Scene: A dark interrogation room at Police Headquarters

Batman:  Have a seat, reprobate! (hurls Mister Freeze into a chair)

Harvey Dent:  Now, you’re going to sing for us, Mister Freeze…starting now.

Mister Freeze:  What about my civil rights?

Commissioner Gordon:  Look, fellas, our guest here is a Constitutional expert.  Want your rights, do you?  Well, here’s a right…

(slaps Freeze in the face with his right hand)

and here’s a left!

(slaps him with his other hand;  pauses as his secretary enters)

Bonnie:  Commissioner, your sexpot daughter is on line one.  She wants to borrow money for cigars.

Commissioner Gordon:  Not now!  Can’t you see I’m beating a suspect?

(Gordon draws his arm back again, but Freeze blocks the swinging wrist and seizes it)

Freeze: You can break every bone in my body…but you’ll never break my spirit!  I’ve survived years of debilitating misery...and now, the love of my life is depending on me!

Announcer:  They froze his body…but they couldn’t freeze his heart!  In his big screen debut, Otold Shivel is…Mister Freeze…in the film you dare not miss…

CHILLED SCIENTIST

 By HONK Garrison

James Gordon sat in his daughter Barbara’s living room, transfixed by what was transpiring on the television screen.

As the ad came to a close, a final title flashed across the screen.  “Opens everywhere October 13^th.  A Wormer Bros. release.”

The Commissioner exchanged an incredulous look with his daughter.

“Of all the…!” he sputtered.  “Shivel can’t be serious!  Does he think the public will buy tickets to this nonsense?”

“You have to admit, Daddy, Doctor Shivel has made quite a name for himself since hanging up his helmet as Mister Freeze.  He’s gone from solar weather research, to film special effects, to movie producing.  Now he’s acting…even if just playing himself . . . and he’s apparently willing to throw some of his artistic integrity away for the chance at revenge.”

“ …by way of character assassination!  Why, only last week I was congratulating Warden Crichton on the tremendous progress Shivel has shown since he was cured of his temperature disorder.”

“Do you recall any situation that was even close to the scene in that commercial?” Barbara asked.

“None!  Batman always obtained iron-clad evidence against him, so there was never any need to question the frosty hooligan.  Harvey Dent wasn’t even the District Attorney at the time!”

“You could take your case to the public, but even if you managed to make yourself heard over the advertising blitz the movie studio is bankrolling, you may just provide the film with even more publicity.” 

“Oh, the entire premise is preposterous!” the Commissioner said, closing his eyes.    “The actor playing me doesn’t resemble me; you’ve never smoked cigars!  Why, the thought of any reasonable person swallowing this is beyond belief!”

“Well, sometimes the movie-going public is just in the mood for anything that challenges the status quo.  Oh, look,” Barbara said, changing the subject as well as the channel. “That press conference is just starting.”

A voice-over accompanied a wide camera shot of politicians on a stage: “Live from Metropolis, this is Barry Brown, your on-the-spot reporter, bringing you full coverage of today’s event.  This is the first press conference Governor Hataki has held in three months, and it comes amidst mounting criticism.”

Flashbulbs went off as Gotham State's first Asian-American Governor approached the microphone.  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.  I’m sure we’re all aware of charges by some that I am out of touch with the people who elected me.  To put that to rest, I’ll be undertaking a five-stop tour of our state over the next week.  I look forward to this opportunity to touch base with my constituents on a more personal level.  I see you have questions?  Ms. Lane?”

The picture switched to a close-up of a woman in the press gallery.  Although it had been over five years since Batgirl had teamed up with Lois Lane, Barbara noted that her reporter friend with The Daily Planet appeared to be staying in shape.

“Governor, you made a top priority of curtailing mob activity when you were elected,” said Lois, “but today, mob bosses like Lou Cranek remain free.  With police officials in the cities receiving a helping hand from costumed crimefighters, underworld figures have relocated to rural sections of the state.   Even when they’re taken into custody, their incarceration lasts no more than an afternoon.   Have you given up, for the time being, on prosecuting these criminal figures?”

Miles away from Barbara Gordon’s apartment, two bulky figures stood in front of a television set, howling in laughter.  Lou Cranek himself, accompanied by his aide, Curley, chuckled with glee as the camera switched back to the Governor’s unamused expression.

“Lookit!  He’s speechless!”

“Yeah, what’s the matter, Hiro?” Cranek asked rhetorically.  “You have a change of heart about coming to get me?” 

“Absolutely not, Ms. Lane,” the Governor said.  “You’ll notice that I am joined on stage this afternoon by the district attorneys of no less than five different municipalities, and we are all in agreement that  taking down the head of organized crime remains job number one!  Each of these men is committed to seeing lawbreakers, such as the individual you mentioned, behind bars.”

Governor Hataki pointed towards another upraised hand in the press gallery.

“Vicki Vale, Picture Magazine," announced a fashionably attired woman who brandished a tape recorder in one hand and a camera in the other.  “I’d like to follow up on your statement with a question for Mister Dent.”

“Certainly.”  The Governor beckoned for Harvey Dent to step forward to the microphone.

“It came to light earlier this year, Mister Dent, that you were briefly replaced as Gotham City’s District Attorney by the man on your left, Billy D. Kilrassian.”  Vicki gestured at a handsome, mustached African-American standing beside Dent.  The man dipped his head sheepishly.

Vale continued.  “An article by Clark Kent claimed that Governor Hataki didn’t feel someone with your prominent facial disfiguration was appropriate for such a high-profile position, and suggested you be replaced.  The city went so far as to issue a press release announcing the change, and then hastily withdrew it when Kilrassian turned the job down to accept a post in Metropolis.  Do you feel that your effectiveness has been hampered by the publication of that news?”

This question was also met with amusement by the two gangsters viewing the broadcast.

“Now, you can tell Harvey to his face he’s a stumbling boob, but it isn’t polite to remind him that he’s ugly!”  Cranek cackled.

Curley scratched his head.  “Uhh, say, the guy who wrote the article….ain’t Clark Kent the reporter who tracked your hideout down by plane right before you got sent to the joint?” 

Cranek, his mood suddenly darkening, invited his aide to “watch the show and shut your stupid mouth.”

District Attorney Dent composed himself for a moment before answering.  “Ms. Vale, I had the pleasure of listening to the Governor talk at length this afternoon on his commitment to making our streets safe.  I can tell you that we see eye to eye on every major issue relating to crime; whether that’s stemming the tide of unsavory elements arriving from war-torn Nimpah, or finding a cure for the homicidal lunatics filling Mount Ararat Hospital, Governor Hataki and I are united in our commitment to law and order”

“Then you’re denying he tried to have you replaced?”  Vicki asked.

“I’m not going to comment on inner personnel moves, especially ones that never occurred.  I don’t think there’s any doubt in Gotham City who runs the District Attorney’s office.”

“What a load,” Cranek said.  “Just last month, Dent’s office completely blew the Penguin prosecution.  Batgirl provides him with an airtight case – complete with film of Penguin describing the plot - and he still screws it up.” 

Television reporter Barry Brown didn’t wait to be called on.

“Governor, opinion polls indicate your latest round of budget cuts have weakened your support considerably.  The Monarch party makes no secret of planning a recall effort against you.  The names rumored to be contemplating a run against you range from former Governor Stonefellow to pop icons like movie mogul Otold Shivel.  Is this whirlwind tour just an attempt to try to shore up your sagging approval ratings?”

Hataki scowled.  "No, really, people, it's okay to start asking the tough questions any time you want.  Anyone who doubts my standing in the Governor’s Mansion should try asking one of my opponents next time they need the pothole in front of their driveway filled."

"Well, I think we should give him a break," Vicki Vale called out to her colleagues.  "Who's with me?"

Surprised at a call for collegiality during the middle of a press conference, Lois considered whether to vocally support Vicki.  She stood up just as Vale opened her mouth again.

"Forrrrrrrr, he's a jolly good fellow!  For he's a jolly good fehhh-low!"

Lois slapped her hand to her head and promptly sat back down, scolding herself for having almost publicly linked herself to a fruitcake.  She saw Barry Brown shaking his head in amazement at Vicki's song.

Governor Hitaki laughed as Vale concluded the song.  “Thank you!  That's the first good thing that's ever happened to me at a press conference.  Don't feel bad if this short-lived pleasantness ruined your chance to humiliate me, people – I’ll be doing this again in Gotham City on Saturday.  Thank you all for coming.”

“So, Hataki’s taking his traveling sideshow to Gotham, eh?” Cranek said, pursing his lips.  “Interesting.”

******

Gorgeous weather greeted Gotham City the following morning.  The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the smell of freshly fallen leaves hung in the air.  At the Gotham City Library, Barbara went about her librarian duties with her characteristic poise and efficiency.  She held the door open for two exiting patrons, then joined them outside in the beautiful early fall weather.

“Oh, Becky is going to enjoy this book so much!  Thank you locating it, Miss Gordon.”

“My pleasure.  You and your grandmother visit us again soon, Becky.”

The little girl beamed and waved.  “We will. Bye-bye.” 

Barbara smiled as she watched the elderly lady depart with her enthusiastic charge.  One of Barbara’s assistants walked up and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Has the 10:45 clerical applicant shown up yet?”

Gordon glanced at her watch and frowned.  “No, Myrtle, and he's long overdue.  I guess we’ll have to pick from the pair we’ve interviewed already.”

The two women looked around to see if the missing job applicant might be arriving late, but there was no one in sight.  They had turned to head back inside when a low scraping sound caught their attention.  A few yards from their feet, a manhole cover was moving aside.  Through the new opening, a beaklike nose came into view, followed by a monocled pair of eyes. 

“The Penguin!” gasped Myrtle.

As her old adversary rose from the manhole, Barbara saw that this was not the Penguin to which she was accustomed.  At the moment, he was covered in dirt and smelled horrible.  She was surprised that his top hat was missing, since she couldn’t recall him going without it before.  Instead of wearing his usual tuxedo, he was clad in a union suit stained with sweat.

“Faw!  Not a trace…searched high and low,” he muttered to himself.

 “What do you want here, Penguin?”

“Darkest despair, depart my doorstep!”  The Penguin closed his eyes and seized his heart. 

Barbara shook him by the arm. She waved away the resulting dust cloud.  “What are you talking about?”

The Penguin took a moment to catch his breath and compose himself.   “I am a free man, just pronounced innocent by a jury of my peers." Penguin felt no compunction to explain the jury's decision was the result of a directed verdict prescribed by the judge. "Yet in what should be my happiest hour, I find cruel fate has plucked me up and dropped me into the abyss.  Upon my release, I made my way to my old places of refuge…and one by one…found them picked clean!  My tuxedos, my umbrellas, my contact information, my funds…all stolen!”  He walked inside the library as he spoke, with Barbara and Myrtle following reluctantly.

“Did you come to check out a book?  Or consult our lost and found section?” Myrtle asked. 

 “I believe I have an appointment for …10:45,” he said, brushing dirt from his grimy outfit.  “I understand you have a vacancy at this branch”  

Barbara looked at the clipboard in Myrtle’s hands, and sure enough, the missing job applicant was listed as “O. Cobblepot."

“You want a job at the library?” Myrtle asked.

“Indeed.  I am honest and hungry, conditions that I have long feared went hand-in-hand.”

Barbara studied the short, odd man, and shook her head.  “Oh, no, not this time.  You’ve ‘reformed’ a few too many times in the past for me to swallow this story.”

The Penguin gave a sad smile.  “My dear Miss Gordon, the Penguin has, as of this hour, been laid to rest – his existence claimed by the claws of calamity.  Can you imagine a Penguin without his umbrellas?  The simply-attired person before you is not – could not – be the Penguin.  The object of your ill-placed suspicions is only humble Oswald Cobblepot. If you wish to assist me in my profound life adjustment, then employ me.  If not, then let us not waste each other’s time further.”

Barbara cocked her head to one side.  “Even allowing for your rehabilitation, Penguin…”

“My birth name, if you please.”

“…Oswald, why would you want this low-paying job?”

“This position was not my first choice, nor close to it, however, after numerous rejections, I am compelled to follow any lead short of ditch digging.  I ask you, what more natural habitat for a well-read scholar than a library?”

Barbara rubbed her chin.  “Wellll, perhaps you could be of use on this genealogical research project . . . but if you’re selected, you’ll be expected to work, not grandstand.”

“Barbara, a word with you, please,” Myrtle said.

The two librarians walked several yards away from their unkempt applicant.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, dear?”  Myrtle whispered.  “The Penguin is a horribly dangerous criminal.”

“He certainly was,” Barbara concurred.  “I’m not saying we shouldn’t keep a close eye on him – but if he’s trying to turn his back on a life of crime, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining his attempt at earning an honest living.”

“But you'd be gambling with the safety of our patrons!  What if he suddenly pulls an umbrella and two brutes in black turtlenecks out of thin air?”

“I understand your concern, but if Gotham’s number two criminal is contemplating hanging up his top hat…how can we afford to pass up giving him the opportunity?”

“I suppose we are fortunate that Batgirl decided to give Mister Freeze a second chance some years back.  Hopefully, this case will turn out as happily.”

“Um, yes, let’s hope so,” Barbara said, trying not to frown.  She resolved that Batgirl would descend with great fury upon Cobblepot at his first mention of a movie deal.  “At any rate, the project he’ll be working on is innocuous enough.  Digging through the archives to compile a list of Gotham’s first born sons – that should keep him out of trouble.”

Not accustomed to asking favors of others, Cobblepot waited nearby, shifting from foot to foot.  He started to forgetfully reach for a lighter in his pocket-less clothing when the librarians emerged from their huddle.

“Congratulations, Mister Cobblepot.  We’ve decided to hire you,” Barbara said.  She quickly held up a finger and continued, “but I have to warn you, we won’t stand for any shenanigans or outbursts.  At the first sign of an umbrella on the premises, you’ll be out on the street.”

“Congratulations to you, Miss Gordon,” he beamed as he shook her hand.  “You have chosen well.”

 *******

Two days later, Barbara received a call from Lois Lane, whose plane had just landed at Gotham City Airport.  Barbara was glad to hear that her friend had been assigned to cover the Governor’s whirlwind tour.  Lois accepted the librarian’s offer to be taken out to lunch.

Aware of Lane’s growing reputation as an urban sophisticate, Barbara chose the chic What a Way to Go-Go discotheque as their destination.  The club was easy to spot from the road; twin flaming torches flanked the carpeted entranceway. 

“I hope this isn’t a dull assignment for you,” said Barbara as they were waiting for their order to arrive.  “I should think listening to the same political speech every day could get old.”

“Oh, with all the political sniping going on, Governor Hataki is hot news these days.  Besides, the last time I came here for a ‘minor’ story about pharmaceutical thefts, I wound up interviewing the President.”

“After you and Batgirl rescued him!” Barbara chimed in.  “Did you come alone this time?  I was hoping to meet this responsible, mild-mannered partner of yours.”

“Clark was supposed to come along with me and Jimmy, but he’s been having one problem after another.  I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t make the trip at all.”

“What sort of problems?”

“Well, some years ago, this cute little dog showed up lost at The Daily Planet offices.  He was named Corky and he acted like Clark was the most special guy in the world.  Although he didn’t keep the doggy, Clark agreed last week to look after Corky while his owner was on vacation . . . but when he returned home from work on Monday, the dog was gone.”

“Not for good, I hope.”

“Clark acted confident that he could find him, but Corky still hadn’t turned up as of yesterday.  By then, Clark was terribly guilt-ridden.”

“I don’t blame him.”

Lois noted that the weekend started early at the What a Way to Go-Go.  The lunch hour featured pounding dance music and stylishly-attired girls swinging to the music from a second-story balcony.  Lois did a double take upon spotting one of the dancers.  Slightly older than the teenagers on either side, the blonde was still strikingly attractive and vaguely familiar.  Lois glanced at her periodically as she continued her story.

 “Then Friday, Clark was supposed to pick us up at The Daily Planet for the trip to Gotham City, but ran into trouble on the drive over.  He was about two blocks from the building, when he had to swerve to avoid a pedestrian and then crashed straight into a wall!” 

“Oh, no!”

“At the rate he was going, I thought he was a goner, but when we reached the scene, he was just calmly climbing out of the wreckage.  Jimmy asked how he could get through the collision without a scratch, but before he could answer, Clark fainted.  At least that was somehow reassuring – it was classic Clark Kent fortitude.”

“Why do you think he crashed?”

“As it turns out, there was almost no fluid left in his brakes.  He was lucky he’d been able to drive a mile in that thing without getting into a wreck.  Clark was acting like someone rigged his brakes, but knowing Clark, it’s a good bet he just neglected to ever get the brakes checked.”

“You never know.  You two made a good number of deadly enemies over the years with your coverage of organized crime.”

 “I can take care of myself.  Clark, I worry about sometimes.” 

Lois still couldn’t place where she knew the dancer from, but she knew that somewhere in her past she had associated that face with the color red and a feeling of danger.  Her concentration was broken when she spotted someone of even greater interest.

 “Barbara, do you see that big fellow?” she whispered, pointing discretely.

Barbara glanced at a rough-looking, bald man who was heading for the exit.

“That’s Lou Cranek’s lieutenant, Curley.  He’s been in and out of prison half a dozen times in Metropolis.  Wonder what he’s doing here?”

Before Barbara could answer, Lois was out of her seat and after the bulky figure.  Trying to catch up with her friend, Barbara scrounged through her purse for her parking ticket.  She extracted it just as they were reaching the front door and promptly looked for a valet.

Unfortunately, they were already too late.  A grim-faced doorman was just holding a car door open as Curley settled behind the wheel.  Before a valet appeared to help them, Cranek’s henchman was driving off down the alley.

Lois pulled out a small notebook and jotted down the car’s license plate number.

“Guess we’ll have to settle for this,” she said, flipping the notebook shut.

 *******

Barbara was returning to work when she spied her new employee/former adversary standing in front of the library distributing leaflets.  She motioned Lois to duck behind a corner.  There, the two quietly observed the ex-Penguin’s activity.

“Some literature, ma’am?” Cobblepot flashed a toothy grin at a passing woman.

The woman, little Becky’s grandmother, stopped to accept a leaflet.

“No Harm, No Foul.  Let’s Play Ball With Nimpah” she read aloud.  Mystified, she read it again silently.  “I have no idea what that means.”

“Simply that we, as a member of the world community, must work to maintain our close ties with our friends in the East.  Our Governor has made some, shall we say, rash comments about our Nimpan colleagues’ state of affairs.  He should respect other countries’ freedom to determine their political system.  I ask you, isn’t that what being a good neighbor demands?”

Two dark-complected individuals sauntered up to either side of Cobblepot..  One of them bore a facial scar that could be described as prominent, to put it mildly.

“Good day, sir.  Good day,” Cobblepot nodded at the pair.  “Care for some reading material?”  He beamed winningly.

“Eladinga, do you see what this says?” said the first man.

Eladinga accepted a leaflet and quickly glanced over it.  His eyes turned cold and he directed his steely gaze at Cobblepot. 

“This looks like garbage to me.  What does it look like to you, Hermindra?”

Hermindra crumpled up his leaflet and tossed it away.  “It looks like someone foolishly trying to stir up trouble.”

“You volunteered to supervise the Penguin?!” Lois whispered to her friend.  “You won’t have to worry about getting bored at work for a while.”  Receiving no reply, she looked around to discover Barbara was nowhere in sight.

The two men closed in on Cobblepot.

“What do you louts think you’re doing?” the former Penguin barked.

“We have watched our brothers and sisters cut down in cold blood by Nimpah’s current regime.  What do you know of our country?” Hermindra shouted.

Several passer-bys stopped to watch the developing altercation.

“You need some help in distributing your literature, friend?” Eladinga hissed at the portly ex-con.

“Waauggh!” Cobblepot grabbed an elongated package from behind him.  “On your way, rabble!”

Eladinga seized him and tried to jerk him off his feet.  He discovered that Cobblepot weighed too much to be tossed around quite so easily, and settled on yanking the leaflets from the short man’s grasp.  Cobblepot swung his long package up and brought it down on top of the man’s hat.

<Klomp!>

Eladinga responded by ramming Cobblepot back into the wall and shaking him vigorously.  Since the fracas was going on only a few feet from the front door, it was effectively barring entry to or exit from the library.  A small group of library patrons were now hanging back, waiting for the disagreement to blow over.

Batgirl bounded onto the scene to see Cobblepot flailing in the taller man’s grasp. 

“Unhand me or I’ll have you both hanging lifelessly from lampposts!” he squawked.

“That’s enough.” The two men from Nimpah turned, surprised to find Batgirl standing behind them.  Eladinga obediently released Cobblepot and backed away.

“Now, what’s the problem here?” Batgirl asked.

“This man is distributing hateful literature that he knows will offended others,” Hermindra said.

“It appears that some people have trouble divining the meaning of ‘freedom of speech,'” Cobblepot said, giving Hermindra a poke in the ribs with his package.

“Enough!” said Batgirl. 

The ex-Penguin turned to the group of onlookers and began chanting. 

“Let’s play ball with Nim-pah! Let’s play ball with Nim-pah!” 

He clapped his hands in an exaggerated manner, hoping the crowd would join him.  The only onlooker who did was young Becky, who was wearing a catcher’s mitt and apparently game for playing ball with anyone.

“Come along, Becky,” her grandmother said, taking her by the hand and marching her away from the library.

 “You three can either go about your business or you’ll wish you had,” Batgirl said to the men, hands on hips.

Without a word, Eladinga threw the handful of leaflets in the air and turned away from Cobblepot.  Lois Lane heard a rapid clicking.  Glancing around, she saw that the source of the sound was Vicki Vale.  Vale’s camera snapped away, capturing the scene of Cobblepot trying to catch the multitude of leaflets floating to the ground.  Lois scolded herself for not having brought junior photographer Jimmy Olson along with them to lunch, but was determined not to let herself be outdone by a rival journalist.  Since Batgirl had the Penguin cornered, she headed for the foreign duo.

“That was quite a spat,” she said.  “Are you affiliated with some political organization?”

“It is not I you should write about, dear lady,” Eladinga replied.  “You should expose this shameful thing the city is funding.  The Penguin walks free through a legal loophole, and now he is allowed to hold any demonstration he wants at the city library."

“You’re pretty brave to stand up to the Penguin.  Every paper in town will be happy to print whatever statement he makes.  Maybe I can help tell your side of the story.”

“I would not waste time trying to compete with his overblown reputation, but if you can arrange a debate between me and this pig, the world will see the truth.”

“Come,” Hermindra said.  He pulled his compatriot away before Lois could ask another question.  She turned to catch the end of Batgirl’s exchange with Cobblepot.

“What’s in that package?”  Batgirl asked.  “It’s shaped like an umbrella.”

“Curtain rods,” said Oswald.  “My new abode is sadly lacking in some necessities.”

“I hear you’re working at the library now,” she said.  “That’s encouraging news.  It would be too bad if you ruined it with another stunt like this.”

“The terms of my employment clearly allow me to pursue lawful political activism during my free time, such as my lunch hour.  Now, much as I’d love to stand here begging your forgiveness, I’m afraid my services are needed inside.  Adieu.” 

The ex-Penguin bowed and waddled off into the library.  Batgirl raced off to change back into Barbara Gordon before her new subordinate had a chance to cause any trouble inside. 

Vicki snapped a picture of Batgirl’s exit, then zoomed in on the two departing Nimpans.  Their backs were to her, but as Eladinga glanced back at the library, she saw a clearly-visible smirk on his face.

“Odd.  He’s suddenly in a brighter mood,” Vicki muttered. “This smells like a story.”  She tailed the suspicious pair down the street. 

After several minutes, the men came to a stop by a phone booth outside a tobacco shop. Hermindra admired the shop’s wares through the window, while Eladinga stepped up to the phone and fished in his pockets for some change. 

Feeling exposed in the middle of the sidewalk, Vicki moved casually toward the street.  Crouching low, the intrepid photojounalist tiptoed down the length of the cars parked in front of the shop.  Soon, she was close enough to hear snatches of conversation.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to get the headlines you want."

Vicki took a quick glance up through the window of the Cadillac she was concealed behind.  Eladinga was carrying on a conversation in the phone booth, but Hermindra was nowhere in sight. 

“No, they didn’t suspect anything,” Eladinga said.  “What’s our next move, Kent?”

A large hand grabbed the back of Vicki’s jacket and yanked her up.  Twisting around, she found herself in Hermindra’s grasp.

“Take your hands off me or…”

Herminda’s palm clamped over her mouth, cutting her off in mid-sentence, and she felt herself being dragged backwards.

“I have to hang up.  We have a problem to deal with,” she heard Eladinga say.

She kicked her legs out and lifted them in front of her, forcing Hermindra to hold her entire weight.  He was hefting her up to get a firmer grasp, when she brought her foot down like an axe on his shin.  Vicki used the heel of her other shoe to stomp hard on his toe.

Feeling Hermindra’s grip weaken, she planted a hand in his face and shoved him backwards to the ground. Eladinga was already rounding the other side of the Cadillac and reaching for her.

Vicki took two steps forward and dived for a passing tan pickup truck.  She grabbed onto the metal-sided bed, but a hand seized hold of her foot.  She was momentarily stretched taut between the truck and her assailant, and thought her limbs were going to be pulled from their sockets.  She held on to the truck for dear life, though, and felt her foot pop out of her shoe. 

She looked back in time to see Eladinga tumbling and rolling to a stop in the middle of the street.  She sighed in relief.  She noticed with grim amusement that she was gripping the truck bed so tightly that some paint had transferred to her hand.  Lying a block behind her in the street, Eladinga glared down at the single shoe that was all he had to show for his struggle, then up at the slim, receding figure still clutching the side of the pickup.

 ********

“’REFORMED’ PENGUIN IN POLITICAL FRACAS,” screamed the next day’s headlines.  The story was accompanied by a picture of the Penguin and the Nimpans amidst a downpour of falling leaflets.  Vale had decided to withhold any mention of her narrow escape for the time being. 

As noon rolled around, two subjects very close to that story were urgently at work.  Hermindra was screwing a silencer onto the end of a rifle.  He aimed down the sights, then nodded in satisfaction.  He glanced over at Eladinga, who was loading his hands with boxes of bullets.

Lois Lane’s assignment for the day was to cover an entertainment event: Otto Shivel’s presence at the Gotham City premiere of his controversial film, Chilled Scientist. 

Scanning the faces in the audience, Lois spotted many Gothamites reading Vicki Vale’s article.  Their faces were all hidden behind back-page images of Jimmy Olson extolling the virtues of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes.  Two periodicals soon lowered to reveal faces she recognized: Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.

“Tough to imagine the Penguin getting into a fight over some ideology that didn’t involve money,” Dick commented.

“Yes, Dick, as much as we’ve come to anticipate this bird roosting in nests of money, his rejection of his trademark tuxedo makes his motives difficult to fathom.”

“I’ll say!  What the heck kind of pelt is that he’s wearing, anyway?  Possum?”

Bruce examined the photo closely.  “I believe that’s actually a kahukiwi cloak, made from the fur-like feathers of the kiwi.”

“Guess he hasn’t abandoned his bird theme entirely.”

“Gentlemen.  You’re looking well,” Lois called from the aisle.

Bruce waved.  “Lois!  Good to see you.  Did you bring your partners in crime along with you?”

“One of them, so far.  Jimmy’s out getting shots of the Governor’s tour, and Clark’s supposed to arrive soon.  He got roped into some cockamamie stunt where he has to get in the ring with an elderly boxing phenomenon.”

“That’d be good old Everett Banister,” said Bruce.  “He’s already got a successful coin vending company, but he’s pushing sixty and still going strong.”

“You bet!  His ring name is ‘The Old Otter,’” said Dick.

Lois smiled.  “I can just see poor Clark now, desperately trying to do the first push-ups of his life, attempting to get in shape!  I imagine he’ll be pretty sore by the time his plane arrives.  He says he won’t drive to the airport until the mechanics are positive his car is in perfect running order, but I think he’s just terrified of this exhibition.”

“Well, he’s going to get creamed if he gets in the ring with Everett!” said Dick.

“You don’t think they’d let Clark get seriously hurt, do you?”

Dick folded both of his arms, happy to dwell on the topic.  “Well, I guess that depends on how you define ‘serious.'  I think a broken jaw is a likely outcome.”

The color faded from Lois’ cheeks.  She felt guilty for making light of Clark’s predicament. 

“Have to disagree with you there, Dick,” said Bruce.  “I think Mister Kent is much more likely to emerge with a broken nose to go along with his broken jaw.”

“Ms. Lane’s question wasn’t what Everett is capable of doing,” Dick argued, “but what he will do.”

“You forget,” Bruce said, holding up a cautioning finger, “even if he were moved to concern over Kent’s condition, the ‘Old Otter’s’ hand-speed far exceeds his faltering visual abilities.  He’s likely to break Clark’s nose before the broken jaw is apparent.  Although I would never wager, I estimate the chances of Kent escaping with either his jaw or nose intact are quite slim.”

Outdone by his mentor’s mental prowess, Dick could only smile good-naturedly and admit defeat.  “Gosh, I guess you’re right after all, Bruce.”

 “Uh, nice talking to you. I’ve got to go.”  Lois hurried off.

There was activity up on the stage as Doctor Shivel and select members of his cast and crew began to assemble.  Taking a seat next to him was a resplendently-attired, mature, blonde.  She briefly set down her hookah to pour herself a drink.

Dick frowned.  “I heard that Doctor Shivel had re-married after Sarah’s untimely demise.”

Bruce nodded.  “Sarah was an extremely impressive lady.  The doctor’s very lucky someone stepped into his life who even comes close to replacing her.”

Shivel looked concerned for a moment, but decided that the woman wasn’t a complete nutcase. 

“Of course not, dear lady.  What would you like to say to me?”