it will take the cops to realize they let me go because of a few purr-fectly placed false signatures?”

“I’ve got to admit you’re smart, Catwoman,” Blaze said. “The guard who dropped you off has no idea this suite has been rented for a month by an unsuspecting dupe.”

“No, Blaze. My cohort is quite the willing purr-ticipant in this little escapade. She is, however, quite the impeccable socialite who would never be accused of willfully having dealings with arch criminals.”

“About whom are you talking?”

“The lovely Lisa Carson,” Catwoman revealed. Blaze raised an eyebrow.

Quill-Pen Quertch cleared his throat. “Getting back to the matter of my fee, if you please, Catwoman. You may transfer the money into my Swiss account. If I may be so bold as to suggest you could use some time away from Gotham City, it would be my pleasure to show you around the islands.”

“Hmmm,” Catwoman purred, “a vacation on the Spanish Main with an English gentleman – it might be nice. Let me make the arrangements for your payment. Blaze, get me the phone.” The redheaded woman carried the instrument to the Feline Felon, who dialed and began speaking in low, commanding tones.

As Quill-Pen listened to half of Catwoman’s conversation, Blaze responded to a knock at the door. Catwoman motioned for the sexy brunette posed at the door to be immediately admitted. “Who are you?” the redhead demanded.

The newcomer was shorter than Selina, but strutted past her hostess and into the room with a commanding confidence that rivaled the famous feline archfiend. She set a manila envelope on the table beside the phone. “I’m Lisa Carson. This is my suite. Now, who are you?”

“I’m Blaze. I’m presently employed by Mr. Quertch, who works for Catwoman.”

“I see,” Lisa Carson said, indicating the envelope and turning to Catwoman, who was putting down the telephone receiver. “I got something for you from our mutual friend in Metropolis.”

“Vixen came through,” Catwoman said gleefully, taking the envelope and tearing it open.

“Do you mean Vixen, the super-expensive super-criminal escort?” Blaze asked.

“The next new Catwoman herself,” Lisa Carson confirmed. She then turned deferentially to the reigning Queen of Crime. “Unless, of course, your plans have changed, Selina.”

“She’ll have to dump her CEO boyfriend before any promotion,” Catwoman said. “Of course, with Lexcorp lawyers racing to her rescue within hours of any arrests, I can’t blame her for keeping the big, bald guy around. Nevertheless, Catwoman is top cat and plays second fiddle to no one – ever!”

“What did Vixen send to you?” Lisa wanted to know.

“Details of the purr-fect crime. I may have to turn down Mr. Quertch’s generous offer of a guided Caribbean tour.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise, Selina. You look a little pale,” Lisa advised. “Getting some sun could be good for you.”

“You have no idea, my dear, how much money such a little vacation would cost me.”

The socialite smiled . “That may not be a problem. Tara is in town.”

“She is?!” Catwoman said excitedly.

“I was going to surprise you. I’ve ordered a very special dinner for three tonight from room service so our exclusive little sorority can have a meeting. We don’t have the opportunity to socialize nearly enough.”

“What a purr-fect idea, Lisa,” Catwoman said with a broad grin. Catwoman turned to the forger, who had been busy on a laptop computer. “I take it, Mr. Quertch, that everything is satisfactory?”

“Yes, it is. Thank you . . . and please call me Quill-Pen.”

“All right, Quill-Pen. I take it you can handle any documentation we’ll need for international travel?”

“Easily, Catwoman, free of charge. Leave it to me. Creating your new passport will be my pleasure.”

“Excellent. Now, we come to you, Blaze. I trust you’d be interested in continued employment?”

“Certainly.”

“Purr-fect. I’ll need a couple of cats hired for the job. See to that, and we’ll talk. Oh, when we meet again, don’t be surprised when I look quite different.”

“Sure thing,” Blaze said, shrugging. Although she didn’t know the intimate details, she knew the Princess of Plunder had the ability to inhabit different bodies. In fact, Blaze had been on the African-American Catwoman’s softball team in prison. “I’ll need to settle up with Quill-Pen and afterwards he’ll tell you how to reach me.”

“Splendid.” Catwoman imperiously rose and clapped her hands. “Now, get going, both of you! It’s past breakfast time for Ms. Carson and I.” Blaze and Quill-Pen departed.

That evening in the same room, after dinner, a familiar, yet unholy procedure took place. “How long will it take you to perform the switch?” Lisa Carson asked.

Tara Kaat, the African-American entertainer, fitted a cloth cap over Selina Kyle’s head and slipped one over her own before setting a device the size of an electronic organizer between herself and Catwoman. “Not long. I’ve had plenty of practice.” She double checked the contacts to Selina’s and her own skulls and took a deep breath. She then threw the switch.

Tara relaxed as the now-familiar sensations of mind transfer enveloped her. Far from being unpleasant, the experience was, in fact, euphoric.

Catwoman recovered in her petite new body and let out a delighted purr. She gazed up at the socialite lasciviously. “Lisa, my dear, I love you and your little surprise. The work has been purr-fectly purr-formed.”

Lisa tolerantly smiled down at her one-time captor. “You aren’t my type, Catwoman. I knew you wouldn’t use your miniaturized version of Egghead’s Psyche Eggschange Machine if there was the slightest chance it would fail.”

The blonde Amazon, who was once again Tara Kaat, opened her eyes and stretched. “I feel marvelous.”

“You’ll look purr-fect when you get back to Gotham City, all toned and tanned,” Selina said with Tara’s original voice.

“Meanwhile, you’ll be busy making Catwoman rich beyond all of our wildest dreams,” Lisa said. “Good luck with your plans.”

“What are you going to do, Lisa?” Tara asked through Selina’s mouth.

“Well, for right now, I’m going clubbing . . . and then coming back here to entertain.”

“To entertain whom?” the African-American Catwoman asked.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Lisa admitted with a slight smirk, “but I know we’ll have a marvelous time.”

“Good hunting,” Selina and Tara said simultaneously.

“Enter!” a throaty voice commanded over an intercom the next day, when Blaze and two mountainous, muscular thugs walked up to an elevator with its doors open in the Catacombs Condominium. They did as they were told and the car descended to Subterranean Suite Six. The three stared straight ahead, waiting for the doors to re-open, until the same voice, this time with a touch of bemusement said, “Behind you.”

The previous day’s warning about changed appearance came instantly to Blaze’s mind as she turned. It was the petite African-American Catwoman who was seated on a golden throne atop a dais at one end of a gold-draped room. A gesture brought the newcomers in and allowed them to make themselves comfortable on the yellow and black striped couches and cushions arranged before the throne.

“Welcome to my underground Catlair,” the black-clad beauty invited, standing, stretching, and descending to be seated again between a pair of golden cat statues which guarded the foot of the dais “Now, let’s get down to business.” Catwoman leaned forward and rested her chin on intertwined fingers. “Tell me. Who are these handsome devils you’ve brought along?”

Blaze turned her head and nodded to the enormous physical specimen on her right. “I’m Gunner. It’s great to meet you, Catwoman.”

Blaze nodded to the other behemoth. “I’m Blaster. It’s an honor to meet you, Catwoman. I never imagined we’d work together.”

“Let’s get something straight right now!” Catwoman said, venom in her voice and eyes flashing. “All of you work for me! Is that clear?”

Blaster and Gunner were practically twice this Catwoman’s size. An onlooker would have thought either one of them could have easily broken her in two.

Catwoman’s manner, however, was so commanding, her demeanor so intimidating, that the three instantly and unquestioningly accepted their subservient status. Blaze, Blaster, and Gunner all meekly nodded.

Catwoman stood up and rested her clawed hands on her well-rounded hips, regarding her new employees. “I said, Are we clear?”

“Yes, Catwoman,” they replied quietly in unison, a tremble in their voices.

“Purr-fect. Now, listen carefully. Seven years ago, the Joker and I had a plan to blow a hole in the Federal Depository Building with a significant amount of gunpowder we knew was hidden in Gotham City. As soon as we found the gunpowder, the Terrrrrific Trio tracked us down and arrested us.”

Although, like the men, Blaze knew her place, she considered herself to have special status. After all, she had been Falseface’s first lieutenant. “With all due respect, boss,” Blaze began, “why didn’t you kill them?”

Catwoman glared at her new girl and let out a hiss. “We tried. It didn’t work. The subject is closed!” Catwoman thought back to the second of the many deathtraps she had sprung on Batgirl, the heroine’s first experience entwined in the Feline Fiend’s cunning, contracting Cat’s Whiskers. ‘The Joker had stupidly tried to kill the Dynamic Duo while the Curved Crusader was still available to race to their rescue. My attack on Batgirl had only been unleashed after Batman and Robin had gone.’ Even so . . . .

“Sorry, boss,” Blaze said, hanging her head.

“Never mind. To this day, nobody has taken a run at all that luscious loot tucked away in that federal building. I have information about munitions being transported across town that will be invaluable when we go for that money.”

“We’re going to hit the Federal Depository Building?!” Gunner asked.

“I could not have put it more succinctly.”

“We’ll need the munitions first,” Blaster observed.

“Correct!” Catwoman confirmed, with a heavenward glance. ‘Blaze has obviously not selected this pair for brains,’ she thought.

“How soon do we get started?” Blaze asked.

“As soon as the three of you get changed.”

Later, Gunner and Blaster squatted beside a straight stretch of road, hidden in the underbrush. Across the road Catwoman crouched, also concealed. Both big men wore yellow and black striped shirts, black slacks, matching neckcloths and funny hats with two triangular ears each.

A meow prompted Catwoman to put her cell phone to her ear. “Speak!”

“The truck is coming, boss,” Blaze reported. No traffic had passed for several minutes.

“Good. Get down here!” Catwoman put her phone away and motioned to her men across the road. “Boys, do it!”

Instantly, the men straightened and stepped onto the road. Seconds later, a short stretch was littered with multi-pointed Kitty Claws. Catwoman smiled, gripping a golden Cat gun in each hand, and watched her minions retreating. She waited.

The truck came cruising onto the straightaway and ran over the first few Kitty Claws. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved, skidding and allowing more Kitty Claws to blow out the back tires. Sparks flew and rubber shredded as the truck came to a stop. Thirty seconds later the driver-side door and back of the truck opened simultaneously. Catwoman’s first shot hit the armed man from the back of the truck. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. The driver had reached the ground and turned before a drugged Cat dart impaled him, too.

“Good shooting, boss,” Gunner complimented, “but, why did you just knock them out? A bullet is much more permanent.”

“Catwoman does not kill!” Catwoman raged. Then she thought of what she was going to do to Batgirl the next time she got her claws on her, as well as other plans she had in mind. “Well, not usually,” she said with a wicked grin.

Her henchmen’s inaction snapped her out of her reverie. “Just don’t stand there you fools! Drag them off the road and tie them up!” The men nodded and rushed to obey. “Quickly! I want this road cleared and the truck driven out of here on new tires within twenty minutes!”

Catwoman moved to the back of the truck and busied herself. The men returned with long-handled magnets they had used to gather the Kitty Claws, before beginning to install new tires on the truck.

As they worked, Blaze walked onto the scene. She wore a pair of knee high black boots and a short, leopard-patterned dress belted at the waist with black. She had also colored her hair green. Catwoman motioned for Blaze to join her on the side of the road. “It’s going purr-fectly,” the Princess of Plunder purred.

As Blaze approached, she heard a series of beeps and stopped, staring at her employer as the sequence of beeps continued softly. “What’s going on, boss?”

“A personnel decision. You’re standing on a pressure pad wired to a small explosive that will leave very little of you behind, if it blows up.” Catwoman began backing away. “I can disarm it or blow it by remote control. You, however, would trigger it, if you were to step from the pad. Detonating the explosive, of course, will terminate your employment, as well as your life.”

Blaze remained still, staring. She could feel her muscles tense. “What’s the problem?” she asked, trying to sound calm.

Catwoman stood a safe distance away, yet close enough to still be clearly heard. “I have some questions for you that arose when I looked into your background. You can answer them or step off of that pad and die. The choice is yours.”

“I’ll stay right here.”

“A wise decision. You worked for Falseface nine years ago?”

“That’s hardly a secret!”

“His trusted confidant . . . and purr-haps more.”

“Falseface doesn’t trust anyone!”

“After Batman and Robin brought in Falseface, Bruce Wayne helped you reform and you left town. Three years later, you were back in Gotham City. Why?”

“My honest brother herds sheep outside a small town in New Zealand. I thought the solitude and simplicity of such a life would be good for me. After a week, I realized I had made a big mistake. I was bored out of my mind and no one, not even my brother, really trusted me!” Blaze explained. She had begun to speak quickly and breathe heavily. Color tinged her cheeks. “They never talk about anything but sheep! To me, the whole country seemed like a vast wilderness! I couldn’t even buy cigarettes.” She paused thoughtfully. “I guess quitting that filthy habit was a worthwhile benefit from the trip.” Then her voice hardened again. “Anyway, it seemed like everyone knew everything about everybody else. I hated it!”

“So, what happened next?”

“I helped my brother with the sheep until I could beg, borrow, and mostly steal enough money for a one-way trip back to the States. I was broke when I landed in New York, so I got myself a job. After I saw my first paycheck, I realized crime was a lot more lucrative. I took every cent from my employer’s establishment and left town a fugitive. I had enough to make my way to Gotham City, committing a few small robberies here and there until I hooked up with a fence I knew. He pointed me to a woman who was hiring every former henchwoman in Gotham City for a single job that would have set me up for awhile. Things were looking good, when the cops raided my fence. I couldn’t get out fast enough and went back to jail, where I played center field for you.”

“Bruce must have been very disappointed in you.”

“Bruce? How do you know him?” Bruce Wayne’s relationship with Miss Kitka was not common knowledge beyond the former members of United Underworld. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since I left for New Zealand.”

“Are you sure you didn’t come back to Gotham City because you missed him? Purr-haps he and his friend Commissioner Gordon convinced you to go back to jail as an informer, a spy!”

“That’s nonsense! Besides, we really don’t have that kind of relationship! We never did, and even if we had, it’s none of your business!” Blaze was shouting. “If you want to kill me, then kill me. You aren’t threatening my life to fill out my resume or to discover the contents of my little black book!”

Catwoman curiously raised an eyebrow. “I suppose there are only guys in your little black book?”

“Well, . . . yes! That’s true,” Blaze replied, taken slightly aback. “Listen, Catwoman. If you don’t trust me, why don’t you just let me go. All I’ve done for you is hire some goons and act as a lookout. I don’t know enough about your big caper to spoil it.”

“I’ve told you these munitions are going to blast a hole in the Federal Depository Building so that I can loot the place. That’s way too much information for the police to have.”

“I would never rat you out to the cops!”

“Probably not,” Catwoman agreed. “but what about Batman?”

“Batman?”

“You fell in love with him!”

“Me? I thought you were in love with him!”

“Batman saved my life once, but I have no more use for him right now than I do for Robin.”

“Oh, that’s right. Now I remember. When you’re in Tara Kaat’s body, you don’t like boys!”

“Listen carefully, Blaze,” Catwoman ominously said, “this conversation is about you!”

“Hey, boss!” Blaster called from the truck. “We’re ready to go. Do you want us to wait?”

“Get going, boys!” Catwoman replied. “I’ll join you at the Catlair later.” The gang had driven to the scene in Catwoman’s Catillac, a much less conspicuous vehicle than her Kitty Car.

When Catwoman returned her attention to Blaze, the henchwoman was still angry. “Let’s hear it, Catwoman. What do you want to know about Batman and me?”

“Falseface told me you lured the Dynamic Duo to a train station, where he stuck them to the tracks and left them to be eliminated by the afternoon express. That purr-formance is exemplary. Your old boss also said you regretted their murder, tried to save them, and begged Batman’s forgiveness. Such actions are not so acceptable.”

“I can understand that point of view.”

“The Dynamic Duo escaped their planned fate because of a radio broadcast for which you paid. Explain!”

“I had fallen in love with Batman,” Blaze explained, hanging her head. “I had been enjoying the chase until I saw him lying there, helplessly stuck to those railroad tracks without a hope of survival. The train was bearing down on him and Robin when Falseface and I left.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I paid for a radio announcement and left Batman a clue to Falseface’s plans. The chase was the exciting thing. You’ve heard the expression ’guys chase you and you catch them?’ Part of you must understand what I’m talking about.”

“It didn’t work out the way you planned in the end, though?”

“Falseface figured out what had happened and kept me under watch, so that I couldn’t do any more damage to his plans. Batman rushed to my rescue, outwitted Falseface and threw him in jail.”

“Yes?” Catwoman prompted.

“Then, nothing. He has never spoken to me again. I know he and Bruce Wayne are friends and I thought he had suggested Bruce–”

“Bruce?”

“Mr. Wayne,” Blaze corrected herself. “I thought Batman was responsible for Mr. Wayne helping me with my reformation, until I learned the aunt of Wayne’s former ward, a sweet little, old lady named Harriet Cooper, was my real benefactor.”

“So, you betrayed Falseface to Batman?”

“Yes. I was so stupid!” Blaze had clenched her fists as she discussed her history with the Caped Crusader and her fingernails had dug into her palms.

Catwoman’s eyes narrowed behind the mask she liked to wear when she was on a job, although it no longer did anything to conceal her identity. “So, how can I be certain you will be loyal to me?”

“I’m working for you because I need the money. Therefore, it’s in my interest for you to be successful. Now, I know you sometimes have a thing for Batman, but don’t right now. Therefore, this is the perfect time for me to stick with you, in hopes of repaying him properly for all the kind attention he’s paid to me since I saved his life.”

Catwoman laughed harshly. “Batman owes you his life . . . and he’s utterly ignored you for years.”

“Precisely.”

“How do you feel about . . . Batgirl?”

“You have a . . . thing for her now, don’t you?”

“Answer the question!”

“Well, differently than you do. She will probably try to interfere with your plans. When she does, she should be discouraged, to say the very least. It would probably be better to get her out of the way . . . permanently.”

“A sound strategy.” Catwoman pulled a tiny control from her belt and made the quiet beeping of the pressure pad upon which Blaze stood stop. “You pass. Let’s go.”

“Can I ask you a question, boss?” Blaze said, quickly stepping from the pressure pad.

Catwoman glared at Blaze cooly. “You just did.” Having just had her life spared, Blaze failed to comprehend and stared back blankly.

Catwoman smiled at her little joke, then continued. “What do you want to know?”

“What are your plans for Batman and his allies?”

“I’m going to play with Batman before he dies. I promised to kill him if he interfered with my plans a couple of capers ago. Last time he drove me to Police Headquarters in the Batmobile by remote control. I propose to dispose of him as well as his associates, but to save his demise for last.” As she and Blaze spoke, Catwoman picked up the explosives and the pressure pad before leading the way to her Catillac.

“If your approach has the right psychological effect, he’ll be an emotional wreck when his turn comes,” Blaze said. “Wow! If his associates were to die one by one, his mental stability might be peeled away like the layered skin of an onion. What a delicious idea!”

“It is rather purr-fect, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so! Now, how do I fit into your plans?”

“There are certain preparations at the Catlair to which I’ll want you and the boys to attend. As I start picking off bats, success will depend upon prep-purr-ation.”

“When do we get started with the operation itself?”

“Immediately, if you can do voice impersonations.”

“One of my many talents,” Blaze said immodestly. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes. I can’t stand green hair. So, change it!” Blaze made a face as the Catillac pulled away.

Shortly thereafter, Chief O’Hara put down the phone and stared as it rang again immediately. It rang again and he picked it up with a scowl. “This is Chief O’Hara,” he said sharply.

“Would you step up to my office, Chief?” Commissioner Gordon said after a slight pause.

“Yes, sir,” he said in a small voice. He hadn’t know it was his boss on the line when he picked up the phone. “What is it?”

“I’m worried about the implications of a recent theft.”

“I’ll be right up.”

Moments later, Gordon had filled the Chief in on the details. A grave expression came across O’Hara’s face. “Munitions. That could be serious, sir. Are there any clues?”

“The guards who reported the crime didn’t see their attackers. The medics are examining them now. With luck, they’ll come up with something we can pass along to Lieutenant Mooney tonight.”

“That reminds me. She had a family emergency and won’t be in. I’ll stick around awhile this evening, if you’d like, and keep apprized of developments.”

“I’d appreciate that, Chief. Let me know if anything significant occurs. I’m afraid this munitions theft portends another crime wave in Gotham City. Unless we get on top of the situation, the repercussions could be quite dire indeed.”

“We could call in our caped friends.”

“I’d rather give them a place to start.”

“Yes, sir. It’s better not to call in Batman until a case really baffles us,” Chief O’Hara agreed, as though his police department was not routinely baffled by supercriminals’ activities. The two men stared at one another.

As Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara waited for a break in the case, Lieutenant Mooney got ready for work. She was descending the stairs when her doorbell rang. She opened the door and saw Blaze, who had changed her hair color back to fire-engine red. “Hello,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “How may I help you?”

“I have a clue for you, Lieutenant,” Blaze said, reaching toward the policewoman.

“A clue?”

“Yes,” Blaze replied. “You are Lieutenant Diana Mooney of the Gotham City Police Department, right?”

“Well, yes, but wouldn’t it be better to take your clue to Police Headquarters?”

“No,” Blaze answered, as a plume of smoke issued from the henchwoman’s hand and the victim collapsed almost instantly. “Not at all,” Blaze continued, catching her and stepping into the house, closing the door quickly behind her. Seconds later the garage door opened and the Catillac pulled in, admitting Catwoman and her gargantuan goons.

“A purr-fect purr-formance, Blaze,” Catwoman complimented, stepping out from behind the wheel.

“Thank you, boss. Now, what shall we do with her?” Blaze asked, glancing at the fallen lieutenant.

“We’ve come to talk to her. Boys, take her into the kitchen, disarm her, strip off her shirt, and tie her to a chair.”

“She’s wearing more than just a shirt, boss,” Blaster pointed out.

“I can see that!”

Gunner tried to explain, “If you want us to strip her–”

“I want her shirt intact and not to have to explain my instructions, which should have been carried out by now!” The men picked up the unconscious lieutenant and began lumbering away with her. Catwoman watched with her clawed hands resting on her well-rounded hips and her lips curling into the smile of a Cheshire cat.

“I don’t mean to question your motives, boss, but I don’t understand why we came here,” Blaze said.

“Lieutenant Diana Mooney is a good friend of Batgirl. With the lieutenant’s help, we can rid Gotham City of one-third of the Terrific Trio.”

“She isn’t just going to hand us Batgirl.”

“No, that’s precisely what she will do, Blaze.”

“Willingly?”

Catwoman laughed shortly. “You were out of the country when young Policewoman Diana Mooney infiltrated my gang in the guise of a hench-kitten called Catarina. I caught her reporting to Commissioner Gordon and imprisoned her in a maze constructed at that time on another level of the condominium containing my current Catlair. I was working with the Sandman then and he gave me Robin with whom to toy, so I put the Boy Blunder in the maze, too. I’d have added Sandman to my collection of rats when my cat and mouse game with him concluded. Unfortunately, he failed to kill Batman and the Caped Crusader released my captives. The rest of that caper is history and Policewoman Mooney went on to earn a promotion.”

“You don’t like her.”

“She’s scrumptious,” Catwoman said, licking her lips, “but this is business. The lieutenant has come after me a couple of times since our first encounter. Two years ago I sealed her in a different set of catacombs and would eventually have fed her to a group of white Persian tigers I’d stolen. Batman and Robin saved her again.”

“Well, this time the cops have no idea you even have her, so you can question her in complete privacy.”

“Precisely, Blaze. I want you to follow the news and let me know the moment the cops realize I’ve escaped.”

“While you and the boys play with your mousy rat?”

“The boys are going to keep you company. They should have completed their chores by now. I’m going to enjoy my little talk with Lieutenant Mooney . . . in private. Come on.”

They found their captive bound hand and foot to a kitchen chair, while her gun, nightstick, and uniform shirt lay on the table. Gunner and Blaster were admiring the way the captive’s t-shirt clung to her upper body and licked their lips. Anticipating.

“All right, boys,” Catwoman said, “wake her up.”

“We could kiss her,” Blaster suggested.

“Don’t you mean crush her?” Blaze incredulously demanded.

Gunner filled his huge, cupped hand with water at the sink and splashed the captive’s face with it. Her eyes fluttered open. “Wake up, Lieutenant,” Gunner said. “The boss wants your complete attention.”

“Have you been beddy-bye, Diana?” Catwoman purred.

“Catwoman,” Lieutenant Mooney said flatly. “So, I see you’ve changed bodies again.”

“Very purr-ceptive.”

The captive tried to get up and realized she was bound. Then she began to struggle. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“I need you to give me Batgirl’s cell phone number and I imagined I’d have to do more than ask politely.”

“You’re right about that, and you’d better hurry. I’m late for work and someone will be calling soon to check up on me.”

“I very much doubt it. How did your phone call to the police go, Blaze?”

“Hello, Chief,” Blaze said, rendering a fair imitation of Lieutenant Mooney’s voice. “I’m sorry to give you such short notice, but my mother needs me this afternoon and evening. I’ll be back at work tomorrow if I can. Thank you.” Blaze laughed. “Chief O’Hara was very sympathetic. Pathetic!”

“Make no mistake,” Catwoman said menacingly, ”you’ll give me that cell phone number before I‘m finished with you. We can do this the easy way,” Catwoman leaned in, putting one hand on the back of Diana’s chair as she got right in the lieutenant’s face, “or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

“Whatever you do to me, Catwoman, and whatever your plans are, you will not escape justice.”

Catwoman laughed and strutted to a position behind the captive. “I’m so glad you feel that way,” she whispered, her lips a mere inch from the policewoman’s ear. Catwoman reached around the prisoner’s neck and slipped one of her claws beneath the neck of Mooney’s t-shirt. A sharp, downward motion bisected her breasts and cut a slit from her neck to her waist. Catwoman straightened and eased her claws into the neck of the shirt again. Another sharp movement along the captive’s arms sliced the t-shirt’s shoulders open, causing the garment to fall away from her chest and shoulders, revealing Lieutenant Mooney’s brassiere.

“Boys, take the Catillac back to the lair and get started on your assignments. We have bats to exterminate, after all. Blaze, it’s time to start monitoring the news,” Catwoman said, peeling the t-shirt from her prisoner’s back and tossing the tattered garment carelessly aside.

Once her minions had gone, Catwoman leaned close to the captive’s ear again. “You’re so pretty, but I want that phone number. Now that you and I are alone, we can talk freely. No one else need ever know what happens here.”

Lieutenant Mooney’s response was not ladylike, but very suggestive.

“Listen, Lieutenant,” Catwoman said, flashing her claws in front of the policewoman’s eyes, “I can slice hundreds of agonizing paper cuts into your shoulders . . . or gouge my way into your abdomen and dig out vital organs!”

“You think I care what you do to me?”

“You should. All I want is a phone number. Once I’ve finished shredding your upper body, I have much more brutal means of attacking infiinitely more sensitive regions of your anatomy.” As Catwoman spoke, she straightened, letting her cat-o-nine tales brush her prisoner’s cheek. Then the villainess chuckled. “Is Batgirl’s phone number worth all that pain?”

“You’re sick!” the prisoner declared, shuddering.

Catwoman reached over Diana’s shoulders and down, pressing the tips of her claws against the woman’s abdomen without breaking the skin. “I’m listening for the answer to my question.”

“You can contact Batgirl through Police Headquarters.”

The claw tips pressed harder into Diana Mooney’s abdomen, dimpling the captive’s skin. Catwoman’s hot breath seared Mooney’s other ear and the villainess’ lips nearly touched the captive as the Feline Felon spoke. “I want to have a private conversation, like the one you and I are having. Now, what is Batgirl’s phone number?”

Lieutenant Mooney’s answer was again unladylike. She winced as claw tips poked through her flesh.

“Are you sure you won’t tell me?”

“Whatever you can dish out, I can take.”

“I hope you have some first-aid cream in your medicine cabinet,” Catwoman said, easing the pressure the claws were causing and drawing them in opposite directions. Parallel, red lacerations appeared on the captive’s abdomen. “You’re going to need it. I trust those wounds hurt.”

Diana Mooney was breathing more heavily.

Catwoman chuckled again. “It’s going to take rather a long time for me to finish using you as a scratching post,” she thoughtfully purred. “Oh well, you and I have a long, complicated history.” Claw tips bit into Mooney’s shoulders and severed skin without drawing blood.

“You’ve done this before?”

“Many times. This time all I want is a cell phone number. It’s very stupid of you to endure all of this. It’s so unnecessary.” A shallow scratch along Mooney’s arm deepened as the captive shuddered. “Oops,” Catwoman playfully said. She reached for the prisoner’s tattered shirt and stepped toward the sink, where she rinsed her bloody claws. Carefully, Catwoman dried her claws on the torn t-shirt, making certain the captive could clearly see her.

“You’re a monster!” Diana Mooney cried.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names could make me kill you,” Catwoman taunted. Suddenly, she stopped, staring and seeming to realize something for the first time. “I’ll tell you something. You have a very pretty face.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Catwoman replied, laughing playfully. “A doctor could repair the damage to your looks with plastic surgery, but I promise no one will ever be able to fix what that would do to you,” Catwoman tapped Diana’s forehead with a claw, “in there.”

“All I have to do is tell you Batgirl’s phone number and you’ll let me go?”

“I never said that. I will stop scratching you, though.”

‘No one at Police Headquarters has any idea Catwoman is free and up to her old tricks. If I let her call Batgirl, maybe the forces of law and order will be unleashed and the hunt for the Feline Felon can begin,’ Diana Mooney reasoned. “I’ll tell you the number.”

“Splendid. Be aware, if you lie about this, I will dig these claws into your chest and open you up like a filleted fish.”

Lieutenant Mooney revealed the phone number.

Barbara Gordon had enjoyed dining out with her father and returned to her apartment to spend a rare evening without plans, for herself or for her secret alter ego, Batgirl. She had just selected a movie to watch on her DVD player when a soft ringing from her bedroom drew her attention.

She walked into her bedroom and looked around for her cordless phone without seeing it. Suddenly, she realized the ringing was coming from behind the dresser, which meant it was from Batgirl’s cell phone.

The spinning wall gave her access to Batgirl’s tiny, yet functional headquarters. She took the phone from her utility belt and answered it.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Batgirrrrl. This is Catwoman, purring in your ear,” the Feline Felon announced, chuckling. “Your friend, Lieutenant Mooney, was kind enough to provide me with this number.”

“Catwoman! When did you get out of prison?! and why should I believe you’re holding Lieutenant Mooney?”

“You should have more trust in me, Batgirl! I did call you on this private number, after all.” The Feline Fiend favored her enemy with a throaty chuckle.

“I trust you’ll be back in jail very quickly. What do you want, anyway?”

“To save a life. Tonight at midnight, I’m going to rob the Manufacturers’, Jewelers’, and Designers’ Showroom in the Diamond District.”

“You mean where the fabulous Twins and the famous Duran Diamond Scorpion were on display before the Joker stole them?”

“Precisely. I've missed you, Batgirl. I so look forward to seeing you -- alone! Now, if Batman, Robin, Batwoman, Flamebird or the police are anywhere near that jeweler tonight, I’ll kill your friend. She’s my guest as we speak. Goodnight.” After a brief, harsh laugh, Catwoman stopped purring and hung up.

“So much for having the night off,” Barbara said as she began her tantalizing transformation into the feminine scourge of crime, Batgirl.

Moments later, the Batgirlcycle roared out of the secret freight elevator and Batgirl began the familiar trip to Police Headquarters. Once she arrived, she raced up the front stairs and hurried across the lobby to the officer on duty. “I’d like to see Lieutenant Mooney, please, if she’s free,” Batgirl said, trying to keep the trepidation from her voice.

“Okay, Batgirl,” the officer said. “Is she expecting you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

The policeman on duty picked up the phone and frowned. “I’m having trouble reaching her.” Suddenly, he put the phone down and snapped his fingers. “I’m sorry, Batgirl. I just remembered. The Chief said she called in tonight.”

“Chief O’Hara?”

“He’s still here. I can ask if he’s available.”

“Thanks. Please tell him I’m on my way up.” Before the man could protest, she was gone.

Chief O’Hara’s office was smaller than his superior’s, but had a comparable view. Batgirl knocked and was admitted by the Chief himself, who was holding one of Gilligan's famous corned beef sandwiches in his hand. “Begorra, this is a surprise,” he remarked as he put the sandwich down. “What brings you here, Batgirl?”

“Catwoman called me on my cell phone and said she was going to hit a store in the Diamond District at midnight. What worries me is she threatened Lieutenant Mooney if the police or any of my associates interfered and said the Lieutenant gave her my number.”

“I don’t know, Batgirl. I spoke to Lieutenant Mooney personally. She said she needed the day to help her mother with something. I assumed it was some kind of family problem and not really any of my business.” The Irishman’s face looked troubled. “Mother McCree! You don’t think Catwoman compelled Lieutenant Mooney to make that call somehow?”

“It’s possible, Chief.”

“Should we call Mooney’s mother?”

“I think such a step might be premature. There is no need to worry the poor lady without cause.”

“Right. I was just about to look at some of these incoming reports. Eating that sandwich put me a little behind, but tonight has been thankfully slow until you got here.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure and you can!” the Chief agreed cheerfully.

He pulled to top folder from his inbox and began to scan it. Batgirl picked up the rest of the stack and began to refill the box until she came to a memo from the Gotham State Penitentiary.

“Look at this, Chief!” Batgirl said. “Catwoman was released into the custody of an English barrister yesterday morning and hasn’t been seen since. Warden Crichton has had no success tracking the gentleman’s credentials.”

“Then that feline she-devil is out on the loose!”

“I’m afraid so, Chief.”

“Wait a minute. I was sent some airport security tapes. I think we’d better take a look at them. Come on. We’ll use the Commissioner’s closed circuit television.”

The Chief grabbed the tapes and hurried to his superior’s office. As he and Batgirl watched, the unmistakable figure of Selina Kyle walked across a gate and boarded a plane bound for Miami.

“That tears it,” Chief O’Hara said. “Catwoman is definitely not in prison!“

“Right, Chief . . . and if Selina Kyle’s body flew to Miami, that means Catwoman changed bodies with someone . . . and from the voice that called me, there’s little doubt it was Tara Kaat! By the way, you might want to put that tape through a facial recognition program and determine with whom Selina Kyle’s body is traveling.”

“I’ll put the tech boys right on that, Batgirl. Thanks.”

“What else has happened today, Chief?”

“Not too much. Oh, wait. The Commissioner was worried about the theft of a munitions truck portending a crime wave.” Chief O’Hara suddenly stopped and slapped his forehead. “Saints preserve us! You don’t think . . . .”

“It’s too early to tell.”

“We didn’t get any clues from the crime scene of which to speak. The crooks took off with the truck and left the driver and guard tied up along the side of the road out of sight. Unfortunately, the victims have no idea who attacked them.”

“It could be unrelated.”

“I’ll personally ask Catwoman after we pick her up from the Diamond District.”

“It might be a good idea to leave her to me.”

“Why do you say that, Batgirl?”

“If we’re right and she’s holding Lieutenant Mooney, your force swarming through the Diamond District will trigger a hostage situation.”

“Sure and it might. It’s policy not to negotiate in such situations.”

“That policy would put Lieutenant Mooney’s life in jeopardy, Chief. Obviously, Catwoman wants me. If I go in alone, I might be able to rescue Lieutenant Mooney.”

“I don’t know, Batgirl. Do you remember when you were working with Joker as Badgirl a couple of years ago?”

“Yes. Joker and I tried to kill you, the Commissioner, and Lieutenant Mooney in this office, but Batman and Robin saved you.”

“Right. Well, before you and Joker left us, we all got to listen to a tape Catwoman had delivered after escaping custody.” He reached for something on a nearby shelf. “Here it is. Let me play it for you again, now that you’re in your right mind.”

“Meeeeeoooooow!” Selina Kyle’s voice purred. The tape continued after a few moments of silence. “This is Catwoman, purring in your ears. Be warned! If Policewoman Diana Mooney crosses my path again, I’ll kill her without compunction or hesitation. Please pass the same message along to Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl and their pet birdies. I’m quite serious, but you’ll all find that out soon enough. Meeeeeoooooow!” The voice on the tape chuckled, laughed for a long moment and went silent.

“I remember,” Batgirl said grimly.

“Listen. In light of this threat, don’t you think the fact she didn’t warn you off means she’ll be ready for you?”

“I’d say so, but it also means I’ll be ready for her being ready for me.” Batgirl favored her friend with one of her most winning smiles.

“If I asked whether your knowing she would be ready for you being ready for her would make any difference, would you tell me?”

“I don’t think so, Chief.”

Chief O’Hara cracked a smile. “You’d like to handle this yourself to try and save Diana.”

“Yes, Chief, I would. I know how serious this situation is. Believe me.”

“All right. I’ll play it your way. Good luck!”

“Thank your for your trust, Chief O’Hara.”

“I’d better at least let the Commissioner know what’s happening,” the Chief muttered to himself as Batgirl left the office.

Later that night, the petite Catwoman and both of her hulking thugs entered the jewelry showroom from the rear.

“You’re early, Catwoman.”

“And you’re foolish, Batgirl. I see the alarms gave you no trouble.”

“None of which to speak. In fact, I’m here to deliver trouble, unless you release Lieutenant Mooney and surrender to me at once.”

“So, you think you can collar me?” Catwoman said with a confident smirk. Batgirl nodded. “Well, we’ll just see about that!” Catwoman’s purring tone became commanding and the volume of her voice raised considerably as she ordered, ”Get her, cats!” Gunner and Blaster charged.

The thugs were big enough that one might assume they routinely lumbered or shambled around. Nevertheless, they were surprisingly swift and agile, moving efficiently and economically with practiced grace.

Batgirl waited for the thugs to get close and leaped into the air, flipping over them and landing. Blaster turned a little more slowly and felt a movement behind him before a heel crashed into the back of his knee, taking him to the floor with an uncharacteristic yelp of pain.

Gunner flung himself at Batgirl, who ducked, feeling his meaty fist fly past her shoulder before she straightened, bearing his massive weight and spinning around. The hapless thug began to grow dizzy with his arms and legs flailing wildly until Batgirl maneuvered him into position to knock the rising Blaster into a glass jewel case, which shattered. She then bent and sent the man on her shoulders flying a couple of yards so that his weight was born by another jewel case as he landed. The glass cabinet was far from equal to the task.

Blaster had returned to his feet more quickly that Batgirl had anticipated and shoved her into the counter face first. She used her hands to absorb the impact and rolled over, to see him charging at her, and flinging himself at her. ‘I’ll be a human pancake if he lands on me like that!’

Desperately, she rolled to the side until she could see he would not hit her when he impacted the counter and had a split second to set her feet before snapping a kick at him as his arms and legs splayed out in midair. The double impact of her toe and the counter assailed Blaster with pain as he crumpled to the floor. A plume of Bat-Gas from a capsule Batgirl pulled from her Bat-capsule Dispensary took him effectively out of the fight.

A massive arm with well-defined muscles the size of hams curled around her neck and upper chest before flinging Batgirl hard to the floor as she turned to locate Gunner. She lay stunned for a moment and felt both her wrists gathered in one massive hand that slowly pulled her entire body into the air and held her up. A huge fist hit her in the center of the chest and drove her hard into a wall. She leaned her head forward to keep from being knocked unconscious as her body was wracked with sudden, exquisite pain.

Gunner was nearly upon her again by the time she gathered her wits. He swung at her and she ducked beneath the potentially bone-shattering blow, diving and tumbling to get some distance between herself and the gigantic goon. She found herself behind a jewelry case and vaulted on top of it, springing into the air as the man charged toward her. In midair she launched a kick that caught the man under the chin and sent him backward, crashing into yet another jewel case. She landed and sprinted to where he had fallen, slamming her heel into his forehead and ramming it into the floor. Gunner moaned. Defeated.

Batgirl, her chest heaving, recovered from the battle as she regarded Catwoman. “So, the time has come to remit myself into your muscularrr custody,” the smiling villainess purred. “How delightful. Before you haul me in, though, you might want to investigate the truck I parked out in the alley behind this building. Your friend, the Lieutenant, is all tied up in the back and I left a ticking bomb for her with which to play.”

Catwoman theatrically consulted a watch on her wrist. “You still have two minutes to save her, but in the meantime, I’m all yours.” As Batgirl turned and dashed toward the truck, she could easily hear her enemy’s kittenish chuckle.

A glance told Batgirl the cab was separated from the back of the truck, so she would have to open the rear door. It was locked, but the Curved Crusader had pulled out a lock pick with one hand as the other tested the door. Practiced hands made short work of the lock and Batgirl was climbing inside before the door stopped rising.

Inside, darkness shrouded the bound, uniformed woman seated on the chair beneath which a red, digital display was counting down. Less than a minute remained before it would explode!

Without hesitation, Batgirl flung herself at the captive, her fingers feeling for the wires connecting the timer to the bomb. Once she had found them, her tiny Batlight stabbed through the darkness enabling her to discern the wire that would stop the explosion from the wire that would instantly trigger it. She relaxed as her fingers tore the correct wire from the timer, stopping it with a second to go.

“Thank you, Batgirl,” the woman said.

‘Something’s wrong, Batgirl thought. ‘This woman sounds nothing like Diana! Catwoman has stolen voices in the past, but I’ve never heard of her altering them!’

Before Batgirl could shine her Batlight on the woman’s face, she was speaking again. “I’m impressed. If that bomb had been armed, you would have saved my life. Unlike you, though, I was never in danger.”

Batgirl gasped as the woman’s foot hit her hip. A stabbing pain issued from the wound where her skin was pierced! Then, numbness began to replace the sudden pain. Slowly, it spread out from the wound and began turning Batgirl’s muscles to jelly. She tried to fight the sensation, by standing and supporting herself against the side of the truck.

“Who . . . who are you?” Batgirl managed to stammer. “What . . . what d-did you . . . d-do to me?”

“I’m Blaze, Catwoman’s newest hench-kitten. I gave you something that will help you relax. I think I penetrated your femoral artery, which will let the drug spread very, very quickly. Of course, Catwoman wouldn’t hear of you bleeding to death, so don't worry. The tip on my toe is as fine as a hypodermic needle.”

Blaze stood and Batgirl tried to retreat. After a couple of shaky steps, the heroine's balance failed and she fell all the way from the back of the truck to the pavement.

Stunned, Batgirl was still aware of Catwoman’s approach. “Purr-fect, Blaze. The Catatonic has already rrrendered her utterrrly helpless.”

“What . . . what have you d-done with Lieutenant Mooney?” Batgirl asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“I’ve really been quite gentle with her . . . so far. There were a few scratches to get her to tell me your private phone number, but a little antiseptic dealt with those. We’ve kept her restrained, of course, and we put a collar, like this one, on her.” Catwoman lifted Batgirl’s head and slipped a collar around her neck, snapping it shut.

“What . . . what is this?” Batgirl weakly mumbled.

“It’s layered with C4. Once it’s armed, any successful attempt to remove it will break the circuit and blow your pretty head off. Of course, I can detonate both of your collars remotely any time I please. I’d rather not, though. I’ve a much more interesting death in mind for you. By the way, the collar is armed now. So please, do be careful.” Catwoman laughed and Batgirl could hear Blaze join in her mistress’ mirth.

“Where . . . where is my friend?”

“You’ll see her, soon enough,” Catwoman said. “First, there is the small but pricey matter of a jewelry store’s entire inventory to purr-loin. Come, Blaze. Batgirl will still be here when we’re done.”

“Excuse us,” Blaze said politely, stepping to the ground and following her mistress. Batgirl could only lay helplessly on the cold pavement as the robbery transpired.

The Kitty Car presently pulled to a stop beside Batgirl’s prone body and the Feline Fiend stepped from the driver’s seat. Ordinarily, the Kitty Car held only a single passenger and the driver. With Catwoman using Tara Kaat’s more petite body, however, her paralyzed prisoners could be squeezed into the car with her. It was a tight fit, but Catwoman relished the close quarters and the prisoners’ opinions were, of course, irrelevant.

“Where are we going, boss?” Blaze asked, leaning out the driver’s window of the truck, as the men squeezed Batgirl’s body between Lieutenant Mooney and the passenger door.

“Back to the lair and your ongoing responsibilities there, but first we’re stopping at the Gotham City Historical Society Headquarters courtyard. They are refurbishing something from the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities I’d like to try out. Follow me!”

Batgirl saw her friend was unharmed, but, as Catwoman claimed, also wore one of the diabolical collars around her neck. She had on police issue slacks and a GCPD sweatshirt that told Batgirl where Blaze had gotten an official uniform top. Otherwise, not a thing about the lieutenant’s appearance looked out of place.

“D-Diana,” Batgirl whispered.

“B-Batgirl,” the Lieutenant responded. “She’s . . . she’s going to kill us. I’m . . . I’m sorry. It was a trap.”

“D-Don’t be. We’re . . . we’re going to be okay,” Batgirl replied. Catwoman slid back behind the wheel and gunned the engine. Batgirl kept her next comment to herself. ‘At least, I hope we are.’

The Feline Fiend steered her car one-handed, purring, chuckling, and letting her free hand stroke one prisoner and then the other. Batgirl tried to ignore her captor’s touch as she considered a strategy to stay alive. ‘Now is the time to relax, to gather my strength and wits for when focus and concentration will be required to stay alive.’

Presently, the car pulled to a stop and the attached doors raised. Batgirl was hazily aware of Blaze and the hulking thugs’ approach as Catwoman climbed from the driver’s seat.

“Remove them, boys. The drug should be starting to wear off. So, shackle their hands.” Blaster and Gunner easily lifted the captives from the car, produced handcuffs, and secured the prisoners’ hands behind their backs while gripping the backs of their necks. “Batgirl’s belt won’t come amiss as a souvenir,” Catwoman purred. “Fetch it, Blaze.” The henchwoman stepped up to Batgirl and manipulated the utility belt buckle so that the weight of the equipment-laden accessory tore it from Batgirl’s waist.

“This should help us break in,” Blaze pointed out, extending the golden belt to her mistress.

“What a purr-fect idea,” Catwoman delightedly said. “Boys, bind the captives’ legs and guard them while we reconnoiter the premises. We’ll rejoin you shortly.” Lieutenant Mooney and Batgirl were unceremoniously dropped to the ground, where they crumpled, laying at the leviathan leg-breakers’ mercy, as Catwoman and Blaze took their leave.

Presently, Batgirl heard Blaze laughing. “I love it, boss, but setting it up will be a lot of work.”

The female criminals reappeared. “Well, I’m sure my manpower will be able to easily handle the job. Meanwhile, Blaze, the prisoners are your responsibility. Tranquilize them,” Catwoman ordered. Batgirl heard a soft pop and felt something impale her. She once again fervently wished there was something she could safely take in advance to counter-act the effect of such attacks. Then, she blacked out.

“Wake up, you two,” a sultry voice said. Batgirl inhaled and felt her body convulse as smelling salts did their work on her. Beside her, another cough sounded. Batgirl turned her head and spotted Lieutenant Diana Mooney lying on her back with Catwoman’s collar around her neck, her arms drawn behind her back, her wrists shackled, and her legs bound tightly together at the knees and ankles. A few experimental movements and a questioning glance revealed she was in exactly the same position. “I hope you’rrre both comfortable.”

The bound policewoman weakly asked, “What is Catwoman going to do to us?”

“I’m sure her intentions are not honorable,” Batgirl mumbled.

“Not in the slightest,” Catwoman confirmed with a delighted laugh. “Do you know where you are?”

The captives fearfully looked at one another and then took in their surroundings. They were lying on a rope mesh that seemed to be attached to an enormous, wooden frame that surrounded them. Oddly, they were fastened to neither the mesh beneath them nor the frame. Batgirl pondered this fact and looked along the length of her body and then above her as she felt a chill travel along the length of her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. She could see an enormous hinge beyond her feet. They were on the long arm of an huge, bent lever, while a heavy weight, suspended by another net, was fastened to the short arm. Batgirl’s dire suspicions were confirmed when she realized she and Lieutenant Mooney had been positioned parallel to the ground.

“This is a trebuchet,” Batgirl said.

Catwoman frowned. “While technically you’re purr-fectly correct, Batgirl, I naturally prefer the term catapult. In any event, you no doubt realize you’re about to be launched on a one-way maiden flight. Of course, if women had been meant to fly, they would have been given wings.” The black-clad beauty laughed.

“You won’t get away with this,’ Batgirl predicted.

“I think I will. You see, I’m using the same technique Penguin did when he cast Batman and Robin as victims of a similar flight in a short film circulating among Warden Crichton’s charges. It’s very popular, as you may imagine, but its audience doesn’t like the ending. I, however, found it quite instructive. As Batman once again recently demonstrated, the classic way of escaping this type of situation is to calculate where your bodies will land and somehow arrange for a net or something to catch you, but I’ve anticipated that slim possibility with your collars.”

“What do you mean?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“In addition to the explosives in those collars being triggered by attempts to remove them, I’ve incorporated pressure sensitive triggers. I assure you, they’re very sensitive.”

“So, if the collar impacts anything, it blows our heads off,” Batgirl said, her voice unable to hide the horror this realization induced.

“Precisely,” Catwoman confirmed with a wicked chuckle. “Happy landings.”

“The craters their landing will cause will make lovely graves,” Blaze predicted. “Oh, and since we confiscated your utility belt, you can’t have any wing-shaped parachutes on hand like the Dynamic Duo did when they survived Mr. Personality’s trap.”

Batgirl had heard the story of how the talkative villain had arranged to fling the Dynamic Duo at an enormous, hydraulically-powered baseball bat, intended to knock them deep into the West River, behind their starting point. She had subsequently had the rare opportunity to view the news footage of the heroes’ miraculous escape, since she infrequently had the chance to see them in action without being in dire danger herself.

Blaze reached to Lieutenant Mooney’s body and pinned something to her sweatshirt before going on, “I’ve realized that once we’ve finished with you, I’ll be a disgrace to the uniform. So I thought I’d better return your badge, Lieutenant. Your fellow cops might find it helpful in identifying your remains when they arrive to sop them up with a sponge.” The four fiends indulged themselves in a laugh before Catwoman returned to business.

“Is the acid ready, Blaze?”

“Acid?” Lieutenant Mooney queried.

“Catasonic acid, my dear Catarina. The same kind you elected to avoid being catalyzed with by entering my amazing maze eight years ago. I’ve decided just dropping the weight or burning or cutting the net in which the trigger is suspended would kill you much too quickly. You see, ladies, I have issues with both of you and I want you to remember them distinctly and in great detail while you wait to die. Boys, there’s a large hourglass in the office lobby I’d like to borrow. Go get it.”

Gunner and Blaster moved off and returned after a few minutes, easily carrying a gigantic hourglass between them. “Well done, my malicious minions. Now, invert the glass.” Catwoman’s men had no trouble tipping the hourglass over, so that the sands in the top half began falling into the bottom. “Purr-fect. Blaze, it’s time to deploy the acid.”

Neither Batgirl nor Lieutenant Mooney could see what the henchwoman did, but after a few seconds, an angry hiss became audible to both of them. Catwoman’s sultry voice began to purr as she addressed her captives again. “I’ve timed this most carefully. Just as the sands of that hourglass run out, my acid will catalyze the center of the net holding the weight, thus setting the two of you briefly free of your Earthly bonds . . . that is, until gravity does its inexorable work on you both.”

“So, even if we’re not killed immediately by the impact, the detonation of your collars will blow us to bits,” Batgirl grimly said.

“Just so,” Catwoman confirmed. She touched both hands to her lips and blew her victims kisses. “Farewell . . . forever. We’ll retire now to observe your tragic trajectory from a more comfortable vantage point. Goodbye.” Laughing uproariously, the beautiful blackguard turned and walked away, followed closely by her minions.

“Well, Batgirl.” Lieutenant Mooney said, “how do we get out of this?”

“I’m not sure,” Batgirl replied. “I do know if we don’t get it done before this thing launches, we’re dead.”

“Oh,” the policewoman said, deadpan.

Both of them fell silent, pondering the fate Catwoman had planned for them and how they might escape it. As they waited and wondered, they glanced at the falling sand in the hourglass and noted its perfidious progress, and they listened as the acid hissed, eating slowly, but hungrily, at the center of the net holding the terrible trebuchet’s trigger.

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