USING THIS NEWFOUND GIFT, SHE TRANSFORMED TWO FEMALE POLICE OFFICERS INTO HER SUCCULENT SYCOPHANTS.
NOW, AT AN ABANDONED HARPSICHORD FACTORY CALLED “HARP ON IT,” SHE IS ABOUT TO REVEAL HER LATEST AND MOST SINISTER PLAN OF ALL!
The Siren reclined on numerous pillows, arranged in a circle on top of powder-blue carpeting. Her hair was still a bit frizzy, but more curly and much less unkempt than it had been after she had nearly been electrocuted. She hadn't been able to restyle her brown locks in their usual bouffant, but there was a silver lining in that, as the silver-clad supervillainess noted to herself.
‘At least I can sleep on my back for a change,’ she thought.
Her latest hideout had been furnished much like her first one, when she commandeered a whole floor at the Grotto Arms Hotel. She took a deep breath, spread her arms in the air and yawned.
‘But it's so hard to sleep,’ she thought, ‘when there's so much work to be done.’
She said out loud, "Let's see if my newest nefarious nymphs have completed their first task. Aria, Operetta! Front and center!"
Two women, a blonde and a brunette, quickly appeared.
Both were dressed in sleeveless, pastel, pink leotards with pink boots. Across the chest of the blonde's “uniform” was the word “ARIA.” The brunette's top featured the word “OPERETTA.”
"You called, mistress?" they said in unison.
The Siren beamed with approval. "Those clothes are much better than the drab, blue uniforms of your previous life. You two look absolutely smashing in those outfits. Almost as good as I do in mine." She paused and waved her hands down in front of her body. "Of course, we all know that no one's beauty can compare with this."
Aria and Operetta nodded.
"Now, my delectable dupes, it's time for me to reveal my ingenious plan to you. While it's true that my gorgeous gaze has rendered you incapable of independent thought, it's equally true that it's no fun constructing a diabolical plot without having someone with which to share it. So, when I pause, that will be your cue to nod in agreement, or to praise me. Is that understood?"
The unwitting henchwomen nodded.
"For years," the Siren began, "Batgirl has been a veritable thorn in my beautiful side. I am so sick of her smugness. Does she not realize she is neither as clever nor as attractive as I? But now, with my newest abilities, I will have the upper hand on her once and for all."
Siren paused and stared at the other two women. They nodded rhythmically.
The Siren continued, "And what about that contemptible cop, Lieutenant Diana Mooney?” As always, the Siren pronounced “lieutenant” in the English fashion, “leufftenant.”
“She has built her whole career on unjustly pursuing me. Why, if it weren't for the Siren, she would likely be a meter maid, instead of the highest-ranking female in the Gotham City Police Department! I made her, and I can break her."
Another pause was followed by two nods of approval from Aria and Operetta.
"Now, ladies, here is my scintillating scheme. I happen to know that a certain wealthy businesswoman from the West is visiting Gotham City. My next move is to relieve her of her fabulous fortune, and then send her to Lieutenant Mooney, where she can point the finger at me. Thus will the good Lieutenant be drawn into my trap . . . and once she is in my clutches, I am sure that Batgirl won't be far behind."
Siren smiled widely and waited for approval.
"That's a brilliant plan, Siren," Operetta said.
"You are a criminal genius," Aria added.
"I most certainly am," Siren said. A faint giggle soon gave way to a throaty laugh from the refined rogue.
MEANWHILE, AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS . . .
As Lieutenant Mooney hung up her desk phone, she knew she had a decision to make. She could either walk to Commissioner Gordon's office to tell him the bad news, and get chewed out in person, or she could call because she wanted him to find out as quickly as possible . . . and then she would get an earful over the phone.
The choice was obvious. The veteran policewoman was entirely prepared for his reaction.
"What?!?" the Commissioner barked over the phone. "The Siren has escaped?!?"
"Yes, Commissioner. Believe me, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I wanted you to know right away. We sent two uniformed officers – female, of course – to relieve the two on duty that were guarding the Siren at Gotham City Hospital. All three of them are missing."
"This is very serious, Lieutenant."
"Oh, I know it is, Commissioner. I've already arranged for an officer to be stationed at your door, because of the strange obsession the Siren seems to have with you."
"That's a good idea," Gordon said, although he hated the idea of getting special treatment. ‘The saving grace,’ he thought, ‘is that Barbara is at Gatherer Mountain on a ski trip. Thank goodness for that. She worries about me so much.’
Diana continued, "And I've already sent several other officers to search the Siren's known hideouts, as well as some potential new ones."
"I'm afraid I have to ask you this, Lieutenant," the Commissioner said, "because Internal Affairs will, too. Could the two officers guarding her, could they have pulled an 'inside job,' as it were? Do you think they could be capable of that?"
Diana was privately horrified that suspicion would fall on members of 'her' task force, but the official side of her realized the Commissioner was only being practical.
"No, sir," she replied sternly. "They're two of our best officers, and they never once have been in the slightest bit of trouble. It's possible the Siren regained her voice and found some men to subdue the officers. That would be my best guess, sir."
"That's all well and good," the Commissioner reminded her, "but we need answers, not guesses, Lieutenant . . . and soon!"
"Of course, Commissioner. I'll be on it, I promise you that. I'll find the Siren if I have to do it personally. I'll brief you again as soon as I have more information, sir."
Mooney hung up the phone and felt guilt gnawing at her psyche. She, after all, had been the one who had given Reece and Finch this assignment. Now, they were missing . . . or worse. Although she knew it was part of her job and theirs, it was hard to shut off her emotions.
The policewoman briefly considered calling her friend, Batgirl, but decided against it. ‘I can't always ask her to bail me out,’ Diana thought. I've risen to this position for a reason, haven't I? This one is on me.’
The lovely lieutenant also reasoned, as much as she respected Batgirl, the Dominoed Daredoll might make things worse. Diana believed that sometimes Batgirl charged into situations recklessly. ‘To catch the Siren,’ Mooney thought, ‘you have to be like her, cool and calm.’
The problem was, the worried Mooney didn't possess those qualities at the moment, and she knew it. Still, she vowed not to call Batgirl . . . at least not just yet.
Back in his office, the Commissioner was faced with a similar decision. He almost made a move toward the red phone, but decided against it. ‘Can any man,’ he thought, ‘even Batman, be of much use against this particular criminal?’
BACK AT HARP ON IT, A COUPLE OF LOW-LEVEL CRIMINALS ARE IN FOR A BIG SURPRISE.
"Are you certain this will be successful, Lyrica? I thought it only worked in the cinema," Melody said.
"Trust me, it'll work," Lyrica responded, pulling out a hair pin and jamming it into the door lock. "You know what's funny, Melody? We've worked together for weeks and I still don't know your real name."
"Does it matter?" Melody said, purposely not wanting to volunteer her name.
"No, I guess not," Lyrica said. "OK, I think it's working. The door should open any second now. There it goes . . . by the way, what are we looking for again?"
"Any plans relating to the ion particle accelerator. Don't you want to be a siren?"
"I sure do," Lyrica said as the two began walking into the Siren's hideout. "You do, too, right?"
"Of course," Melody said, "and with the original out of the way, we could have Gotham City all to ourselves."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," a voice said from another room. The Siren walked in and glared at her two former assistants.
"Oh, Siren!" Melody exclaimed, trying to pass off her shock as happiness. "How wonderful it is to see you again. We thought–”
"Yes, I know exactly what you two were thinking," Siren said. "How many times have I told you that no prison could ever hold me?"
"Oh, yes, you did, Siren," Lyrica said, fumbling for words. "It's, uh, great to see you again. We were just . . . well, we were hoping to get our old jobs back. Right, Melody?"
"Yes. We would love to be in your employ once again."
"Wonderful," the Siren said, smiling. "Of course the two of you are welcome to work for me again . . . but under my terms. That means, I do not wish to hear any criticism of or opposition to my plans. I am the boss, and what I say is what you will do."
"Certainly," Melody said.
"Of course," Lyrica seconded.
The Siren looked them up and down. "That's all well and good," she said, "but I'd like to insure the two of you are on board with everything I do henceforth."
Melody and Lyrica looked at the Siren warily.
"What . . . do you mean by that?" Melody asked in a halting voice.
"Oh, nothing important," the Siren replied. "I just have in mind a little, shall we say, attitude adjustment. Aria! Operetta!"
Her newest henchwomen entered from another room, both still glassy-eyed. Siren addressed them without looking at Melody and Lyrica.
"Ladies!" the Siren said, looking at Aria and Operetta. "A couple of my old friends have joined us. Please make them feel right at home."
"Yes, Siren."
The two tall women quickly grabbed their smaller counterparts. Operetta restrained Melody and Aria held down Lyrica. The Siren approached her two erstwhile employees and looked into their eyes.
Melody and Lyrica each trembled a little. "Wh-what have you done to them?" Melody said, glancing over her shoulder at Operetta.
"Oh, nothing special," Siren said. "I just indoctrinated them, that's all."
Lyrica, thinking quickly, tried to reason with her former boss. "Siren, you've already got them to help you. Why do you need us?"
"Because, my dear, those two are muscle. The two of you–” she looked at Lyrica and Melody “-have other talents." The Siren pointed to her still-frizzy 'do and said, "Just look at my hair. These two don't know how to style it. Plus, I haven't had a good manicure or pedicure in days. After all, a goddess like me needs lots of handmaidens."
Siren began to concentrate hard. Within a few minutes, Lyrica and Melody were standing motionless, entranced by the eyes of the Siren.
"Aria, Operetta, you two can step aside. These two aren't going anywhere anytime soon. Melody! Lyrica!"
"Yes, Siren," they answered in unison.
"My hair needs a rinse and a set. Are you ready to do that?"
Melody and Lyrica both nodded.
"Good. Let's go to my private salon. It's right over here . . ."
SHORTLY THEREAFTER, AT THE GOTHAM HOTEL, A VISITING BUSINESSWOMAN IS ABOUT TO FEEL THE POWER OF THE 'NEW' SIREN.
The woman behind the desk was on the phone when the Siren strutted into the hotel suite.
"Just hold on, I'll be right with you," she assured the Siren.
The gorgeous gangster nodded and smiled, looking stunning as usual. Her trademark horizontal bouffant was back, courtesy of Melody and Lyrica . . . but since this, technically, was a business meeting, she had topped her signature silver toga/mini-skirt with a silver blazer. A dazzling silver wristwatch was on her right wrist, and she also accessorized with a silver choker.
The woman sitting across from the Siren was dressed smartly, too, albeit a bit more conservatively. She was wearing a burgundy pantsuit that perfectly complemented her green eyes and dark brown hair. She finally wrapped up the call and turned her attention to her voluptuous visitor.
"The illustrious Siren. Right here in front of me," she said with a British accent. "I guess I should consider myself very fortunate."
She paused and added, "You said you had a business proposition."
"That's right," the Siren replied, "and who better to approach than such a successful businesswoman as yourself? Your exploits are legendary."
"So are yours. The way you can wrap any man around your little finger is quite impressive." As she looked at the Siren, she couldn't help noticing a vague resemblance to herself, perhaps 15 or 20 years before. The Siren was thinking the same thing, only in reverse.
"You could say the same for yourself, madame," the Siren said, smiling, "and you accomplish it without a note two octaves above High C."
"Thank you, thank you. You certainly know how to flatter. Now, what exactly do you have in mind?"
The Siren could sense her distrust. "You have nothing to fear from me," she said disarmingly. "After all, you're a woman."
"Fair enough. So, what can I do for you?"
The Siren eyed her coldly before replying, "In a few moments, anything I want."
The woman behind the desk thought this odd, and was about to call security . . . that was, until the older woman saw a pair of glowing green eyes. Deeper and darker Siren's eyes became as she stared at her latest prey.
The Siren’s counterpart across the desk summoned all the strength she could, but it was no use. She could think of nothing else besides those eyes. Finally, her own green eyes glazed over.
As they did, the Siren announced, "Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter, you are now under my spell. You will obey any order."
"Yes, Siren. Your wish is my command."
"Excellent. Now here's that business proposition I promised you. I want you to immediately give me 100 percent control of ColbyCo., while I give you nothing."
Siren spread a batch of forms in front of her newest hypnotic conquest. "Sign here, here, here and here," she said.
"Of course," Alexis said in a hollow voice, and quickly signed every piece of paper thrust in front of her.
"Splendid." The Siren grabbed all of the originals, and then produced carbon copies of every form, leaving the duplicates with her latest dupe.
"You will leave Gotham City tomorrow and go back West," Siren directed. "Once you return home, you will remember none of what has happened here today. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Alexis nodded.
"Oh, and there is one more thing I need you to do."
"Yes, Siren."
"First, you may answer a question. Did anyone accompany you on this trip?"
"Yes, my personal assistant."
"Man or woman?"
"Man."
"Good," the Siren said. "You will go to the police. You will ask for a Lieutenant Mooney. Tell her that the Siren hypnotized your personal assistant with her sonic spell and had him hold you at knife point until you signed over all your assets. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Alexis said.
"Now, my dear, in what room is your assistant?" the Siren asked.
"He's in Room 928, right next door," Alexis answered.
"Tremendous," said the tuneful temptress as she cleared her throat. "It's been awhile since I've been able to give my voice a workout. Cheer-io!"
LATER THAT NIGHT, THAT INTREPID POLICEWOMAN LIEUTENANT MOONEY IS IN FOR THE SHOCK OF HER LIFE, COURTESY OF SOMEONE WHO HAS HAD A BIG SHOCK HERSELF.
The information Diana had been given by the witness had led her to the abandoned harpsichord factory. ‘How did we miss this place?’ Diana thought as she surveyed the defunct warehouse from the outside.
She easily clambered through a back entrance. ‘Too easily,’ she realized.
Years of experience led Mooney to believe this probably was a trap, but she had no choice other than to keep going. ‘Lives could be at stake.’
Normally, she would have brought at least one other female officer as backup. That, after all, was procedure. She had, however, already deployed so many officers from the task force to guard strategic targets in which the Siren might be interested – TV studios, the Gotham Stock Exchange and, of course, Commissioner Gordon's office – that she was a little shorthanded.
In addition, truth be told, she also was reluctant, if it was a trap, to expose more officers to danger. Her guilt over the disappearances of both Finch and Reece had not lessened.
She didn't know what she might find. The plainclothes policewoman instinctively felt around for her service revolver. Thinking of every possibility, it occurred to her that she might have no choice but to wound an innocent man who was under Siren's spell, that is, if he did something to put her own life in danger. She would have to try to shoot him in the foot or arm, someplace not fatal. Diana hoped it wouldn't come to that.
But she didn't remove the gun from its holster. Not yet.
‘I know the only weapon Siren ever carries is the one in her vocal cords,’ she thought. ‘I can handle it.’
Police Lieutenant Diana Mooney was about to find out just how wrong she was.
From out of the dim light, Mooney saw two tall, female figures approaching. As they drew closer, she could finally make out their faces. It was Finch and Reece!
For a brief second, a wave of hope washed over the luscious lieutenant – but it quickly evaporated when she noticed that the two officers weren't wearing police uniforms, but instead were clad in sleeveless, pink leotards. They advanced closer to her, neither saying a word.
"Finch! Reece! What's happened to you?" Diana called out.
The two policewomen did not answer. Instead, a woman dressed in silver standing behind them did.
The Siren let out one of her trademark giggles. "They don't take orders from you any more, Officer," the exotic enchantress said, purposely understating the lovely Lieutenant's rank. "They only take orders from me. Aria, Operetta! Make our newest guest feel at home."
They grabbed their former superior and strapped her into a chair.
"What have you done to them, Siren?" Diana asked as she struggled in vain against the muscular, mesmerized women.
"You might say, Lieutenant," the Siren said sweetly, getting the rank right this time, "that they've seen the light . . . just as you are about to. You know, you've made yourself quite a career, mostly at my expense."
Diana glared at the Siren, trying to hold her emotions in as she struggled with her restraints.
The Siren continued. "You've used me to get to where you are. Nobody, dear lady, uses the Siren. The Siren uses everybody else, men . . . and now women as well! You will pay for your impertinence!"
"What are you going to do to me?"
"Just this."
The Siren stared at her latest victim, all the while thinking of how much she hated the pretty policewoman. She could feel the power emanating from her eyes, but as it did, she also felt pressure within her sinuses. She ignored the pain as best she could and kept concentrating.
Soon, it was all over. The captured cop looked at her new mistress with a blank expression.
“Now, my dear,” the Siren said slowly, “do you have anything to say for yourself about the way you have mistreated me?”
"I’m sorry," was all Diana could muster in a monotone. “I’m so sorry, Siren.”
“That’s all right. You are forgiven, Diana. May I ask you a question?"
"You may do anything with me you like, Siren."
"Have you ever fired your gun in the line of duty?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Would you like to now?"
"I don't know, Siren."
"My dear Lieutenant, remove your revolver from its holster."
"Yes, Siren." Mooney did as she was instructed.
The Siren's eyes widened again and her nostrils flared as she said, "Raise your revolver, and point it at your right temple."
Again, the hypnotized woman obeyed the command. Her face was completely blank.
The Siren took a deep breath and looked Diana up and down.
Finally, after a long pause, the Siren shook her head.
"Do not discharge your weapon. Instead, place it on the floor," Siren said.
Diana put the revolver down.
"As gratifying as your death would be to me," Siren said, staring at Mooney, "you're much more valuable to me alive. We've got plenty of work to do. Why don't we get started right now?"
"Whatever you desire, mistress."
"I've heard through the criminal grapevine that you have Batgirl's cell phone number?"
"That is correct," Diana replied.
“Splendid. I want you to call her right now . . . but try to act as natural as possible. I don’t want her to realize this is a trap.”
“Your wish is my command, mistress.”
Diana pulled out her own cell and began dialing.
It took Barbara Gordon the better part of a day to return to Gotham City from the slopes of Gatherer Mountain. She flashed her rectangular, plastic pass key at the electronic eye at the top of the ramp leading to her apartment building’s underground garage. Babs left her ski equipment in her car as she ran through the basement facility from her assigned parking spot to another electronic gateway. In moments she was riding the elevator up to her floor.
‘If only I hadn’t gone skiing,’ she thought, although she had had a wonderful time. ‘Then I might have been in Daddy’s office when it was learned that the Siren had escaped.’ Barbara realized what a coincidence that would have been. ‘At least I would have been able to respond to Diana’s call more quickly.’
Although it didn’t take long after that for Barbara to make her tantalizing transformation and for Batgirl to arrive at the abandoned warehouse, guilt was still gnawing at her as she climbed through a first-floor window. The purple-clad adventuress tried to figure out her next move.
As she rounded a corner, Batgirl noticed she had company. One woman was blonde and one brunette. Both were much taller than the Delectable Dynamo, who stood only five foot four.
As the two women advanced toward her, Batgirl guessed they might be Officers Finch and Reece, who Diana had told her had been guarding the Siren before the songstress’s escape from the prison infirmary. When she saw them, however, Batgirl was puzzled by their dress.
As they drew ever closer, Batgirl also could hear the unmistakable sound of Greek sandals crossing the floor of the cavernous warehouse. The Dominoed Daredoll heard the Siren's voice before she saw her. "Aria, Operetta," the British beauty commanded, "give Batgirl a seat. She must be very tired."
‘If these are Finch and Reece,’ Batgirl thought, ‘they seem to still be guarding the Siren – but now in a much different way!’
Siren was ten feet away from Batgirl, while her gorgeous guards were right in front of the Caped Cutie. Batgirl was taken off guard as Aria and Operetta wordlessly shoved the crimefightress into a nearby chair.
Batgirl was used to beguiling male thugs with a smile, luring them toward her and then kicking them into the middle of next week. That strategy, however, obviously wasn't going to work here.
Most of Batgirl’s battles with other women began with an exchange of challenges. This time, not only were both women much larger than she, they also were totally oblivious to anything except their malevolent mistress.
Batgirl’s mind raced. ‘How could they have ended up like this?’ Batgirl knew from unfortunate personal experience that someone under the influence of the drug Cataphrenic was capable of independent thought, albeit the opposite of what they normally would think. In fact, it was her brashness that had led to her being 'kicked out' of the Joker's gang after the Clown Prince of Criminals had immersed her in the stuff.
This, though, was different. ‘There seems to be no independent thought, nor any thoughts at all, within these two women!’
Then Batgirl had a horrible thought of her own –
‘Might the Siren's stunning spell now work on women, too?!’
Batgirl popped out of the chair. She had no leverage, though, and the two women roughly shoved her back down. They then held her in place.
"What's going on here?" Batgirl cried out. There was no immediate answer from the fetching felon.
True to her nature, Batgirl tried to struggle against her unwitting tormentors. That didn't escape the Siren's attention.
"Oh, Batgirl, I wish I could say I've always admired your spunk," the Siren said while Batgirl squirmed uselessly. "But the truth is, I hate spunk.”
The Siren put her right hand on the back of Batgirl’s chair and leaned in until her face was mere inches from Batgirl’s. “Why not just sit back and relax? I mean, crimefighting can be SO exhausting. I'm sure a friend of yours would agree. That is, if only she were capable of expressing an independent opinion.”
The Siren straightened, turned and walked a few feet away. "Concerta!" she called out.
Batgirl couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was Lieutenant Mooney, only it wasn't. The plainclothes detective was back in uniform, albeit a much different kind. She was attired in the same pink leotard as the two women restraining Batgirl, only the word "CONCERTA" was written across her rather ample chest.
"Concerta!" Siren repeated. "Do you have anything to say?"
"Only that your wish is my command," Batgirl’s hypnotized, best female friend said. "I exist only to serve you, Siren."
"Excellent," Siren said. "I never get tired of hearing people say that. Must be a character flaw of mine. Oh, well."
Batgirl was crushed to see her friend in this state. Her only question was the obvious one.
"What have you done to her?" Batgirl demanded.
Siren turned back towards Batgirl. She chose not to answer the question, instead going off on one of her tangents.
"Do you remember, Batgirl – because I actually don't – when I nearly was electrocuted at that TV studio?"
"I most certainly do," Batgirl replied, not attempting to suppress her anger. "I thought maybe we had gotten rid of you forever, you evil witch!"
"Well, you know the saying, Batgirl," the Siren said, laughing. "That WHICH does not kill us makes us stronger. I am living proof."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that when I awoke the next day, my short-term memory was gone . . . but fortunately for me, and unfortunately for you and the rest of Gotham City, I discovered I had mutated once again."
"I don't understand," Batgirl said. Aria, Operetta and now Concerta, as well, held Batgirl tightly as the Siren drew closer.
"You see, Batgirl, after my latest near-fatal brush with electricity, I discovered that I had once again absorbed more power. It turns out that my beautiful eyes can now hypnotize women. I'm sure they can hypnotize men, too, only I haven't had a reason to do so. My mellifluous voice still works just fine for that.”
Siren spread her arms in the air. “I feel like a little girl with a new toy. Several new toys, in fact,” she said as she glanced at her catatonic crew of henchwomen.
"I vowed to gain revenge on the two women who put me in prison. As you can see, I've taken care of the first one already." The Siren walked over to where Mooney/Concerta was restraining Batgirl, and patted her newest robot on the head.
"That's a good girl, Concerta."
“Thank you,” her newest sycophant replied.
Batgirl winced. "Just why are you so evil?" she asked the Siren.
"Because I want to be, and I can be. You feel sorry for your friend with the vacant eyes, don't you? Well, don't worry, Batgirl, because you'll be joining her in just a few moments. I’ve wanted to do this to you since that day I first saw you, when my note failed to hypnotize you. I’ll never forget that smug look on your face when you realized I couldn’t control you . . . but you are immune to me no longer.
"Look at me, Batgirl," Siren said sternly. "Look at me!"
The Domino Daredoll first tried to look away, then tried to close her eyes. It was no use, as one pair of hands held her head in place, while another kept her eyes propped open with its fingers.
"You can't take your eyes off my eyes, Batgirl. You've never seen anything like them."
That was true, Batgirl had to admit. She tried desperately to overcome their allure, and seemed to be successfully fighting it, at least momentarily.
‘What's this!?!’ the Siren thought as Batgirl at first resisted her spell. ‘I’m not surprised she’s more strong-willed than the others, but nobody is stronger than I!’
The Siren concentrated even harder, and could feel pain in her temples as she did so.
‘Ignore the pain!’ she thought. Just a little bit more and she'll be all mine!’
Indeed, a drowsy feeling soon began settling over Batgirl as she became overwhelmed by the sight of the Siren's pulsating eyes. Finally, the unfair fight was over.
"Batgirl."
"Yes, Siren?" Batgirl's beautiful and usually expressive face was blank.
"What is your sole purpose in life?"
"I exist only to serve you, Siren."
"That's hardly an original line," Siren said, laughing, "but it is true. Let me instruct you on your first mission. . ."
Batgirl awakened slowly. She immediately noticed that her wrists and ankles were strapped to the chair in which she was sitting.
She searched her memory, but was having trouble figuring out where she was or what had happened. Just then, her father's words from so long ago rang in her ears.
"That's funny," he had said after his initial encounter with the Siren. "I can't remember the last thing I remember." Batgirl had that exact feeling, and it quickly was confirmed when the silver-clad Siren strolled into view. The narcissistic ne'er-do-well had accessorized her usual toga/mini-skirt with a diamond necklace and a large emerald brooch above her right breast.
"Ah, Batgirl," she said with fake sweetness. "I'm so glad to see that you've emerged from your trance."
"Trance?" a confused Batgirl said.
"Oh, but of course," the Siren said, tapping her right cheek lightly with her right hand. "How silly of me. Of course you have absolutely no recollection of the last 24 hours, seeing as how you were under my spell all that time. It's good to know that my post-hypnotic suggestions work just as splendidly on women as they do on men."
Bits and pieces of her short-term memory began to return to Batgirl. She recalled confronting the Siren and then discovering, to her shock, that several women had been enslaved by the evil enchantress. ‘Did I suffer the same fate?!’
She didn't have to wait long to have her worst fears confirmed. The Siren called out to her unwitting operatives, Aria and Operetta.
In response to the call from their mistress, they wheeled a television monitor and video cassette player in front of Batgirl. The Siren went to a nearby cabinet and produced a videotape, which she inserted into the VCR.
"And all my detractors say I can’t do manual labor," she said, laughing hysterically as she pressed the PLAY button.
On the black-and-white tape, a curvaceous woman in a form-fitting costume wearing a cape and cowl was pointing a gun at a male employee across the counter of what appeared to a jewelry store. Batgirl blinked as she realized she was that woman.
She had never carried a firearm, and couldn't imagine where she had gotten one.
Then she realized the answer. It had to be Diana's service revolver.
On the tape, the man on the other side of the counter handed over a necklace and a brooch.
The Siren pointed to the new jewelry she was wearing. “Recognize these, Batgirl?” she said, pausing to take a deep breath before her throaty, seductive voice resumed. “Thank you so very much. I DO appreciate this brooch. It matches my eyes, don’t you think?
“Oh, and perhaps I should add, this tape has been playing on every television news channel for the past 24 hours!” Siren let out a booming laugh.
Batgirl’s eyes widened with horror. ‘How much more can my reputation stand?’ she wondered. Within the past five years, Catwoman had committed crimes while in Batgirl’s body, Regina had masqueraded as Batgirl while working for the Bookworm and Batgirl herself had acted evilly while under the influence of Cataphrenic.
“But don’t worry, Domino Daredoll,” the Siren said with mock sympathy. “While it’s true you have been discredited, you won’t live long enough for it to matter.”
“Are you going to enslave me again?” Batgirl asked with bitterness in her voice.
“No, Batgirl . . . because I want you to feel every painful moment before your demise!”
The Siren pulled out a small spray bottle. “You know, they really should outlaw this stuff.” The chanteuse smiled as she pointed the knockout gas at Batgirl’s face and pressed the top. “Actually, I guess they have.”
Batgirl slumped, unconscious. The Siren immediately summoned her entranced enforcers.
"Aria, Operetta, I need your muscular presence."
Her unwitting sycophants responded immediately.
“What is it you wish, mistress?” they asked.
"Let me put it this way, ladies," Siren said. "You are going to string up Batgirl for me."
When Batgirl once again awoke, she realized she was spread-eagled. ‘But on top of what?’
Well, actually, she wasn't on top of anything.
Batgirl had been strapped to the side of something, but had been tied down so well that she couldn’t move her head to see what it was. She was able to notice, though, a large curtain in front of her.
The curtain was lifted and Batgirl saw a harp with a woman astride it. She was dressed similarly to the Siren, only her gown was white instead of reflective silver. Her hair was similar as well, swept back and braided into an elegant bouffant. Batgirl gasped as she finally focused on the woman's face.
“Diana!”
‘Oh, my God, she's actually done it! The Siren’s turned Diana into a . . . siren!’
Batgirl's cunning captor caught her terrified look. The original Siren immediately knew what she was thinking.
"Oh, my dear girl," Siren said, "for once, you've overestimated me. No, I haven't transformed your friend. Not yet, anyway. I merely decided to recast her in my own gorgeous image, especially since she's been taking musical lessons from me."
A mystified Batgirl was slow to speak, so the Siren gladly filled the gap in the conversation.
“You have been attached to a large harp, over 10 feet in height. This was a symbolic gift from the Gotham City branch of my fan club on the occasion of my 500th performance, back when I was merely Lorelei Circe. At that time, I didn't like it. Even then, I would have preferred cash, of course, but now I've discovered a new use for it, thanks to some electronic know-how I absorbed from my old friend, Minstrel.”
Batgirl stiffened at the mention of The Minstrel’s name. She had managed not to think about him and their ‘date’ for some time.
The Siren was too lost in her moment of triumph to pay any attention to Batgirl’s subtle reaction. “The more conventional harp that your friend is about to play is connected to the giant one on which you have been mounted. Every pluck of the strings by the lovely Concerta will cause an equal and corresponding action to the strings on the large harp. The strain on your body will be minor at first, but will increase in intensity thanks to the notes I've taught my obedient protégé, and thus the strings eventually will penetrate the lurex of your costume, mercilessly slicing into your skin. As the bleeding continues, you eventually will be left a limp and lifeless shell, murdered by the redoubtable Lieutenant Diana Mooney."
The ever-dramatic Siren paused for effect and added, "Who knew music could be so dangerous?"
"Diana!" Batgirl yelled, although she knew it was in vain before the name left her lips.
The Siren giggled. "I assure you, she can't hear anyone but me, so why waste what few breaths you have left," the sadistic seductress said.
"Why don't you do this, instead of her?" Batgirl reasoned, trying, as always in such situations, to stall. "Don’t you want the sole credit for eliminating me? And, after all, you're much more of an accomplished musician.”
"That I am, Batgirl. You're quite right and thanks for the compliment . . . But I'm still a shrewd judge of human nature, even though I've become a meta-human. To have your best friend be the instrument of your destruction," the Siren laughed at her pun, "will make your last moments on Earth that much more painful . . . and imagine the anguish she will suffer once you are departed and I bring her out of her trance and show her what she's done.
"I've wanted revenge on both of you for a long time. Victory is within my reach."
"It's not over, Siren," Batgirl said, gritting her teeth. "The fat lady hasn't sung yet."
"No, but I know a slender one who will, very soon," Siren responded, "but for now, no vocals. Just an instrumental -- a cutting-edge performance, you might say. Concerta, you may begin playing."
"Yes, Siren," her mesmerized musical minion said. "My only wish is to please you."
"I'm sure you will. I'm sure you will."
As Concerta began playing, Siren looked up at Batgirl.
“So long, Caped Crimefightress,” the devious diva said with a laugh. “I’d like to stick around to see your demise, but it may take a while and I’m a busy woman. You see, I’ve been so involved in planning and exacting my vengeance on you and your friend that I’ve completely neglected to ravage and pillage Gotham City. Now we can’t have that, can we?”
The British beauty laughed heartily as she walked away, into an adjacent room.
WILL CONCERTA, ERR, LIEUTENANT DIANA MOONEY, EVENTUALLY SUFFER A SIMILAR FATE?
WILL THE SIREN TURN GOTHAM CITY INTO HER PERSONAL OPERA HOUSE?
FOR THE ANSWERS TO THESE AND OTHER NOTEWORTHY QUESTIONS,
YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL NEXT WEEK.
JUST KEEP READING!
‘But, maybe. . .’
Batgirl recalled the time a few months earlier when they were trapped in Catwoman’s trebuchet, about to be catapulted to certain death. Diana had asked her how she could stay so calm, and she told her that criminals always make one mistake.
Batgirl believed that in this case, the Siren had made at least two.
Her first error was in not removing Batgirl’s utility belt. Either she forgot to do so, or she somehow knew how removing it the last time had helped to facilitate Batgirl’s escape. Whatever the reason, Batgirl now had more options.
She also had plenty of time. Perhaps the Siren had devised such a slow-moving trap to make the planned demise of the Dark Knight Damsel that much more excruciating. It also, however, gave her time to think, even though it was difficult to concentrate with all the noise being produced by the two instruments.
As the vibrations of the giant harp continued, Batgirl began swaying with the rhythms, trying to get some part of herself free. She felt as if the bonds were loosening somewhat, but not quickly enough. Still, she had a bit more freedom of movement. The World's Greatest Female Escape Artist arched her back and moved her right arm ever-so-slightly, so that the rope pinning that limb to the giant instrument would be in line with one of the vibrating strings.
It was a laborious process, as the string of the harp began slicing into the restraints. Batgirl tried to stay calm amid the cacophony. Finally . . . Voila! Batgirl was able to get her right arm unstuck.
“There!” she exclaimed, knowing Siren couldn’t hear her in the next room over the din of the two harps playing simultaneously. “Now if I can just reach my utility belt. . .”
The Purple Paragon of Virtue reached down toward her belt. With one arm free, her head had a bit more maneuverability as well. She knew what she was looking for – the Batrope contained in her utility belt. As she groped for it, Batgirl began swaying to her left, hoping to slice the restraints and free her left arm as well. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, she finally succeeded.
With two free hands now, she grabbed the rope from her belt and uncoiled it. She also found the small grappling hook that went with it.
‘I’ve only got one shot at this,’ she thought.
Her plan was simple: to launch the batrope in Diana’s direction and use the grappling hook to knock over the small harp. She theorized that her hypnotized friend wouldn’t know what to do once the harp was toppled to the ground, because Siren probably hadn’t prepared her for that contingency.
The only potential problem was that Batgirl had to be on target with the grappling hook, or she risked injuring or killing Diana. Plus, as soon as the harps stopped, that would likely be the Siren’s cue to reappear and find out what had happened.
Batgirl swung the rope back and forth as she readied herself to let it go. Finally, it was time.
Under the circumstances, it was as perfect a shot as possible. The hook hit one of the middle strings of the small harp. The instrument began teetering, back and forth, back and forth, until finally it hit the ground with a THUD!
Batgirl looked at Lieutenant Mooney. She was still moving her hands back and forth as if she were strumming the chords, but only air was being moved by her nimble fingers. Batgirl had once again been proven correct; Siren had not instructed her mesmerized musical protégé what to do in case of such an occurrence.
Noticing the sudden lack of sound, the Siren rushed back into the room.
“I must admit, it seems I’ve once again underestimated you, Batgirl,” she said, looking up at her beautiful nemesis, whose legs and feet were still attached to the huge harp. “No matter. This is merely a temporary setback. Aria, Operetta!”
Her two muscular, yet comely, operatives appeared.
“Girls,” Siren commanded, “remove Batgirl from the harp, restrain her, and bring her to me.”
Her unwitting sycophants obeyed orders. They placed Batgirl in front of the Siren.
“Make sure you hold her eyes open, if she attempts to close them,” Siren said. She turned and glared at Batgirl. “I guess I’ll have to kill you while you’re not conscious. There goes half the fun. Oh, well. . .”
Batgirl prepared herself for another onslaught of the Siren’s hypnotic eyes.
As the Siren began to concentrate, the exotic Englishwoman suddenly felt intense pressure all through her head, but centered around her temples. She instinctively put her hands up to her face, but the pressure refused to abate. Finally, she dropped to her knees and let out a scream. The high-pitched whine was only a couple of octaves lower than her stunning note, but it was born from pain and totally unplanned. Her head drooped to the right and her eyes closed for several seconds before she regained consciousness.
Simultaneously, Finch and Reece began blinking and shaking their heads as they released their grip on Batgirl. Diana, who had still been plucking an imaginary harp, also regained consciousness.
“Diana!” Batgirl exclaimed. “You’re back!”
Confused, Mooney looked down unsteadily at her exotic outfit. “Where . . .where have I been?”
As Batgirl rushed to support Diana, the Siren recovered from her momentary blackout and seized the opportunity. Running as fast as someone can in a form-fitting Greek gown and sandals, she quickly dashed into another room.
Seeing a flash of silver go by, Batgirl gave chase, but when she reached the room into which the Siren had disappeared, there was nobody to be seen. Disappointedly, she conducted a quick search of the factory, without success.
Batgirl couldn’t know the Siren had climbed down to the basement using a hidden trapdoor from that first room. Batgirl’s super-powered foe already was well on her way to freedom once again.
Batgirl resigned herself to the fact the seemingly never-ending chase would have to wait for another time, another day. For now, Batgirl was overjoyed that Diana recognized her once again.
Lieutenant Mooney was equally happy that Officers Finch and Reece also had been released from the Siren’s spell. As she reunited with them, she briefly wondered if she had the stomach to be in charge, to be making potentially life and death decisions for those under her command.
Those private doubts, though, were quickly pushed away. As always, she took control of the situation. Going to another room, she found the now-freed Melody and Lyrica. Mooney briefly thought about arresting them, but realized any charges probably would not hold up in court because they, too, could legitimately claim to having been under the Siren’s spell. Besides, they already were facing minor charges from their first caper with the Siren.
“Take a walk, you two,” Lieutenant Mooney told them, “but don’t forget that the terms of your bail require you to remain in the state.”
The pair started to leave, but Diana froze them in their tracks. “Oh, by the way: If you ever hook up with the Siren again, I’ll make sure the judge throws the proverbial book at you! Understand?”
Both Melody and Lyrica nodded, fully aware to what they were agreeing for the first time in quite a while. Batgirl walked into the room as the doleful duo departed.
“Batgirl, can you think of anything else that needs to be done here?” Diana asked.
“Well, just one thing,” Batgirl smiled and giggled. “I think you need to get your hair re-styled. That ’do is a little outrageous!”
Diana was puzzled until she looked in a mirror and saw the Siren-like cone that her hair had become. She began laughing as well.
“Will you look at that?” she said. "I used to have big hair, but that was before I was on the force."
The two friends laughed.
“I’m so glad this is over,” said Batgirl.
‘But for how long?’ Diana wondered.
PERHAPS FOR NOT VERY LONG AT ALL, BECAUSE SHORTLY THEREAFTER, ANOTHER WOMAN WITH ‘BIG HAIR’ APPEARS IN LINE AT THE AIRPORT.
The blonde woman behind the ticket counter was tired. It had been a long day at the English Airways terminal at Gotham Airport. Fortunately, the line of travelers was thinning, as the airline's final Londinium-bound flight for the evening soon would be boarding.
She noticed an exotically-dressed woman next in line. The woman was wearing a glittering sleeveless silver pantsuit. Her hair was tied back in an elaborate bun, and she was wearing sunglasses despite the fact it was after 8 p.m..
"May I help you?" the ticket agent asked.
"I'm sure you can," the silver-clad woman said. She took off her sunglasses and began staring at the woman across the counter.
"My name is Lorelei Circe. I wish to procure a first-class ticket for this flight. As you can see," she pointed at her elaborate hairstyle, “I need much more head room than the average person.”
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but first class is all booked up. Would you like to be placed on standby?"
The villainess shook her head. She happily noted the ticket agent's nametag on her blazer, and began to concentrate deeply.
"Krystle," she said, continuing to stare at the unfortunate woman, "you will put me on that flight. I do not care how you do it. Just do it."
Searing pain again raced through the Siren's temples as she continued to concentrate. She tried her best to ignore it. ‘Just a few more seconds and I'll be heading home.’
Fortunately, this prey was a lot less formidable than Batgirl.
The agent's eyes glazed over as the gaze of the Siren overwhelmed her. She began punching buttons on her computer keyboard. A ticket quickly popped up.
"Here," she said. "You have seat 1-A in first class. It's a complimentary airline executive seat. It will cost you nothing."
The Siren greedily snatched the ticket. "Now, that's what I like to hear," she cooed.
Krystle was so used to her routine, she continued to perform her job, even though she was spellbound.
"Do you have any baggage you wish to check, ma'am?"
The Siren produced a small overnight bag. Naturally, it was silver. "No, I'm traveling light tonight. I will carry this on. Now, my dear, in 15 seconds, you will come out of your trance, and you will remember nothing of what has transpired. Is that clear?"
Krystle nodded.
"Thanks again. Ta-ta!" The Siren waved as she began walking toward the security checkpoint. She got in a line leading to a security man. If he gave her any trouble . . .
‘This will be a homecoming like none other,’ the Siren said to herself as she smiled broadly.