Intervention Sets Vengeful Intentions Astray

By Mr. Deathtrap

Batgirl watched, horror-stricken, while her chest compressed as she slowly exhaled and the fur wrap enveloping her body tightened. Her shallow exhalation was accompanied by a moan before her torturous, rasping inhalation thrust her breasts against their cruelly contracting covering. The overhead lamps’ blistering heat would continue beaming down, sapping her strength as she glanced to her right and left, seeing only her reflection in the perfidiously-positioned mirrors.

Her head was clearly the only part of her body Batgirl could freely move. Her outstretched legs had been bound at the ankles and knees and the fur wrap hugged them closely together while holding them rigid. Her arms had been similarly bound at the wrists and elbows before her body had been laid upon them, pinning them beneath her as the wicked wrap pressed them against her back.

Batgirl and her caped colleagues were not only legends due to their success at fighting crime. Batman was widely renowned for producing the gadget or device he needed for any situation, no matter how bizarre. Regardless of whether a whisk broom or Shark Repellent Bat-Spray was called for, Batman was, like the ultimate Boy Scout, prepared. Batgirl; Robin; and Flamebird had, perhaps to a lesser extent, all equipped themselves for likely eventualities, carrying their miraculous gear in their utility belts. Batwoman kept a collection of wondrous equipment close at hand, but used her Bat-Kit to carry it. Criminals, like the heroes’ admirers, knew about the array of gadgets the city’s defenders carried and, when trying to kill the gadget-wielding guardians of Gotham, frequently removed their belts and Bat-Kit respectively.

Batgirl’s current, deadly predicament was no exception, and the heroine was reminded of this grim fact each time she experimentally shifted her weight. Having been lain atop her arms with her body closely confined in the slowly shrinking wrap, all the backup equipment Batgirl carried for use when deprived of her belt would remain as unavailable as her golden girdle and the miraculous devices she carried there. As she tried vainly to squirm, Batgirl could not recall ever having been more helpless.

‘Why did Catwoman bother taking my belt? It isn’t like I could have reached it after she wrapped me up in this fur!’ Batgirl thought. ‘She is ambitious, bright, clever, and has been very thorough this time! I’ll give her all the credit in the world. Unless I get out of here, my murder will be a mere portent of crimes to come tonight. If I panic now, I’m dead!’

Elsewhere in the catacombs beneath the Gato and Chat Fur Company, Dayna and Soolin brought Jo Grant into Catwoman’s audience chamber and dropped her unceremoniously onto a cushion. The captive was still bound and mostly encased in the bondage bag, but the cat darts had been plucked from her body.

“Wake her up,” Catwoman ordered.

The Princess of Plunder remained impassive while Soolin lifted Jo Grant’s shoulders and Dayna slapped the shorter Briton across the face until the captive seemed to respond. The hench-kittens shoved their prisoner back down onto the cushion, stepped back, and looked expectantly to their mistress for further instructions.

Catwoman winked at Jo Grant’s bearers as a cruel smile curled the Feline Fiend’s lips. “You’ve followed your instructions purr-fectly, kittens, but what is this other little trophy you’ve brought to me?”

“A souvenir of your victory over Batgirl,” Dayna replied, handing over the doomed damsel’s utility belt with a wide smile.

“What . . . what have you done to Batgirl?” Jo Grant demanded.

“As we speak,” Catwoman said dreamily, regarding the captive, “I’m literally crushing her to death.” The Feline Fiend laughed, lovingly running Batgirl’s utility belt through her hands. "Soon . . . very soon, there will be no more Batgirl.”

“What . . . what . . . will you . . . do . . . to . . . me?”

“Oh, that depends on your boyfriend.”

“George?”

“I’m about to wake him up.”

“What do you mean, you’re going to ‘wake him up?’”

“Never mind, dear,” Catwoman replied, smirking. “Let’s say he’s had an active afternoon and leave it at that.”

“What did you do to him?” Jo Grant demanded.

“The subject is closed,” Catwoman declared.

“Let’s move on,” Soolin suggested. “How much shall we demand of Lyons for his woman’s safe return?”

“He ain’t done much to pay what we done demanded already,” Okie Annie pointed out. “Now, if he cares about this here gal, we ought to be able to demand practically anything.”

“We asked for five million bucks and haven’t been given a cent,” Dayna said.

“We done helped ourselves to plenty in spite o’ Lyons’ lack o’ cooperation.”

“We could ask for double, or triple that amount,” Soolin suggested, letting a hand stroke Jo Grant’s shoulder. “I’d imagine much more isn’t even out of the question.”

“George would never pay you five million,” Jo Grant declared. “Ten or fifteen million is simply out of the question.”

“We’ll see,” Catwoman said. “Fetch the phone.”

Dayna presented the instrument and Catwoman dialed.

“You plan to leave him a voice mail?” Jo Grant asked.

“He’ll answer his private number,” Catwoman purred. “After all, he’s going to talk to you.”

“I have absolutely no intention of–”

“If you’d prefer to scream,” Catwoman snapped, “I can easily accommodate you! Ah, he’s picking up. I knew he would.” The Feline Fiend grinned.

“Hello?” George Henry Lyons said drowsily.

“Good evening, Georgie. I’m calling about my money.”

“What money? Who is this?” the businessman asked.

“It’s Catwoman, purring in your shell-like ear. You never gave me my five million.”

George Henry Lyons was suddenly wide awake. “You’ve stolen more than that from me!”

“Much more, Georgie,” Catwoman agreed. “You’ll, however, figure that out soon enough.”

“What do you mean?” the mogul demanded.

Catwoman extended the telephone receiver toward Jo Grant. “Speak!” she commanded.

Jo Grant looked up at the villainess with shining eyes and remained mute.

Catwoman gestured at Dayna, who gripped one of Jo Grant’s bound arms through the bag, and pulled down on it sharply. The pretty prisoner yelped involuntarily. Another nod from Catwoman prompted Soolin to grip the captive’s other arm.

“Stop it,” the bound Briton pleaded, gasping and gritting her teeth. “Please.”

“That’s enough,” Catwoman said, “for now.” She returned the telephone receiver to her ear.

“That’s Jo!” George Henry Lyons exclaimed. “What are you doing to her.”

“I’m leaving her alone, until after our meeting at your fur salon later tonight.”

“What do you want?”

“Ten million,” Catwoman replied. “It will serve as a down payment against Ms. Grant’s safety. I’ll see you at midnight and then we’ll talk.”

“I get Jo back and you leave us alone?”

“I get rich and you get further instructions about the girl.”

“I don’t know if I can get ten million in cash before midnight,” the businessman complained. “Every financial institution in town closed hours ago!”

“Big money changes hands ‘after hours’ all the time and you have so many rich friends,” Catwoman replied. “I don’t care how you get my money. Just do it!”

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

“Well,” Catwoman purred, “my kittens and I feel your minks, ermines, chinchillas, and the rest of your expensive wears could comfortably be placed over our shoulders.” She chuckled. “If I were you, I’d work hard on that money – unless you want to listen to Ms. Grant’s lengthy, anguished screams tomorrow morning.”

“What?” the businessmen demanded, unable to conceal the shock and horror Catwoman’s call had prompted.

“Ta ta for now, Georgie.” The villainess was laughing as she broke the connection.

At the other end of the phone line, George Henry Lyons slammed the phone down, and turned on the bedside lamp, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. He frowned, suddenly realizing he was alone, and swore softly as he moved to the bathroom. His stomach was churning.

“Come, kittens,” Catwoman said. “I want to be early for our meeting. Ms. Grant will be here when we get back.” Catwoman regarded Jo Grant with a wicked smile as she made a final prediction. “Batgirl, however, won’t.” The criminal quartet laughed uproariously as they left Jo Grant alone in Catwoman’s audience chamber.

The prisoner stared after them with wide, glaring eyes as the echoes her captors’ laughter was replaced with oppressive silence.

Meanwhile, elsewhere at the Gato and Chat Fur Company, Batgirl inhaled as deeply as she could, frowning at the lynx fur stretched across her chest, which seemed to compress her breasts, flattening them ever so slightly. “Not like this!” Batgirl weakly cried. “I won’t die like this!” Silently, she wished she could devise a way to prevent the crushing finish Catwoman had both planned for her and set in motion.

Three pull cords controlling the lamps beaming their hellish heat dangled tantalizingly above her. Reaching even one would likely remain impossible as long as her hands were encased inside the lynx fur with her body weight resting on her arms. The familiar, tingling sensation denoting oxygen deprivation had long ago made her arms and hands feel as though hundreds of sharp pins and needles impaled them continuously.

Shunting her discomfort and concerns aside, she decided to try reaching one pull cord with her mouth to turn its corresponding sun lamp off. Unless she could earn herself a respite from the heat, sweat would go on streaming from her simmering flesh to be trapped inside her costume. The fur surrounding her body only intensified the uncomfortably scalding sensations the steamy cloud surrounding her continuously caused.

Experimentally, Batgirl tried twisting and raising her upper body from the waist. She managed to shift slightly, but weakness prevented her from holding her shoulders above the tabletop for more than an instant. Batgirl closed her eyes, groaning dejectedly as her body settled back onto the hot, polished tabletop.

She was completely spent, and the adrenaline rush which had briefly enabled her to barely lift part of herself off the table was gone. Intense heat continued sapping her strength. Even if Batgirl somehow managed to deactivate one sun lamp, the remaining hot lights’ deadly work would continue. Given the heroine’s weakened condition, the eventual effectiveness of Catwoman’s trap was almost a foregone conclusion.

‘If I’m going to survive, I need a different approach!’

“Must be a way,” Batgirl muttered, gasping. “Criminals always overlook something.” She imagined her muscles cooking in the sheen of sweat enveloping her. ‘If my muscles really are cooking, they’re shrinking like this fur,’ she thought. ‘I might live a few moments longer and the extra time could give me the chance I need to escape. Of course, the muscles tearing away from my bones and dooming me is even more likely!’

“Okay,” she said aloud, trying to shrug her shoulders, but managing only a helpless twitch. “This could be the end!” Her spirits had fallen and she thought of trying to sit up again, hoping to reach a dangling pull cord with her mouth, but changed her mind. ‘I’ve got to conserve my strength for a plan with a better chance to succeed.’

The shrinking fur contracted and the heat went on beaming inexorably at Batgirl as her mind worked with the speed of a supercomputer, considering and rejecting escape plan after escape plan. Her relative lack of movement and the weakness her exertions in the heat had so far caused severely limited her options.

So far, she had either worked to free one part of her body, or focused her efforts on eliminating a single aspect of the trap. Nothing she attempted had prevented the slowly shrinking fur from squeezing Batgirl as though she were inside a closing fist.

A moan reminded her of the beating she had endured before falling into Catwoman’s cruel contrivance. The warmth bathing her body and the lynx fur drawn snugly against her skintight costume eased the lingering pain of her numerous bruises, but this momentary comfort left her cold as she began to dwell on the fiendish fate her hellish environment facilitated. She shook her head and moaned again as some of her more severe injuries began to throb. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind.

When the Curved Crusader’s focus returned to her escape, she decided a more holistic approach would be necessary. Her plan formed rapidly. Moving to the table’s edge might enable her to smash through a mirror so she could drop into the cool shadows below, thus escaping.

She reasoned her tiny movements might, after a lot of time, allow her to inch her way to her goal, but she realized a much better way to reach it was available. Batgirl raised one shoulder and shifted onto her side, thrusting aside her fear all her strength would be sapped before she reached safety beyond the table’s edge. Another shift and Batgirl was on her stomach and closer to her objective.

Batgirl’s weight suddenly pressing down on her crumpling breasts forced her to exhale as she became conscious of the additional sweat her exertions had made her body secrete. Her subsequent inhalation was shallow as she glanced toward her objective and rested, gathering her dwindling strength.

“One more time,” Batgirl encouraged. “Then I can break the mirror—I hope. Because otherwise . . . . ”

“Meow!”

Too quickly, Batgirl turned her head toward the sound, spotting the creature named after a mythological witch. Pain throbbed in her head as she tried to focus. ‘Catwoman left her cat behind,’ Batgirl thought. ‘Now, I may have a better chance to escape!’

“Here, kitty,” Batgirl said quietly after a moment, when the pain in her head had subsided. “Come on. Come over here and scratch at this fur with your claws.”

Medea, the cat, looked at Batgirl for a moment, perched on the corner of the mirrored enclosure.

“Come here, kitty,” Batgirl coaxed. The weight of her body crumpled her breasts further and limited her inhalations to shallow breaths. She wondered how long it would be before the shrinking fur would crack her ribs. ‘Will my shattered bones impale my lungs or perhaps sever my spine?’ Batgirl fearfully wondered. Despite her fears, she had to remain calm and coax Medea to where the cat’s claws could tear at the threads holding the cruelly contracting covering against her.

Medea took a tentative step toward Batgirl, who smiled and coaxed further. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Come on.”

The cat reached Batgirl’s body and began exploring.

“That’s it, kitty,” Batgirl encouraged softly. “Come on. Play with the thread where the fur has been sewn.”

The cat purred, basking in the heat briefly before moving toward Batgirl’s voice. A dangling thread caught the cat’s eye and the feline began batting at it with her forepaws.

“Good, kitty. That’s it,” Batgirl said.

The cat grew bored and began to move on, but Batgirl moved her shoulder slightly, catching the cat’s eye once again. Claws tore at the threads binding the fur around Batgirl’s shoulder. Slowly, the cat’s claws shredded the fur held in place by the thread and a slight gap opened in the fur wrap.

The first thread Medea had seen moved as Batgirl shifted her shoulder, maintaining the cat’s interest. Slowly, the gap in the fur grew larger and Batgirl’s efforts grew more intense as the relentless clawing at the increasing number of dangling threads became frantic. Very slowly, a purple shoulder drenched in sweat was revealed and began to emerge.

Medea remained enthralled with the cut threads. Her claws continued to attack as Batgirl shifted her now-free shoulder from the fur wrap and tried to move her trapped shoulder closer to freedom.

Now, the fur was drawn away from Batgirl’s body as she began to shimmy from the tightening wrap. The movement of her shoulders allowed blood to flow along her arms, and, after a moment, her fingers tore at the fur above them. Batgirl pulled the fur enveloping her chest toward her waist as Medea’s claws continued to tear at the damaged covering’s dangling threads. Slowly, the widening gap in the fur enabled Batgirl to wiggle. As her range of movement increased, the possibility of escape grew.

Her trapped shoulder came free from the wrap and she drew her knees as close to her chest as she could. Gripping the shrinking fur between her heels, she slid fur along the contours of her torso when her legs came to rest once again. Medea protested with a loud meow before following the dangling threads onto Batgirl’s back and continuing to play with them.

Batgirl drew her arms upward, so the fur was no longer pressing her hands into the small of her back. The new range of movement allowed her to stretch her fingers toward a knife she carried in her gloves. Once she had pulled it from its sheath, she was able to cut her wrist bindings and pull the rope around her elbows down her arms, rendering it useless.

With her arms free, she could reach up and switch off the searing hot lamps. Afterward, slicing the fur wrap and cutting her legs free was simplicity itself.

Batgirl slid from the table; stood; gained her balance; put her knife away; and removed the sunglasses from her face, tossing them carelessly to the tabletop she had just vacated. The Curved Crusader picked up Medea and petted her as the heroine approached the chamber door.

“I might have been dead without you, kitty,” she said, smiling as the cat purred. “Now I’ll leave you to tell about how I got away. Catwoman has a prisoner I need to rescue before I go after your mistress. Maybe I’ll find a clue that will tell me what she’s planning.” Batgirl set the cat down and pulled out a lock pick.

Before her capture, Jo Grant had told Catwoman about her talents for cryptography; safecracking; and explosives, but had deliberately not mentioned the other important skill she had learned before her time with the Clock King – escapology.

Her skill began to serve her the moment Catwoman and her hench-kittens had gone. They left her tied up in the bondage bag, from which only her head emerged, on the cushion in Catwoman’s audience chamber.

Jo had tightened her muscles and inhaled when Soolin had bound her initially, but the captive had had no opportunity to take advantage of the old magician’s trick. The contemptible covering had limited her oxygen intake almost immediately and she had subsequently been drugged after Batgirl had found her. Now, fully recovered and being able to breath freely, she could capitalize on her strategy while focusing on something else that might enable her to escape more quickly – Batgirl’s utility belt. Unfortunately, the belt was well out of Jo’s reach, lying atop the dais beside Catwoman’s golden chair.

Nevertheless, the slack in her ropes, together with vigorous movement and wiggling, enabled Jo to pull her arms free. The bondage bag was bunched around her hips and kept her lower body contained while she pulled herself toward the utility belt. She gripped the accessory and searched it until she found a knife. Moments later, she stood, surrounded by the tatters of Catwoman’s bondage bag and was about to take her leave when she heard a soft sound.

Jo Grant’s heart skipped a beat and her glance swept the room. ‘Only one place to hide,’ she thought, retreating softly and crouching behind the dais. She watched the doorknob turn and a figure step through.

“Batgirl!” Jo said, exhaling, straightening, and stepping into view.

“Jo,” Batgirl said, staring for a split second. “I see Clock King was right about you being a talented escape artist.”

“His opinion of you seems justified as well,” Jo replied, “assuming Catwoman’s ‘hospitality’ was designed to take you to your grave, as she told me it was.”

“She did try to kill me. I see we share the same opinion of Catwoman’s ‘hospitality,’” Batgirl remarked, nodding at the remains of the bondage bag. “Are you all right?”

“I feel fine, now, and your belt came in handy,” Jo replied, handing Batgirl her amazing girdle. Batgirl grinned as she buckled it around her waist.

“Thanks. Let’s get you out of here. I’ve got to get after Catwoman.”

“She’s meeting George at his fur salon. She was using me to make him pay her more than ten million dollars.”

“It isn’t going to work,” Batgirl confidently said. “Come on.”

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Jo Grant asked.

“I didn’t come in through the street door, but we’ll find our way out,” Batgirl said. With the help of a series of stickers shaped like golden bats, the pretty pair made their way to a garage in which crates of explosives had been stored.

“I wasn’t aware vandalism was part of a typical Catwoman crime wave,” Jo Grant remarked, her eyes narrowing.

“She stole a truckload of explosives a few years ago as part of a plot to loot the Federal Depository Building. I always suspected she had more explosives somewhere. Now I know where. It’s more evidence the authorities can use against her after I catch her.”

“I sincerely hope you get her,” Jo Grant said, as the pair stepped outside.

“Can I drop you off somewhere?” Batgirl asked.

“No, I’ll do a runner. What you can do for me is get Catwoman,” Jo Grant said seriously. “Please tell George I’m all right when you see him. Meanwhile, I’ll be fine. Now, get going!”

“I like your spirit,” Batgirl said. “Good luck.” Jo waved as Batgirl stomped on her kick starter.

Jo Grant crossed the street and entered a diner that would remain open all night. ‘I am ravenously peckish. I haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast--yesterday,’ she thought. ‘While I eat, I’ll keep an eye on Catwoman’s hideout in case Batgirl doesn’t catch her. As unlikely as such a scenario would be, personally making Catwoman pay for what she’s done to George and me would be a real pleasure.’

“Oy, mate!” Jo called to the short order cook as she sat at the counter. “Got any bangers? Or how about a butty?”

“What?” the man replied, thoroughly confused.

Just before the witching hour, George Henry Lyons entered the Animal Kingdom Fur Salon, switching on the lights before crossing the main sales floor.

“Join me in your office, Georgie,” a familiar yet commanding female voice invited, stopping the executive in his tracks.

“Lisa?” he asked, obeying. “I have to admit, you’re the last person I expected to see here.” He smiled as her face was illuminated by moonlight. She reclined behind the enormous desk, resting her heels on the blotter. “I . . . was . . . supposed . . . to . . . meet with . . . someone else.”

“Surprise,” she said, grinning. “I missed you, and I know firsthand there isn’t much of Lisa Carson you haven’t seen, at the very least.” The woman chuckled and licked her lips, beginning to rise.

George Henry Lyons inhaled as the smile faded from his face. “You’re right, but why are you talking about Lisa like she’s . . . somewhere else?”

The woman before him leaned forward, resting her weight on her hands as her fingers splayed atop the executive’s desk. “Don’t you know?” She knew his mind was working rapidly, putting the puzzle together.

‘There’s a pair of cat ears perched on Lisa’s head! Why?’ he wondered. Moonlight glinted on the claws splayed against his desk as the man’s attention was drawn to the belt wound closely around his visitor’s waist. These accessories were the only things keeping the woman from seeming like a beautiful, living shadow.

Suddenly, George Henry Lyons was keenly aware of what Lisa Carson had likely suffered when the villainess had first snatched her body. ‘Catwoman might have somehow obtained use of her body once again,’ he thought. ‘Could Lisa have volunteered for the body swap upon learning of Catwoman’s campaign against me?’ He immediately dismissed the idea. ‘This swap must have been performed against her will!’

“Wait! Years ago, Catwoman kidnapped Lisa and stole her body,” the business mogul said. “If you . . . really . . . aren’t . . . Lisa . . . you . . . must . . . be . . . CATWOMAN!”

“I knew you’d figure it out sooner or later, bright boy.”

The situation was crystal clear. Catwoman now inhabited his ex-girlfriend’s body and had targeted him for extortion . . . and worse. She had demanded millions and embarked on a cunning, cruel campaign to enforce her will.

George Henry Lyons stepped back. “What have you done with Lisa?” he demanded.

“You say that so forcefully,” Catwoman said, imbuing her voice with amusement. “It’s as though you never dumped her.”

“I asked you a question, Catwoman!”

“All right, I’ll tell you,” Catwoman purred, straightening and strutting around the desk as she put on her domino mask. “To the best of my knowledge, Lisa Carson is quite safe. I am not holding her hostage. I don’t know precisely where she is, and I really don’t care.”

‘Catwoman’s claim might be truthful,’ George Henry Lyons thought. ‘She asserts Lisa is perfectly safe, yet Catwoman is often quoted as saying there is no honor among thieves. In any event, her word is not to be trusted, and, paying her off is quite out of the question!’

Catwoman’s next words dovetailed with George Henry Lyons’ thoughts. “I’m not lying.” She thought, ‘I think Lisa was in Kenya on the super swank Semba Island this morning, but we talked about meeting and she might have made alternative plans. It doesn’t matter.’

She shrugged and went on, “As you’ve realized, I’m not Lisa, but I am willing to play with you—some more.” The beautiful villainess had moved directly in front of Lyons and let one gloved hand stroke the executive’s cheek. “You see, Georgie, you are the cat’s meow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When I came here, I was just after money, as you know.“

“Forget it, Catwoman!”

“Do let me finish, handsome,” the villainess coyly replied. “I was a little surprised at how attracted I felt toward you the moment you walked through the door tonight. I now realize there is much more to you than meets the eye. Everything I can see right now looks su-purrb, and I’ve seen your bank balance to boot.”

“What exactly do you want?”

“The desire for money should be simple enough for you to understand.”

“As I said, the answer is no!”

“I’m prepared to make it worth your while. We could go back to your place or out somewhere first. I’m sure I could purr-suade—”

“I’m not likely to go out with you while you’re threatening my livelihood!” the executive protested.

“Oh, darling, I know I could make your dreams come true,” Catwoman replied, “or purr-haps they’re your nightmares. Think of it as revisiting a purr-ticularly intense experience,” the Feline Fiend suggested, laughing. “I’m disappointed at how your attitude has changed. You were such an enthusiastic purr-ticipant earlier today, and the attraction I’m feeling toward you right now, while strictly physical, is very real.”

“I know. Body language always told me when Lisa was feeling . . . .”

“Wouldn’t you like to say goodbye to your old girlfriend – or at least to her body – properly?”

“I did, with words,” George Henry Lyons said. “I’m unavailable, Catwoman. Seeing you in the context of a relationship, especially that one, is quite impossible as well as unthinkable.” His mind began to work rapidly. ‘As shocking as my discovery the woman I thought was Lisa proving to be Catwoman is, I’m amazed I hadn’t recognized her voice. In Catwoman’s body, everything about her made her seem to be Lisa. I had only spoken to Catwoman on the phone before now and, on each occasion, I was in an emotional frame of mind, for various reasons,’ he thought, cursing silently.

“You realize what most members of your gender would be thinking right now?”

“Of course,” the executive said. “I’m thinking the same way. I just can’t allow myself to give in to temptation, even though it’s both real and . . . very powerful.”

“You’re certain I can’t purr-suade you?” Catwoman asked, gliding her hand against his cheek.

The man inhaled and let his breath out. “No. I’m afraid there is nothing you can do, Catwoman." The businessman shook his head. "I certainly wish things were different.” His face transformed, glaring at her and doing nothing to conceal his anger when he spoke. “Catwoman, you’ve gone way too far—”

“You’re angry, but cats always toy with their prey,” Catwoman purred, lowering her hand and sliding it against his chest. “The fact you forgot you dumped your old girlfriend while we were together isn’t my fault.” The villainess shrugged, laughing. “For the record, you showed me a marvelous time.”

“You hateful hussy!” the businessman fumed, stepping back.

“Never mind, dear, and don’t worry. I haven’t told Ms. Grant a thing. You’ve not upset me nearly enough to reverse that decision—yet.”

“Why do you imagine I’ll respond to your threats?” George Henry Lyons demanded.

“The risks you’re willing to take are truly amazing,” Catwoman purred. “You’ve lost so much already. The stray cats’ invasion of your pet supplies store and the little demonstration I gave you at your solar energy plant should have been adequately convincing. Of course, I’m purr-fectly prepared to purr-loin your entire inventory here. You should put the past, our past, behind us and pay up.” Her voice developed a hard edge. “It’s time to get down to business, Georgie! Your anger--”

“You’re darn right I’m mad!” George Henry Lyons almost shouted. “I find your kidnapping and extortion attempts outrageous! I have absolutely no intention of paying you any amount of money--for anything, and I have nothing else whatsoever to say to you! So, you may as well give up.”

“I’m purr-ticularly sorry to hear that,” Catwoman said, permitting herself an elaborate sigh. “Further purr-suasion will evidently be needed to help you decide to play along. You realize you’ve just jeopardized Ms. Grant’s health?”

“Let her go, Catwoman–”

“Shut up, Georgie! I am hardly a scaredy cat!” Catwoman’s hands settled on her well-rounded hips. “Let’s put the subject of Ms. Grant aside. I gather you’ve elected not to pay me.”

“That’s right,” George Henry Lyons said. “Given our . . . experience . . . I have no intention of trying to characterize you, and particularly in public!” He exhaled. “The police–”

“Don’t have a clue this conversation is taking place. I dismantled your burglar alarm.”

“Batgirl–”

“Is quite dead by now,” Catwoman crowed with pride.

“She escaped your deathtrap at the solar energy plant!” he retorted. He became dejected as he realized the role he had unwittingly played in Catwoman’s plans for the heroine. “I suppose I told you.”

“You did,” Catwoman confirmed. “I knew Batgirl’s purr-suit would purr-sist. So, I was quite ready when she caught up with me. We played our cat and mouse game to its inevitable conclusion.” The villainess threw her head back and laughed. “I assure you I’ve won the latest round.”

‘Batgirl became involved in this struggle I’m having with Catwoman after I reported the incident involving the stray cats and the pet food store. That crime obviously led Batgirl to my solar energy plant and the trap she survived--somehow,’ George Henry Lyons thought. ‘Batgirl’s efforts offered me hope, but Catwoman has apparently turned the tables completely, ultimately masterminding Batgirl’s murder! Catwoman certainly seems confident of her success.’

Pondering the ripe fruits of the villainess’ lawless labors, he knew he would never avoid facing her demands for money. Fearfully, he wondered, ‘Given Catwoman’s actions and their success, can I afford not to pay her off?’

"Indeed. You don't know what prep-purr-ations I made for Batgirl's destruction before coming here,” Catwoman replied, chuckling. “I promise you, they’ve been quite effective by now.”

“You’ll never get away with—”

“Won’t I indeed?” Catwoman demanded, approaching; leaning forward menacingly; and thrusting a clawed index finger toward him to prod the center of George Henry Lyons’ chest. “Let’s be clear about something, Georgie. You’ve stiffed me, each and every time I’ve made a simple request of you. Such disrespect is unacceptable! I now demand fifty million and you will have it for me when your Wild Kingdom Animal Preserve closes.”

“What would you steal from the animal preserve?”

“Nothing,” Catwoman replied, turning away and looking over her shoulder to regard him. “I’m bored with you. Oh, I could go on hitting another of your businesses each night until I’ve cleaned you out completely. Then your debt to me would become too high for even you to pay.”

“I don’t really owe you a cent!”

“I’ve had more on my agenda with you than merely money, of which I now have a great deal.” Catwoman laughed, turning to face George Henry Lyone once again. “Today, I have your woman and I’ve satisfied my curiosity about you purr-sonally. All that remains is respect and to achieve that end, I will make you pay.”

“What else can you possibly do to me?”

“I can make you watch your woman being eaten by the jaguars at your animal preserve. The price to avoid that spectacle is fifty million dollars. Make no mistake. You will pay—one way or another!”

“Have you no decency?”

Catwoman grinned. “Not a shred.”

“So, what are you going to do to me now?”

Catwoman rested her hips against the desk, slid back, and drew her legs against her chest. “Unfortunately, for you, I brought along a few of my dependable catspaws. You see, I’m really bad at accepting rejection,” she confessed. “Take him, kittens.”

Catwoman’s hench-kittens emerged instantly from the shadows and George Henry Lyons felt Dayna shove him roughly forward. Okie Annie and Soolin caught the executive’s arms in a firm grip and yanked him to his feet, turning him to face their mistress. The Princess of Plunder watched with genuine pleasure as he squirmed helplessly.

“Tie him to that chair and loot the safe,” Catwoman commanded, extending an arm. “Once we’ve finished in here, we’ll clear out this establishment’s entire inventory.” George Henry Lyons could only watch and listen as the Feline Felon’s orders were carried out. Then, the villainess’ sexy sycophants stepped out.

Catwoman rose; moved toward him; and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder briefly before kissing him. “Listen, Georgie,” she huskily said. “What Catwoman wants, Catwoman gets. Right now, I want you. Long before I’ve finished, all resistance will simply melt away. So, relax and enjoy.” She took his head in her hands and began to kiss him again hard and deeply. He responded involuntarily and they went on until the hench-kittens had finished their work.

“Why?”

“I can, and I want you to realize there are advantages to playing with me,” Catwoman said.

“Okay. Why did you start?”

“Lisa was very angry after you dumped her. I understand her position purr-fectly, and I saw your bank balance.” She laughed and strutted to the door.

There she paused and regarded her helpless victim. “I’ll see you, Georgie. It’s goodbye for now, but don’t forget my fifty million. Of course, I know you’ll pay up, unless you want to listen to your new woman scream and watch her converted into cat food—the hard way.” Catwoman switched off the lights with a delighted laugh.

George Henry Lyons was powerless to do anything but struggle and curse as Catwoman and her hench-kittens departed.

The businessman was unsure how long he had been left alone before he heard sounds indicating someone else had entered his shop. “Help!” he cried.

Lights blazed around Lyons, forcing him to blink when a vision in purple and gold approached. “Batgirl, Catwoman said you . . . were . . . dead,” he said, his voice unable to conceal his relief.

“She’s wrong again.” Batgirl crouched beside the executive and cut him free. “What happened?” she asked.

George Henry Lyons told her.

“Mister Lyons, I can assure you Catwoman made an empty threat, but she doesn’t know it yet,” Batgirl said, smiling encouragingly. “There is absolutely nothing to fear from her now. Jo Grant is free and safe.”

“You’ve tried to stop Catwoman twice. Instead of being arrested, she’s tried to kill you both times.”

“Now she thinks I’m dead and that fact gives me the advantage. Besides, I also know where her current Catlair is.”

“Thank you, Batgirl,” the businessman said, exhaling a deep breath and smiling. “I hope I don’t sound too critical or at all ungrateful. I’m just tired of that woman hounding me.”

“I understand,” Batgirl sympathetically said, smiling. “If you’re all right, I’m going to go stop Catwoman.”

“I’ll be okay when I know she’s behind bars,” George Henry Lyons said. “Go get her!”

“Thanks,” Batgirl replied. “I will.”

She was just about out the door, when she stopped and turned. “By the way, Mister Lyons, how well do you know Jo Grant?”

The businessman blushed and stammered. “Er . . . well . . . er – quite well. Why?”

“Well, when I first met her, she was with – how shall I say – some rather ‘questionable’ company. Now, I hasten to add, she’s always treated me fairly and I have no evidence of any wrongdoing on her part. I’m just advising you to . . . be careful.”

Before Lyons could say anything more, Batgirl was gone.

The Batgirlcycle brought the Curved Crusader back to the Gato and Chat Fur Company. She made her way silently through the catacombs, arriving at the passage outside the Feline Fiend’s audience chamber.

“It’s impossible!” the brunette crime queen shouted. “Both of them are gone!”

“We can probably find Lyons’ girlfriend,” Dayna said.

“It won’t matter now!” Catwoman loudly protested. “Holding that girl, I had a reason to make Georgie pay me. The first thing she’ll do, now she’s free, is run to him and reassure him. He won’t pay a cent and I have nothing to hold over him!”

“So, what do we do now?” Soolin asked.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions!” Catwoman bellowed, cracking her cat ‘o nine tails and forcing the younger blonde woman to step back.

‘I’m sorry,” Soolin meekly said.

Catwoman calmed as she stalked up the dais and took her seat in the chair there. “It’s a fair question. Punishing Georgie for his woman’s actions makes very little sense, but her escape cost us millions.”

“Ya know,” Okie Annie said, “we left Lyons’ woman tied up as helpless as a lobster about to be dropped in a pot. I ‘spect she had help gettin’ away.”

“Batgirl got away, too,” Dayna said. “It’s easy to imagine she would have helped out little Ms. Grant.”

“How could Batgirl have gotten away?” Soolin demanded.

“I know I done mentioned this before,” Okie Annie remarked, “but I seen Batgirl do amazin’ things.”

“So you said,” Dayna answered.

“I done seen her about to die about half a dozen times. She done survived every dang one o’ them traps, somehow.” The hatted henchwoman helplessly shrugged.

“Batgirl’s record for death-defying escapes remains purr-fect,” Catwoman mused. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m starting to believe she is as good as her reputation suggests,” Dayna said seriously.

“Oh, I’m much better than my reputation suggests, Dayna!” Batgirl announced, stepping into the room.

“You’re just the treat I was looking for, Batgirl,” Catwoman said. “My plans have gone a bit awry, and I need to blow off some steam.” The criminal queen pointed a finger at the newcomer as her voice rose dramatically. “Eradicate her!”

Okie Annie and Soolin both reached for guns, but Dayna seized their wrists and held them firmly. “Let’s drag this out and enjoy it,” she said. The gunwomen nodded and Catwoman’s trio of hench-kittens advanced on their prey.

Batgirl waited, sinking into a fighting stance.

Dayna flung herself at Batgirl, launching a flying kick the Curved Crusader sidestepped. Batgirl slammed a forearm into the African-American’s chest and turned to confront Soolin as the side of the beautiful Briton’s foot slammed into the heroine's face.

Stunned, Batgirl felt a gun butt slam into her right shoulder, rendering her arm numb. “I could’a done just took you out, Batgirl,” Okie Annie said, catching her and supporting her weight. “I think the girls and I would rather take you apart slow like, though.”

“Piece by piece,” Dayna seconded, her white teeth flashing a wicked smile.

“That’s right, Batgirl,” Soolin chimed in, as Okie Annie shoved the heroine forward. “We’ll take our sweet time about our work, too.” An ebony arm slammed into Batgirl’s throat and the Curved Crusader hit the floor hard with a smack before booted feet began kicking at her methodically.

Batgirl rolled and tried to gain her knees, supporting herself with one arm, but she had instinctively chosen the arm Okie Annie had rendered numb. It collapsed beneath her weight.

A knee landed in the center of her back and knocked the wind from her as the barrage of booted blows continued to weaken her. Batgirl tried to inhale, but the weight on her back and the pain she was enduring allowed her only a tiny, exhaled gasp.

“Not yet!” Dayna said. “Pick her up and let me have some fun.”

“I want to play, too,” Soolin announced.

Okie Annie hauled Batgirl to her feet, supporting the heroine’s weight with the Curved Crusader’s twisted limbs. Batgirl sagged while Dayna delivered a powerful kick that yielded a grunt and emptyied the victim’s lungs once again.

Soolin’s fists pummeled Batgirl while Dayna recovered her balance. Then, the Briton backed off to enable the African-American to deliver more punishment. Together, the hench-kittens went on pounding at the Curved Crusader’s abdomen, letting each attacker’s powerful, alternating blows do more and more damage.

Batgirl endured the punishment her attackers delivered until they drew close. Without warning, the heroine thrust her head into Dayna’s face. The black woman backed up and Batgirl's foot slammed into the African-American’s gut, doubling the crewcut kitten over.

A rising knee straightened Soolin, who leaned forward to counter Batgirl’s attack against Dayna. A booted toe caught the British blonde’s chin, knocking her backwards.

Batgirl planted her feet when the sole of her boot landed, twisting and pulling Okie Annie off balance. The Curved Crusader dropped to one knee and slammed an elbow into the cowgirl’s gut.

Batgirl glanced at Soolin, who had not moved, as Okie Annie settled to the floor. A movement she chanced to notice warned her Dayna was coming at her once again.

Batgirl caught the black woman, lifting her and turning around and around before flinging her forcefully against a wall. Dayna was aware of nothing as she slid to the floor and settled into a crumpled heap.

A glance told Batgirl the gunwomen had not moved as she turned toward Catwoman.

“Well,” the Feline Felon unhappily observed. “It seems my side is losing.”

“Defeat was always inevitable for them, Catwoman,” Batgirl said, “as well as for you.”

“You don’t say,” Catwoman purred.

“I most certainly do say!” Batgirl replied. “Now, would you care to come quietly?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Certainly,” Batgirl answered. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

“Suppose I choose the hard way?”

“You’d be supremely overconfident.”

“Really? So, I’d be supremely overconfident?” Catwoman chuckled. “You’ve obviously forgotten both of my currently conscious kittens are much more lethal from long range, and you didn’t bother to disarm either of them.”

Batgirl suddenly knew the busty, brunette blackguard was right. Instinctively, she whirled and saw both Okie Annie and Soolin lying prone on the floor, aiming drawn pistols at her. “Shoot her, tabbies!”

Instantly, cat darts impaled each of Batgirl’s thighs. The heroine plucked them out, flinging them aside angrily.

“More of your dreadful drugs, Catwoman?” Batgirl asked, shifting her feet to maintain her balance. It was, of course, already too late. Her legs began feeling heavy.

“It’s purr-ticularly unfortunate, for you, I’ve chosen a mundane muscle relaxant to render you helpless this time. Thanks to my kittens, you’ll never support your own weight again.”

The crime queen chuckled as she descended her dais, stepping directly in front of Batgirl. The Princess of Plunder bent her legs, body, and neck to position her pursed lips at the level of Batgirl’s breastbone. A gently exhaled breath was all that was necessary to upset the heroine’s balance. The Curved Crusader toppled.

As Catwoman straightened and mocked Batgirl’s favored, hands-on-hips posture, the Curved Crusader’s effort to regain her footing on the flat ground utterly failed. The heroine collapsed, first landing her on her knees, but inexorably bending her shoulders back helplessly until they settled behind her hips. Catwoman grinned wickedly and triumphantly as Batgirl’s muscular legs quivered, unfolding from beneath her and extending uselessly. With a bow and a sweeping gesture, Catwoman indicated her defeated enemy, who was now capable of doing little more than twitching prettily.

The Feline Fiend turned her attention to her gunwomen. “Good shooting. Wake up Dayna.”

“What do you want us to do with her now?” Dayna asked indicating Batgirl, once she had recovered.

“Leave the flying mouse to me,” Catwoman commanded. “Get the loot and any essential items we can gather quickly. While Batgirl will be staying forever, the rest of us have business to attend to elsewhere tonight.”

As Catwoman and her hench-kittens prepared to depart, Jo Grant set her tea cup aside and glanced at her watch once again. ‘Batgirl went inside that lair and nothing has happened since,’ the blonde Briton thought. ‘Since I don’t see the bobbies backing her up, that chore falls to me.’ She paid for her food and made her way to the door. ‘We’re going to have a problem if Batgirl objects to my methods, but the problem will be hers—not mine!’

She crossed the street and slipped easily back into the Catlair. Against one garage wall, Jo found the crates of explosives she had noticed when she and Batgirl had taken their leave. Her glance swept over them as her lips curled into a smile. ‘Explosives could easily enable me to repay Catwoman property for my rum go as her “guest.”’ A moment of further searching revealed a crowbar.

She had begun to examine the contents of one crate, when she heard a door open behind her. Whirling, Jo saw Catwoman’s hench-kittens enter the garage. Instinctively, her fingers tightened around the crowbar.

“I’d drop that right now, if I were you,” Soolin warned with a wide smile as a gun appeared in her hand.

“You ain’t gonna take us all out with it anyhoo,” Okie Annie philosophically said, “not without blowin’ yourself to kingdom come, too.”

Jo let go of her weapon before her hand fell to her side. “It’s Catwoman I want anyway!”

“Oh, she definitely wants you, too,” Dayna said, grinning. “Shoot her with the darts!”

Jo bolted toward the door and felt her back impaled by a pair of darts seconds before she stumbled. Her fully-extended body hit the cement floor with a smack.

By the time feeling returned to Batgirl’s legs, she found herself bound to the chair at the top of the dais in Catwoman’s audience chamber. Looking down, she realized how thorough Catwoman had been in restraining her. The Curved Crusader’s wrists and elbows, as well as her ankles and knees, were tied to the arms and legs of the chair. More rope crisscrossed her chest and held her shoulders against its back. Finally, an additional rope was cinched between her legs and wound around both her thighs and her waist to anchor her in the chair and make her utility belt tantalizingly unavailable.

Catwoman leaned decoratively beside a full-length mirror tilted so Batgirl could see herself. In addition, the mirror allowed Batgirl to see the array of explosives set up behind the dais.

“It looks like you’ve prepared an explosive reception,” Batgirl noted.

“Indeed I have,” the Princess of Plunder replied, chuckling. “The police will find you soon enough. When they do, the motion detectors I’ll activate before I go will trigger a detonation that will decorate the walls of this chamber with all of your remains.”

“I don’t have backup,” Batgirl declared. “If I did, they would be swarming though these catacombs right now.”

“Purr-haps,” Catwoman said. “My kittens will be finished packing in a matter of minutes. We’ll regroup and I’ll adjust our plans to compensate for your infernal interference.”

“I’d plan on going back to jail shortly after I escape from here,” Batgirl declared.

“You aren’t going anywhere. That chair is resting on a pressure pad. Any move you make will shift that chair. If your weight leaves the dais, the explosives will blow you to pieces.” Catwoman grinned. “I’m sure my arrangement will ensure your coop-purr-tion until someone shows up to rescue you. Then, of course, it won’t matter.”

“I’d think twice before arming those bombs, Catwoman,” Batgirl warned. “Your plan is much more likely to blow up in your face than to kill me.”

“We’ll see,” Catwoman retorted, turning over the mirror to keep it from reflecting the explosives. She climbed the dais and smoothed a piece of tape over Batgirl’s mouth. “Purr-haps you’re telling the truth about your backup. What can I do to make the little mouse into irresistible bait?” Batgirl squirmed in her bonds, objecting uselessly and incoherently as the her enemy reached down.

Catwoman’s fingers explored Batgirl’s utility belt. After a moment, an evil smile spreac across the villainess’ face. “Ah,” she purred, withdrawing an item from Batgirl’s golden girdle.

‘My tracer!’ Batgirl thought, recognizing the item. Her eyes widened as she watched Catwoman activate the device.

“I’m sure you recognize this little toy,” the Princess of Plunder purred. “It’s kept you alive often enough, but this time it will be the death of you!”

The inexpensive device Catwoman held was electronically tied into a system Bruce Wayne had donated to the Gotham City Police Department. The arrangement enabled the police to deploy emergency backup to officers in dangerous situations.

Catwoman continued. “On two occasions of which I am aware, this device, or one like it, saved your butt. The police rudely interrupted my hench-kittens and me as we fed a half dozen, poor, stray kittens licking milk from your body. I could tell by your laughter you were enjoying yourself as my second variation of Cat’s Whiskers crushed the air from your lungs. Once I realized this device summoned the police on that occasion, I began to routinely take the precaution of jamming the emergency police frequency, even when I relieved you of your utility belt. You were aware of this purr-haps su-purr-fluous precaution?”

Batgirl nodded, glaring defiantly at her curvaceous captor. ‘No harm in maintaining the illusion of my being all-knowing in matters involving criminals’ plans,’ she mused.

“The second episode was the balloon ride Penguin sent you on after my kittens wrapped you up so tightly in a wire cat’s cradle. As you’ll no doubt recall, a storm that had been brewing was well underway when we literally cut you loose. I followed and watched as the balloon was struck by lightening, according to our plan. The balloon blew up, but you didn’t. I wondered how anyone found you after you eluded your doom, floating among the choppy, shoaling waves of the Atlantic Ocean. This thing was the obvious answer.”

Batgirl inclined her head as though to listen further.

“Today, I’ll use your purr-sonal trouble alert to lure some cops into my trap. I’m sure they’ll enjoy seeing you make your exit, once and for all. I am purr-ticularly hoping your friend, Lieutenant Diana Mooney, responds.”

The decorated policewoman had originally distinguished herself working undercover, disguised as a hench-kitten called Catarina. She had blown her cover and subsequently helped Batman and Robin smash Catwoman’s gang and bring the Princess of Plunder’s partner, the Sandman, to justice. Unfortunately, she had suffered lingering psychological trauma in the Feline Felon’s cunning clutches. Since their initial encounter, Catwoman had, on multiple occasions, imprisoned; tortured; and tried to murder the Lieutenant. Batgirl well knew no love was lost between her friend and the criminal queen.

Catwoman laughed as Batgirl regarded her with eyes resembling arctic chips. The villainess went on gloating, “I’m sure Catarina will foolishly race to your rescue – and her doom – very very soon. Well, I hate long goodbyes.” The brunette villainess’ lips pecked Batgirl’s cheek as she set the tracer between the heroine’s spread thighs. The villainess then descended the dais and moved to the door, her hips swaying naturally. There, she paused, turned, and aimed a remote control at Batgirl. Catwoman’s voice fell to a sultry whisper. “The bombs are armed now, Batgirl. Give Catarina and any other cops who show up my regards before they die. Ta ta--forever.” Catwoman’s teeth flashed in a wicked smile as she closed the door to her audience chamber.

The echo of the lock clicking filled Batgirl with dread. She had no idea how she would escape. Worse, she saw no way to warn anyone who might arrive to rescue her. Catwoman had transformed the Curved Crusader into bait for a treacherous trap, and Batgirl would die along with the Feline Fiend’s targets when the trap was sprung!

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