The Game’s Rules Contort

The light of dawn beamed over Gotham Harbor as replacements for the pair of guards posted at a military facility along the shoreline arrived. Following the routine ceremony commemorating the changing of the guard, the new guards stepped inside the entrance to the complex.

“Here we are again,” the guard assigned to the front desk said, sitting down. “Nothing ever happens. This facility was abandoned for years before we were assigned to guard it.”

“Didn’t the Penguin and Catwoman use the torpedo tubes to try and kill Batman and all his caped allies?” the desk guard’s counterpart asked.

“That’s true. It’s the reason guards were assigned here in the first place about three years ago. So, how was your weekend?”

“It was great. I finally returned to circulation and volunteered for this duty.”

“I’m sorry. I must not be awake yet. I didn’t realize you had replaced Joe. You, of course, know I’ll need to see your orders and log this change. By the way, you don’t have to wear your cap all day.”

The replacement guard suppressed an amused giggle and pulled an envelope from his inner breast pocket.

“I’m disappointed it took you this long to ask for my orders.”

The desk guard looked at the ceiling and exhaled as he opened the envelope and withdrew a piece of paper. He began to read the sheet and stared at it momentarily. “What is this?” he demanded, beginning to read aloud: “Read my riddle, I pray.”

“Go ahead,” the other man invited.

The guard continued: “What God never sees, what the king seldom sees, and what we see every day. What is it?”

“Well?” the new guard prompted.

“I . . . I . . . can’t move!”

“The paralyzing agent on the paper upon which that riddle is written saw to that,” the faux guard said, giggling. He tossed aside his cap and revealed a lavender mask, which matched his gloves. As the paralyzed guard stared, his companion slipped off his coat and undid his tie. The uniform shirt was unbuttoned to reveal the light green top with a large, black question mark on the chest. Additional, smaller question marks adorned the sleeves at the wrists. Once the rest of the uniform was gone, the imposter wore pants matching his shirt with more question marks along the legs and inside the ankles. A wide, lavender, cloth belt completed the man’s outfit.

“You gave me a riddle to solve because you’re . . . the Riddler!” the guard said.

“Correct! Now, I’ll leave you to think about the answer while I launch the Polaris Sky Writer missiles a fictitious captain delivered here for me last night. I have a message, or rather . . . a riddle for Gotham City.” As the Riddler turned, the guard could see another question mark on the villain’s back.

A loud, overhead roar awakened Barbara Gordon and drew her to the sliding, glass door leading to the balcony of her eighth floor apartment, through which she stared as she gathered her wits. An explosion prompted her to pull herself together and open the door, stepping out where her sheer nightgown fluttered in the chilly, morning breeze.

As Barbara watched, words formed in the sky: RIDDLE ME THIS.

“The Riddler,” Barbara said, turning quickly back toward the interior of her apartment. “I thought he was in jail.”

A second roar heralded the flight of a second missile that commanded Barbara’s continued attention. As she resumed her vigil, it exploded to form many more words in the sky:

She moved to her bedroom, where the pressing of a hidden button caused one wall to spin and reveal a hidden nook. This concealed space served as the headquarters for Barbara’s crimefighting alter ego, the supremely feminine scourge of crime in Gotham City and elsewhere, Batgirl.

Within minutes, she had exchanged her nightgown for a skintight, purple bodysuit with a golden bat on the chest; purple boots; and matching gloves. She covered her black hair with a red wig she covered in turn with a purple cowl featuring a pair of pointed bat ears. The cowl was attached to a black, felt mask which concealed the upper half of her face. A golden belt with a bat on the buckle and a short, pied cape of purple and gold completed her outfit. Dressed for action, she entered a freight elevator where her Batgirlcycle was parked. Seconds later, the Pretty Paragon of Virtue was racing to Police Headquarters at the top legal speed.

Meanwhile, Riddler returned to the paralyzed guard who repeated the riddle as a look of intense concentration lined his face. “What God never sees, what the king seldom sees, and what we see every day. What is it?”

“Still working on it?” the Riddler asked, letting his lips twitch into an ironic smile.

“The word ‘we’ must refer to people. A king would be a person, but God is not. It must have something to do with ranking or social standing.”

“I’m impressed. You might have eventually worked it out. The answer to my riddle is ‘an equal,’” the Riddler revealed. “Of course, if you are the equal of every military guard with whom this nation’s security is entrusted, we may have huge problems.”

“Hey!”

“Not to worry,” Riddler said, waving a hand dismissively. “Terrorists are nothing compared to criminal royalty.”

“Criminal royalty?” the perplexed guard repeated, making the words a question.

“You see before you the Prince of Puzzlers, the King of Conundrums! As I’ve had occasion to explain in the past, I hold court here—no one else!” As Riddler continued speaking, he went on gesturing wildly and leaping up and down before the immobile guard. Then, he became suddenly still.

“How long will I be stuck like this?” the guard asked.

“Oh, my paralyzing agent will wear off eventually,” Riddler casually said. “By then, of course, I’ll be long gone.” He giggled maniacally as he hurried from the facility.

“A corset, a coster, a sector, an escort, and courts,” Commissioner Gordon thoughtfully said as Batgirl entered his office. “What word doesn't belong in the group and why does it not belong?”

“Five six-letter words, but what is it about them that is significant?” Lieutenant Diana Mooney wondered aloud as she and the men nodded toward Batgirl.

“I don’t know much about corsets,” Chief O’Hara said. “One might be related to an escort and wind up in court as evidence.”

“You may be on the right track, Chief,” Batgirl said. “What about the coster and the sector?”

“Maybe we eliminate the word ‘sector,’ since its connection with my idea is most obscure,” the Chief suggested. “Of course, I could be all wrong.”

“Knowing Riddler,” Batgirl said, “the meaning of the words might have nothing to do with their grouping.”

“Riddler told us there is a connection,” Lieutenant Mooney complained.

“‘Courts’ is the only plural word,” the Commissioner said. “I’ll ask Bonnie, my secretary, to see what is happening in court today. We might get lucky.”

“He’s given us a single riddle,” Batgirl said, as her father leaned over to his intercom.

“Sure an’ the tricky devil expects a two-part answer,” Chief O’Hara said.

“That fact might be significant, Chief,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

The group fell silent until Bonnie stepped into the room with a copy of the day’s court dockets. “Last week Riddler was given a clean bill of mental health and granted early release for good behavior. Today, the only thing I see remotely related to Riddler is that Anna Gram, one of his henchwomen, has an appearance scheduled, first thing this morning.”

“Sure,” Chief O’Hara recalled. “She worked with Riddler when he harassed Batman that one year on his anniversary and when Riddler claimed to have found a hoard of Viking treasure in what turned out to be an empty cave.”

“Batgirl,” Lieutenant Mooney said, “you and I have talked about that treasure and developed a theory that Clock King removed it to put Riddler’s mental health into question.”

Batgirl nodded, but her mind was busy contemplating the riddle and the information Bonnie had provided. “Anna Gram,” the Curved Crusader muttered. “Anna Gram. That’s it!” She snapped her fingers, her gloves making a dull thumping sound.

“What?” the rest of them asked in unison.

“Anagrams are words composed of the same letters, and ‘corset;’ ‘coster;’ ‘sector;’ and ‘escort’ are all anagrams of each other!”

“Sure an’ they are, lass,” Chief O’Hara praised. “Nice work.”

“So,” Lieutenant Mooney said, “the only word in the group that is not an anagram is ‘courts!’”

“Right,” Batgirl agreed. “I’d better get over to the courthouse and see what Riddler has planned for Anna Gram’s appearance. Let me see that docket. I may not have a moment to lose.”

“Do you want company?” Lieutenant Mooney asked. “I’m going off duty, so we wouldn’t stretch the force too thin if we’re wrong.”

“Sure, we've made a great team before,” Batgirl said, looking up from the docket and grinning. “We may need some backup to deal with Riddler, but if we can get him ourselves, I’d rather handle him personally to minimize injuries.”

“We’ll play it your way, Batgirl,” Chief O’Hara said. “Of course, the courthouse will be well staffed with security personnel, and I can move some patrols through the courthouse area on their way to other parts of the city in case you need them.”

“Good thinking, Chief,” Batgirl said. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get going,” Lieutenant Mooney enthusiastically urged. The purple-clad heroine nodded.

“Be careful, Batgirl,” the Commissioner said. “I’d hate to lose you.” The two shared a momentary, significant look.

“I’ll be careful, Commissioner,” she said seriously. “Thank you.” She and the Lieutenant hurried from the office.

Commissioner Gordon frowned. “Mention of that Viking treasure cave reminds me Riddler may have come closest of any of Batgirl’s colorful, costumed foes to killing her when he left her there to drown in the rising tide.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Commissioner,” Chief O’Hara replied. “Batgirl’s record for escaping deadly situations is perfect. Besides, Lieutenant Mooney is looking out for her now.”

The Commissioner favored his subordinate with a genuine smile. “Thank you, Chief O’Hara. You have no idea how badly I needed to be reminded of that.”

Chief O’Hara shrugged, glanced at his superior and then looked away quickly, lost in his own private thoughts.

Meanwhile, at the courthouse Anna Gram’s guards retreated after leading their prisoner to the chair behind the defendant’s table. The redheaded rogue leaned back and noticed the edge of a piece of paper extending from the underside of the table. Reaching forward, she pulled the paper from its place and held it below the level of the table to read a note. Once she had digested the message, she leaned forward as her hands searched under the table unobtrusively, finding the filter mask taped in place for her as the note had promised. She folded the note and rammed it into the pocket of her prison-issue uniform, preparing for the chaos what would shortly disrupt her case.

She didn’t have long to wait. Her attorney had barely begun to lay out his first motion when green smoke began to billow from vents in the floor along the walls. Anna Gram reached for her filter mask and bent forward to put it on, holding her head in her lap and waiting for the knockout gas to do its work.

Everyone in the courtroom collapsed and lost consciousness before Anna Gram stood and turned toward the courtroom doors. They opened to admit the Riddler and two men. Each wore a filter mask. “It seems you won your case, my dear,” Riddler said, approaching and hugging her.

“Thank you, Riddler,” she said embracing the villain tightly for a long moment. Their voices were muffled through the filter masks, but audible.

“You’re most welcome, my titian-haired temptress,” Riddler replied, holding and squeezing her encouragingly. “Shall we go?”

“I’d much rather leave with you than listen to these lawyers drone on for hours with no guarantee my defense will be successful. Besides, these clothes do nothing for me.” Anna Gram leaned against the table, momentarily modeling the orange jumpsuit she had been compelled to wear over her striped pants and top. “I’d kiss you properly if we didn’t need to wear these masks.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for celebrations and a fashion show later. First, we need to leave a few cunning clues for any caped bloodhounds who may come after us,” Riddler said, giggling just a little. He turned to his men. “Wilson and Rawlings, see to the riddles!”

As the men moved forward, a draft of air blew from an opening window through which Batgirl climbed. “I wouldn’t worry about Riddler’s riddles or Ms. Gram’s outfit,” she said through her own gas mask while spreading her legs to shoulder width and resting her hands on her shapely hips. “I’m here to send all of you back to jail!”

“Batgirl, I must congratulate you for solving my clue,” Riddler said, pivoting toward his men. “Wait a minute, boys.” The villain pointed at the Curved Crusader and retreated, followed closely by Anna Gram. “Before you deliver my next set of riddles, get her!”

Wilson and Rawlings approached Gotham City’s Gorgeous Guardian warily, separating. Once they were a yard away, they attacked simultaneously. Batgirl stepped between them and spun, extending a leg to slam her heel into the center of Rawlings’ back. As the thug fell, Batgirl sprang at Wilson, and sent one of her signature showgirl kicks into his chin.

Batgirl glanced at Riddler, noting his wide eyes with satisfaction, as she settled back onto the floor. Her attention returned to the villain’s thugs as Rawlings dove at her, driving his shoulder into her abdomen and forcing her back. She hammered the center of his back with the sides of both fists instinctively as he slammed her into the front of the witness stand, retreating slightly to maximize his advantage.

“I have you now,” the thug said as he pressed his attack. Batgirl slid to one side and stepped past Rawlings, driving an elbow into the back of his head as he straightened. The impact of that collision was only a little softer than the thump his forehead made as it hit the front of the judge’s bench before he fell.

Wilson came at Batgirl feinting high and driving his fists into her abdomen, stunning her. She saw him lick his lips as he paused before sending a blow he intended to end the fight toward her head. Batgirl, however, ducked and drove both her fists into his abdomen with the force of driven pistons. He collapsed and felt Batgirl’s rising knee impact his face and the ball of her foot slam into his chin as he straightened. Another spinning kick brought Batgirl’s heel into the side of Wilson’s neck, felling him and ending the fight.

Riddler and Anna spun toward the open door simultaneously, preparing to flee. “Surprise!” Lieutenant Diana Mooney said, striding into the room. She was also protected from the knockout gas. “You and your people are under arrest, Riddler!”

The Riddler became very still for a moment, but began to giggle a moment later. “Anna, unmask the Lieutenant.”

“Haven’t you figured it out, Riddler?” Batgirl sweetly asked. She began to sound bored as she went on. “It’s over. You’re finished. Give up.”

“We’re out of here, Batgirl,” Anna Gram said, sinking into a crouch and approaching Lieutenant Mooney. The policewoman and the henchwomen began to circle one another as each probed the other’s defenses. Anna Gram landed a punch and Lieutenant Mooney blocked the follow-up blow, stepping past her opponent. Lieutenant Mooney rammed an elbow into the redhead’s ribs and reached for her shoulder before pivoting and slamming her opponent to the floor.

“Batgirl isn’t the only one with something to say about your departure, ma’am,” Lieutenant Mooney said, grinning. “Riddler is all yours, Batgirl.”

“On the contrary, Lieutenant,” Riddler said, giggling and diving to the floor. He somersaulted several times and came to his feet behind Batgirl, before wrapping his arms around her. “Batgirl is all mine.”

“I don’t think so,” Batgirl responded, squirming in the villain’s arms and trying to pound him with her elbows. Her efforts, however, were in vain.

“I’ve been working out,” the Insidious Inquisitor revealed as he reached for the filter mask on Batgirl’s face and removed it. He began to giggle again and felt his captive weaken in his arms until her body went limp.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Mooney pursued Anna Gram as she scooted backward toward the courtroom doors. Suddenly, the henchwoman brought her legs together, catching the back of Lieutenant Mooney’s knees and the front of her ankles. The Lieutenant hit the floor with a smack and lay stunned as Anna Gram rose to her knees and plucked the filter mask from the fallen policewoman’s face. “That hurt!” the henchwoman said, rising to her feet and viciously kicking the Lieutenant’s ribs.

“We should be going, Anna,” the Riddler said, releasing Batgirl, who collapsed in a heap at his feet. His henchwomen slammed her foot into fallen policewoman’s ribs again.

“I’d love to take care of these two once and for all here and now,” Anna Gram suggested, kicking her victim a third time. “Don’t you have riddles to position?”

“Sadly, there isn’t time to arrange to remove the bodies.” Riddler objected. He gestured at Wilson and Rawlings, who had recovered from the fight and were smiling as they considered Anna Gram’s idea.

“Shooting them will just take a second,” the redhead argued, collecting the Lieutenant’s service pistol and kicking her victim yet again.

“She has a point, boss,” Rawlings said, placing a scroll on the bench before the unconscious judge.

“I suppose you agree with them?” Riddler asked his other henchman.

“Blowing Batgirl away wouldn’t bother me,” Wilson said, placing a second scroll beside the first.

“Listen, all of you! If a gun is fired, every law enforcement official in this place will come running to arrest us,” Riddler pointed out, placing a final scroll with the others. “We need to go before anyone realizes we’re leaving! Don’t worry. We’ll deal with Batgirl and her friends later. Now, come. We’ve wasted enough time.”

“You can deal with Batgirl however you want. Please let me shoot the Lieutenant, Riddler. She hurt me!”

“I hate to say ‘no’ to you, Anna, but we need to go. Keep the gun. It might come in handy.”

Anna Gram shrugged. ‘Shooting the Lieutenant here would draw a lot of unwanted attention,’ she thought. She consoled herself by kicking Lieutenant Mooney’s ribs one last time before following her rescuers from the courtroom.

Batgirl heard a moan as she regained consciousness. A cool breeze was blowing against her cheek as her eyes fluttered open. Slowly, she picked herself up and heard another moan.

“Diana!” she exclaimed, hurrying to where her friend lay prone. After checking to be sure the woman had no neck injuries, Batgirl turned her ally over. The policewoman’s heartbeat was strong, despite her heavy breathing. Batgirl patted Mooney’s cheek lightly.

“Oh, my chest!” Diana Mooney said gasping as she recovered, focusing to banish the pain emanating from her battered ribs. She started to sit up, but fell back.

Batgirl unbuttoned the supine woman’s shirt and examined the bruised flesh, probing gently with her fingers. “You’ll have some nasty bruises, but I don’t think any bones broke.”

“Anna Gram didn’t hold back,” Lieutenant Mooney said, rising slowly and buttoning her shirt as she breathed deeply. “How do you feel?”

“I’ll be fine. Like you, I didn’t inhale much of the knockout gas since it was dispersing by the time my filter mask was removed. Riddler got away, of course.”

Lieutenant Mooney sank into a chair behind one of the attorneys’ desks and reached for her cell phone. “It’s worse. They have my gun.”

“That could be a problem,” Batgirl agreed. “I hope they didn’t try to shoot their way out of here.”

“I doubt it,” the Lieutenant confidently said. “Loud, messy gunplay is not the Riddler’s style. Now, let’s get organized.” She dialed her cell phone and began issuing orders. “I need a medic and a squad here at the courthouse to take statements,” she said. She inhaled deeply as she shut her phone. “It doesn’t hurt as much now. Let’s make sure Riddler’s other victims are unharmed and see if we can find any clues to Riddler’s plans.”

The two women began to revive the rest of the people in the courtroom. Soon, a squad of police and medics arrived to take over that chore and begin taking statements.

“I think those scrolls are the clues you were expecting to find,” Batgirl said.

“Let’s go back to headquarters,” Lieutenant Mooney suggested. “These riddles will require some thought and people will be all over this place for the next several hours.”

Shortly thereafter, the Commissioner unrolled the first scroll on his desk and read aloud: “I have a neck, but no head. I have two arms, but no hands. What am I?”

“That would be easy if there weren’t so many possible answers,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“What do you mean?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“Well, it could be a coat or a jacket,” Batgirl said.

“Or a shirt I suppose,” the Commissioner hesitantly.

“Sure an’ I see what you mean,” Chief O’Hara said. “It might be a sweater or a particular type of coat like a parka. Maybe the second riddle will help narrow it down.”

The Commissioner set down paperweights to hold the first scroll in place and unrolled the second. He read aloud: “Granny looked up from her rocking chair and said, ‘As far as I can tell, there is only one anagram of the word TRINKET.’ What is it?”

“Anagrams again!” Chief O’Hara exclaimed.

“Right,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “What do we get when we rearrange the letters of the word ‘trinket?’”

“Trinket,” Batgirl muttered, looking down at the floor. “Rearrange the letters of the word ‘trinket.’” She thought for a moment, then she looked up triumphantly. “I’ve got it!”

“What?” the others asked in unison.

“The answer must be ‘knitter,’ and therefore the answer to the first riddle must be sweater.”

“Well, sweaters certainly can be knitted,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Sure, but what does it all mean?” Chief O’Hara demanded.

“We have another riddle,” the Commissioner observed.

“Yes,” Batgirl agreed, pacing, “but first, let’s examine the big picture before we move forward. We’ve had two riddles related to anagrams.”

“The first anagram led us to the courthouse, where Riddler freed his henchwoman, Anna Gram,” the Commissioner said.

“The dress code isn’t that strict, but I don’t think of people wearing sweaters to court. So, at what kind of court would we find sweaters?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“It’s always dangerous to jump to conclusions where the Riddler’s puzzles are concerned. Sweater. Sweat–" Batgirl’s eye lit up behind her mask. “On athletic courts, players wear warm-up jackets to help them break a sweat!”

“Like for tennis, basketball, or volleyball?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“Precisely,” Batgirl said. “Now, we have another riddle and today’s sports page to help us puzzle out Riddler’s plans.”

“I don’t get it, Batgirl,” Chief O’Hara complained.

“What do you mean?”

“Usually, the Riddler tries to stump us. Today, he’s offering riddles with a bewildering number of answers.”

“The tricky devil does seem to have changed tactics,” the Commissioner agreed.

“Maybe the last riddle will help,” Lieutenant Mooney suggested.

Commissioner Gordon spread out the remaining riddle and read: “I bind it and it walks. I loose it and it stops. What is it?”

”Binding,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “It’s like he’s talking about a wound.”

“A walking wound?” Chief O’Hara said. “I’ve heard of ‘walking wounded,’ but it seems more like we’re talking about footwear.”

“Footwear could fit with the other clues,” the Commissioner observed. “What about tennis shoes?”

Batgirl picked up the newspaper and began scanning the sports page.

“You may be on to something, Commissioner,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “When shoes are tied, one can walk in them, otherwise . . . . ”

“Sure, but they could be basketball shoes as easily as tennis shoes,” Chief O’Hara pointed out.

“I see nothing sports related happening tonight at Gotham Square Gardens,” Batgirl said, holding the newspaper in her purple-gloved hands. "I don’t think our clues have anything to do with basketball.”

“What about tennis?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“I don’t see anything,” Batgirl said, consulting the paper again. “We may be wrong about athletic shoes, but I think the Chief is right about footwear.”

“Shoes or boots,” the Commissioner said. “We tie them, though. Why did the riddle use the word ‘bind?’”

“The answer is footwear we don’t tie,” Chief O’Hara said.

“What about sandals?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“I think you’ve got it, Diana!” Batgirl said, reading. “Tonight the final match of the Gotham City Professional/Amateur Volleyball Tournament will be played at the beach on Gotham Point. The paper says the event is sponsored by The Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation and the women’s championship will be determined.”

“Won’t it be kinda cold?” asked the Chief.

“It says here the area will be warmed to summer-like temperatures by parabolic halogen heaters.”

“If Riddler is after charitable donations, why would he choose the women’s competition?” the Commissioner asked. “I imagine the men would generally raise more money at a sporting event. Of course, I could be mistaken. I don’t really follow beach volleyball.”

Batgirl had to suppress a smile, as well as resist the urge to say, “Oh, Daddy!” Instead, as she set the paper aside, she simply said, “I think there’s a reason women’s beach volleyball is a bigger draw.”

“Maybe you and I should take in a few matches, Batgirl,” the Lieutenant suggested.

“Good thinking, Diana,” Batgirl agreed, grinning, “but you need to get some sleep before then and I have a dual life to lead.”

“I remember going undercover at Gotham Point when Batman won the surfing championship. Getting volunteers won’t be difficult,” Chief O’Hara thoughtfully said. “I can send some men down there incognito.”

“Perhaps some male and female officers, Chief,” the Commissioner said, nodding his agreement as he recalled the Gotham Point operation, in which he had personally participated. “They’ll have to be able to blend.”

“The point is, when Riddler hits the beach, we’ll be ready!” Chief O’Hara said.

“Amen!” the Commissioner agreed.

“Before I hit the sack, I’ll need to get a new service pistol,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Anna Gram stole mine at the courthouse.”

“Would you be able to get me a report about the incident this morning before you go, Lieutenant?” Chief O’Hara asked. “Once I have it, I’ll sign the forms to get you a new weapon.”

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Mooney replied before she and Batgirl took their leave.

Later, a shaft of sunlight beamed through one of the small windows of Riddler’s sumptuous, subterranean retreat, forming an auburn halo around Anna Gram’s head as she emerged from the bathroom enveloped in a cloud of steam.

“Welcome back, my dear,” the villain said, smiling and regarding her as he reclined on the bed, shirtless while lacing his fingers behind his head and exhaling contentedly. “I like your towel.”

“You look comfortable, too,” the henchwoman replied, giggling as her lips curled into a smile. “Knowing you as I do, it’s hard to imagine you’ve exhausted your boundless energy already today, despite a delightfully active morning.”

“It’s been a glorious day so far,” Riddler agreed, “and we’ll have an eventful night.”

Anna Gram smirked at him in the mirror as she took a seat at the dressing table and reached hesitantly for a brush. “I find my freedom, among other things, delicious. Your help with the prison-issue outfit was invaluable as well. Of course, it will never be the same now.”

“I much prefer the towel anyway,” Riddler admitted, grinning impishly at her in the mirror as she began to draw the brush through her wet, red hair. “The other outfit really did nothing for you.”

“Did you have other plans for us today, besides critiquing my wardrobe?”

Riddler sprang to his feet. “Tonight, my beautiful Anna Gram,” he began, “tonight, The Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation will involuntarily supply us with the means to make a small fortune.” He jumped onto the bed and bounced a few times, giggling maniacally.

“Sounds promising and lucrative,” Anna Gram said, setting her brush aside and critically examining how her hair framed her face and cascaded over her bare shoulders. “Since I know you gave the authorities the usual notice, I hope sufficient arrangements have been made to deal with the opposition.”

“Oh, I have, Anna, I have!” Riddler bent his legs, dropping into a sitting position and returned to his feet after a single bounce. “Batgirl, and perhaps your friend the Lieutenant, will have figured out the first move in my plot and made plans to thwart us long before we go to work.”

Anna Gram grinned wolfishly and picked up Lieutenant Mooney’s pistol, spinning the cylinder absently. “We can always hope,” she thoughtfully said. “So, did you have the boys make your special arrangements to thwart their potential interference while you and I were . . . busy?”

Riddler crossed the room and stood just behind his companion. “You have such a beautiful mind, Anna. I did, indeed. Now, riddle me this: Never ahead, ever behind, yet flying swiftly past; for a child, I last forever; for an adult, I'm gone too fast. What am I?”

The redhead rested her head against his chest, looking up and smiling. “You are time, and I trust, for Batgirl, you will arrive tonight, shortly after the Riddler’s forthcoming crime?”

Riddler jumped up and gestured wildly in midair. “Precisely, my pretty pet. Batgirl’s hours are certainly numbered.” He giggled as he settled to the floor once again, reaching down, taking her face in his hands and bending his mouth to hers. “You’re going to love the finale I’ve planned for her,” he promised once the kiss had broken.

“It seems you’ve already been an even busier boy today than I imagined,” Anna Gram said, returning his kiss. “Not, of course, that I’m complaining.” As she spoke, the henchwomen set her captured weapon aside; rose; and turned, stepping away from her chair.

Riddler grinned at her and took her in his arms. Reaching for where her towel was tucked beneath itself, he said, “We’ll have a great deal to celebrate tomorrow. Once we’ve eradicated all opposition, you’ll figure prominently in my plans—for many reasons. Now, did you consult Playgirl?”

“Don’t worry,” Anna Gram confidently said, favoring him with a knowing smile over her shoulder as she twisted away. She took a few steps back from her employer, stopped and then turned. “The Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation’s computers will be easy to hack. I’ll crack their defenses like so many eggshells for you—later.”

“Meanwhile . . . . ” Riddler said, drinking in the vision of the titian-haired temptress now moving slowly toward him, her body moving with a natural, rhythmic sway.

“Work is hours away and when it’s all over, Batgirl will be dead. I . . . can’t . . . wait.” Anna Gram’s eyes glittered and she moved her shoulders slightly, reaching her employer and extending her arms toward his neck.

“I suppose we do have plenty of time to celebrate Batgirl’s forthcoming funeral,” Riddler said, winding his arms around her beneath the towel. “Tell me. What did you have in mind?”

“Let me demonstrate,” she suggested, laughing and pushing him back. Riddler fell backward onto the mattress, seconds before Anna Gram advanced and made herself quite comfortable on top of him. Somehow, her towel had been left behind.

“You’re insatiable,” Riddler murmured into her ear, before kissing her neck.

“You’re incorrigible, darling,” she softly replied. “Now, shut up.”

Well after dusk, a white sphere spun among the lights above the volleyball net as two bikini-clad women leapt into the air and another dove to the sand, trying to return the serve. One of the airborne women slammed her fist into the ball and her counterpart tried to block it before it crossed the net and went rocketing toward the sand on the other side.

“That’s the first game,” the announcer said as the competitors regained their feet and retreated to their respective benches. “We’ll resume after a short break. Be sure and hit the snack shack, folks. Hot dogs and drinks have been provided by our friends at the Hang Five for modest financial consideration.”

The array of heat lamps had warmed the air to the low eighties. The competitors took swigs of water and used towels on their necks, and hands. Moments later, as they were about to begin the next game, two of them slumped to the sand and remained still as their respective partners bent worriedly over them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer began, “it seems both professionals in tonight’s tournament have literally fallen ill! Medical help is, however, close at hand.”

A doctor; a nurse; and two orderlies hurried to the fallen athletes and began to examine them once their partners had retreated.

“That medical team was very alert,” Lieutenant Diana Mooney said, handing a pair of binoculars to Batgirl, who sat beside her in the Lieutenant’s unmarked car.

“They responded almost too quickly, Diana,” Batgirl hesitantly said. “I wonder . . . .”

Mooney reached for a rifle scope and studied the medical team as they loaded the athletes onto stretchers and began to carry them away.

“Do you think the medics were expecting those two to collapse between games?”

“If they were,” Batgirl thoughtfully said, “the illnesses weren’t an accident. Which players did the medics just carry away?”

“The professionals, according to the announcer.”

“I’ve been reading the program about them,” Batgirl said. “Dawn Morgan and Eva Knight are up-and-coming superstars. They’ve made some money, but their potential earnings are practically limitless.”

“Let’s find out to which hospital the women are being taken.”

“Good idea,” Batgirl said, slipping from the car and approaching the medical tent.

Lieutenant Mooney followed. They heard excited voices from the tent as they approached.

“The knockout drug will wear off soon, won’t it, boss?” Rawlings asked.

“Of course it will,” Riddler replied. “It gave us the chance to take these two away without anyone being the wiser. It will be effective for more than long enough for us to reach our destination.”

“You’re smart, boss,” Wilson said.

“We’ll have plenty of time for congratulations when these two trophies are poised to make us rich,” Anna Gram admonished. “Now, let’s get them loaded and get out of here.”

“Be sure to put them in our ambulance, boys,” Riddler said, giggling. “Anna’s right. Hurry.”

Outside the tent, Batgirl leaned her ear under her cowl close to Lieutenant Mooney’s lips. “We were wrong,” the policewoman said. “Riddler wasn’t after the money tonight.”

“He was after Dawn Morgan and Eva Knight. Unless we stop him, he’ll get them,” Batgirl quietly replied. “Come on!”

In the tent, Riddler was bent over at the waist beating his thighs and jumping up and down. He gestured wildly at his men as they began their work. “Do you realize how much money these two attractive athletes represent, Anna?”

“I know their net worth is peanuts compared to their real value,” Anna Gram replied, her eyes sparkling.

“Boss,” Rawlings said, “I think they represent more than just money.”

“He’s got a point,” Wilson agreed, grinning lustfully. “There are two of them, after all.”

“You guys are disgusting!” Anna Gram said. “You know the plan. Our meal tickets will be in no condition to entertain anyone if we don’t get paid. Besides, assuming we do, you’ll be able to afford to do practically anything you want, anywhere in the world.”

“We have a more specific destination in mind for you and your people, Riddler!” an authoritative, female voice said.

“Jail,” as second equally strong, female voice seconded.

“Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney,” Riddler said, hanging his head. “You’ve both become pretty, yet persistent, thorns in my side.” He darted a glance at one end of the tent, where Batgirl stood with her hands on her shapely hips and her legs spread to shoulder width.

“They’ve cut off our escape, Riddler!” Anna Gram worriedly said, glancing at the other end of the tent, where the pretty policewoman matched her friend’s pose.

The villain filled his lungs and sighed. “Get them, boys, and do it right this time!”

Rawlings and Wilson flung themselves at the newcomers while Riddler and Anna Gram selected one of the stretchers upon which the professional volleyball players laid on their backs.

Rawlings took a swing at the Lieutenant and grunted as her counterpunch hit him after his initial attack was swept aside. Batgirl, meanwhile, launched one of her showgirl kicks at Wilson, who sidestepped and swept the heroine’s plant foot from beneath her.

Riddler and Anna Gram carried their stretcher past the fallen heroine and slid it into one of the waiting ambulances. Once their victim was strapped down, the perfidious pair returned for the other unconscious athlete.

Wilson was bent over Batgirl, feeling her fists methodically pummel his abdomen with sledgehammer force. Lieutenant Mooney had managed to fend off most of Rawlings’ attacks and her counterattacks had begun to take their toll.

Once Riddler and Anna Gram had secured their second victim in the ambulance, they returned to the tent again, carrying nozzles and small, powerful fans behind which hoses and power cords, respectively, trailed.

Batgirl was on one knee, spinning and slamming her heel into Wilson’s chin. The thug went down as Batgirl rose to her feet. Lieutenant Mooney caught her eye and flung Rawlings toward her. The second thug stumbled and fell forward, positioning his chin perfectly for one of Batgirl’s high kicks. The fight was over. The victorious good girls approached one another, grinned, and shook hands before hugging.

“Nice work, Diana,” Batgirl said, releasing her friend. “Time for Ridder and his girl.”

“Right,” Lieutenant Mooney agreed. “Let’s get them this time.”

“You won’t get us!” Anna Gram said, stepping into the tent behind the victorious combatants, brandishing her nozzle.

“We’ll get you first!” Riddler predicted, stepping before them with his own nozzle. He began to giggle maniacally as his intended victims stood, momentarily transfixed.

Riddler’s spell broke as a sticky liquid suddenly drenched Batgirl from behind.

“Separate!” Batgirl commanded. Her warning, however, was far too late.

Riddler’s nozzle came to life as the policewoman turned away from him, coating her body completely in sticky goo.

“What’s happening?!” Lieutenant Diana Mooney demanded.

Riddler leaped up and down, giggling maniacally. “The beginning of the end—for you!” he replied, convulsing, completely consumed with his mirth.

Anna Gram’s fan spun to life, stirring up the sand around the gorgeous, goo-covered guardians of Gotham City. As sand struck them, it stuck in place, slowly covering them. Riddler’s fan came on and the perfidious pair moved around their victims in half circles, directing a cloud of sand against them, while being careful not to tangle their trailing cords.

Batgirl and the Lieutenant coughed, waving their hands and arms ineffectually at the flying sand. “I can’t fight this artificial sandstorm!” Batgirl complained, spitting sand from her mouth.

“This is beautiful, Riddler!” Anna Gram enthused.

“We’re nearly finished,” Riddler said. “Douse them again and give them a second dose.”

“I can barely move!” Lieutenant Mooney softly said as Anna Gram and Riddler covered their bodies with more goop from their nozzles.

“Save your strength, Diana,” Batgirl advised. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

Neither Batgirl nor Lieutenant Mooney resisted as Riddler and Anna Gram’s fans blew more sand against their bodies, slowly and utterly immobilizing them.

“Good work, Anna!” Riddler complimented as the fans shut off and the perfidious pair admired their handiwork. “They’re both quite helpless and we’ll be taking full advantage of their condition shortly.”

“What are we going to do to them?” the girl asked, her eyes glittering with wicked anticipation.

“You’ll soon see. Let’s just say it would be extremely appropriate for these two to hit the showers.”

“One last time,” Anna Gram added, laughing.

“Precisely,” Riddler concurred. “First, however, we’ll have the boys take our other ‘guests’ to the gym and see that they’re made comfortable. Our beautiful bargaining chips will come up aces very soon. I have a couple of riddles I think I’ll save for this pretty pair of doomed damsels to work on before they leave us. Now, come.”

Rawlings and Wilson groggily staggered to their feet. “Boys, bring these beauties.” Riddler indicated his newest captives and giggled, watching happily as his men carried them off.

Shortly thereafter, Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney were brought to one of Gotham City’s public beach houses. A “CLOSED FOR THE SEASON” sign was affixed to the door outside. The costumed crimefightress and her plainclothes companion were unceremoniously dumped under the showers by Rawlings and Wilson.

The building was apparently being used for storage in the off season and different colored curtains were suspended from the ceiling, separating groups of stacked boxes and furniture. A table surrounded by chairs and an artificial plant were visible from the showers.

The two goons left, while their criminal superiors shed their medical garb. Riddler now wore his comfortable, pale green bodysuit. He was bent double, convulsing helplessly and giggling with demented glee. From time to time, he was able to straighten, gesturing wildly while leaping up and down.

Anna Gram crouched decoratively beside a spigot, attaching a hose. Her outfit may have been one reason for her employer’s happiness, since it was nothing but a purple bikini and a thin, woman’s watch.

She straightened, smiling wickedly as she leaned a shapely hip against a conveniently situated fixture as she regarded Lieutenant Mooney and Batgirl with glittering eyes before turning to Riddler, anticipating the explanation of his plans for the two women. “We’re ready, Riddler,” she reported, letting her arms fall to her sides.

“Good. You may start with the Lieutenant in just a moment.” Riddler moved into the shower and bent over the drain. He giggled for a moment, then dropped a handful of capsules through the grating, before retreating and turning on the spigot to which the hose was attached.

“What did you just do?” Anna Gram asked.

“I’ve sealed our victims’ fate. You’ll see precisely how in just a moment. Now, get busy!”

The redhead moll took the hose and strutted into the shower, uncoiling it. After the briefest glance at Riddler, she began spraying the policewoman with water, slowly rinsing the sand away from the officer’s body and thoroughly drenching her once again in the process.

As Lieutenant Mooney shook her head, recovering, her hand streaked to her gun and pulled it out to cover the henchwoman.

“I don’t think that rusting, sand-encrusted weapon will be very effective,” the redhead villainess warned, dropping the hose.

“Let’s find out,” Lieutenant Mooney said, adopting a two-handed shooting stance. “You’re under arrest.”

“Wanna bet?” Anna Gram sweetly asked, jumping; spinning; and launching a kick that culminated with her heel slamming into the Lieutenant’s neck. Mooney’s gun clicked ineffectively a second before the policewoman collapsed at Anna Gram’s feet. The henchwoman retrieved the useless weapon and tossed it to Riddler. “I think I’ll disarm Batgirl as well, before we say goodbye.”

“An excellent idea, my dear,” Riddler said, slipping the captured gun beneath his lavender belt. “I love watching you work.”

Anna Gram retrieved the fallen hose and concentrated the water on Batgirl’s waist. As sand streamed away from the captive’s hips and legs, the heroine’s golden utility belt was slowly revealed. Anna Gram grinned and approached, manipulating the buckle and pulling the belt away from the captive’s waist. She tossed the belt to Riddler as she retreated, continuing to rinse sand from Batgirl’s body.

“I have to congratulate you on the effectiveness of your sand trap, Riddler,” Batgirl said, as Anna Gram retreated, directing the sand that had imprisoned the captives into the shower drain, where sandy water began forming an enormous, dirty puddle.

“Thank you, Batgirl,” Riddler said. “It has performed magnificently so far, and it’s nearly time to reveal its next fiendish function. First, I think I’ll ask Anna to shoot your companion.” As Riddler spoke, he set Batgirl’s utility belt on a table and turned off the water streaming from the hose.

“Blowing her away will be my pleasure,” Anna Gram said, reaching behind her back and pulling out a gun.

“You already demonstrated my weapon’s ineffectiveness,” Lieutenant Mooney said, rising to her knees.

“This is the one I took from you this morning,” Anna Gram said, smiling and raising the firearm. “It should still function perfectly. Say goodbye to this world.”

“No!” Batgirl cried, flinging herself forward desperately as Anna Gram pulled the trigger, an instant after Riddler threw a switch.

A clear panel fell between the gorgeous gunwoman and her target, covering the showers’ entrance. Batgirl slammed into the barrier as Anna Gram’s bullet formed a star on the other side at the level of the heroine’s abdomen. Anna Gram instinctively brought the weapon up, aiming at Batgirl’s head and pulled the trigger again. Another star appeared on the clear panel.

“No fair,” Anna Gram complained, emptying the gun.

Riddler giggled as Batgirl retreated, rubbing her shoulder. “Thank you, Anna. You’ve conclusively demonstrated that panel, which now imprisons our captives in their tomb, is both shatterproof and bulletproof.”

Anna Gram’s face transformed as she stood posed and regarded her employer. “Before these two have been finished off, I’m confident it will have proven to be completely Batproof as well.” She began to laugh and Riddler giggled.

“Indeed!” the Riddler agreed.

“He’s trapped us in here,” Lieutenant Mooney said, regaining her feet. “So what?”

“The controls for the showers in here have been removed,” Batgirl observed.

“The shower heads are still here,” Lieutenant Mooney said. Realization dawned. “He plans to drown us . . . and I don’t think he’s made any mistakes.”

“We didn’t make any mistakes when we left you in the Viking treasure cave either, Batgirl,” Anna Gram said. “The incoming tide would have taken care of you, if you hadn’t been rescued. I still wonder how anyone ever found you in time.”

“I survived then and I’ll survive now,” Batgirl said. “Don’t worry, Diana.”

“Defiant to the end, eh, Batgirl?” Riddler asked. “Good. You don’t realize the extent of my plans for you.”

“You do, however, realize the only people who know you’re here are the two of us, the boys and both of you,” Anna Gram pointed out. “You’re both trapped and we certainly won’t save you.” The ravishing rogue beamed at them, laughing shortly.

“If Batgirl says we’ll survive, we’ll survive,” Lieutenant Mooney said, rising to her feet. “Then, we’ll both be after the two of you and your henchmen.”

“Anna, be so unkind as to rotate that valve,” Riddler directed, pointing at a large, circular valve in what looked like a closet. “I tire of this tedious chit chat.”

Anna Gram grinned and strutted to the valve, which she gripped and turned. The valve spun slowly at first, but more rapidly after a few turns. When it stopped, the girl poked her head out and turned toward the captives’ prison to assess the effects of her handiwork. She returned to Riddler’s side and folded her arms as white vapor billowed from each of the shower heads.

“It seems you have a hot time in store for us,” Batgirl remarked.

“I’ve observed before that Batgirls wilt just as quickly as other women,” Riddler said. “This time the luscious Lieutenant will help me prove my point.” He giggled and Anna Gram joined his mirth.

The Riddler suddenly stopped, directing his gaze at Batgirl. "You realize, Batgirl, what I'm going to do to the dear lieutenant?"

The Curvaceous Crimefightress was puzzled. Then a look of comprehension washed over her face. "Oh, no. You're going to sweat her! Sweat-'er!

"Correct, Dominoed Daredoll!"

“That is not a bit funny,” Batgirl declared softly, but matter-of-factly.

“Well,” Riddler philosophically replied, “you never did have much of a sense of humor, anyhow.”

Lieutenant Mooney broke in on the criminal's moment of triumph. "We won't wilt or die in this sinister steam room, Riddler!"

“The steam is simply meant to warm you ladies up,” the villain explained. “As we speak, the water tanks that feed these showers – which my men modified this afternoon, at no charge to the city – are slowly being filled with more water. Once the proper amount is in place, the water will follow the steam up the pipes and envelope you, inch by scrumptious inch.”

“You’ve . . . clogged the drains?” Lieutenant Mooney asked, horror-stricken.

"Perhaps, Lieutenant, you’ve heard of Doctor Riddler’s Instant Forever Stick Invisible Wax Emulsion?”

“Batgirl has,” Anna Gram said.

“Your sinister, sticky spray,” Batgirl said.

“Indeed,” Riddler replied, somehow suppressing a giggle. “I’d been told so often the aerosol cans I typically use to dispense it harm the environment, I put my last batch in capsules. The sand Anna washed from your bodies crushed the few I dropped down the drain. Within minutes, the sand will create a very effective stopper, which will melt away eventually, but by then you’ll both be quite dead.” The villain’s efforts to suppress his mirth suddenly failed and he giggled helplessly, convulsing and throwing his head in all directions.

“So, this steam will not be given time to scald us to death before the water covers us,” Batgirl reasoned. “We’ll drown instead!”

“There is so much more!” Riddler enthused, maniacally giggling. “In case you’re capable of holding your breath, consider the temperature of the water in which you’ll eventually drown.”

“It will be boiling hot,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Precisely,” Anna Gram confirmed, laughing. “We wouldn’t want either of you to catch your death of cold.”

“Every muscle you posses will slowly cook and fall away from your bones, melting away and congealing, before the water cools around your mortal remains,” the Riddler said, seriously. “There won’t be much left when you’re found, say . . . shortly before Memorial Day.”

“Our clothes and dental records will be essential to identify our bodies, if this works,” Lieutenant Mooney said, her face paling.

“Don’t worry, Diana,” Batgirl said, trying to cheer her friend. “We’ll find a way out of this trap.” As she examined her prison, however, she had no idea how she would fulfill her boast.

“Lot’s of luck,” Anna Gram said, laughing. “You’re going to need it.” Water began to trickle from the showers.

“We’re about to literally leave you both in hot water,” Riddler predicted, “several hundred gallons of it, in fact . . . and in case you’re hoping the steam will create enough pressure in there to release you, forget it. It will be vented as water fills your tomb. Oh, and the vents are far too small for you to crawl through.”

“Which of them do you think will succumb first?” Anna Gram asked rhetorically. “I would bet on the Lieutenant.” The redhead criminal shrugged. “Then, Batgirl will become too despondent and grief stricken to escape.”

“Let me give you ladies something else to think about before we go,” Riddler said, raising an arm and pointing finger triumphantly. “I have two riddles for you. You may have just enough time to solve them both before you die.” As Riddler spoke, he took a sheer purple shirt from a peg and held it for Anna Gram. “Batgirl, riddle me this! What is the name of the only mammal that can't fly that can fly? Lieutenant Mooney, name for me the one two-sided shape!”

He giggled for a moment before winding an arm around Anna Gram’s waist. “Goodbye, ladies.” He turned away and yelled, “Soup’s on!”

Anna Gram touched the fingertips of both hands to her lips and blew the victims kisses, before allowing herself to be guided from the shower’s antechamber. She could not resist casting a last look over her shoulder and a dazzling smile at Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney, before she and her companion vanished from their sight.

Moments later, the villains’ laughter died away and the only sound was the steamy water, now streaming out of the showers, encircling the good girls’ ankles and inching up their calves.

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