To Promote Terror and Trepidation

Lieutenant Diana Mooney of the Gotham City Police Department knew she had chosen a dangerous profession when she applied at the Police Academy. On one particularly memorable occasion, Nora Clavicle had confirmed the policewoman’s premonition by closely surrounding the officer with fine filaments capable of slicing the human body to pieces. Had Batgirl not freed the policewoman from Clavicle’s clutches, the lesbian lawbreaker’s prejudices would likely have allowed the Lieutenant to live; but some of Mooney’s other dangerous experiences had portended a slow, uncomfortable demise.

Joker had invaded the Commissioner’s office during a meeting and left the Lieutenant literally sandwiched between her superior officers while a jar of the villain’s expansive Joker Jelly slowly filled the room, threatening to smother its occupants. The Dynamic Duo’s timely arrival had saved her then, and Batgirl had been her savior when the original Ma Parker and Black Widow had sent killers – as well as a gigantic black widow spider – to the policewoman’s home.

Now, the Lieutenant was once again trapped with Batgirl, encased in a chamber slowly filling with cotton candy intended to eventually envelope and asphyxiate both of them. The policewoman's effort to smash her way through one of the chamber’s clear sides had only made her shoulder sore. She had not lost hope, however, and looked to her friend and crimefighting colleague for inspiration and guidance. Batgirl was more experienced than many of the highly-trained specialists within the ranks of the Gotham City Police Department and routinely escaped from similarly deadly situations.

Batgirl was proud of her perfect record in escaping from supervillains’ deathtraps, although she had to admit sometimes she had been rescued. Nevertheless, the Dominoed Daredoll was not above taking advantage of the mystique her apparent invincibility had given her over the years. At the same time, she had no illusions about the distinct possibility she would someday pursue a villain and lose her life for her trouble.

Entwined with her current predicament was the bitter possibility her failure to survive Joker’s trap would cost the lives of her good friend Lieutenant Mooney and Don Wallace, a man who had ruined one of Joker’s recruiting drives, thus earning the criminal’s ire and wrath. She put her fears aside and regarded her fellow captive as her fingers probed the flanges of her gloves, seeking a tiny tool she carried there. ‘I’ve got to get Diana out of here!’ Batgirl thought.

Since her earliest experiences fighting crime, Batgirl had been aware criminals would try to kill her. After the Riddler had removed her utility belt before having her tossed into his sinister steam room to wilt and die, the need to carry backup tools had become painfully apparent.

Her lips twitched into a genuine smile as she found the tiny tool her fingers had been seeking. Carefully, she withdrew it from its place. While dropping it might not be as fatal as such a mishap would be in other deadly circumstances, she wanted to make use of the implement as quickly as possible. The cotton candy surrounding her and the policewoman had already covered their feet and ankles. The sticky, pink, substance would soon creep all the way up their calves.

“What is it?!” Diana Mooney shouted over the roar of the machinery pumping the semisolid candy into the chamber. Batgirl only smiled, letting her eyes glitter, as she withdrew her tool and began to put it to work.

‘We should preserve our voices,’ Lieutenant Mooney thought, feeling her lips twitch into an answering smile and nodding. The policewoman went on watching her friend and noted the occasional, slight movements of Batgirl’s shoulders. She soon realized the Curved Crusader’s movements were not the random struggles of a helpless captive. ‘What is Batgirl doing?’

The answer was quickly apparent as Batgirl’s hands appeared before the crimefightress with the open shackle hanging from one wrist and a lock pick held in the opposite hand. Diana Mooney turned around and felt the lock pick go to work on the Batcuffs restraining her. Moments later, the policewoman was rubbing her wrists

Batgirl removed the second shackle from her own wrists. The cotton candy had reached their knees and was rising around their thighs.

“Nice work!” Lieutenant Mooney shouted. “Can we get out of this chamber now?!”

“The walls appear impervious to most physical attacks and the floor is covered with this sticky goop! I’m wondering if the ceiling has any vents built into it!” Batgirl said just as loudly. “The answer to that question may tell us something!”

“Is a vent the way you normally escape from a chamber like this?!”

“Ordinarily, I’d try to determine the sympathetic vibration for the chamber and generate a musical note that will shatter it, since Joker made the mistake of permitting us to speak!”

“We won’t be able to sustain a musical note over the noise this pump is making!” Lieutenant Mooney replied. “We have to shout at each other just to communicate!”

Batgirl nodded and pointed at the chamber’s ceiling. Her friend nodded and began looking for a vent.

In Batgirl’s vast experience, villains had repeatedly tried to entomb or asphyxiate her.

The most unusual substance in which she had nearly drowned was caviar, an improvisation by Olga, Queen of the Bessarovian Cossacks. Candy Kane and her evil employer, Rudolph, had tried fruitcake to bury Batgirl alive, while Simon the Pieman had used chocolate. The Humbler had employed every available candied topping Berthford's Chocolate Company possessed for the same purpose.

Catwoman had trapped Batgirl in a gigantic, greased bowl that slowly filled with thick, liquid cream and later, with Riddler’s help, arranged to have the Dominoed Daredoll's body covered in quick-hardening whipped cream. On another occasion, the Feline Fiend had tried to entomb the Curved Crusader in melting wax.

The heroine's hot body had been designed to do the melting when Ma Legs Parker left her to sink into a pool of semisolid jell-O. Eivol Ekdal’s approach had been more mundane when he tried to bury Batgirl in an actual grave with mud.

Unfortunately, no means of escape Batgirl had previously used would help her free herself and the Lieutenant from their predicament.

Lieutenant Mooney’s loud voice brought her mind back to the present. “I think the vents are too small to be helpful! We’ll never crawl through them!”

“Show me!” Batgirl said.

Batgirl’s gaze followed her friend’s pointing finger. “You’re right! We’ll never fit through there, but we may be able to reach through!”

“Why would we want to do that?!”

“I think we’ll have to get a hand outside this chamber in order to take the top off!”

“Ah!” Mooney understood Batgirl’s plan. “I’ll have to give you a boost! You’ll never reach the top of this chamber without help!” Batgirl nodded as the Lieutenant lowered her hands to the level of her waist and laced her fingers together.

‘It’s a good thing we can move around in this pink goop,’ Batgirl thought. ‘If our feet had been stuck to the floor of this chamber, we’d be dead!’

“Here we go!” Batgirl said. Fine strings of bright pink candy stretched between Batgirl’s rising knee and the sticky goo that had ascended to the level of the captives’ waists as a purple boot stepped onto the policewoman’s laced fingers. The goopy mess seemed to erupt as Batgirl climbed from it, stretching fine, sweet strands between her intended tomb and her lower body.

“Come on, Batgirl,” the Lieutenant softly encouraged.

The Curved Crusader hit one vent repeatedly with the heel of her hand until it separated from the top of the chamber. She slid her arm through the aperture and stretched toward the nearest corner of the top of the chamber’s ceiling.

“Lift me up a little higher, Diana!” Batgirl instructed. “I can reach the bolt holding this corner together, but I’ll need to get my hand on top of it for leverage!” Lieutenant Mooney raised Batgirl a few inches, so the Curved Crusader's feet were near the center of the policewoman’s chest. Batgirl’s fingers curled around the top of the bolt and she twisted her hand viciously. The bolt did not move!

“Any luck?!” Mooney shouted.

“No! If these bolts were tightened with power tools, we may be finished! I’ll try another one before we give up and try to think of something else!”

“Can you reach another of the bolts from where you are?!”

“I think so! I’ll have to turn around, though!” Batgirl did so and reached for the other corner on the same side of the ceiling. She gripped the bolt and wrenched her hand to one side with all her might. Again the bolt refused to move!

“Well?!” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“I’m sorry, Diana! I can’t budge these bolts!”

“Maybe I should give it a go!”

“It’s worth a try!” Batgirl said.

Sinking into the cotton candy once again, the Curved Crusader was amazed at how warm the sticky substance seemed as it surrounded her lower body.

Diana Mooney raised one leg and Batgirl’s hands found the policewoman’s foot to boost her into the position the heroine had occupied a moment ago. More fine strands of the gooey mess intended to entomb them both stretched between the captives like gossamer silk as the lovely Lieutentant began working.

Her hand slid through the vent Batgirl had opened and tried to turn one of the stubbornly tight bolts. Batgirl watched to see whether it would move.

Nothing happened before the policewoman pivoted and tried the second bolt the Curved Crusader had attacked. “Oh man, those bolts are tight!” Lieutenant Mooney said. “I think we need another approach, and I really hope you’ve thought of one!”

The level of the candy in the chamber had reached the lower curve of Batgirl’s breasts.

“I just noticed something that might offer us one slim chance!” Batgirl said. “The bolts we have been trying to loosen appear to secure the ceiling of this chamber to triangular braces in the corners!”

Diana Mooney pulled her arm back into the chamber and explored the nearest corner of the ceiling. “You’re right! The walls are fitted into grooves in these braces! Do you think we could lift the ceiling?!”

“If we don’t, we’re dead!” Batgirl grimly said.

“That assessment will motivate me,” Lieutenant Mooney muttered. She slammed the heel of her hand into the brace at the corner of the ceiling. “I don’t know, Batgirl!”

“Keep pounding at it! You don’t have to move it much!”

The Lieutenant banged away at her objective for a couple more minutes before she felt it rise a mere millimeter. “Okay, Batgirl, the ceiling moved!”

“Good!” Batgirl said. "The cotton candy is up to my neck now! If you can get the other corner to budge a little, we might get out of here!”

The Lieutenant turned again and pounded repeatedly on the other corner of the ceiling she could reach. “I can lift the ceiling a couple of inches!” she presently reported.

“Nice work, Diana!” Batgirl’s voice encouraged. “I’m going to see if I can move the wall of this chamber!”

“What makes you think you can?!”

“In trying to suffocate us in here, Joker didn’t bother to make this chamber airtight.” Her voice was muffled by cotton candy slowly surrounding her head until she tilted her neck back.

“Right!” the Lieutenant enthused. “He shouldn’t have had to, since the cotton candy was supposed to asphyxiate us once we’re completely enveloped!”

“My thoughts exactly, Diana!” Batgirl concurred. “Pray the sides of this chamber have not been sealed!”

“You’re making sense! Good thinking!”

“Thanks! Hold up the ceiling for a minute! I’m going to try something!”

“Okay!”

Cotton candy churned around Batgirl as she lifted her foot, leaned sideways toward the center of the chamber, and sharply extended her opposite leg. Lieutenant Mooney could only see the pointed tips of the ears on Batgirl’s cowl emerging from the top of the cotton candy.

Nothing happened when Batgirl’s heel slammed into the side of the chamber!

“What’s going on?!” Lieutenant Mooney worriedly asked, after a moment.

Batgirl cursed silently, thinking, ‘I can’t generate enough force to kick this wall out . . . and now my leg is suspended in this goop!’

“I’m pressing my foot against the side of this chamber! Can you lift the wall a little?!”

“I’ll try!” the policewoman said uncertainly.

“Good girl!” Batgirl encouraged. “Come on!”

“You’ll have to lift me up more! I’ll need both hands to lift the wall!”

“Okay!” Batgirl said, lifting her friend’s foot until the Lieutenant could rest the elevated ceiling on her shoulders. “Ready?!”

The policewoman’s fingers curled around the top of the glass wall. “Yes!” she yelled. “It’s now or never!”

“Pull!” Batgirl shouted.

The Lieutenant gripped the chamber’s glass wall, lifting. “It isn’t budging!”

“It has to!” Batgirl shouted. “Keep pulling!”

The policewoman was silent until she exhaled. “There!” she said. “It moved! I’ve almost got it!”

A moment later cotton candy shifted around both of the women, tearing the pane of glass from Lieutenant Mooney’s hands and sweeping both her and Batgirl forward to freedom as it spilled from the chamber.

“You did great, Diana,” Batgirl enthused, picking herself up from the bed of cotton candy into which both of them fell as they were swept to safety. The policewoman reached up and Batgirl helped her friend stand.

“We escaped,” Diana Mooney said, laughing helplessly for a moment. “The joke is on the Joker.”

“Right,” Batgirl agreed, grinning. “Once the wall was out of the way, gravity let the cotton candy spill out, carrying us to safety. You, of course, realize the trap might easily have killed just one of us.”

Lieutenant Mooney’s face paled. “You really know how to ruin a good time, Batgirl.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. If we take too long celebrating, Don Wallace will die in the funhouse.”

“You’re right,” Batgirl seriously said. “Let’s go find him and make sure he doesn’t.”

“I’m with you, Batgirl. To the funhouse!” the Lieutenant urged. The two women hurried from the abandoned Gotham Pier Amusement Park’s midway.

Lieutenant Mooney was a little surprised at the dim lights illuminating the passage leading into the funhouse. “Does Joker have a generator running?”

“It’s always a joke with Joker,” Batgirl explained. “Someone was supposed to find Don Wallace’s dead body in here and Joker is highlighting the macabre atmosphere.”

“That idea really isn’t funny at all,” the Lieutenant said, halting.

“I don’t share Joker’s sense of humor either,” Batgirl agreed. “Come on.”

“How long is this passage?”

“Shorter than it looks. I think there are mirrors at either end.”

“Okay. I understand why it looks like it goes on forever. What I don’t understand is how we’re supposed to get–”

Each searcher let out a startled, involuntary cry as she fell a few feet through space before landing on a mesh of bungee cords and bounced. Both women remained in place until their eyes widened when they noticed a gigantic spider slowly descending from above.

“What the–”

“Diana, relax,” Batgirl said, speaking a little less calmly than she wished she had. Mentally she shrugged and favored her friend with a grin. “We’re in a funhouse, remember?”

“Right . . . you’re right.” The policewoman’s voice was quavering. “We just landed in a net of bungee cords arranged to look like a spider web. So, the spider up there must be stuffed or some kind of facsimile. It’s moving, though.”

“The spider’s movements are probably caused by vibrations in this net.”

“Probably,” the pretty policewoman mused, laughing. “It isn’t as if we’re after Black Widow or Spider Priestess.”

Batgirl shuddered, recalling how Black Widow had injected spider eggs among the layers of her skin before leaving her to nourish an enormous brood of little monsters when they hatched. More recently, the senior citizen supervillainess’ former associate, Octo - following the girl's ‘enlightenment’ and a name change to Spider Priestess - trapped Batgirl in a gigantic spider web and released a dozen experimentally enlarged arachnids to devour the Curved Crusader.

“Joker’s been here, though, Diana. Not everything in this house will be harmless,” Batgirl said, returning her mind to the present.

“I know,“ Lieutenant Mooney seriously said, scrambling from the bouncing net with Batgirl close behind. “Come on. Let’s go foil Joker’s murderous plans.”

“That’s the spirit,” Batgirl encouraged.

Together, the pretty pair hurried to an arch leading to a passage where they paused, staring. Lights resembling torches were spaced along the walls with skeletons hanging from metal shackles. Batgirl shrugged and hurried forward. She had occupied a genuine dungeon twice.

“I have to keep reminding myself Joker didn’t dream up this entire macabre atmosphere himself,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “What will we encounter next?”

The dungeon chamber had a barred, metal door at the end that slid open automatically. Batgirl and the policewoman were admitted to a Victorian dining room.

Both women stopped briefly and stared at the gas chandelier which illuminated the table with its rich settings surrounded by comfortable, unoccupied chairs. The light fixture rose from the floor, while the furniture was suspended from the ceiling! Everything spread on the table hung in place, inverted and defying gravity!

Beyond the unusual room, a series of dark passages twisted and turned while exposing the endowed explorers to recorded moans; groans; screams; and the sound of a chainsaw, before they stood before a crypt. Steps led up from their position to the underground vault and cold air stirred eerie mist all around them as they ascended.

The door creaked loudly as it opened and slammed shut behind them after both passed through. As they both instinctively whirled, the entire chamber in which they stood began to rise.

“It’s . . . an elevator?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“Apparently,” Batgirl said. Once the elevator stopped, the top of the central coffin slid back to reveal a staircase. “Shall we?” Batgirl asked.

“We don’t have a choice. After you,” Lieutenant Mooney said, gesturing toward the stairs.

Batgirl followed her friend’s gesture and disappeared down the steps. Following, Lieutenant Mooney slowly descended, half expecting something to happen before she reached the bottom. At the foot of the stairs she was confronted with half a dozen images of Batgirl examining the pair of figures reflected in polished, silver surfaces in front of them. “Which one is the real you?”

“It’s a hall of mirrors, Diana,” Batgirl explained, listening to her voice echo. “Unless we’re very careful, we could be lost in here for hours and Don Wallace will die.”

“It sounds like a hall of mirrors is part of your vast crimefighting experience.”

“You’re right, but it was a maze and the floors and ceilings were mirrors, too.” Batgirl decided not to elaborate on how the continuous sight of her reflection had induced strange, haunting hallucinations that had utterly transfixed her when Riddler had trapped her, along with the Dynamic Duo, and deprived her of her utility belt and cape.

“Batgirl,” Lieutenant Mooney said, letting a hand fall onto her friend’s shoulder, “I’m not a great fan of mazes either.” The policewoman rarely spoke of her most traumatic experiences in Catwoman’s clutches. First, the Feline Felon had imprisoned her in an electrified labyrinth constructed on an entire level of her lair after discovering the young woman had infiltrated her gang. On another occasion, the Lieutenant had led a squad of officers to another of Catwoman’s catacombed retreats. Upon being discovered, the Princess of Plunder had sealed off an entire section of labyrinthine passages and left her pursuers to wander aimlessly.

The Lieutenant’s experiences in Catwoman’s twisted mazes had been involuntarily revisited when the Scarecrow had taken her from her home. Once again Mooney had been used as bait for Batgirl, and she vividly remembered her desperation as she seemed to wander aimlessly through the endless passages of an imaginary labyrinth—hopelessly lost and all alone!

“Thanks, Diana,” Batgirl said.

Her friend’s voice tore her from her horrific recollections. The heroine was grinning at her as she shook her head and began leading the way through the maze. “Let’s get moving.”

“No problem,” Batgirl responded.

“By the way, how did you distinguish me from my reflections?”

“I noticed only one of you was casting a shadow.”

“Sherlock Holmes would be proud of you.”

“I hope we won’t need the great detective to find our way out of here.”

Lieutenant Mooney shuddered. “Bite your tongue.”

“We’ll be fine as soon as we find the center of the maze,” Batgirl confidently said. Moments later, they arrived at a square, mirrored post surrounded by four mirrored corners that formed a larger square chamber around it with a passage leading away from the chamber in each wall.

“This looks like the place,’ Diana Mooney observed. “Where do we go now?”

“This way,” Batgirl said, traversing the chamber and leading her friend from the hall of mirrors minutes later.

“How did you do that?” the Lieutenant demanded. “We didn’t make a single wrong turn in the second half of the maze.”

“I worked out the pattern of the maze in the first half. After a couple of wrong turns, a mathematical progression became apparent. We made a right turn, two left turns, then three right. The pattern of direction changes continued as I counted higher. In the second half of the maze, of course, the pattern was reversed.”

“Of course,” Mooney said drily. “You know, you really are amazing.”

Batgirl burst out laughing. Her friend was puzzled, until she realized what she had just said.

The Lieutenant gave a theatrical sigh. “I try to give you a compliment and see what happens.” The policewoman’s mood, though, quickly turned serious. “What do you think will be next?”

Batgirl’s expression had changed, too. “I’m getting worried, Diana.”

“We’ve seen no sign of Joker in here so far.”

“Exactly,” Batgirl said. “Everything we’ve encountered up to this point has been set up to amuse the park patrons. At some point, we’re going to encounter something Joker installed, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it proves potentially lethal--for us as well as Don Wallace.”

They followed a dark passage until a sudden thunderclap made them freeze. Their breath caught in their throats as a strobe light illuminated a Frankenstein monster rising from an operating table. Slowly, they both relaxed, exhaling and moving on until a scene of a witch stirring something in a gigantic cauldron received a similarly sudden introduction. Moving around a corner, they whirled as a light behind them blazed and a well-dressed, skeletal figure removed its head and intoned, “Good evening,” in a deep, recorded voice.

Turning around again, moments later, they found a narrow, circular tunnel at the top of a short ramp that began spinning while an arcane script written on its walls began to glow. “That’s a nice effect,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “It would really creep me out, if I didn’t know for a fact we’re in a funhouse.”

“I’d be having more fun if I didn’t think Joker had modified one of these attractions,” Batgirl said. “It looks like we’ll have to crawl through there.”

“We’ll be vulnerable at the other end. If I were planning to set a lethal trap . . . .”

Batgirl nodded and crawled forward into the tunnel. Lieutenant Mooney followed and found there was room to crawl beside her cautiously moving companion. They were about to emerge when Batgirl seized the Lieutenant’s hand, pulling back.

Two dark shapes suddenly slammed into the floor at the spot their shoulder blades would have been if they had emerged from the tunnel. As indirect lights came up, the well-endowed explorers could see two objects deeply embedded in the wooden floor. Slowly, they realized the potentially murderous missiles were mechanical bats with ears transformed into sharp points and the lead edges of the wings honed to razor sharpness.

“Thanks,” Diana Mooney said. “I need to follow my own advice.”

“Let’s take it slow. Believe it or not, this part of the funhouse is called the Batcave.”

“How do you know?”

Batgirl pointed to a sign beneath which a coffin rested and from which two familiar belts dangled. “The Joker was definitely here,” she said slowly.

“You’re right! We found Mister Wallace. Come on!” the lovely Lieutenant urged.

“Hurrying in here might be exactly what Joker wants us to do,” Batgirl warned.

“The trap was already sprung,” the policewoman objected. “It should be safe.”

“Maybe,” Batgirl said cautiously. “Let’s make sure before we do anything stupid.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Batgirl wrenched one of the bats from the floor and flung it across the room. More bats with sharpened ears and wings impaled the floor.

“Joker and his people have been busy since they left us to die,” the Lieutenant remarked.

“Who knows how long this arrangement has been planned? Joker may have been working on it before the last time he was arrested.”

“Do you think it’s safe now?”

“I don’t know.” Batgirl sent the second bat skimming across the floor. It collided with the coffin, causing no new to bats to fall and impale the floor. “Let’s get Don Wallace out of that coffin, but don’t touch any of the bats. We don’t know with what Joker treated them.”

Lieutenant Mooney shuddered. “Ugh! I didn’t consider that possibility.”

Cautiously, the well-endowed explorers crawled from the spinning tunnel and rose to a crouch. They crossed the chamber without mishap, put on their respective belts, and examined the coffin in which they believed Don Wallace to be sealed.

“Did they just nail it shut?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“No,” Batgirl said. “They used caulk to make the coffin airtight, but this will take care of everything.” Batgirl handed a small hacksaw to her friend. “Let’s cut through the caulk and nails. The top should lift right off after we’re through.” Within five minutes the pretty pair was lifting the lid from the coffin. Don Wallace lay inside, breathing shallowly.

“Thank Heaven he’s still breathing,” Diana Mooney said.

Batgirl felt for his pulse and was relieved to find a slow heartbeat. “He hasn’t died yet. It looks like they put him to sleep.”

“It should be safe to lift him out of there, right?”

“I think so.” Together the two lifted Don Wallace from the coffin, carried him from the funhouse and set him on the ground. Batgirl then waved some smelling salts under his nose.

Seconds later, Don Wallace stirred. “Batgirl, it is you! Joker told me you would be dead long before I was, but you saved me from that . . . monster. How can I ever thank you?”

“Tell me what happened after I saved you from the acid bath Harley was going to give you. I’m afraid the story may provide our only clue to what Joker plans next.”

Don Wallace sat up. “Well, after that fight, Joker left me tied up above the pool of acid and the dunk tank you shot up, ma’am. By the way, thank you for saving me, too.”

“It was my pleasure, Mister Wallace,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“They then took the two of you away and, I guess, arranged to kill you. When they came back, Joker had the acid pool hosed down so his men could release me. They got me and carried me through the funhouse where his women had been working. It was a room called the Batcave and there was this coffin they put me in. After a short argument, they decided to use a spray on me. I think it came from Batgirl’s utility belt. Joker said I would last a couple of hours longer than I would otherwise and that they expected me to perish right about the time they told your bosses you had died.”

Batgirl stiffened. ‘Does Joker think Batman’s my boss?’ Putting the thought aside, she said, “You’ve been very helpful, Mister Wallace. Now that Joker and his gang believe you’re dead, if you stay out of sight, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about them trying to kill you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“If you wouldn’t mind spending some time in one of Gotham City’s best luxury hotels, I’m sure I can persuade the police department to put you up so you can testify against the Joker after we catch him,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Oh, I think I could be persuaded,” Wallace said eagerly. “When do I check in?”

“We can get you there from here. I’ll have someone pick up your things and there will be at least one officer with you at all times.”

“Great!” the Joker’s victim enthused.

“Mister Wallace, is there anything else you can think of that might help us figure out Joker’s plot?” Batgirl asked. “Putting that grinning criminal guru away will guarantee your safety.”

Don Wallace stood and thought for a moment. “I don’t know if this is important.”

“Anything could be important,” Batgirl said.

“Okay. Joker laughed and said using the sleeping spray on me was ‘charitable.’ All of his people thought using the word ‘charitable’ was the funniest thing they had ever heard. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because I know if I worked for the Joker, I’d be sure to laugh at his jokes, too. Besides, I had other things on my mind.” Don Wallace grinned and his audience smiled.

“Thank you for all of your help, Mister Wallace,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“That’s a really great idea! Have you figured out what Joker is planning?”

Diana answered, “I only know you told us Joker wanted to tell our superiors we were dead and thought the word ‘charitable’ was very funny.”

“That’s right,” Don Wallace confirmed.

“Joker used that word before he left us to die, too,” Batgirl recalled aloud.

“He did,” Diana Mooney agreed. “What do you think he meant?”

“Tomorrow the Commissioner and Chief O’Hara will be presiding at the opening of a carnival at the Jefferson Oval Gardens sponsored by the Police Benevolent Society,” Batgirl said. “Joker would find announcing our death there hilarious, and that’s not all. Bruce Wayne will deliver a keynote speech and present a one hundred thousand dollar donation.”

“Bruce Wayne is very popular,” Lieutenant Mooney remarked. “The event will be very well attended and they have a high goal for donations.”

“I know the Joker is a bold super criminal,” Don Wallace said. “Would he strike at the police in broad daylight, though? That seems crazy.”

“The caper sounds tailor made for him,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“He won’t succeed, though,” Batgirl said. “I’ll be there to stop him.” Batgirl left Don Wallace in her friend’s capable hands and hurried toward the Midtown Branch of the Gotham City Public Library. Barbara Gordon was late for work.

Shortly thereafter, as the lovely librarian began her work day, her father found his attention diverted from his dealings with the Joker to another front in his ongoing war on crime.

“Come in, Bonnie,” the Commissioner said in response to a polite knock on his double doors. “What is it?”

“A messenger just dropped off a bouquet of flowers for you,” she reported, presenting a fragrant mass of foliage with purple blooms.

“They’re lilacs,” the Commissioner said. “Is there a card? Unless I get a clue to the contrary, I’ll have to assume Louie the Lilac has returned to Gotham City to plague us!”

“Here we are, sir,” the public official’s secretary said, handing over a lavender envelope she pulled from among the blooms.

The Commissioner opened the envelope and read:

I’ve chosen the big show for an important announcement. Don’t miss it.

“It’s handwritten and the signature is two capital ‘L’s,” he mused.

“Then it’s obviously from Louie the Lilac,” Bonnie said.

“I’m not so sure, Bonnie. He shrugged and looked in the envelope to find a pair of tickets. “There are two tickets for the Gotham Garden Show along with this unusual note,” he said.

“It looks to me like Louie is daring Batman and Robin to stop him from doing something at that show,” Bonnie said.

“That may be precisely what we are meant to think, Bonnie. Poison Ivy is currently at large again. She’s been more active in recent days than Louie the Lilac has for years.”

“Okay,” the official’s secretary conceded. “Are you going to bring in Batman?”

“Ordinarily I would, but I think a woman might have a better chance of figuring out what I’m afraid is a Poison Ivy plot. Since, Batgirl is busy tracking the Joker, I’ll contact the Distaff Duo.”

“That’s encouraging, sir,” Bonnie enthused. “You’ll have two women working against her, giving you twice the feminine firepower.”

“Indeed, Bonnie. I sincerely hope I’m right and they’ll be able to cope with her in the same way an ointment soothes a bad rash!”

Presently, Batwoman and Flamebird presented their tickets for the Gotham Garden Show.

“Thank you for coming!” the handsome, young ticket-taker said. “What time will you be signing autographs?”

“I’d be happy to sign something for you, sir,” Flamebird, who was accustomed to accommodating her public as a top tennis star, offered.

“The fact is, we’ve come to enjoy the show like any other citizens of Gotham City,” Batwoman explained.

Half an hour later, they had satisfied several autograph hounds and retreated to a secluded corner of the show floor. There, concealed by a curtain of natural greenery, they studied the event’s schedule and formulated their strategy.

“Despite the Commissioner’s theory, every indication suggests it was Louie the Lilac who arranged our presence here,” Flamebird said. “What do you think he wants?”

“Louie might be Gotham City’s most entrepreneurial arch-criminal. In the past, he has cornered various flower-related markets and often seeks to recruit followers from his companies’ customers.”

“Lila’s Lilac Shop is located on Lavender Lane, and has served as a front for Louie’s activities before. That establishment will begin a prominent presentation in a matter of minutes,” Flamebird said. “Could we have been invited here to see it, Batwoman?”

“You may be right, Flamebird. The presentation is scheduled to be held in there.” Batwoman pointed to an enormous, lavender tent. “Let’s check it out. We wouldn’t want to be late for our date with Louie the Lilac. He may be planning a campaign of crime we can nip in the bud, so to speak.”

As they approached the large enclosure, Flamebird observed, “The scent coming from the Lila’s Lilac Shop tent is very strong, Batwoman.” The Goggled Gal sniffed the strong, flowery scent.

“At times, Louie the Lilac has used scented sprays to control his victims. We’d better use the Bat-Filters, just in case.”

“Good thinking, Batwoman.”

The Distaff Duo donned their Bat-Filters before entering the tent. Inside, they found citizens moving slowly through a fog pouring from two machines flanking an enormous, white screen upon which the face of Louie the Lilac could be seen speaking. As the mist-shrouded crowd moved past, money and valuables poured into enormous flower pots. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” the recorded voice of Louie the Lilac said. “I am delighted to have this opportunity to thank you for your generosity, which will enable us to realize our hopes and dreams for you and for the world.”

“It’s recorded gobbledygook,” Flamebird said.

Batwoman held up a kerchief she took from her utility belt and dropped it into an evidence bag after it had been thoroughly moistened in mist being pumped into the tent. “I think we’ll find this mist is behind these people’s generosity.”

“Shall we have a word with the proprietor?” Flamebird asked. “I’m interested in those malevolent machines.”

“Yes,” Batwoman said. “Let’s work our way over to them.”

The Distaff Duo moved through the crowd, which seemed strangely oblivious to their identities or presence. Reaching one of the mist machines, they spotted a curtain behind which they quickly stepped.

“Welcome, ladies,” a woman said. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The Distaff Duo found a smaller tent behind the main one with an entrance positioned behind each mist machine. The space had been set up as a laboratory. The speaker was a redhead wearing a leafy leotard, bright green nylons, darker green boots and gloves, as well as a dart launcher on each wrist. Three other women, a blonde; a brunette, and a woman with white hair were assisting her.

“We got your invitation, Poison Ivy,” Batwoman said.

“I hoped the tickets would attract someone interesting to my little event,” the redhead began. “I’m also pleased to report it’s raking in a lot of money.”

“We accepted in order to shut down your criminal plans!” Flamebird added. “I’d imagine your donors have no idea how generous they’re really being out there.”

“You’re quite right, Flamebird, but considering Louie the Lilac appears to be behind this profitable little enterprise, you’re going to have a problem there,” the redheaded rogue predicted.

“I think your reputation as an organic chemist, together with the evidence we’ve already gathered, will prove your guilt,” Batwoman replied.

“We’ll give you a chance to surrender and come quietly,” Flamebird offered.

“Ladies, hear me out before what could be a beautiful working relationship sours,” Poison Ivy said. “You must be aware there are capitalists all over the world who exploit our world for gross and excessive profits and that these people are unconcerned with the condition of the planet when their plans culminate.”

“I’ll admit there are some companies that are not good stewards of the environment,” Batwoman said. Flamebird nodded.

“I’ve decided to re-dedicate myself to a movement to punish that type of barbarism. We will seek it out; we will strike at it firmly; and we will get results,” the redhead explained. “We will strike the barbarians where it hurts – in the pocketbook. They’re almost never prepared to take such a hit and justice will be done, exactly to my liking.”

“It’s true some entrepreneurs could be more responsible,” Flamebird said, “and I understand raising awareness and exerting pressure on them publicly can be effective.”

“Since you recognize the problem, I am prepared to enable you to become part of the solution. Like-minded women and I have been fighting these crimes in our own way, but what our movement needs is organization, leadership, and publicity.”

“Your hard-line approach won’t win you many friends in the business community,” Batwoman cautioned.

“Some business leaders are little better than the politicians who use our issues as a means to line their own pockets. I’m much more concerned with influencing people than making friends.”

“Wouldn’t court cases against these environmental miscreants be more productive?” Flamebird asked.

“Successful litigation could provide the right kind of publicity, while advancing your cause,” Batwoman said.

“I’m afraid the law doesn’t always view things the way I do,” Poison Ivy lamented. “Take this despicable event, for example. Profiteers have harvested enormous crops of flowers they plan to sell to the public. I propose, once I’ve liberated essential funds from those who comprise the market for this . . . merchandise, to liberate the flowers and return them to the soil where they can flourish and enhance the ecosystem.”

“So, you plan to rob the patrons of this show and steal all of the flowers the vendors have brought to sell?” Flamebird inquired, cocking her head to one side.

“Isn’t that a little extreme?” Batwoman asked.

“In the service of our planet, no course of action is too extreme! I want you to understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“We understand you’re a terrorist, Poison Ivy,” Batwoman said.

“You may have a worthy cause, but your methods are unconscionable,” Flamebird lectured.

Poison Ivy rested her hands on her hips and regarded the Distaff Duo as she inhaled deeply. Slowly, she exhaled. “I see,” she said. “I was hoping to avoid the need for violence, but you leave me no choice.” She resignedly shrugged. “Get them!”

Veronica, Nancy, and Betsy rushed toward the Distaff Duo as the heroines sank into fighting crouches. Betsy was in the lead and her attack was met by both heroines high kicking in tandem. The white-haired warrior flew back between Nancy and Veronica, who separated as Batwoman and Flamebird pivoted in opposite directions.

Nancy engaged Flamebird with a fast combination the Girl Wonder fended off before landing a stunning punch. Before the goggled good girl could capitalize on her advantage, Betsy was back in the fight and coming to Nancy’s aide.

Veronica circled Batwoman, kicking at the heroine with powerful legs. Batwoman countered with a spinning kick and noticed Poison Ivy lining up her dart launchers to open fire. Batwoman grinned and dropped to one knee again and spun around once more, extending a leg as the yellow-clad crusader faced Veronica.

The henchwoman leaped into the air, but was dismayed to realize Poison Ivy had fired. Unfortunately for Veronica, she had become her leader’s only possible target and she felt nothing when her feet hit the floor and collapsed.

Flamebird, meanwhile, had Nancy and Betsy closing in on her from opposite sides. She leaped high into the air, snapping both feet into her opponents’ chins.

Batwoman grabbed Nancy and Flamebird caught up with Betsy seconds after she landed. The Distaff Duo flung the henchwomen bodily into one another. The heroines shook hands as Nancy and Betsy fell to the ground moaning.

Poison Ivy frowned as her followers succumbed. Undeterred, she tapped a button close to her hand that would summon additional aid in a matter of seconds.

“We’ve dealt with your girl goons, Poison Ivy,” Batwoman said.

“Congratulations, Batwoman and Flamebird,” the voluptuous villainess said. “Their failure demonstrates the need for my recruiting drive. With a little more help, my cause will be unstoppable.”

“I suspect your cause has more to do with lining your pockets, than with genuine concern over the environment,” Flamebird said. “In any event, we’ll never know for sure, because, for you, it is over!”

“Raise your hands and don’t try any tricks,’ Batwoman ordered.

“Would I resort to tricks in defeat?” Poison Ivy asked, grinning wolfishly as she raised her hands. Batwoman and Flamebird exchanged quizzical glances before stepping toward the voluptuous villainess with ready Batcuffs.

At the same moment, flowery garlands looped round the heroines’ shoulders; drew their arms to their sides; and a sharp, backward tug pulled them off balance. “I don’t need to do anything, when I’ve held Louie’s ladies in reserve the entire time!” The Distaff Duo hit the ground and felt their filter masks removed. “Meet Lila and Lotus.” Poison Ivy laughed as a powerful, flowery scent began asserting itself.

“That smell is overwhelming,” Batwoman said. “Flamebird, we’ve got to get out of here!”

“I’m getting weaker,” Flamebird lamented. “What’s . . . happening? Who are Lila and Lotus?”

“The lovely ladies who provided your tickets to this event,” Poison Ivy said.

The heroines began trying to return to their feet while concentrating on taking shallow breaths. Batwoman slowly reached her knees. Flamebird had nearly straightened when the powerful aroma finally overwhelmed the Goggled Gal.

Moments later, both heroines collapsed under their own weight. They settled helplessly onto their chests and were capable of doing little more than twitching.

A woman with curly, red hair wearing a flowery, purple dress followed a black-haired, Oriental woman into the tent. The dark-haired henchwoman wore a pale, purple dress with lilacs pictured near her right shoulder that fit her well enough to show off the proportional perfection of her figure. She towered over everyone as she spread her hands, regarding the defeated Distaff Duo impassively. The redhead smiled at the newcomers' victims with undisguised delight.

“Your blooms worked beautifully, Lila,” the Oriental woman complimented, speaking slowly and precisely.

“Louie’s stupefying aromatic spray never fails,” the redhead replied. “My blooms carry one of your more fantastic fragrances.”

“They’re all yours, ladies,” Poison Ivy said, gesturing at Batwoman and Flamebird and laughing. “Bundle them up so we can take them and put them to bed forever. Your floral arrangement was a complete success.”

Lila and Lotus nodded and stepped forward. The pair bent and wound the garlands around the defeated duo’s bodies, before securing the captives with professional efficiency.

Later, when the Distaff Duo recovered, the heroines found themselves confined inside a pair of narrow, downward-pointing cones formed from three supports holding several metal rings in position at regular intervals. These rings grew progressively larger as they went up the cones.

Batwoman's and Flamebird's ankles were bound at the bottoms of the cones, which had been deeply driven into a bed of rich, black soil. Their knees were tied together and additional ropes fastened their calves, thighs, and flaring hips to the supports beside them. Their narrow waists had been bent back and bound to the cones’ central support behind them. Higher up, additional bindings crisscrossed in the cleft between their breasts, holding their shoulders immobile and giving their chests superfluous definition. Their arms stretched between their shoulders and the supports to which their legs were bound and were tied in place at the wrists.

“It looks like Louie the Lilac’s ladies got us,” Flamebird said.

“So it seems, although they appear to be working for, or perhaps with, Poison Ivy,” Batwoman said.

Flamebird thrashed fiercely, but vainly, within the metal rings surrounding her. The bindings held her firmly in place. “I can’t move!” she complained.

Batwoman’s simultaneous struggles were equally fruitless. “Neither can I. We’ve got to figure out where we are and what these ladies plan to do to us,” she said.

“I can answer your questions, Distaff Duo,” Poison Ivy said, leading her own henchwomen as well as Louie the Lilac’s into the room. “As you may be aware, I have extensive plans to unite our ecologically-focused, activist movement on a worldwide basis. Naturally, the simplest place to begin was here in Gotham City. My first recruit was my old friend Louie the Lilac, who grew quite generous after he got wind of the new pheromones I’ve developed.”

“Apparently, you were busy in the short time you were back in prison,” Batwoman observed.

“Indeed,” Poison Ivy agreed, laughing.

“Do you expect us to believe you’ve developed pheromones for humans, that attract members of the opposite sex in the same way certain animals attract their mates in nature?” Flamebird demanded.

“Yes, I do, because you’re precisely correct, Flamebird,” the redheaded villainess replied. “I could ask Louie to explain how effective they are, but he’s very busy.”

“He’s probably handling the theft of every flower from the Gotham Garden Show,” Batwoman guessed.

“I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten the money you’re separating from the show’s patrons either,” Flamebird added.

Poison Ivy laughed. “You’re both quite perceptive. It’s too bad I have to be rid of you. If you’d agree to join my cause–”

“Forget it!” Batwoman interrupted.

“Not a chance!” Flamebird concurred one second later. She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Now, you were telling us about Louie the Lilac being utterly and inescapably in your thrall.”

“You’re quite inquisitive, for someone about to die.”

“I’m always interested in the workings of the criminal mind,” Flamebird replied. Batwoman looked on approvingly.

“Oh, very well. You’re right. Louis is under my spell, and he loves every minute of it,” Poison Ivy proudly bragged. “Look around you. We’re at his defunct fragrance factory on Lavender Lane. He was kind enough to remodel it to my exact specifications.”

“Just what did you have him do to the place?” Flamebird asked.

“He removed the main floor and filled in the basement with organic soil. Several of the lights were also replaced, but the fire suppression system remains perfectly intact.”

“I don’t understand,” Batwoman admitted.

“You will,” Poison Ivy said, grinning. “Are you ladies comfortable in my . . . tomato cages? You know, they accommodate your shapes much better than they would Batman and Robin’s.”

“I’ve never been so closely caged,” Flamebird admitted.

“What exactly are you planning to do to us?” Batwoman demanded.

“Oh, it’s mostly done already,” Poison Ivy said, chuckling. “The cages will, in concert with the weight of your bodies, slowly draw you both into the loose soil filling the gigantic flower box this building’s basement has become. Long before you hit bedrock, you’ll both be quite dead – having been . . . buried alive.”

“The soil seems too solid to permit our descent,” Batwoman objected.

“Oh, water will soften it up . . . slowly,” the voluptuous villainess confidently said.

“One entire story of a building filled with organic soil will be more than deep enough to sink both of you, once it’s transformed into mud,” Lila predicted.

“How soon may we begin preparing their graves?” Lotus asked, pronouncing every word with perfect diction.

“Immediately,” Poison Ivy replied, extending her hand and gesturing toward a wall lined with valves.

“I’ve been looking forward to getting rid of some caped crimefighters ever since Lila and Lotus sent the note to the cops,” Nancy said.

“No one will ever look for them in here,” Betsy predicted. “We’ll redo the floor after the soil settles and these two will have vanished without a trace.”

“The plot is rather brilliant, isn’t it?” Veronica concurred.

The five henchwomen moved to the valves. They waited expectantly for Poison Ivy’s signal to start the indoor rain.

“You’ll never get away with this, Poison Ivy!” Flamebird cried.

“The Terrific Trio will track all of you down and deal with you mercilessly, if this arrangement should somehow succeed,” Batwoman predicted.

“Time will tell,” the tantalizing tree-hugger decisively said. “Eradicate them!”

She turned as water burst from overhead spigots and led her minions from her indoor flower beds. The downpour drenched the Distaff Duo to the skin in a matter of seconds as water began forming puddles, slowly soaking and softening the soil beneath the doomed heroines.

As Poison Ivy prepared to plant Batwoman and Flamebird, Barbara Gordon sank drowsily into a comfy chair in her apartment. ‘I’ll just have a look at the news before I go to sleep,’ she thought.

She stiffened when maniacal laughter erupted from her television set. “Joker!” she said aloud.

“Good evening, friends. It’s the Joker. I should begin by thanking you all for tuning in to the latest edition of What’s My Crime? my exciting, unscheduled game show. Not that you had any choice, but with the effect of the writers’ strike still being felt, I’m sure you’ll find it more entertaining that anything else currently on TV!” He laughed maniacally once again as several viewers tried to change the channel, but discovered to their dismay the criminal was broadcasting on every frequency. “Now, let’s begin!”

Barbara stared at her television screen where Harley Quinn and Queenie, who wore a mask, stood behind podiums. The Joker stood to one side, acting as the show’s host.

Barbara paid no attention as Joker asked his ‘contestants’ questions. She had already guessed his questions would lead the authorities to the Police Benevolent Society charity event at Jefferson Oval Gardens. She had also recognized the nearby studios of KGC-TV and crossed her bedroom to spin the wall and undergo her tantalizing transformation into Batgirl, before hurrying to the television studios on her Batgirlcycle. With luck, she might apprehend the villain before he and his gang left the studio.

She spotted the Jokermobile outside and smiled. “I’m not too late, and it’s almost over,” she muttered, throwing her Batrope to the roof. ‘I think this wall goes right past the studio and there is a convenient window I can use to surprise them,’ Batgirl thought as she Bat-climbed the wall.

She smiled and pulled the window silently open, perching on the sill momentarily to assess the situation inside. Joker was laughing uproariously as Harley Quinn and Queenie vacated the game show set while Spade and Jack O’Shea followed, leaving two bound, gagged employees tied to a pair of the studio’s straight-backed chairs.

Joker stopped laughing and put a cell phone to his ear after it rang. “What is it?” he asked.

The Mountebank of Mockery listened.

“That’s impossible!”

The Jesting Jackanapes continued listening.

“Maria, you and I both know Batgirl is dead. She suffocated in a sweet, sticky tomb early this morning.”

The Green-haired Gargoyle frowned as he listened some more.

“Well, no. I haven’t had the bodies chipped free yet. In fact, you know perfectly well we haven’t been back to the park since we moved.”

The Clown Prince of Crime held the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Listen, Maria. You’ve done a fine job as our lookout. We’re on the way out anyway. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes. Goodbye.”

“Talk about boring television!” a familiar voice complained.

The Joker whirled to face the shapely superheroine apparently returned from the grave. “Batgirl!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t leave on my account, Joker,” the Curved Crusader said, sliding from the windowsill and striding purposefully toward the villain.

She was a little surprised to feel the floor depress slightly beneath her weight, but ignored that unusual fact until a squeak sounded an instant before a powdery cloud burst from below her. Instinctively, she leaped forward. Batgirl was only enveloped for a split second, but her minimal exposure was enough. The powder weakened her so she did not perform the powerful leap she had intended.

Instead, she landed six inches ahead of her previous position, releasing more powder and coughing uncontrollably. Her steps faltered as she bent over, convulsing painfully, unable to avoid inhaling more of the Joker’s perfidious powder. Seconds later, she fell unconscious onto her face and a third cloud of powder burst upward before settling onto her prone body, which lay motionless atop the cushion.

Joker laughed uproariously. “Well,” he said, “Batgirl was the last person for whom I imagined we set up that little reception. Batman’s once surprising mode of ingress has become utterly predictable.” He and his minions laughed. “Batgirl somehow seems to have freed herself from the cotton candy coffin we prepared. That pretty policewoman probably survived as well. It doesn’t matter now. She’s utterly helpless and all alone this time. Very soon, we’ll make those conditions permanent! Come on, gang. Let’s get her and go!” The others joined their lawbreaking leader’s mirth as they moved toward their captured would-be captor.

Later, Batgirl shifted and stretched as her closed eyes fluttered open. She found herself lying on the cold, cement floor of a circular chamber. A metal door was closed near her head. She moaned and blinked, rising and trying the door. She was not surprised to find it was locked.

Her hand instinctively went to where her Bat-laser was normally held against her waist in a pouch of her utility belt, but she found her gadget-laden girdle gone. She threw herself against the metal door and got nothing but a sore shoulder for her trouble.

Joker’s laughter enabled Batgirl to locate a speaker mounted in the wall high above her head. “Good evening, Batgirl. It seems you’ve returned to us, but I assure you your stay among the living will be quite brief!”

“Where am I, Joker?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in my telling you,” the fiendish funny man thoughtfully replied, laughing. “You find yourself utterly helpless in the specially modified chimney of the Katz, Katz, & Katz Oil Refinery.”

“I’m not helpless as long as I can think, Joker!”

“Well, there are only two ways out and you’ve already discovered how effectively one is barred.”

Batgirl nodded. Without her equipment or help, she would never be able to exit through the door.

“Look up, Batgirl.” She did and stared at the moonlit sky, fifty feet above her. “We’ve done the same to the other exit since Batman and Robin got out that way over a dozen years ago, literally.”

As Joker and his cohorts laughed, Batgirl’s eyes narrowed and she shuddered. Five metal bars now lay across the chimney top!

“I think you’ll agree, you’re trapped.”

“So it would seem,” Batgirl softly said.

“Don’t worry. The condition will be quite temporary. In just a moment, I’ll pump some deadly gas into that chimney with you. It will all be over soon. Just breathe until it covers you completely. I promise your death will be a gas!” The criminals all joined their master in his merry mirth.

“You’ll never get away with this, Joker. If I die, Batman and the others will make it their business to punish you. You can bet what they do to you will make you wish you’d stayed in prison!”

“You’ll wish you never came after me a lot sooner! Turn on the gas, Harley.”

“Bye bye, B-girl,” the colorful henchwoman called as a hiss sounded and a white mist began to billow around Batgirl’s ankles.

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