MEANWHILE, EGGHEAD WAS TRYING TO TURN THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF GOTHAM CITY INTO BAD EGGS.
WILL EGGHEAD'S EVIL ENDEAVORS SUCCEED?
WILL BATGIRL BE ABLE TO ESCAPE EGGHEAD'S VERSION OF THE CHINESE WATER TORTURE?
STAY TUNED -
FOR YOU ARE ABOUT TO FIND OUT!
plonk . . . . plonk . . . . plonk . . . .
Batgirl’s torture had begun.
Tied to a metal stake with her head immobilized, Batgirl began to analyze her current predicament. When she had been subjected to the Theban pebble torture at the hands of King Tut’s Chief Torturer, Chris Thomson, she had been mummified. Only Robin’s intervention had prevented her from losing her sanity. The very thought of enduring a similar fiendish procedure a second time was almost a torture in itself. On this occasion, however, she knew she would have to free herself. Although the situation was bleak, Batgirl had been in dire straights many times before and had always managed to find a way out.
Despite not being gagged, the noise from over 40,000 hens would effectively mute any cries for help. Testing her bonds, she found she was able to touch her hands together, but was unable to reach the knots which had been tied on the far side of the stake. Batgirl started to rub against the stake itself, hoping to find a rough surface or protrusion upon which she could saw through her ropes. Unfortunately, the metal stake was very smooth indeed. There was almost no give in the rope tying her ankles together and she could not move her head at all. She realized that this was what Egghead had intended – so that each egg would strike her in exactly the same spot as the one before.
Looking around, she could not see any thing near her that might aid her escape. She had to admit – Egghead had planned her demise quite thoroughly. Nevertheless, in her experience, criminals had always overlooked some small detail when constructing their devilish deathtraps. Batgirl’s task now was to identify Egghead’s oversight and use it to save herself.
Batgirl noticed that the sound of the machine had changed. Six seconds passed without another impact. ‘The chicken eggs must be loading!’ Batgirl relished the break. As she did so, the gooey, semi-liquid content of the broken quail eggs began to run down her face.
Plonk . . . . Plonk . . . . Plonk
All too soon, the torture resumed.
Unable to think of anything else to do, the costumed crimefighter set about working on her bonds again, trying to generate some slack. The physical effort and mental focus required would at least take her mind off the continual bombardment.
Her head began to ache. The thin fabric of her cowl was totally inadequate to offer any protection. Now, not only was her head sore from the repeated impacts, but her neck and back were starting to cramp.
144 eggs later there was another pause. Batgirl tried to gird herself for what was to come. ‘Duck eggs.’ The fifteen second interval served as a hellish overture for the increase in the intensity of her torment.
Batgirl was also all too aware of what lie in wait for her at the end of the process. ‘Ostrich eggs.’ Unlike even the emu eggs, which would likely break upon striking her, thereby dissipating some energy, the ostrich eggs would almost certainly remain intact.
Ostrich egg shells are so tough, chefs have to use drills or hacksaws to reach the yolks and albumin within them. The first ostrich egg would probably give Batgirl a concussion. Unconsciousness soon would follow. Shortly thereafter, she would suffer irreversible brain damage.
Twelve minutes later, the sound of the machine changed again. Batgirl found it hard to remember what would be next. Just as the next egg hit, she remembered. ‘Goose eggs.’
She had now endured more than forty-five minutes of torture. Midway through the pelican eggs, Batgirl realized that she was having trouble keeping her mind on trying to escape. The repetitive, progressive pounding she had taken was interfering with her ability to think. She knew that if she didn’t get away soon, she might not escape at all.
As Batgirl’s legs began to cramp, she shifted her weight to ease the tension that was building in her shapely thighs. She managed to lift herself half an inch off the ground for a fraction of a second. When she came down, she felt a stinging sensation in her right buttock. “Ouch.” ‘What was that?’ she thought. As she was pondering the cause of her pain, she felt more eggs whites and yolks spilling down over her face and onto her torso.
The pain was actually a blessing in disguise. Her mind had been wandering, but the pain cleared her head and allowed her to regain her focus . . .
‘Eggshells!’ she suddenly realized. ‘I must have sat upon a jagged piece of eggshell. If I could reach a piece, I might be able to use it to cut myself free!’ The reflection from a nearby metallic garbage can revealed pieces of eggshell were littering the floor all around her. She searched for a large piece with a jagged edge. After twelve more eggs, she succeeded in picking one up.
Twisting her wrists upwards, she began to go to work on her bonds. Her progress seemed agonizingly slow. Her wrists and fingers began to ache from being forced to work in such an unnatural position. Batgirl had to rest her hands every few minutes until the aching subsided.
Swan eggs began to fall upon Batgirl as she continued her struggle for freedom. Judging by the impact, Batgirl decided these were quite a bit larger than the pelican eggs. The piece of eggshell she was using suddenly crumbled in her hands!
She found another piece and continued. She felt her rope loosen slightly as the swan eggs continued to fall. The ache in her head intensified. She could feel the muscles in her temples spasm in protest. Drawing upon ancient meditation techniques, she blocked out the pain and forced herself to continue. Once more she had to find a new piece of eggshell, as her makeshift saw disintegrated.
The sound of the machine changed again. The brief respite was welcome, but she was horrified by the knowledge that even larger eggs were about to fall upon her skull.
PLONK . . . . PLONK . . . . PLONK
The emu eggs started falling. The impacts were taking a toll. Her body felt sluggish. Her vision began to blur. Her mind began to cloud over . . .
Batgirl dropped her improvised saw. It took her far longer to pick up a new piece than it previously had.
Finally, after another two minutes of effort, the ropes around her wrists fell away! Reaching for the straps holding her head immobilized took her another minute as her punch-drunk body struggled to carry out the instructions her mind was sending.
Desperately Batgirl worked the straps. The emu eggs continued to fall. Batgirl screamed in frustration. She became frantic.
‘I have to get free before the ostrich eggs!’ was her only thought. The sound of the machine changed one last time.
With seconds to spare, Batgirl managed to undo the last of her head straps. She immediately allowed her head to fall forward.
THUMP
She paused for several minutes, trying to clear her head, as the ostrich eggs rained down upon her shoulder blades. Untying her ankles and torso, Batgirl finally crawled away. Still not well enough to go after Egghead, she lay on the floor, feeling her senses recover.
The sound of the egg-collecting machine shutting down bought Batgirl out of her reverie. Apart from a splitting headache, aching wrists and fingers, bruises on her back and cramps in her neck, back and legs, she decided she was none the worse for wear. Standing up, she spied her utility belt, gloves and boots on a nearby table. She removed as much of egg innards from her costume as she could before completing her ensemble.
She took an aspirin, stretched her cramping body and resumed her search for Egghead. The farm was empty, however, a brief search revealed a timetable for Egghead’s masterplan. Something called ‘Operation Pre-emptive Strike’ was scheduled for 7:30 that very evening at the Batman Hilton. The date and time sounded vaguely familiar, but still suffering from the after-effects of the egg torture, Batgirl couldn’t remember where she had seen it before.
Batgirl flipped open her Bat-cellphone. “Hello. Commissioner Gordon’s ’s office. Lieutenant Mooney speaking.”
“Hello, Diana. Batgirl here. Is my fa– I mean, is the Commissioner there?”
“I’m afraid not. He left early. Can I help you?”
“I need to know: What events are taking place at the Batman Hilton tonight?”
“Are you kidding, Batgirl?” replied Lieutenant Mooney. “Tonight at 7:30 is the annual Policemen’s Ball . . . and you’re supposed to give a speech!”
“Oh, I forgot! I’ve . . . err . . . had a lot on my mind.” The Purple Paragon told Mooney about her latest ordeal and Egghead’s plan to turn Gotham into a city of criminals.
“If Egghead manages to turn the police force evil, there will be no one to stop the crime spree he is planning!” gasped Lieutenant Mooney. “In fact, they will exacerbate the criminal mayhem!”
“If we play this right, we might be able to turn the tables,” said Batgirl. “After all, we don’t want to scare them away from a building filled with policemen. Besides, I’d hate to spoil the celebration for Gotham’s finest. Please meet me in the Commissioner’s office in one hour with six police officers.
Meanwhile, Egghead and his criminal consorts entered the Batman Hilton dressed as delivery persons and headed for the kitchen. A knockout gas egg took care of the chef and maitre d’ who were tied up and deposited in a nearby office. “With the police on our side, the remaining Bat-Bozos won’t stand a chance,” Egghead snickered. “Come my lovely assistants. We have work to do.”
Batgirl returned to the laboratory which Egghead had been using to manufacture Cataphrenic chickenfeed. When she had passed before, she noted the list of chemicals that Egghead was using contained all the necessary ingredients for making the Bat-antidote. She quickly went to work.
Roughly thirty minutes later, she filled a two liter bottle with liquid Bat-antidote. She carefully secured the bottle on the Batgirlcycle and set off.
Returning to her apartment, Barbara took a quick shower and changed into a spare Batgirl outfit. Feeling much better, she headed for the Commissioner’s office.
By the time she arrived it was 6:30 p.m. Lieutenant Mooney and her officers were present. “Okay, we have criminals to thwart and colleagues to protect. This is what I want you to do . . .”
Promptly at 7:30 p.m., dinner was served. From the kitchen, Egghead and his associates could hardly contain their glee as tray after tray of food containing his Cataphrenic-laden eggs was served to nearly 350 police officers.
After changing back into their customary clothing, they headed for the stage. Egghead tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. Your scheduled guest speaker, Batgirl, will not be attending tonight . . . due to her unforeseen demise at my hands! Instead, I will be taking her place.”
“Bravo!” shouted Commissioner Gordon. The rest of the room cheered in approval.
“Police officers are underpaid, underappreciated and underfunded. Yet, still you fight crime,” Egghead began. “Gotham’s finest, why risk your lives every day fighting the never-ending battle against criminals?”
“Because, Egghead, in the end, the law always wins!” said Batgirl, stepping into the middle of the room and putting her hands on her hips in her patented Batgirl pose.
“Batgirl!!??” exclaimed Egghead. “This is impossible! You should have been pulverized into a permanent state of stupor by my egg torture!”
“I have a slight headache,” replied the Svelte Sentinel, “however, your trap was not egg-scape proof. Now, it is time that I put you back behind bars . . . where you belong!”
“Officers!” Egghead appealed to the police. “She is your enemy! Destroy her!”
Much to his chagrin, however, the police remained seated. “Once I figured out your plan,” Batgirl said proudly, “I had the regular wait staff replaced with undercover police officers, who neutralized the contents of your evil eggs with Bat-antidote. I then asked Commissioner Gordon to tell everyone to act evil after they had eaten, until I made my move.
“By the way, you have just confessed to 350 police officers that you attacked me. I would imagine you’ll receive a hefty sentence for that.” As she finished speaking, the undercover police officers, along with Chief O’Hara and Lieutenant Mooney appeared behind the villains, cutting off any escape route.
“What do we do, Egghead?” inquired Cornelia, who along with Pauline and Chickadee, was feeling very nervous about being in a room full of police.
“We surrender,” he said gloomily. “I did not egg-spect my trap to fail.”
“Really, Egghead, you should have known better,” said Batgirl with a smile, “than to put all of your eggs in one basket.” Egghead winced at Batgirl’s remark as he was led away to jail.
Needless to say, Batgirl’s speech was a rousing success.
“What would we ever do without Batgirl?” Commissioner Gordon remarked to the officers at the conclusion of Batgirl’s presentation.
“You would do just fine,” answered Batgirl modestly. “Day after day, you all risk your lives to make Gotham City a safer place. You are the true heroes and heroines. I’m just glad I can help out in some small way.”
“Hear, hear!” yelled Chief O’Hara, who then led the assembly in a chorus of For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow. After they had finished, Batgirl and Commissioner Gordon walked off the stage.
“I don’t know if I’ve told you this before, Batgirl, but you really are an outstanding citizen,” the Commissioner said. “I don’t think I could be any more proud of you if you were my own daughter.”
Batgirl was at a loss for words. ‘Does he know?!’ she wondered. She simply smiled. In any event, she was very happy as a result of her father’s words.