Take the Bat Women to the Mat

Sand continued falling in the gigantic hourglass Catwoman‘s huge henchmen had inverted to measure their mistress’ victims’ remaining moments on Earth. More than once Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney squirmed toward the edges of the basket of the trebuchet, but their weight always made them slide back to their original positions.

“How do you feel, Diana?” Batgirl asked.

“Honestly, Batgirl, I’m scared.”

“I know. To tell the truth, so am I.”

“You escape deathtraps all the time! How can you be scared?”

“Most of these perfidious predicaments in which my enemies place me actually work.”

“How is that possible? You’re alive.”

“I didn’t mean to say I die and come back to life. I mean the perpetrators are rarely stupid enough to try killing me in a contraption that simply doesn’t work.”

“Okay. If the deathtraps typically work, but you don’t get killed by them, how do we go about surviving this one?”

“Criminals usually overlook something in planning these traps. Our task is to figure out what Catwoman overlooked and capitalize on it . . . somehow.”

“You make it sound so – simple,” Lieutenant Mooney said, thrashing helplessly.

“The concept is easy enough. The devil is in the details.”

“I don’t know, Batgirl. We’re running out of time and Catwoman seems to have thought this out pretty carefully.” Batgirl glanced at the hourglass and nodded. “Okay. What would you say–”

“That’s it!”

“What?”

“We can talk!” Batgirl exclaimed.

“Of course we can talk. Why wouldn’t we be able to talk?”

“The question is, why didn’t Catwoman gag us, to prevent us from talking or screaming our heads off for help.”

“She doesn’t think anyone will hear us in the courtyard of this museum in the middle of the night,” Lieutenant Mooney answered.

“Right. Now, what she hasn’t thought of is–”

“We can talk to each other and figure out how to escape!” the policewoman enthused.

“Good.”

“Okay. I see what you mean about the concept. Now, what other assets do we have?”

“The materials from which this trebuchet was constructed are vulnerable.”

“Wood and rope are less durable than steel and cable, but you need something with which to attack them. Blaze took your utility belt. Aren’t you disarmed?”

“Most crooks take my belt. I’d be dead if I didn’t carry a few surprises elsewhere.” As she spoke, Batgirl twisted her ankle and foot, until she was able to put one toe against one heel. This maneuver triggered a switch that sprung a blade out of the tip of her boot. “Now, to cut my ankles free and get to work on this medieval military engine.”

“Do you carry any other knives?”

“There are a few in the flanges of my gloves.”

Mooney grinned. “I thought those were part of your ongoing fashion statement.”

“So do most people.” Batgirl felt her lips twitch into a smile. She and her friend often discussed the form-fitting features of her crimefighting attire, so much so that the subject had become a running joke they could share.

The policewoman wiggled toward her friend and her fingers began to feel at the tools Batgirl had hidden. “I found one!”

“Good!” Batgirl encouraged. “Our combined weight is making these ropes sag. Cut as many strands in the middle of the mesh as you can. We have to maximize the stress on those central ropes if we want to live through this.”

As Lieutenant Mooney attacked the first rope she could reach, Batgirl sliced through more ropes with the blade in her boot and pulled a second blade from her gloves. “It’s working,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Keep cutting,” Batgirl said. The sound of the acid eating away at the trigger’s restraints had grown louder. “When we fall through the mesh, we need to keep these collars from hitting anything!” Batgirl warned.

The other woman stopped working for a moment. “You’re right! I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I think we’ve almost done it,” Batgirl said. The basket shifted. The two women slid down the mesh and were able to reach ropes they had not yet cut.

“We might be able to wiggle through once this rope is cut,” Lieutenant Mooney said, sawing savagely at one in particular.

“When you go through, try to hold on to one of the cut ropes so that you land on your feet,” Batgirl advised.

“Good thinking.”

Together they shimmied downward along the sloped mesh and let their feet drop through the hole they had cut in the basket. They inched their way downward, feeding their legs through the damaged ropes until their hips were balanced on the edge of the hole.

“Here we go!” Batgirl shouted as the weight dropped through the acid-eaten net.

Lieutenant Mooney and Batgirl felt their shoulders thrown forward as their lower bodies dropped through the hole in the mesh. They fell to the ground and lay breathless, ducking out of the way as the lever of the trebuchet pivoted past.

“I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to make Catwoman hurt this badly,” Lieutenant Mooney said between gasps.

“Be glad you’re hurting,” Batgirl said, her chest heaving. “Those sensations tell you you’re alive. Honestly, I’m not always sure after some of these experiences.” She closed her eyes and waited for the pain to ebb away. Only then did she exchange her blade for a lock pick.

When Batgirl’s handcuffs fell away from her wrists, she glanced at her friend to find Lieutenant Mooney kneeling and cutting at the bindings which still bound the policewoman’s ankles. Batgirl moved to release her friend, but was reminded of the chords encircling her own knees, which she severed with a single slash. “I’ll have you free in a second, Diana,” Batgirl said. “I don’t want to attack these collars without better light.”

“The guys in the bomb squad should be able to tackle them,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not so sure,” Batgirl said seriously. “Catwoman claimed she had a remote control that could trigger both collars. She also said she was retiring to a more comfortable vantage point. If she’s still within range . . .”

“She could blow us up any second!”

“. . . and I’m sure her henchwoman would love for us to die in a ‘Blaze’ of glory. Let’s get inside. Not only might the walls impede her signal, but I need to find a mirror and some wire,” Batgirl said, leading the way and bypassing the locked door with practiced ease. “Besides, I suspect Catwoman would want the ‘pleasure’ of seeing us explode.”

Once they were in the museum, Mooney asked, “You need the wire to keep the circuit these collars form intact, because if it is broken, the C4 will explode, right?”

“Exactly.”

“What about the mirror?”

“I’m not using you as a guinea pig.”

The duo quickly located the ladies’ room. Batgirl took the plate off the light switch and obtained the wire she needed, while ensuring the lights would still function. Finding a mirror in the women’s restroom was not a problem.

Batgirl went to work on her collar. It took time and a delicate touch, but she eventually managed to release herself from the deadly necklace and refasten it. As she carefully set the collar down, she released a breath she had held for more than a minute.

“You did it!” Lieutenant Mooney enthused.

“I’ll have you out of there in just a minute.”

As Batgirl worked on the policewoman’s collar, Diana observed, “I’m kind of surprised Catwoman hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Even though arch criminals want to be able to claim credit for killing a costumed crimefighter, they usually want to be far enough away from the scene of the crime to have plausible deniability if they should later be tried for murder. I'd bet she was farther away than you imagine– Oops.”

“Oops!?!?!” Diana cried.

Batgirl smiled at the policewoman. “Just kidding.” She removed Mooney’s collar. “There. All done.”

The lieutenant gave her friend a sardonic grin. “Thanks." She motioned towards the collars. "Now, what are you going to do with those?"

"I'm going to keep them," Batgirl replied, grinning. “Don’t worry. I disconnected the remote control trigger.” Batgirl considered the number of remote controls everyday people used on a daily basis. ‘It would be embarrassing to explode when someone locked their car or changed the channel on their television,’ she thought.

“What!?” Lieutenant Mooney asked. “We just escaped from those things and now you’re going to carry them around!?”

Unlike Batman, who seemed to have unlimited funds with which to develop a vast array of high-tech crime fighting equipment, Batgirl had only Barbara Gordon’s comparatively meager salary with which to equip herself. Catwoman had just helpfully provided a pair of working explosives. Such gifts were not to be refused.

Instead of explaining what a no-brainer taking the explosives was, she simply told Lieutenant Mooney, “Believe it or not, some days it’s unwise to get rid of a bomb.”

Mooney looked at her friend skeptically, but decided there were more pressing matters at hand. "As soon as I can find a phone, I’m going to have every known Catlair simultaneously raided!”

Catwoman, however, was not making use of any of her many lairs as the lovely lieutenant made her plans. The villainess walked in from the balcony of Lisa Carson’s hotel suite and set Cat-Eye night-vision binoculars on the bar. Her sinister sycophants trailed behind her. The villainess laid down and stretched comfortably on a cushion.

“All right,” she said, “Batgirl and her dear friend should have been launched by now. Since we didn’t see them fly by and since we also didn’t hear any explosions, I’m afraid we can assume they’ve escaped.”

“Can’t you still set off their collars by remote control?” asked Blaze. “After all the hard work I put in on them, it would be a shame if we didn’t take full advantage of their explosive potential.”

“Purr-haps, but that’s much too im-purr-sonal of a way for Batgirl to make her grand exit.” Catwoman clicked her claws together. “It’s just as well. It gives me the opportunity to devise something much more interesting for her and the lieutenant later.”

Blaze, Gunner and Blaster all had the good sense not to point out the inherent illogic of Catwoman’s conclusion. They stood silently, waiting for the Queen of Crime to continue.

“Perhaps it’s better this way. Batgirl can suffer, too, knowing I’ve knocked off her costumed girlfriends. Yes, much better.”

Again, Catwoman’s gang was prudent enough not to interrupt their mistress’ musings.

Catwoman sat up. “So, now the police will know I’m back. We need a little more hired help to deal with Batwoman and Flamebird. Blaze, I want three more men retained for a single job.”

“What will that job be, boss?” Blaze asked. “I’d like to be able to tell them.”

“Of course. Clothier Rudi Gernreich has been granted the exclusive contract to adorn the heads of several Gotham City socialites at this year’s Headdress Ball. He’ll be showing off his wares at an exclusive, private soirée tonight in the Top Hat Room at the glass Gotham West Towers Hotel. It’s a happy coincidence that Tara Kaat recently rented a posh apartment at the property. Therefore, the purr-fect rrretreat will be available following our strike on Rudi’s coifed clientele. The money and jewels we will steal, however, are a mere bonus. What we’re really after will be the Distaff Duo.”

“Batwoman?” Gunner asked.

“And Flamebird?” Blaster queried.

“Purr-cisely. Is everything ready for them in my suite at the Catacombs Condominium?”

“Yes, Catwoman,” her gigantic goons replied in unison.

“Good. If all goes as planned, we’ll administer a crushing finish to two of our fearsome foes tonight after purr-loining a veritable treasure trove from Rudi’s posh party.”

“Where shall I have the new men meet you, boss?” Blaze asked.

“At Tara’s apartment. It’s only a tem-purr-ary hideout like this one, but the cops don’t have a clue I’m using it. That reminds me. Lisa Carson, in addition to helpfully storing our stolen munitions, agreed to scout potential new Catlairs. She might have left a list of places we can look over this afternoon. Check the phone and the desk for messages.”

Catwoman yawned, laid back down and stretched luxuriantly. “For now, I’m going to take a catnap. After you attend to your duties, you may want to get some rest as well. It promises to be a memorrrable evening.”

Later, as Catwoman and her minions prepared for a night of skullduggery, Lieutenant Mooney’s strike force reported their findings. “I can’t believe it!” the Lieutenant fumed. “Catwoman is avoiding all of her known lairs today!”

“Cats tend to land on their feet, Lieutenant,” Commissioner Gordon said. “Catwoman obviously realizes we know she’s on the loose and is taking that fact into account as she plans her crime wave. As I’ve said many times, she’s a wily opponent.” Just then the phone rang. The Commissioner scooped up the instrument. “Yes, Bonnie?”

“I think you should hear this,” his secretary said.

“Very well.”

“Commissioner,” Catwoman purred.

“Catwoman! You’ve got a lot of nerve, calling me here! What do you want?”

“I’d like to rrreport a crime . . . to Batwoman.”

“You can report your crime to me!”

“This crime hasn’t happened yet, so there is really nothing to report to you and no criminal for you to arrest for having done anything.”

“Then, you’re wasting my time!”

“Batwoman may have a different opinion,” Catwoman purred. “That irate tone of yours is carrressing my ears, Commissioner, but I rrreally called to speak to Batwoman. You rrremember how I once stole your voice? I could listen to it for hours.”

“Fine!” the Commissioner shouted. “Have it your own way.”

“I will.” Catwoman’s sultry tone took on a hard edge. “Now, get Batwoman on the line!”

Moments later, a calm, female voice said, “This is Batwoman.”

“I’m calling to make you a bet, Batwoman.”

“Sorry, Catwoman,” Batwoman replied, “I find games of chance boring.”

“I wagerrr this is one game you’ll want to play. I bet you’ll be unable to stop me from taking what I want from the Top Hat Room at the Gotham West Towers Hotel – tonight! Ta ta for now!” The line went dead.

Gordon talked briefly to Batwoman, keeping his temper in check. Then . . .

“That is outrageous!” the Commissioner fumed, slamming his phone down. “There are times I really get tired of criminals using this office as a means of passing clues and threats to Batman and his associates!” He began to pace, using measured steps and smartly turning when the wall or his desk obstructed his path.

“This time, we can provide a surprise upon which Catwoman may not be counting,” Lieutenant Mooney said confidently.

“Sure an' what would that be?” asked Chief O’Hara, who had been standing by silently, observing.

“Batgirl!” the Lieutenant said with a grin. “Catwoman seems to have planned all this out in advance – taking down our costumed friends in order. Whether she thinks Batgirl and I are dead or not, her focus right now seems to be on Batwoman and Flamebird. Against Batgirl, the Distaff Duo, additional police and me, Catwoman is as good as caught.”

“What about Batman and Robin?” asked the Chief.

“Well . . .” Mooney paused uncertainly, “I’d rather not involve them at this point. Too many crimefighters might just spoil the . . . err . . . ‘collar.’ It may be good to keep them in reserve.”

“We’ll play it your way, Lieutenant. I’ll e-mail Batgirl and let her know what’s happening,” Commissioner Gordon decided, smiling, relaxing, and sitting down at his computer.

That evening, clothier Rudi Gernreich regaled his audience with droll comments as a trio of models strutted before them, showing off the celebrity designer’s latest line of headwear.

“This year’s trends tell us that less is more. These earmuffs show off Lena’s lovely mane of red hair while complimenting her fur-lined min-jacket, her micro mini-skirt, her mini-gloves, and her waterproof mini-boots. It’s lovely, Lena. Thank you. Next we have Alexis.” Rudi went on talking as the models passed one another.

The first sign the program would deviate from the schedule was the arrival of Blaze, dressed elegantly with her hair arranged in a manner appropriate for the venue, except for its having been colored pale blue. Three men, dressed in the uniforms of Catwoman’s goons, accompanied the henchwoman and stationed themselves at the exits.

Blaze passed a large, elegantly-dressed woman and jostled her with a muttered apology. Seconds later, the woman’s hands went to her throat and she shrieked, disrupting the proceedings. “My diamond necklace is gone!”

“Please seal the exits,” Rudi said calmly. “I’ll have the hotel staff search everyone as they leave. No thief will be able to escape.”

“That’s what you think, Rrrudi, dear!” a sultry voice purred.

When Rudi had addressed his audience about the situation, all of his models had been offstage. When they reappeared, Gunner held up Lena and Alexis suspended by the wrists from his outstretched, massive hands. Blaster held the other model up with both hands at arm’s length. The gargantuan goons flanked their petite mistress and approached the man at the microphone.

“Catwoman!” the startled man said, unable to keep the volume of his voice from rising as he spoke.

“That’s right, Rudi. I know you’ll recognize the hair-raising bomb I’m holding, as well as me.”

“Why are you hounding me?” the befuddled designer whined.

Catwoman glared at him. “You should choose your words more carefully, Rudi!” Then her tone softened. “Besides, you ought to be flattered I take such an interrrest in yourrr worrrk.”

“I’m sure,” Gernreich said, covering his eyes with his right hand.

“Now, my cats and I will be reliving your audience of all of its cash and jewels, unless you want another of your swanky shows to end in utter disarray,” Catwoman said, chuckling delightedly. “Be warned, one hundred purr-cent coop-purr-ation is mandatory! All right, cats. Get their loot.”

“Time to change your plans, Catwoman!” Batwoman said, stepping into sight.

“We’re going to send you back to jail, where you belong!” Flamebird agreed, coming into view.

Catwoman sized up the Distaff Duo. “You two are so cute in your skin-tight costumes. Purr-haps I can purr-suade you to play with me?”

Batwoman looked at the shorter woman with undisguised disgust. “So, what I’ve heard is true. You do have the instincts of an alley-cat!”

Catwoman smiled sweetly. “Be that as it may, you did take my bet.”

“They weren’t the only ones!” a third female voice said.

Catwoman pivoted to see the newcomer, a voluptuous vision in purple and gold standing with legs spread to shoulder width and hands resting on shapely hips.

“Batgirrrl!” Catwoman muttered, more than a little annoyed. “I don’t rrrecall making a wager with you.”

Batgirl strode toward the kittenish criminal. “I’m just here to even the odds.”

“They’re still in my favor,” Catwoman said. “As you see, I’ve done a little rrrecruiting!”

Catwoman turned to her men. “Bullet; Arrow; Bolt, take your lead from Gunner and Blaster. Get them!”

Bolt was an experienced henchman. He had worked for the Joker and had been in the running to marry Legs Parker. He didn’t wait for the larger men to fling the models aside and attack, but bull-rushed Batgirl. He discovered she had seen him coming and set her feet. Arrow and Bullet were slightly taken aback by the order to beat up three women, but quickly realized their intended victims were far from defenseless.

Instead of taking Batgirl off her feet and slamming to the floor on top of her, as he had planned, Bolt collided with her and felt the back of his neck chopped viciously with the hardened sides of two hands. He sagged and felt a knee rise into his chin, straightening him.

Batgirl pivoted to see that Blaster had put a bear hug on Batwoman. The huge henchman rotated her so that Bullet could begin to beat her senseless.

Before coming to Batwoman’s rescue, Batgirl raised her knee again and shot her leg at Bolt. Her foot caught him in the throat and sent him sprawling as he gasped for air.

Flamebird had also not hesitated. She raced toward Arrow and slapped the punch he had instinctively launched at her aside. She then delivered a combination that left the hapless thug moaning at her feet. Just as she turned to look for another opponent, a meaty hand gripped the back of her neck and lifted her. Her eyes widened as Gunner turned her to the optimum position and drew back his fist, smacked her in the center of her chest and literally sent her flying across the room.

Batwoman lifted her knees to her chest and shot them outward to retaliate against Bullet, who felt her heels impact his face. Blaster, who still held the heroine, took advantage of Batwoman’s position, bending forward and hurling her to the floor, where Batwoman lay stunned.

Catwoman and Blaze moved among the frightened civilians, relieving them of their valuables and following the fight with a mixture of delight and trepidation.

Batgirl was charging at Blaster, who was leaning over the fallen Batwoman. The Purple Paragon leaped into the air and kicked, catching the man on the chin and dropping him heavily to the floor. Batgirl landed and helped Batwoman to her feet. The smaller trio of thugs was also regrouping.

Catwoman had found her way to her henchwoman. “If I’d expected Batgirl, I would have enlisted even more help,” Blaze apologized.

“I suspect that blasted Lieutenant is lurking around here somewhere, too,” Catwoman observed. “I’m afraid Batgirl and the Distaff Duo will mop the floor with my men if we let this fight reach its conclusion.”

“We have the loot. We could just go.”

“I always wanted more than these ladies’ baubles out of this job. Whom do you consider the most vulnerable female bat?”

“Flamebird. She’s quite capable, but younger than Batwoman or Batgirl. Our purple-clad escape artist is very experienced and Batwoman is the more resourceful member of the Distaff Duo.”

“Agreed. We’ll take Flamebirrrd with us. See to it,” Catwoman ordered. “I’ll get the boys.”

Gunner, after knocking Flamebird aside, realized Batgirl was helping his other opponent to her feet and that the rest of the men were down. He spread his arms and plunged toward the curvaceous Bat duo. Both saw him coming and pivoted to hit him simultaneously in the gut. He grinned and spread his fingers as he clapped his hands. Before his palms met, his hands encountered Batwoman and Batgirl’s heads. These obstacles did nothing to slow the hands’ momentum and collided with a violent crack. Batwoman and Batgirl sagged.

The Goliath of a goon surveyed the wreckage the fight had made of the room and spotted the three new men surrounding Flamebird. Catwoman was speaking to Blaster, who motioned to him to join them.

Flamebird had landed expertly and sprung back to her feet. Now she shot her elbows outward and impacted Arrow and Bullet, doubling them over and slamming the backs of her fists into their faces. She pivoted and snapped a kick to Bullet’s face and then shot the same leg backward to dispatch Arrow with a low kick. Bolt pressed his attack, hoping to catch the curly-haired cutie off balance. Instead, he felt her fists slam into his groin from low down. Flamebird had dropped to one knee and straightened, catching the man’s chin with a rising knee. Flamebird’s leg continued upward and arced back toward the thug as she pivoted. Her heel slammed into the back of his neck and dropped him.

“You’re amazing, Flamebird!” Blaze said. “Do you have just a second to give me an autograph for my daughter?”

“Sure,” Flamebird said, seeing Batgirl and Batwoman were recovering and closer to the pep talk Catwoman was apparently giving her massive thugs. Signing autographs had become second nature for the touring tennis pro.

“Let me find you something to write on in my purse,” Blaze said pulling her bag between herself and the young heroine. The henchwoman turned her head as the purse opened to emit a plume of smoke that knocked Flamebird out in seconds. Before Flamebird collapsed, Blaze let go of the purse, which hung from her shoulder and stepped behind her victim, catching the curly-haired cutie.

Seeing Blaze had accomplished her task, Catwoman turned from the fight. “Come on, cats. Let’s go!”

“They’re getting away, Batwoman!” Batgirl said, pointing and beginning to pursue them.

“That’s not all, Batgirl . . . they’ve got Flamebird!” Batwoman said, moving toward the fleeing criminals.

Blaze handed Flamebird off to Gunner and Blaster and hurried ahead to secure an elevator. The huge henchmen carried their seemingly light captive almost effortlessly between them until Lieutenant Mooney, eight policemen, and two policewomen stepped into sight, barring Catwoman and her gang’s way.

Catwoman, caught between the police and the remaining Bat-Women, didn’t panic. She first looked straight at the Lieutenant, with clawed hands at her well-rounded hips. “Stand aside, Catarina, my dear, unless you want this prrretty little bird’s wings to be clipped!”

Then she whirled to regard the two costumed women. “You ladies, come and get me if you dare . . . but you’ve seemed to have forgotten my rrreinforcements.” The petite villainess threw her head back and laughed as Bolt, Arrow, and Bullet shoved the heroines to the floor and set upon them. Batgirl cut Bullet’s legs from beneath him and rolled over to scissor Arrow’s legs between hers.

Batwoman, meanwhile, hit Bolt’s groin with her clenched fist and followed with an uppercut that straightened him as she stood up herself. Once Batwoman regained her feet, Bolt was returned to the ground with a hard blow to the mouth. Batwoman had already begun racing after Catwoman, when Bolt hit the floor with a satisfying thump.

Lieutenant Mooney was faced with a tough judgment call. It was Department policy not to negotiate in hostage situations. On the other hand, Catwoman seemed willing to have Batgirl and Batwoman pursue her, and Gotham’s caped crimefighters had, so far, posted a nearly perfect record. The Lieutenant made the decision to stand down . . . for the moment.

Mooney motioned her squad to step aside. She quietly seethed, fists clenched, as Catwoman, Blaze, Gunner and Blaster, the latter two still carrying Flamebird, ran past and crowded into the elevator.

Batgirl pounded after Batwoman and they were both in time to see the elevator doors close and the car begin its descent. “The stairs,” Batwoman directed. “Come on!”

The heroines pounded down the stairs and reached the parking garage in time to see Catwoman’s male cats squeeze into the Kitty Car with brimming loot bags and roar off. “My Bat-Gyro is on the roof,” Batwoman said turning.

“Wait! Where’s Catwoman?” Batgirl asked.

“Good point . . . Flamebird must still be with her!”

Together they stepped into the elevator and began ascending back toward the Top Hat Room.

“If we can’t find Catwoman, we can question those three goons,” Batwoman grimly suggested.

“The ones who escaped have been with her longer,” Batgirl pointed out. Her voice became serious as she continued. “I doubt Catwoman’s new recruits will know much. Of course, it won’t hurt to ask.” Her lips had curled into a thin smile that never reached her eyes.

On the top of the ascending elevator car, Blaze and Catwoman stepped to a platform beside the shaft, dragging their helpless captive between them. Turning the unconscious Flamebird completely over to Blaze, Catwoman wedged her claws between the sliding panels of the elevator doors, the only practical means of egress serving the platform on which the trio stood.

Once the elevator car had passed, Catwoman separated the panels and peered through the aperture. “There’s nobody in the hall. Let’s go,” the Princess of Plunder commanded, leading the way to Tara Kaat’s posh, conveniently-situated apartment.

Catwoman opened the door, walked in and plunked down on a couch. Blaze unceremoniously dumped Flamebird to the floor. “All right,” Catwoman said, summing up, “aside from the necessity of foregoing Batwoman’s capture, the job went prrretty well.”

“What are your plans for Flamebird?”

“Now, she’s the purr-fect morsel of bait. Batgirl can be added to the victims of my next trap easily enough. Flamebirrrd here can be used to lure both Batgirl and Batwoman into it.” Catwoman got up and paced the room. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Of course, Flamebird would be of even greater use if we could purr-suade her to help us willingly!”

“How are you going to do that?” Blaze demanded. “Never mind that the men we abandoned know about this apartment; Batgirl and Batwoman are already looking for us; and Mooney’s probably sealed the building by now.”

Catwoman sank into a chair. ”We’re safe enough here, for the moment. The new men will talk, of course, but not before they’re hauled downtown and afforded their legal rights. No do-gooder would imagine that we would retreat to a location so close to the scene of a recent crime. Otherwise, we’d be preparing a little reception for the remaining bat women right now.”

Catwoman looked down hungrily at Gotham’s youngest costumed crimefighter. “There’s no reason to delay giving Flamebird a little attitude adjustment. Fetch my medical kit, Blaze. When I’m finished with her, Flamebirrrd might agree to be your sidekick,” Catwoman predicted with a harsh laugh. Blaze retreated.

“With a young malleable mind and my new, improved formula, there’s no telling what I can purr-suade this hot, little blonde to do for me.” Catwoman purred and let her mouth curl into a wicked smile as her hand slid lovingly along the contours of one of Flamebird’s hips.

“Your bag, boss,” Blaze said, presenting it.

“Remove her choker,” Catwoman commanded. The brilliant, but evil, chemist and inventor reached inside the case for a jar of powder, removed the lid and dipped the tip of one claw inside. As the fiendish feline returned her attention to the captive, Flamebird’s neck was exposed. “A mere scratch will be enough to administer Cataphrenic. Then my drrreadful drrrug will utterrrly alterrr this good girl’s naturrre. She’ll have even more potential than Vixen, because of her age. Without an antidote, the Cataphrenic’s effects will be purr-menant enough.”

“So she’ll willingly lure Batwoman and Batgirl to their doom!” Blaze said with a laugh. “Boss, this is brilliant!”

Catwoman inhaled and let her claw nick Flamebird’s neck. “It’s working. She’ll be all ours in seconds.” Catwoman replaced the jar in her case and painted a liquid bandage over Flamebird’s tiny wound. A gesture prompted Blaze to replace the choker at the young heroine’s throat. “How much longer will that stuff of yours keep Flamebird knocked out?”

“Awhile,” Blaze said.

“Then revive her,” Catwoman said, handing Blaze a small bottle. “I want to see how the Cataphenic is working and rrretire to the new lair before the cops show up here. Oh, since we want the details of how Flamebird came to be here to fit into a plausible scenario for her, she may need a little prompting.”

Blaze nodded and obediently exposed Flamebird to the smelling salts.

“What happened to me?” Flamebird demanded, sitting up abruptly. She looked around and spotted Catwoman. “Who are you?”

“I’m your boss,” Catwoman said. “Don’t forget it again.”

“Right,” Flamebird said, getting to her feet. “Sorry, boss.”

“I’m glad to see you’re back,” Blaze said. “I was afraid that conk on the head would keep you out of action while we attended to some unfinished business.”

“I agree, Blaze,” Catwoman said. ‘Establishing Flamebird’s role in my gang will be the first critical step in her transformation.’

“Who’s she?“ Flamebird asked, indicating Blaze.

“My assistant. Now, Flamebird, I need to know if you’re rrready to help us eliminate Batgirrrl and Batwoman.”

“Sure. Who are they?”

“Your old partners, before you saw the light and joined up with us,” Catwoman explained.

“Well, I guess they made a mistake. Didn’t they?”

Catwoman and Blaze glanced at one another. “They sure did,” Blaze said.

Catwoman continued, “Once we’ve taken care of them, Batman and Robin will be easy to handle.”

“Batman must be Batwoman and Batgirl’s superior,” Flamebird deduced. “That sounds so chauvinistic!”

“It is,” Blaze confirmed.

“Hey! Did this guy Robin lord it over me?” Flamebird whirled when she asked her question, having paced the length of the room.

A cunning smile curled Catwoman’s lips. “I believe he did.”

“Well then, he would have probably moved on after he got tired of me.” Flamebird paused for a moment, as if remembering something. “As I recall, he still acts as if he likes me.”

“Purr-fect,” Catwoman said.

“We can get rid of Robin at the same time as the women,” Blaze suggested.

“Prrrecisely. We’ll have to call him on the Batphone,” Catwoman decided.

“It’s in Commissioner Gordon’s office. We’re good, but breaking in there, while normally stupid, would be suicidal with every cop in Gotham City looking for us,” Blaze objected.

“I’ve got an idea, boss,” Flamebird said, plopping down on the floor at the feet of her new mistress.

“What’s that?”

“Cops put taps on phone lines, right?”

“Sure,” Blaze said.

“Okay, why couldn’t we cut into the Batphone line from somewhere without having to go to this office?” Flamebird asked.

Blaze frowned. “It might work, boss.”

“It’s purr-fect,” Catwoman decided. “The Batphone is untraceable, but that doesn’t mean we can’t tap into it! We’ll snatch Robin, lure Batwoman and Batgirl into our trap and eliminate all three of them in one fell swoop. By dawn, we’ll have Robin. Tomorrow night, after the women spend the day worrying about their missing colleagues, we’ll exterminate the rodents and their bird boy. Now, all we need to get Robin is some window dressing.” Catwoman went on sketching the outlines of her sinister scheme. Afterward, the three wicked woman spent several minutes helplessly laughing.

Once she had regained her breath, Flamebird dreamily enthused, “First we toy with Robin–”

“Then, we destroy him,” Blaze cut in, grinning.

Catwoman laughed again. “Once Robin and Batman’s women have been dealt with, the games I wish to play with him can begin in earnest. You watch, kittens. Destroying the Caped Crrrusader will be cat’s play.”

Blaze suddenly stopped the inevitable display of malicious mirth. “Uh, boss?”

“Yes?”

“How do we get out of this building? I’m sure Mooney’s got it locked up tighter than a drum by now.”

Catwoman smiled broadly. “Simplicity itself, my dear Blaze. We just walk out the front door.”

A short time later, the two policemen guarding the front door of the Gotham West Towers Hotel saw an astonishing sight. Catwoman and Blaze were in handcuffs, downcast expressions on their faces, being forced to walk in front of Flamebird!

“Flamebird!” cried one of the men. “You escaped!”

“. . . and you caught them both,” exclaimed the other, “by yourself?!”

“Yes, officers,” Flamebird replied in an official-sounding voice. “These lawbreakers were no match for one inspired by the ideals of law and justice.” She herded her “prisoners” towards the automatic doors. “I’m taking them to Police Headquarters – Lieutenant Mooney’s orders.”

“Yes, ma’am!” the two men replied in unison, saluting.

Flamebird was barely able to keep a straight face and refrain from giggling.

Catwoman’s Catillac was much less conspicuous than its passengers as it cruised past Police Headquarters later the same night. Catwoman and Flamebird’s eyes followed the telephone wire to the box high on an associated pole near another building.

“It looks like we might be able to jack in from the fire escape across that alley,” Flamebird said.

“It’s tricky, but we’ll have to try,” Catwoman concluded. “There’s a light on in Commissioner Gordon’s office. No doubt he and his force of fools are combing the city for me as we speak.”

“I bet those two fools who let us pass have been assigned to cleaning up after the K-9 unit by now!” Flamebird predicted with a chuckle.

“No references to canines, Flamebird,” her new leader admonished her gently as she turned the corner to approach the alley from a less well-traveled road.

“Sorry, boss.” They parked and climbed the fire escape until they stood a mere arm’s length from their objective. With Flamebird’s tiny flashlight, they examined the ingoing and outcoming lines traversing the telephone pole.

“This would be a lot easier if there was just a Robin Signal,” Catwoman complained.

“I think I found it,” Flamebird said. “This line was put in much more recently than any of these others. So, if Batman has a private hotline to the cops, and we know he does, this is probably it.”

“Good going, my high-flying hench-kitten. Now, hook into it.”

“No problem,” Flamebird said. “As they say, ‘we have the technology.’” Although her values had been turned upside down, her memory was almost completely restored. Her mind had reinterpreted every slight, every bit of constructive criticism she had ever received from her Aunt Kathy and everyone else as justification for her new world view.

The Goggled Gal opened a case, took out a pair of pliers, and went to work. Fifteen minutes later, she put on a set of headphones with a microphone in front.

“Shall I place the call, boss?”

“By all means, my dear.”

Flamebird triggered the call. Catwoman rested her chin on the girl’s shoulder so that she could hear both sides of the conversation that was about to take place.

The red phone beeped in Bruce Wayne’s study and the multimillionaire’s faithful butler, Alfred, picked it up after the first few bleeps. “I’ll summon him, sir,” he said.

“One moment, please,” Flamebird hurriedly said.

“Yes . . . miss.” Alfred said.

“I’m sorry to disturb you on this line, but I’m looking for Robin. This is Flamebird.”

“I see. I’ll forward your call in just one moment, if you’ll hold.”

“Thanks!” Flamebird said cheerily. She turned her head to look at Catwoman with a satisfied smirk. “It’s working,” she announced.

Dick Grayson was looking over his friend Susie’s shoulder as she finished frosting a cake. They were in the kitchen of her apartment.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think this cake will be the most beautiful thing on the buffet at the party.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Susie said.

“I’m just getting started. The most beautiful thing at the party–”

Dick’s cell phone rang and he realized the caller was Alfred. “Oops. I’m sorry, Suze. I’d better get this,” he said.

“You always leave when you get phone calls,” Susie complained. “It’s your tough luck tonight, though. I’ve been thinking about different desserts all day and I was hoping you’d agree to help me with the tasting.”

He flashed her a grin as he activated the phone. “Hello,” Dick said.

“I have a call for Master Robin in which he may be interested, sir,” Alfred explained. “Shall I put you in touch with the young lady?”

‘Young lady?’ Dick thought. He could feel his companion’s eyes on him and knew he would have to do an especially good job of keeping from showing the excitement he naturally felt when Robin was summoned. Susie was much more focused on him than his Aunt Harriet had ever been. He kept his voice neutral. “Sure,” he said. “Go right ahead.”

“Hello, Robin. This is Flamebird.”

“It’s great to hear from you. What’s up?”

“Catwoman escaped from prison and I’ve tracked down her hideout. I’m going in to get her and I wanted to know if you’d like to back me up.”

“Sure! In fact, it’d be better if you’d wait for me.”

Flamebird gave him an address near the Catlair, described its location, and organized a meeting between them. “Thanks, Robin. Batwoman wouldn’t want me to do this without help and she’s tracking down another clue. See you soon.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Susie was standing with her hands on her hips when he returned his attention to her. “Did you listen to a word I said since that stupid phone rang?”

“Suze, listen,” Dick said earnestly. ”That was someone from my graduate project team. The project is due in a couple of days. You know all the libraries on campus are closed at this hour, right?”

“Yes . . . so it seemed like a good time to invite you over and to distract you from your studies with a number of sweet surprises. I’ve had this visit planned for the last few days. I thought we were both looking forward to it.”

“You know I wouldn’t let just anything spoil your plans–”

Susie began to glower at him. “But–”

“Please hear me out. I think I have a book that will be invaluable to the project at stately Wayne Manor. I’d like to hurry there, get the book, give it to this guy on my team, and run back here. I’d let it wait until tomorrow, but you know if my Aunt sees me, I’ll have to answer a thousand questions about school and stuff and that could take hours.”

‘Well, I guess it’s pretty important,” she said pouting, slipping off her apron.

“I knew you’d understand. You’re the greatest, Suze. I’ll make this up to you, I promise. Thanks.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise, mister. Good luck,” she said as he stepped through her door. Once he was gone, she hurled her wadded apron savagely at the wall. ‘I swear, if he wasn’t such a Boy Scout, I’d think he was going to see another woman . . . !’

Dick Grayson drove quickly to a storage locker he had rented to keep the Redbird closer to campus. He changed into Robin unobserved, and hurried to his appointment in under fifteen minutes. A clock in the distance struck midnight. When he arrived, he slipped out of the car and looked around. ‘Flamebird is nowhere in sight!’

He began a hurried, worried search and found a rope dangling beside an illuminated window of the new Catlair she had described.

“Be smart about this,” Robin told himself. He looked in all directions and gripped the rope. ‘She must have seen something that compelled her to go in and take on Catwoman alone. I’ve got to follow her, because she’s counting on me! There’s no telling what that Feline Felon might be doing to her!

‘At least Catwoman’s in her original body. I shudder to think . . . !’

Robin tugged at the rope as a routine safety check and began to Bat-climb the wall. He reached the illuminated window and peered through. The scene inside made him gasp in horror and his eyes widen. “Holy History Repeating Itself!”

Flamebird lay struggling, spread-eagled on a leopard-patterned cushion. Above her, a pair of metal claws descended toward her, as sand spilled to the floor from the bottom of a calibrated measuring tube. “Holy Flamebird Fillet!” Robin muttered. ‘If those claws reach her, they’ll automatically rake her from her neck to her waist, ripping her torso wide open!’

He reached for the window latch and was surprised and delighted when it opened. “Robin!” Flamebird said. “Thank Heaven you’re here. Help me!”

The Twenty-Something Titan crossed the room and gripped one of the massive needles to which Flamebird’s ankles were bound. He extracted it and gripped the other one. Once her legs were free, he leaned across her body and pulled the massive needle to which her wrist was bound. As it clattered to the floor, Flamebird let her free arm wind round Robin’s neck and pull her body toward him as he lifted her from beneath Catwoman’s cruel, metal claws. The last needle pulled free and clattered to the floor where Robin had flung the others and Flamebird’s other arm encircled his waist.

“I’ve got you, Flamebird,” Robin said softly. “It’s all over now.” Robin felt her lips seek out his as he set her on her feet. He held her, supporting her weight as she kissed him, at first tentatively, and after a moment, hard and hungrily.

Batman had explained that kissing was one of the most natural things in the world one could do . . . and as he felt himself respond to Flamebird, he realized the grateful Girl Wonder was providing another experience to confirm the wisdom of his mentor’s words. The kisses he returned to her were, he thought, well-earned and unquestionably inspired. He closed his eyes, heard her moan, and felt her tongue dart forward and her body press more closely against him. Together they rotated so that Robin’s back was to the trap from which he had saved her.

“Thank you, Robin,” Flamebird said huskily, holding him against her after the kisses had broken. Their hearts were pounding and he could feel her chest heaving against his. Her lips brushed his neck and he turned his head toward her face again. Then, once again, she was kissing him urgently, silently demanding a response that he would never be able to deny her.

Robin had kissed Flamebird before, but he had never recalled her taking the lead so aggressively. Questions swirled wildly in Robin’s mind, but part of him did not want to ever let her go. Answers to the questions seemed not to matter, but they nagged at other corners of his psyche.

The second round of kissing ended and very slowly, their breathing regularized. Robin stepped back, covering the intervening space between Flamebird and the cushion to which Catwoman had pinned her. Despite their closeness, both crimefighters could feel one another relax. Presently, yet reluctantly, Robin let his hands fall away from Flamebird’s body, but held her gaze with steady eyes. She was smiling, and her fascinating eyes underneath her goggles sparkled.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am now,” she replied. “In fact, I‘ve rarely felt better.”

Robin saw her smile widen as her hands slid over his shoulders and her fingers splayed against his chest.

“Now,” Robin said, “tell me what happened.”

“Well, it’s a long story,” Flamebird said.

“Maybe we should go after Catwoman first, then.” Robin smiled mischievously. “Purr-haps we can take her by surprise.”

Flamebird glanced at a mirror beside the scale upon which she had been weighed earlier. All of the sand had nearly spilled from the tube that held it. Her eyes had narrowed when she returned her attention to her rescuer, but her smile seemed to have widened even further.

“There’s a lot more time than you think, Robin,” Flamebird confided. “The trap worked a little differently than you probably imagined.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“Well, it functioned purr-fectly . . . since you walked right into it with your eyes wide open!” The scarlet-clad sentinel straightened her arms and laughed delightedly as Robin fell back against the metal claws behind him. He felt the cruel tips impale his costume and flesh before his weight caused them to rake his back, leaving shallow lacerations. He stared at Flamebird, vaguely aware of the chemical attacking his nervous system. Finally, he collapsed before the delectable damsel who had utterly duped him. She was laughing delightedly. “Surprise,” she purred. “Oh, I just want you to know how much the bait enjoyed being gobbled up. You were utterly magnificent—the purr-fect sap.”

“Holy Mata Hari!” he exclaimed. “You’re a turncape!”

“Oh, Robin,” Flamebird said, “You’re so right. It’s really quite liberating. You’ll make the purr-fect bait for Batwoman and Batgirl, just as I made the purr-fect bait for you.” Flamebird put her right hand on her chin. “The only remaining question is when to spring the trap and eliminate those Bat-Bitches once and for all!”

Robin reviewed the trap in his mind as the muscles he commanded to make him stand refused to function. ‘I should have seen the trap coming, before I climbed the rope conveniently dangling beside the window for me. I, more than anyone, should have been on guard against Catwoman using Cataphrenic again! Flamebird, the bait, had been well prepared for me, and my concern for her blinded me to the subtle signs she was not herself following her alleged rescue.’ He could not disagree that he had walked right into the trap. He violently shook his head, desperately fighting to remain conscious as the Catwoman herself slinked into the room.

‘Oh, no!’ Robin thought as horrible possibilities raced through his mind.

Catwoman greeted Flamebird and the two turned to regard their helpless captive, grinning wickedly. “You’ve changed bodies . . . again!” Robin mumbled.

The villainess ignored him. “Well done, Flamebirrrd.”

“Thank you, Catwoman,” Flamebird said. “It was my pleasure.”

“I noticed,” Catwoman responded disapprovingly. “You know, I suspect an important part of your education has been sorely neglected.”

The young woman knew exactly what her mistress had in mind. ‘If only she knew I’m on the women’s professional tennis tour!’

The Princess of Plunder turned her attention to her men as they filed into the room. “Boys, take Juniorrr Bird Man to the alternate Catlair. We’ll pluck his feathers there this afternoon, when the rest of the bait for our trap is laid. Less than twenty-four hours from now, we’ll complete its execution, as well as its victims’ careers.”

“Yes, Catwoman,” Gunner said.

“Robin will be one bald birdie when you’ve finished with him, boss,” Blaster predicted.

The young Titan’s vain struggles ceased, as the tom cats approached him and a moan heralded unconsciousness.

The massive men effortlessly lifted Robin and carried him off.

Left alone, Catwoman returned to the previous subject. “It seems like you enjoyed kissing him,” Catwoman commented.

“I certainly did. By this time tomorrow, though, it won’t really matter, will it?”

“No,” Catwoman replied. Then she captured Flamebird’s gaze. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure, boss. You’re the boss.”

Catwoman laughed. “Listen. I’ve been meaning to ask you about this since I first laid eyes on you.”

“What?” Flamebird said eagerly.

“What kind of feeling do you get when you think about girls?”

Before her conversion, Betty had politely demurred any advances from the so-inclined women on the tour. Now, however, she wondered if perhaps she had been foolish, to close herself off from new experiences. She decided to play it coy. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking.”

“Well, is it anything like the feeling you get when you think about boys?”

“I don’t know,” Flamebird said.

“Let’s go talk about it, shall we?”

“Whatever,” Flamebird replied, leading the way from the room as her mentor followed, leering at the Girl Wonder’s swaying backside.

The following evening, just before leaving work, Barbara Gordon felt a vibration at her hip that told her Batgirl had received an e-mail in her special account. She locked herself in her office and read the message. It was from Batwoman and said the yellow-clad heroine had discovered the location of the current Catlair.

Barbara closed the library and hurried to her apartment where she underwent her tantalizing transformation, descended her secret freight elevator, and roared toward her meeting with Batwoman at the Catacombs Condominium at the top legal speed.

“I’d like to hear the whole story,” Batgirl said, once the female bats met. “Your message was not all that specific.”

“Flamebird said she had escaped from Catwoman and that our feline friend was hiding out in Subterranean Suite Six here.”

“Great!” Batgirl looked around. “So, where is Flamebird?”

“Good question. I haven’t seen her. I’ve been tempted to go ask Catwoman.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me,” the Curved Crusader enthused.

“It’s possible,” Batwoman cautioned, “that Flamebird may have been recaptured. If so, I think it would be best to take Catwoman by surprise. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Batgirl said grimly. “Let’s do it!”

Batwoman and Batgirl cautiously entered the condominium. They crossed the deserted lobby and quickly realized an elevator was the only obvious means of reaching the residences below. The stairs, wherever they were, were well hidden, probably for the residents’ security.

“I don’t like this,” Batgirl said.

“Neither do I, but Catwoman isn’t giving us a choice.”

“Okay,” Batgirl said, taking a deep breath and summoning the car. They boarded and Batwoman pushed S6. They descended without incident to Catwoman’s lair. When the panel doors opened behind them, both women turned and were shocked to see Robin gagged and bound to the golden throne atop the dais in the center of the chamber.

He spotted them and began to scream through the gag and lean forward, starting intensely at his potential rescuers. Both hurried toward him and ripped the gag from his mouth as they slashed his bonds.

“Forget me!” Robin cried. “Get out of here! It’s a trap!”

Batgirl and Batwoman stepped back, descending the dais and looking for an onrushing gang of henchmen. Robin stood and began hurrying to the floor, from which the couches and cushions had been cleared. Before they reached level ground, a net of thin, metal strands fell from the ceiling to entwine the heroic trio.

“Cat’s Whiskers!” Batgirl exclaimed. “We’ve got to keep them away from us!” She struggled vainly to keep the sinister strands from entwining her arms, containing her heaving chest, and immobilizing her legs. Unfortunately, Batwoman and Robin were also actively trying to escape the terrible tendrils and each hero’s efforts undermined the others’. Worse, they were all more concerned about slipping from the evil ensnarement than maintaining their footing on the dais so that when one slipped, they all plunged painfully to the floor where their instinctive efforts to regain their feet further snarled them in Catwoman’s wicked wires. “It’s no use! We’re trapped. We’ll have to stop struggling and work our way out of this nasty net carefully.”

“Boss,” Flamebird said, leading the villainess and her kittenish associates into the room, “I don’t believe it! I thought they’d all break through that thin twine when I first saw it.”

“I think not, my dear,” Catwoman replied. “You’re obviously unfamiliar with my Cat’s Whiskers. This type, the original, automatically contracts when placed in close contact with the heat of the body. So these three, whom my wanton Whiskers have cradled, will soon be strangled to death, leaving Batman quite alone. Once he discovers his colleagues’ fate, he’ll be the solitary, remaining caped crimefighter in Gotham City and quite rrripe for madness.” She and her gang laughed delightedly as they surveyed their captives.

“That’s brilliant, boss.” Blaze complimented. “The Cat’s Whiskers form a huge Cat’s Cradle, enveloping all of them. The reason they’re all trapped in it is they were each foolishly struggling to escape before they fell down the dais.”

“She’s right, boss,” Flamebird agreed. “They obviously know whenever they struggle, the Cat’s Whiskers are drawn more tightly against their bodies. Then, their body heat just constricts them further. I notice they’ve become very still.”

“Well, I see you’ve both grasped the premise of the trap,” Catwoman said, a glint in her eyes. “If I were to be completely honest, though, the credit rrreally goes to . . . Batgirrrl.”

“Batgirl?!” Flamebird queried.

“I once exchanged bodies with her. While she was in mine, she . . . ah . . . took to crime. One of the brilliant capers she devised was Batman’s murder, using a Cat’s Cradle of Cat’s Whiskers, just like this one,” Catwoman purred. “I’m sure the irony of devising the means of her own death is not lost upon her.” Catwoman laughed. “You see, my dear, turnabout is fair play.”

“If I dreamed it up, I can come up with a way to escape it!” Batgirl said defiantly.

“Purr-haps, but you don’t have much time.” Catwoman chuckled. “I seem to rrrecall you telling me how your trap would kill two victims more quickly than one. Think of how much more quickly the three of you will perish, thrashing about among the Whiskers together.”

Catwoman turned to Flamebird. “How did she describe the process? Oh, yes, I remember! The victims will be, ‘caught as if wound in the coils of a giant boa constrictor, with the Cat's Whiskers shrinking about them from their body heat. Their bodies will be literally screaming for oxygen!’”

“You’re . . . enjoying . . . this!” Batwoman accused. She was already finding it hard to breathe.

“Of course I am,” Catwoman purred. “I think Batgirl might have had you particularly in mind when describing her victim’s final moments of consciousness. ‘Near the very end, they would try to hold their last breaths. If they give in to their bodies' overwhelming need for air, the Cat's Cradle would be waiting . . . waiting for them to exhale . . . waiting to take advantage and close down even further so they could never expand their chests back out.’”

“Delicious,” Flamebird said. She stepped to where Batwoman was tentatively tugging at her bindings in a vain attempt to free herself. “How does that sound, ‘partner?’ I guess it will leave you rather breathless in the end.”

“There’s more, Flamebird,” Catwoman elaborated, still purring as she went on quoting a truly scary conversation she would never forget. “‘Each time they exhale, the Whiskers will contract to follow. It will become so tight around them that they will only be able to take more and more shallow breaths. Finally, after the last, final exhalations, they would discover that they can no longer inhale. The Cradle's latest constrictions wouldn't allow it! Then the Bats would die!’"

Catwoman and Flamebird laughed. After a moment, Blaze joined the merriment. “It sounds like Batgirl hated Batwoman then as much as Flamebird hates her now,” she observed. Blaze leaned over Batwoman, her hands on her knees. “I wonder how it feels to be so . . . unloved.”

The scarlet-clad scofflaw turned her attention to Robin. “I guess you realize it’s over between us. After all, shortly it will all be over for you and that doesn’t leave me much to which to look forward.” She giggled girlishly. “I really know how to dump an old boyfriend, don’t I?”

“You aren’t yourself, Flamebird! I know what you’re going through. It’s possible to fight it, to beat it! I don’t care what Catwoman has told you–”

“Shut up! I’ve learned a lot about myself from the Catwoman. Things you could never imagine.”

‘Oh, NO!’ thought Robin. ‘Could things get any worse?!’

Batwoman dared not contemplate the meaning of her niece’s words. Batgirl, ever mindful of just how little time they might have left, kept her concentration on trying to find a means of escape.

Catwoman delighted in the reaction her new recruit’s words had caused. ‘My victory is nearly total and complete! Then she noticed Batgirl didn’t seem to be paying attention. “You pronounced this trap ‘foolproof,’ Batgirrrl. I think we’re about to discover how right you were.”

“Since you’re the biggest fool I know,” Batgirl retorted, “if we don’t escape, I guess I was right!”

Catwoman glared at her, but then paused, threw back her head, and laughed. “. . . and that, Batgirrrl, is your last shot – ever! Blaze; boys; Flamebird, let’s go. These three are quite finished.”

“Boss,” Blaze said, “I’d like to add one tiny touch to this criminal coup . . . if you don’t mind,” she hastened to add.

“What for?” Flamebird asked. “It’s purr-fect.”

“For profit, Flamebird,” Blaze said. “It would be much more lucrative to split the hench-kitten’s share of the loot from the Federal Depository Building three ways instead of four. Wouldn’t you agree, guys?”

“She’s right,” Blaster said.

“So, I guess we should take care of Flamebird, too,” Gunner decided.

“Holy . . . Duplicity!” Robin fumed.

Blaster and Gunner looked at Catwoman. When she didn’t object, they stepped toward Flamebird and seized the attractive athlete by the shoulders and knees. The goggled girl squirmed uselessly between them and kicked at Blaster. The thugs took advantage by dragging her toward the deathtrap and lowering her into its cruelly crushing confines.

Flamebird protested futilely. “Hey! What?! Stop!! Catwoman?! Catwoman!!”

Soon, Flamebird felt a strange gripping sensation literally surrounding her entire body. Her wrists were spread and entwined among the strange strands over her head. The terrible, tight wire entwined her arms and stretched across her pert breasts and narrow waist. Her thighs, knees, calves, and feet were also gripped together.

“Finished?” Catwoman inquired as her henchmen straightened, smiling down at their handiwork as Flamebird thrashed helplessly.

“Yes, Catwoman,” Gunner replied.

“Soon, so is she,” Blaster agreed. “Just like the rest of them.”

“Excellent,” Blaze purred. “The way all of their arms are positioned, there is no way any of them can reach the toys in their famous utility belts. We can go now, boys.” The henchwoman laughed as she followed the men from the death chamber.

“CATWOMAN!!!” Flamebird cried again.

“There’s no honor among thieves, Flamebird. Blaze made sense, at least to the boys. You’ve served your purpose. The fact is, your prrresent prrredicament isn’t rrreally my problem, is it?”

“What about your plans for us?”

“Flamebird!” Batwoman said sharply, the metaphorical roof falling on her head.

“That’s a good question.” Catwoman paused, considering. “I guess you could say I’m as good at dumping girlfriends as you are at dumping boyfriends. Besides, you could have shown a lot more enthusiasm.”

“I was just playing . . . hard to get . . . to keep you interested!”

Catwoman approached Batgirl, carefully reached through the Whiskers and took a Universal Bat-Antidote pill from her utility belt. The Crime Queen then turned to Flamebird. “In honor of what might have been, I’ll restore your tiresome original personality. You’ll be your old enthusiastic self – well, at least for a few minutes, before you die.”

Catwoman again put a paw through the terrible twine. Flamebird willingly opened her mouth and Catwoman placed the tablet under her tongue. Catwoman stepped back, put her hands on her hips, then shifted her gaze from Flamebird to Batgirl. “You know, Batgirrrl, you’re rrreally more my type.”

Batgirl didn’t dignify Catwoman’s comment with a response, but the redness in Batgirl’s face wasn’t only caused by her efforts against the Cat’s Whiskers.

The effect of the antidote was almost instantaneous. “So,” Flamebird said as Catwoman shrugged, then stepped back to follow her minions to the elevator. “This is it!”

“I’m . . . sorry . . . I let this happen to you . . . Flamebird,” Batwoman said, wheezing.

Robin was relieved by the revelations of the last minute, but still found it hard to focus entirely on surviving. “What you . . . tried to do . . . to Flamebird is . . . outrageous!” Robin raged.

“Too bad you’re in no position to do anything about it,” Catwoman shot back.

“That won’t always be the case, Catwoman!” Batgirl said, her voice soft and deadly. Do to her previous experience in the Whiskers, she wasn’t as yet in as bad a shape as Batwoman and Robin. “Mark my words.”

“I beg to differ, my bats and birdies. Farewell!” Catwoman said with a wicked chuckle. She boarded the elevator where she turned to regard her victims one last time. “Presently, I’ll have Batman come around to have a look at your remains.” The black-clad beauty touched her claws to her lips and blew a kiss toward the still-struggling sentinels of justice. The elevator closed, leaving the four heroic figures to their fate as Catwoman’s laughter and delighted purring echoed.

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