Until Set Straight Due to Batgirl’s Retort

Again and again, Batgirl’s legs extended as far forward as the moving, sloped surface upon which she ran allowed, but each step only resulted in her maintaining her perilous position relative to the spinning blades behind her. She leaned forward to maintain her balance, knowing she would be finished if she fell.

Fortunately, Batgirl was well-practiced at running in her high-heeled boots. Still, they were far from ideal track shoes.

The sharp, spinning blades rotated tirelessly, waiting patiently to cut her into tiny, bloody pieces. She was keenly aware of her planned fate, and knew Riddler’s murderous plans for her would be executed within seconds if her balance faltered.

Unfortunately, she inevitably would fall, and the more she tired, the more quickly the end would come. All Batgirl could do was continue running, hoping desperately she could discover a means to escape or get help.

Ordinarily, the Curved Crusader was totally self-reliant in deadly circumstances. Her trusty utility belt kept numerous, wondrous devices within easy reach around her waist, where she could use them to perform seemingly miraculous feats. Her enemies, who were well aware of her belt and its vast collection of crime-fighting tools, typically took it from her before leaving her to die, as the Riddler had.

Early in her war against crime, Batgirl had realized carrying an array of tools for survival in her boots and gloves would be absolutely essential for the many times she would be deprived of her utility belt. As she ran, however, she could think of nothing any of the backup implements she carried would be able to do to help her.

Without a helpful gadget, Batgirl had only her mind upon which to rely in planning her escape. Her body was wholly occupied with keeping ahead of the deadly, whirring blades and maintaining her balance. ‘Clearly, to survive, I’ll need outside help!’

Batgirl knew rescue was unlikely. She and her trapped companion had followed Riddler’s henchmen to his hideout and begun their investigation without contacting anyone. The Gotham City Police Force, with the exception of Lieutenant Diana Mooney, had no idea Batgirl was in danger and therefore had no reason to summon the Dynamic or Distaff Duos. Neither would rescue Batgirl.

The policewoman stood staring helplessly with wide-eyed horror at the whirring blades she knew would soon shred her friend’s flesh. The razor-sharp, rotating shapes formed a single wall of her prison. Cement bricks formed the sides of her makeshift cell, while the wall behind her could move and held an array of deadly spikes, which had threatened her earlier, before having been retracted. She was not in immediate danger, but Lieutenant Mooney felt powerless to help her friend. She imagined she could do nothing but watch and wait for the end.

“Batgirl, I am so sorry,” the Lieutenant softly said.

“Don’t be, Diana,” Batgirl urged. “I’m not dead yet.” Because she could not stop exercising, Batgirl spoke in short sentences, corresponding with her exhaled breaths.

Elsewhere, in the Riddler’s little-used gymnasium, Anna Gram reclined comfortably in a rotating, leather chair in the facility’s control room with her legs extended and her ankles crossed. He feet rested beside a computer monitor at which she gazed, eagerly watching Batgirl’s plight play out. Her hands worked mechanically at cleaning the sand-encrusted pistol she had taken from Lieutenant Mooney the previous day and retrieved on her way to her perfidious post. The other captured pistol rested beside the computer keyboard, fully loaded.

“You look comfortable,” Riddler remarked, entering the facility’s nerve center.

“You took your time getting here,” the girl replied.

“I checked on the men and told them to rub our captives down thoroughly and vigorously one more time. We’ll need to be going soon.”

“Why? I’m enjoying Batgirl’s workout and I don’t want to miss anything,” the girl replied. “It will all be over, soon enough.”

“There is no telling to whom our newest guests spoke before they came here.”

“You want new arrivals to find nothing but the bodies when they investigate?”

“Batgirl’s remains will literally be a bloody mess, but Lieutenant Mooney will remain quite intact . . . at least physically.”

“Why spare the Lieutenant?” Anna Gram asked, standing and turning to face her employer with a determined look. “I have two of her guns and lots of her bullets. They provide me with more than enough lead to finish her, if I were to return them. She’s as helpless as a fish in a barrel.” The girl displayed the cleaned, loaded weapon for her employer’s inspection, spinning the cylinder happpily before setting the gun carefully aside.

“Oh, my dear Anna, you appreciate neither the scope of my plans nor my motives,” the Riddler explained. His companion cast a questioning glance at him. “You recall how Clock King saved Batgirl before she had me arrested the last time we worked together?”

“Of course,” Anna Gram replied. “You found a cave containing a hoard of Viking treasure that would have made all of us rich enough to buy our own continent. After Batgirl found us, you left her in the cave, awaiting the incoming tide, which should have drowned her.” Anna Gram frowned. “We returned to the shore and found Clock King waiting. When he finished with us, our plans were a complete shambles!”

“Naturally, I tried to use the historical significance of my discovery to lessen all of our sentences, but it didn’t work. The treasure was all gone when the authorities went to the cave.”

“How could it have been?” Anna Gram demanded. “That cave was packed with treasure! They went to the right cave, didn’t they?””

“They did. We’ll have to ask Clock King about the details. Needless to say, my discovery did nothing to influence our sentences, and it got worse.”

“How could it?”

“The authorities committed me. They said I was insane. It took me months to convince them otherwise.”

“Riddler . . . that’s horrible. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Batgirl knew better and did nothing!” the villain angrily explained. “The authorities, like her best friend on the force, Lieutenant Diana Mooney, are equally guilty of inaction in my eyes! While the doctors studied me, I developed an interest in the riddle of the human mind, and Batgirl’s best friend is in the perfect position to help me work on that riddle – after Batgirl’s time runs out.”

“You mean, you’re making her watch helplessly as her best friend dies?” Anna Gram asked, brightening as she retreated, convulsing slightly with delighted laughter. “You hope she goes nuts, don’t you, Riddler?” The girl regarded her employer as the enormity of the scheme struck her. “Your plans for her are utterly fiendish. All I wanted to do was kill her.”

Riddler giggled as Anna Gram went on laughing, holding out her hands slightly and bending her legs to maintain her balance.

“Lieutenant Mooney will never experience what I did, but she will be put through an emotional wringer that may give her a tiny taste of what I experienced,” Riddler said, standing rigidly immobile. “Revenge is utterly delicious.” After a silent moment, Riddler leaped into the air, spun around, and sat where his henchwoman’s feet had been when he arrived. “Now, Anna, how is our more lucrative enterprise going?”

Anna Gram leaned forward and smiled at her leader as he grinned at her ample chest. The girl’s fingers tapped at the keyboard. “Our plans have two dimensions at the moment. An account was set up to receive the charity donors’ contributions. Unfortunately, we have to wait for the banks to open to begin monitoring the transactions. As for the new arrangements for our hostages, Honest Gabe has agreed to help with the initial details, if you’ll drop off the captives. Of course, he’ll charge a hefty fee on top of what we’re already paying for his services, but the new proposal offers certain advantages, like time. Our master stroke requires a lot of work and we’ll need some time to rest before we strike.”

“When this caper is complete, we’ll have no trouble covering our expenses, and reaping a disgustingly gross profit to boot.” Riddler giggled maniacally, standing; convulsing; and beating his thighs. “You seem pleased with the work Honest Gabe has done here at the gym for us. Did you arrange to deliver the hostages?”

“Honest Gabe is expecting us in a couple of hours. I didn’t want to miss a minute of Batgirl’s exit.”

“Beautiful!” Riddler said. “You do splendid work, too. We need to go encourage the boys to wrap things up or they’ll massage the prisoners forever.”

“What about the show?” Anna Gram demanded, glancing at the screen on which Batgirl’s impending demise was unfolding.

“I’m having it broadcast so we can monitor it on the Internet later. Come!”

“I suppose Batgirl’s final moments will be just as fascinating . . . as a rerun,” Anna Gram grinned wolfishly and allowed her employer her help her into a black, belted coat with white trim. She fastened the buttons and buckled the belt, both of which matched the trim and the epaulets on the shoulders. “I adore you, Riddler,” she said, tucking both of her guns beneath the belt. “You’ll make us both filthy rich and we’ll have such fun.”

“There will be ample time to celebrate the success of my plans.”

“I can’t wait,” Anna Gram said eagerly, moving toward the door.

‘Neither can I,’ Riddler thought, eyeing her lasciviously as he followed.

In the stairwell, Batgirl went on running as Lieutenant Mooney watched. “This is ridiculous!” the policewoman fumed. “There must be something we can do!”

“I don’t have my equipment . . . and I’m working my butt off . . . just to maintain my position,” Batgirl said between panting breaths. “It may be up to you, Diana.”

“I don’t have a vast array of helpful gadgets, but I am armed,” she said. “Maybe I can shoot out the works of the treadmill!” The Lieutenant began to study the mechanism critically. “It’s too wide!” she complained after a few minutes. “I could shoot up the surface, but I’d have no guarantee of damaging the rollers underneath, and I don’t want to think about what a stray shot would do to you if it ricocheted off the walls.”

Both women remained silent for a beat.

“Could you brace your arms and legs against the walls of the staircase and climb up to the landing?” Lieutenant Mooney queried.

“Your plan might work,” Batgirl said. “I’d need . . . every ounce . . . of my strength and . . . a single slip . . . or a moment of fatigue . . . . ”

“I see what you mean,” the Lieutenant dejectedly said.

“What about the wall behind you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Could you . . . climb the spikes?” Batgirl asked. “We can’t turn . . . off the treadmill from here.”

“You’re right,” Lieutenant Mooney said, cheering up. “If I shoot up the wall, I might be able to climb the spikes and get out of here. Then, I’ll have to find the controls and turn off the treadmill.”

“Hurry!” Batgirl said. “I can’t keep up this . . . pace much longer!”

Lieutenant Mooney drew her weapon and fired into the wall opposite the sharpened, spinning shapes, closely grouping her shots. She stepped to the bullet holes and pounded at them with the butt of her gun. The bullet-ridden portion of the wall collapsed inward, exposing the retracted spikes which had threatened to impale the policewoman earlier.

“I’ll have to tear down this wall,” the Lieutenant said thoughtfully.

“Who cares?” Batgirl demanded. “Just do it!”

“Right!” Lieutenant Mooney gripped the upper edge of the hole she had made in the wall and pulled. A crack formed and the policewoman set her feet, crouched, and pulled viciously. Pieces of the wall fell away and a white dust cloud billowed behind it.

“I hope there isn’t any asbestos in there,” she muttered.

The Lieutenant repeated her actions, pulling away part of the lower portion of the wall. “See you soon,” she said, climbing among the spikes and ascending the interior of the wall.

On the treadmill, Batgirl listened to her friend’s efforts, trying to imagine the Lieutenant seeking an escape route inside the wall. More gunfire and a tremendous crash soon indicated the policewoman’s emergence from the wall, at some location higher than Batgirl's.

The purple-clad super heroine knew her friend’s escape did not guarantee a successful rescue. Diana Mooney had been a lot less than stealthy while escaping and Riddler was perfectly capable of preparing a nasty reception for her.

Batgirl also worried whenever her friend entered a vast configuration of unfamiliar corridors. Catwoman had sealed the young policewoman in two different labyrinths and these experiences had taken a severe toll on her mind. First, an electrified maze had been set up on one level of the Feline Fiend’s Catlair and policewoman Mooney had only come through that experience after Robin, another of Catwoman’s captives at the time, had found her and helped her pull herself together. On another occasion, the Lieutenant had found herself and her squad trapped in extensive catacombs the Princess of Plunder could rearrange according to her cruel whims. The Dynamic Duo had helped her through that harrowing experience as well. While it was unlikely Riddler’s newly remodeled, little-used gymnasium would trigger the lovely Lieutenant’s labyrinthphobia, Batgirl could not help being concerned.

The Curved Crusader’s balance suddenly faltered and she leaped forward, landing like a cat to absorb the shock. She righted herself and was compelled to resume running instantly to avoid being drawn back into the spinning, sharp shapes the villains had set to destroy her.

Batgirl’s legs felt like lead, but she willed them to move. Her arms worked to keep her balanced as she resumed her endless run. After a few minutes, she bent forward, breathing heavily. ‘This pace is killing me,’ she thought. A wry smile curled her lips as she considered the irony of her thoughts as she pressed on, willing herself to keep running. Any attempt at rest would obviously prove fatal. “Hurry, Diana,” the superheroine said, panting.

She began to concentrate on extending her legs with each stride. ‘Got to . . . keep . . . running!’ she told herself.

While Batgirl kept herself in tip-top physical condition, she was reaching the limits of even her endurance. She had not slept since being awakened two nights ago by the Riddler’s Polaris Sky Writer. Since then, she had been in three fights, completely immersed in boiling water, embarked on a foot chase after Riddler, and had been running rapidly on his treacherous treadmill for several minutes.

Batgirl’s efforts continued. Her feet pounded the treadmill one after another. She maintained her place on the moving, sloped surface. The stair railings were moving at the same rate as the surface and were thus useless. The walls of the claustrophobic corridor prevented Batgirl from reaching either the staircase above or below.

Her utility belt dangled tantalizingly beyond her grasp. Damaging the apparatus threatening to kill her was as impossible as climbing to safety. Her only hope now was Lieutenant Diana Mooney. The thought that her friend would soon turn off Riddler’s malevolent machinery kept Batgirl going.

Again she stumbled and leaped forward to regain her balance. Landing on the moving, sloped surface of the treadmill in her high-heeled boots was a tricky proposition. Batgirl would have needed to concentrate, even if she had been both alert and fresh. On the verge of exhaustion and with worry for her friend gnawing at her psyche, her legs refused to support her weight when she landed. Her body slammed hard into the treadmill, knocking the wind from her.

Horror-stricken, Batgirl felt her body drawn inexorably backward toward the spinning, sharpened blades. There was nothing she could do to save herself!

Batgirl had known when she began fighting crime she might someday go after a villain and not come back. Most of her enemies had tried to kill her in the course of her adventures and some tried multiple times after their first attempt failed. Now, as her tired muscles refused to let her rise and resume running, she knew the Riddler’s trap was about to cut her to pieces.

Within seconds, she would feel the bite of the blades as they began chewing through her boots. Blood would flow and she wondered how long she would remain aware as her feet and then her legs were chopped to bits. Since hope for survival was gone, she could only look forward to the shock blood loss would quickly induce. Batgirl closed her eyes and prayed for sleep. ‘Will I lose consciousness before my waist is drawn into the blades?’

The world was silent when Batgirl opened her eyes.

The treadmill, which had become a conveyor belt, drawing Batgirl to her horrendous fate, had stopped. The spinning shapes set to slice Gotham City’s Shapely Sentinel into bloody slivers of flesh; muscle; and bone had also become motionless.

Batgirl shifted her legs and stretched. Then, she froze. “I’m alive,” she said. Her voice registered surprise. “I’m also intact.” Suddenly, she realized how she had survived. ‘Diana shut the Riddler’s deathtrap down!’ she thought.

The heroine rose to her knees and crawled to the top of the slope where she regained her feet and reached for her utility belt. She had just buckled it around her waist when she realized someone was approaching the other side of the door through which Riddler had disappeared. She flattened herself against the wall, waiting.

The doorknob turned. The door moved inward. A female figure stepped through. “Diana!” Batgirl said, exhaling and collapsing against the wall, relaxing. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the Lieutenant said. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you Riddler’s control room. We’ll be much more comfortable there.”

“Let’s get out of here!” Batgirl urged, shuddering.

“We’ll take it slow,” the Lieutenant decided, watching Batgirl move with agonizing stiffness through the door into a hall.

“It seems Riddler was well prepared to utilize this little-used gymnasium,” Batgirl observed, plopping gratefully into the comfortable chair Anna Gram had occupied earlier.

“He’s wired the whole place for vision and sound. He, his people, and his hostages took off after springing his little trap on you.”

“Typical,” Batgirl said, slamming her fist into her palm. “He did, however, give us a few clues to his plans.”

“The riddles he gave us before he left you to die?” the Lieutenant asked. “Let me see if I can remember mine. ‘It dies half its life, but lives the rest, and dances without music while breathing without breath. What is it?’”

“Good question,” Batgirl said, yawning. “Let me see if I can remember the one Riddler gave me.” She thought for a moment. “‘I’m a wee wee man in a red coat, with a staff in my hand and a stone in my throat. What am I?’”

“I’m stumped,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

Batgirl stood and began pacing the room. “Let’s start with your riddle,” she said. “It’s a living, breathing thing that is dead half the time. When it’s alive, it dances without music.”

“Something alive that is dead half the time?” Lieutenant Mooney asked. “It’s not an animal, that’s for sure.”

“It could be a plant, though,” Batgirl said. “Plants die in winter and grow back in the spring. I think a plant could also be said to breathe without breath.”

“So, it’s a plant that dances without music,” Diana Mooney said. “It could be a flower, a shrub, a vine, or even moss.” The policewoman threw up her hands. “But plants don’t dance!”

“Moss,” Batgirl muttered.

“It isn’t gathered on rolling stones–”

“What did you say, Diana?”

“A rolling stone gathers no moss.”

“Before citing the quotation,” Batgirl quickly said.

“I said plants don’t dance.”

“No. You said it about the other riddle and it’s related to moss somehow.”

“I said the other riddle stumps me.”

Batgirl snapped her gloved fingers. “Moss grows on stumps or even trees, which become stumps when they’re cut down.”

“Trees could be said to ‘dance’ when the wind blows,” the policewoman mused. “You’ve done it, Batgirl!”

“The answer to the first riddle is a tree or trees,” Batgirl said. “What about the second one?”

“The riddle asks what is a little man holding a staff who swallowed a stone,” the Lieutenant said. “Let’s imagine the answer is a kind of plant like the first riddle was.”

“A stone inside might be a seed,” Batgirl mused. “The staff could be a stem.”

“Part of a plant attached with a stem having the seed inside . . . I’ll bet it’s a fruit, like a grape.”

“I think you’re close, Diana. Grapes grow on vines, though. We’re probably looking for a fruit tree.”

“Plums, apples, pears, peaches, or nectarines would be possibilities.”

“I think our fruit is smaller. What about cherries?” Batgirl asked. “The man in the riddle wore a red coat.”

“Why not an apple?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Cherries have single seeds.”

Diana Mooney snapped her fingers. “I think you solved it. Riddler is pointing us to a cherry tree! . . . but that’s a funny clue to a robbery.”

“Maybe not,” Batgirl said. “I read that the Gotham City Players Guild will perform Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard for a well-to-do matinee audience today.”

“We’ll need some rest before the next round, if you’re right,” the Lieutenant pointed out.

“True. We also have one more riddle to work on before we go after him again.”

“What other riddle?”

“Riddler left it on every computer screen at the Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation offices.”

“Good thinking, Batgirl. Given everything that’s happened, I’d forgotten about it. What did that riddle say?”

“’What can be driven, but has no wheels, or sliced while remaining whole?’” Batgirl reported.

“Let’s see,” the Lieutenant mused. “Driving implies a vehicle or an animal. Horses don’t have wheels and neither do boats. Slicing either of those will damage them, though, particularly boats.”

“Riddler’s crimes have had a sporting undercurrent so far,” Batgirl said. “Fencers can slice, but would cause damage. There are many means of target shooting which would do the same thing.”

“You’re right. Archery or the use of various firearms could cause slices, to say the least, but the targets would certainly be damaged. I think the sports idea, though, is on track.”

“One could drive a home run over the fence or slice the ball foul, but I can’t think of a connection between cherry trees and baseball.”

“What about golf?” Diana Mooney asked.

“That’s it! The ball is driven off the tee and could be sliced without being damaged!”

“Okay!” the Lieutenant said. “The answer to the riddle is a golf ball. What do golf balls have to do with cherry trees?”

“I saw an ad in the paper a few days ago for an upcoming charity golf tournament at a course called . . . The Cherry Orchard!”

“I’ll bet our friends at the Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation are sponsoring it,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“You’re probably right,” Batgirl said. “I’d have to double check. Do you think Riddler left us any other clues here?”

“I’ll send a forensics team to examine every speck of dust in this place and find out,” Lieutenant Mooney replied. “Let’s get out of here and rest up for our confrontation at the golf course.”

“Good thinking,” Batgirl said. “I’ll see you later?”

“I have a report to write before my daily nap.”

Barbara Gordon moaned hours later as a telephone rang. She shifted and blinked, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. The phone rang again and Barbara realized she was not listening to the telephone serving Barbara Gordon at her apartment. She had changed the ring tone for Batgirl’s cell phone to enable her to distinguish between them. ‘This call is for Batgirl!’

In the past, Batgirl’s phone or pager had set some of the Curved Crusader’s most memorable adventures in motion. She had been awakened to discover a body Nora Clavicle had left for her at the docks and been carefully led into trap after deadly trap until she had been forced to participate in an ambitious, deadly experiment before it ushered the fiendish feminist to an uncertain fate.

On another occasion, her friend, Lieutenant Mooney had been taken by Catwoman and tortured to reveal Batgirl’s phone number. The Feline Fiend had invited the Curved Crusader to stop a robbery and to save her good friend.

The Princess of Plunder had passed Batgirl’s phone number along to Vixen, a high priced harlot who was one of her most able henchwomen. The call girl had called upon Batgirl to help her investigate a murder and the two had found themselves in a deadly struggle with the mysterious Spider-Priestess.

Not all of these calls that awakened Barbara Gordon had led to life-threatening situations. One had been from the Minstrel and summoned Batgirl to Cuba, where they had genuinely enjoyed a fantastic dinner at his hotel. She had gone to him to keep a promise and their parting had proven bittersweet, perhaps surprisingly. She smiled, recalling the encounter and moaned again as her memories swirled through her mind.

Batgirl’s phone rang again!

Barbara rolled from her bed and crossed her bedroom, spinning the wall and reaching for the phone as it rang yet again. She yawned and shook her head before raising it to her ear. “This is Batgirl,” she said.

“Hello, sleepy head,” a male voice said.

“Daddy, I hope you aren’t calling from the office!”

“No, Pumpkin,” the Commissioner replied. “Lieutenant Mooney came in late this morning and wrote her report. She said you both thought Riddler would target the golf tournament the Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation is sponsoring today at the Cherry Orchard course.”

“That’s true. I reread an article about it in the paper when I got in this morning. The grand prize will be given to the winner in cash after the final round. I’d imagine Riddler will try to steal it. He is also holding the women he kidnapped last night as hostages. That scheme is related to the charity somehow, but I’m not certain of the details.”

“The Department has received numerous calls about death threats against Dawn Morgan and Eva Knight. Apparently, Riddler wants a million dollars from every contributor to the Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation before the end of today’s tournament.”

“I can assure you, Riddler’s threat against the women is real,” Barbara said.

“We’re taking it seriously,” the Commissioner assured her. “The bank tells us the amount Riddler demanded has already been deposited in an account Riddler set up. The bank is poised to freeze those assets.”

“Have we made any progress in tracking down Riddler?”

“I’m afraid not. Everything we found at Riddler’s little-used gymnasium and the Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation’s offices led to a dead end. Also, most of the charity’s accounts have been drained and we’re working with their bank to try figuring out where that money went.”

“We’ll have to take Riddler at the golf tournament,” Barbara decided. “We can ask him about his ill-gotten gains then.”

“It looks that way,” the Commissioner agreed. “Chief O’Hara has made the police a more prominent presence at the tournament and I’m on my way to do what I can to help out.”

“I just had an idea, Daddy,” Barbara said. She spoke quickly for several minutes.

“I’ll make a call and see what I can do,” the Commissioner said in response.

“Great! I’ll be at the golf course shortly. See you soon.”

“Thanks, Pumpkin. Be careful.”

They said goodbye simultaneously and hung up. Barbara then tossed the oversized shirt she had worn to bed aside and headed for the bathroom. Half an hour later, she was undergoing her tantalizing transformation and shortly thereafter was racing toward the Cherry Orchard Golf Course on the Batgirlcycle at the top legal speed.

Shortly after Batgirl’s arrival, as she checked in with the police, evil events were taking place in the prize tent.

“The genuine championship trophy will be all ours in a matter of minutes!” Riddler crowed, leaping onto the trailer carrying the valuable statue.

“Don’t forget the case of cash containing its equivalent value,” Anna Gram added, grinning. “The trophy will be tricky to sell on the black market, but the money will be practically untraceable.”

“Hurry up, boys,” Riddler urged. “This part of the operation must be accomplished quickly. I want to be long gone when our hand is revealed.”

Wilson and Rawlings straightened and presented themselves to their leader. “How do we look?” Wilson asked.

“The uniforms fit you well enough,” Anna Gram said, stepping around them to examine them from every angle.

“We won’t need them for very long,” Rawlings said, shrugging.

“They’ll serve to minimize interference as you complete your work.”

“Shall we get on with the switch?” Anna Gram asked.

“By all means,” Riddler agreed. “Boys, get the trophy we brought while Anna and I find the prize money.”

“What makes you so sure it’s here already?” Anna Gram asked. “Anyone could bring the case of money later.”

“This golf tournament is steeped in tradition and such arcane practices trump good sense when certain decisions are made. Besides, one would need to be a very clever crook to walk off with the solid gold trophy. These idiots had to have been posted here to guard something else.” As he spoke, Riddler gestured at two men his goons had gagged, stripped of their uniforms, and staked helplessly to the ground. They struggled vainly as the criminals’ work proceeded.

Riddler's men had wheeled an enormous trophy with two life-sized female figures on top into the tent and moved off with the genuine item before Anna Gram triumphantly called. “Here it is.”

Riddler raced to where she was crouched beside a podium. “Make sure,” he ordered. “Mistakes at this stage could be extremely costly.”

“Certainly,” the titian-haired temptress agreed, opening the locked case. “It’s beautiful!” Anna Gram grinned at the money with hungrily glittering eyes.

A gesture prompted her to close the case and hand it to her employer. “One last thing,” Riddler said. He moved to a case he had brought with him and tossed it to Anna, who placed it where she had found the money. Then, she crossed the tent and joined him at the door. “We were brilliant.” Riddler kissed Anna Gram hard on the lips before they turned.

“The duplicate case was heavier than it needed to be, boss,” she said. “Why?”

“We needed to give the authorities a clue where to find our hostages, now that they’ve served their purpose.”

“I thought the boys would attend to them, one way or another.”

“Oh, they did, my dear,” Riddler said. “I can’t go into detail here, though.”

“You’re wonderful, Riddler,” Anna said, looking up at him with naked adoration. “We’re rich and about to get away totally unscathed. All opposition was dealt with hours ago. There’s nothing left to do but follow Lieutenant Mooney’s delicious descent into career-ending madness, while we improve our suntans and celebrate our criminal success.”

“You’re quite right, my dear,” Riddler said. “We became too . . . busy . . . to check on our doomed damsels’ demise and mental destruction.”

“Who could possibly complain?” Anna Gram asked, grinning impishly. “It isn’t as though the time was wasted.”

“Not at all,” Riddler agreed, “even though you fell asleep.”

“That wasn’t entirely my fault,” the girl said. “Besides, you woke me up, and I’m not sorry.”

Riddler shrugged and raised his voice before commanding, “Let’s go!”

They hurried to their getaway car arm in arm.

“Begorra!” Chief O’Hara cried in dismay, staring at the officers Riddler’s men had attacked after he led the Commissioner, Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney into the prize tent. “That tricky devil has already been here.”

Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney knelt beside the guards and freed them.

“Take it easy, guys,” Batgirl encouraged as the bare-chested officers sat up and began rubbing circulation into their extremities.

“Now,” Lieutenant Mooney added, “take your time and tell us what happened.”

“Ridder’s men attacked us before taking our uniforms and weapons,” the first man explained.

“He replaced the winner’s trophy and the prize money with those,” the second guard added, indicating the bizarre, huge trophy and the duplicate case. “He, his goons, and a girl left here less than five minutes ago.”

“We’re too late!” the Commissioner exclaimed. “He’s won.”

“Did he leave a riddle for us?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

The hapless guards shook their heads. “I don’t think so,” one said.

“According to Batman,” the Commissioner said, “if Riddler stops leaving riddles, both his game and his crimewave are over.”

“Speaking of Batman,” Batgirl said, “how did you do executing the idea I shared with you earlier, Commissioner?”

“I didn’t get a chance to speak to Batman, but the voice that often answers the Batphone said your plan would be executed.” Batgirl raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Shortly after I got off the Batphone, the Batdrone plane flew through a window I opened for it carrying some mildly radioactive spray. I had the money Riddler stole treated, and a portable Batometer is capable of tracking the radioactivity.”

“So, we can track Riddler?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“The Batometer can track the treated money almost anywhere within a fifty mile radius,” Batgirl explained.

“Let’s take a look at what he left behind,” Chief O’Hara suggested. “He may tell us something else unintentionally.”

“That’s good thinking, Chief,” Batgirl complimented.

“Are you certain you have time?” the Commissioner asked.

“I suspect Riddler will want to transform the gold from the trophy into a less recognizable form,” Batgirl replied. Her voice grew confident as she went on. “We’ll get him.”

“There are plenty of abandoned factories where he could do that job,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “We’ll never search all of them before he’s finished.”

“Let’s look inside that case first,” Batgirl said.

“It’s locked,” Chief O’Hara said.

Batgirl used a tool from her belt to open it.

“Sure and the ‘money’ inside looks funny,” Chief O’Hara said. “It’s got question marks all over it.”

Commissioner Gordon picked up a faux bill and read: “‘You’re in a place called Bobby's world and there is only one Law. There is a mirror, but no reflection. There is pizza with cheese, but not sausage. There is pepper, but no salt. There is a door, yet no entrance or exit. What is the law?’”

“I don’t understand,” Chief O’Hara admitted.

“A mirror, pizza, cheese, pepper, and a door,” Batgirl muttered. “Nothing related to those items is allowed.”

“Is it some kind of twisted recipe?” Lieutenant Mooney asked. “Pizza, cheese, and pepper could be associated.”

“How would the mirror and the door fit in?” the Commissioner asked.

“Why would Riddler replace the money with this riddle?” Chief O’Hara demanded.

“I think you may have done it, Chief!” Batgirl said excitedly.

“What did I do?” the Irish-American asked.

“You gave me the idea of a replacement, or a double.”

“So what?”

“Well, a mirror, pizza, cheese, and doors are all spelled with double letters. The name of Riddler’s fictitious place is ‘Bobby’s World.’”

“‘Bobby’ is also spelled with double letters,” The Commissioner said.

“So,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Everything in Bobby's world must contain double letters in each word. Riddler replaced the money and the trophy and kidnapped two hostages earlier.”

Everyone stared at the two female figures atop the over-sized trophy.

The Commissioner incredulously began, “You don’t suppose–”

“Let’s find out.” Batgirl approached the trophy, reached up and gently touched one of the female figures. The painted skin yielded to the touch. “These figures are real!” she reported, horrified.

“They’re paralyzed in position,” observed Lieutenant Mooney, “and covered in gold paint!”

“Come on!” Chief O’Hara urged. The six crimefighters, including the two guards who had been following the conversation with a combination of bewilderment and amazement, quickly worked to get the volleyball players down from their perch. Dawn Morgan and Eva Knight, still clad in their bikinis, were carefully lowered to the ground. “They’re still alive.”

“Get a medic over to the prize tent, now!” the Commissioner ordered with his cell phone.

“Although death by skin suffocation is a myth, they may be suffering from elevated body temperatures,” Batgirl said. She removed a bottle of liquid from her utility belt and looked at her cohorts. “Do you have any handkerchiefs?”

The Commissioner and Chief O’Hara offered theirs. Batgirl put some of the liquid on each and offered one to Lieutenant Mooney. “See if you can get some of that paint off.”

Batgirl and the Lieutenant vigorously rubbed the bodies of the two athletes, wiping away a good deal of the paint, while Gordon, O’Hara and the other two officers looked on with a mixture of concern and interest.

“They’re breathing easier now,” Batgirl said. “I think they’ll recover.”

“Thank Heavens!” declared the Commissioner.

The emergency over, Batgirl looked around the tent. “I don’t see any more clues, which may mean the Riddler’s scheme is complete.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” the Lieutenant asked. “He thinks he’s accomplished everything he set out to do.”

“Right,” Batgirl agreed. “He hasn’t left any more riddles. Unless we find him before he leaves town, he’ll get away.”

“Come on!” Lieutenant Mooney urged. “He’s probably already melting down that trophy.”

“Thanks for backing me up, Diana,” Batgirl said. “We have an advantage now, since Riddler thinks I’m dead and you’re trapped.”

“We aren’t being guided to a crime scene where Riddler will be gone or expecting us, either,” Lieutenant Mooney agreed, grinning. “It’s nice to have an advantage for a change.”

“Excellent, Diana,” Batgirl enthused. “I see no reason to delay Riddler’s return to jail. Let’s go!” Batgirl and the Lieutenant hurried away.

“Godspeed!” called Commissioner Gordon.

“Good hunting!” said Chief O’Hara.

The two other men were too impressed to say anything.

Meanwhile, fiery light illuminated the criminals as they completed preparations to transform the trophy at an abandoned, riverside metalworking factory. Wilson and Rawlings shoveled fuel into a blazing fire as Riddler stirred a vat of liquid gold with what looked like a wooden paddle. Anna Gram stood on the other side of the vat using a cutting torch with a flame as long as a light saber to cut the golden figures from the trophy into pieces Riddler stirred into his vat of molten wealth as they melted.

“You know,” the girl thoughtfully began, gently dropping a golden hand into Riddler’s vat of molten soup, “lately we’ve been very focused on your scheme to the exclusion of all else.”

“My plan is about to pay off handsomely, Anna. At this stage, there is nothing else to consider. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not complaining,” the redhead explained defensively, “but back when you discovered the Viking treasure cave and we thought Batgirl was dead, you said when Batman came after us to do something about her demise, you’d be waiting and then send him to join her beyond the mortal coil.” She grinned wolfishly.

“We were at a different, earlier stage of my plans then when we thought Batgirl had departed for a better place,” Riddler said.

“I know,” Anna Gram said, shrugging. “I was just thinking how perfect luring heroes to this place would have been. I mean, look around.”

Riddler surveyed the furnace, the numerous conveyor belts, the vats and chutes for conveying molten metal, and the liquid gold he was stirring. “You’d like to imagine these figures we’re melting were Batwoman and Flamebird or the Dynamic Duo?”

“Just think what a few drops of molten metal, even the slag the company could never sell, would do to the human body!”

“You raise an excellent point, Anna. I have given Batman clues for no greater purpose than to do away with him, however, none of Gotham City’s remaining heroes have poked their masks into my business this time. Batgirl did, and by now whatever may be left of her is decorating the stairwell wall at the gym, as well as the Lieutenant, and we’re the only ones who know.”

Anna Gram shrugged, laughing. “Maybe you’re right. I’d rather be rich and surrounded by luxury than waiting for our enemies to walk into a trap anyway. I’m looking forward to seeing what finally happened to Batgirl and her lady cop friend.” As she spoke, Anna Gram lowered the last piece of the second golden statue into Riddler’s golden soup after shutting off her cutting torch. “I’ll get the molds and the ladle.” Riddler and his men smiled as she crossed the room, her lower body rhythmically swaying in its breathtakingly beautiful, natural way.

“We’re nearly finished, men,” Riddler said. “Once we’ve poured the gold ingots, I’ll pay you off in cash while they cool.”

“That’s great, boss.” Rawlings said.

“You’re the best,” Wilson said.

Anna Gram returned, pushing a cart of molds with a ladle resting on top. She took the ladle and dipped it into the molten gold, carefully filling the first of the molds. “I love being rich, Riddler,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear,” Riddler said, smiling at her. ‘I’m very much looking forward to your thanks,’ he thought. He watched attentively as she bent toward him, leaning over the molds and attending to her work.

Anna Gram grinned at her employer as she straightened, having finished filling the first set of molds. “How many of these do you think we’ll need?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” Riddler replied. “We won’t be wasting a single drop of the gold, though.”

“Of course not,” the girl agreed. “This stuff is exquisitely expensive.” She hurried off to gather more molds, effortlessly retaining her audience’s undivided attention.

High above the criminals, Batgirl watched them through a skylight as Lieutenant Mooney crouched beside her. “Your method of climbing ropes does wonders for the muscles, Batgirl,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“It’s excellent exercise and often enables me to surprise criminals,” Batgirl said, grinning.

“I’d think by now they would begin to expect your famous, window entrances,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“I thought I’d drop in on Riddler through the skylight as soon as he’s finished with his nefarious chores.”

“Why wait?”

“The evidence will be easier to transport after it’s transformed into gold ingots.”

“Formidable and practical,” the Lieutenant remarked, smiling. “Let them do the work. Will you use a rope as you drop in on them?”

“Of course,” Batgirl said. “Safety is essential.”

“I’m with you, whenever you’re ready,” the Lieutenant said, grinning, “Maybe we should try a two pronged attack.”

Batgirl nodded.

“I hold the last lucrative drop of liquefied gold.” Riddler giggled and rested the paddle with which he had stirred the lucrative liquid across the cauldron and displayed a pitcher for his helpers’ inspection. Anna Gram grinned as she took the pitcher from him and completed the wicked work. “Well done, all of you,” the villain went on. “Boys, I promised to pay you in cash and I will. Anna, give me the case.”

“It’s right here, boss,” the redhead said, handing over the prize money from the golf tournament.

The sound of breaking glass startled the villainous quartet as soon as Riddler opened the case. They looked up and raised arms defensively to guard their eyes against the shards of shattered glass pelting down around them. As soon as they were safe from the sharp-edged rain, a pulchritudinous, purple figure swooped in upon them with her cape spread behind her like an avenging angel’s wings.

“I’ve caught you red handed this time, Riddler!” Batgirl announced. “Consider yourself under arrest!”

“This is impossible!” Riddler cried in dismay, becoming utterly still. “Batgirl can’t be standing before me. Her body was cut to bloody shreds, hours ago!” He pointed at the attractive apparition. “You’re dead! My trap was inescapable! You can’t possibly be standing there!”

“Surprise,” Batgirl said softly and sweetly, stepping toward him.

“We never took the time to check on Batgirl after we left,” Anna Gram pointed out, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Of course, following up seemed so unnecessary. It seems now, though, that it wouldn’t have been a complete waste of time.”

Riddler backed up a step and seemed to recover. “So, you survived your morning run on my treacherous treadmill, Batgirl.”

“I’d be delighted to demonstrate,” Batgirl said, continuing to approach.

“No matter,” the villain said, dismissively. “You shouldn’t have come here. It’s four against one and I have no intention of letting you leave this place alive. Get her, boys! Our success depends upon her failure.” Riddler shoved his men toward the approaching heroine and followed more cautiously as Anna Gram stepped away from the battle zone.

Wilson was slightly ahead of his partner and sidestepped quickly as Batgirl launched one of her showgirl kicks at him.

Rawlings flung himself at her before she recovered her balance and collided with her. The block she flung at him would have easily deflected a punch or kick, but his attempt to knock her to the floor overwhelmed her effort.

Batgirl rolled instinctively as her shoulder impacted the floor, but suddenly stopped as a toe slammed into her gut, knocking the wind from her. Batgirl gasped as she tried vainly to inhale.

“Good,” Riddler said. “Pick her up and hold her against that pillar.” Rawlings and Wilson bent and lifted Batgirl’s body by her shoulders, slamming her into position as Riddler moved toward her. “You don’t look so tough now.”

Batgirl waited just long enough for the villain to come into range before lifting her legs and slamming her feet into Riddler’s groin and chin simultaneously. The Prince of Puzzlers collapsed, and lay doubled on the floor, gasping.

“Crime doesn’t pay, Riddler,” the heroine lectured. “I would think someone would have convinced you of that long ago.”

“You’ll pay for that attack,” Riddler said, coughing. “Punish her!”

The goons leaned against Batgirl’s shoulders and drew back their fists, slamming them repeatedly into her gut. Soon, she hung limply in their grasp like a rag doll, writhing in pain and gasping for breath.

Riddler regained his feet and smiled, watching his men wear Batgirl down. “Enough! Pin her legs as well and I’ll finish the demolition myself.”

“Shall we see if you can do that without your men, Riddler. I remember your boxing match against Batman. He kicked your–”

Riddler interrupted, slamming a fist into Batgirl’s abdomen and leaving her breathless once again. “Comfortable? I’m going to enjoy taking you apart, but before I do, tell me how you found us.”

“I’m an experienced crimefighter,” Batgirl confidently said between gasps, “and you are a predictable criminal. Your capture was inevitable. What makes you think you can ever escape the law?”

“I’ll ask the questions, Batgirl!” Riddler loudly admonished. “What happened to your friend, the lady cop?”

“She’s right behind you, Riddler!” Diana Mooney said. The villain whirled and walked into a fist that knocked him to the ground. The policewoman glanced at him and saw it would be a moment before he recovered. She aimed her gun at Wilson. “Now, you will let Batgirl go. Failure to obey will constitute resisting arrest, and I will shoot both of you.”

Wilson and Rawlings hesitated.

“Let her go, now!”

Lieutenant Mooney’s commanding tone and the fact Riddler lay gasping on the floor compelled the men to let go of Batgirl, who slid to the floor and fell onto her face.

“Good,” Diana Mooney said. “Now, what happened to Riddler’s girl?”

“She snuck up behind you while you helped your friend,” Anna Gram said. “Unless you drop that gun, I will sever your spine in two places.” The twin click of gun hammers emphasized the redhead’s threat as the policewoman felt gun barrels prod her in the back at the waist and neck simultaneously. “I think your head will be blown off in the process as well.”

“Next time,” Lieutenant Mooney said, letting go of her gun.

Anna Gram laughed, kicking the policewoman’s weapon away. “Oh, I doubt there will be a next time, honey.” The lovely lieutenant was given no time to respond as a gun butt slammed into the back of her head with a sickening crack. Anna Gram was crouched beside Batgirl before the policewoman hit the floor. “I suspect we’ll be detaining you as well, Batgirl. Nighty night!” Gotham City’s shapely sentinel lay unconscious when the henchwoman straightened.

“I could kiss you,” Riddler said as Anna Gram helped him to his feet.

“I would never object,” she replied. The girl supported and encouraged him as their lips met. It was several minutes before he released her. “Business before pleasure?” she asked.

“Unfinished business, my dear,” Riddler agreed, surveying her unconscious victims, “however, you correctly pointed out we’ve chosen an ideal place to detain our pursuers . . . permanently.” He giggled maniacally.

“You really know how to show a woman a hot time.”

“Help me tie them up while the men literally light their fires. The final details require a little thought.”

“Oh?” Anna Gram queried.

“I need to give them a riddle to ponder before they perish. The boys can pack up our gold once everything is set and we’ll say goodbye to our uninvited guests, for the last time.”

“I’d nearly forgotten,” Anna Gram said, grinning. “Crime is no fun without riddles.”

“Riddle me this, ladies,” the Riddler delightedly cried later, as Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney slowly recovered consciousness.

Batgirl lay on her stomach with her arms drawn behind her back and her legs bent so her wrists could be bound to her opposite ankles. She gasped with pain as she tried to shift her position. The ropes binding her had been wrapped liberally around her limbs and tied off tightly with professional skill. She knew her limbs had been stretched to their maximum before being bound in place. She could move her fingers, but she knew all her equipment would remain forever out of reach. She turned her head and examined her friend’s predicament.

The Lieutenant lay on her back with her arms folded and bound behind and beneath her. Additional rope had been wound around her arms, holding them immobile. Her legs had also been extended and bound together at the ankles, knees and thighs. As Batgirl watched, she writhed vainly in her bonds, but remained helpless despite her efforts. Batgirl smiled as she saw a glint in the policewoman’s eye and was pleased to see her smile returned. Neither captive had really yet begun to fight.

The Riddler spent a long moment giggling before he recovered the power of speech and went on speaking. “‘The more you feed it, the hungrier it becomes. What is it?’” he asked.

“I know,” Anna Gram enthused. “I know!”

“Batgirl and the lady cop are about to find out,” Rawlings said, grinning widely.

“The hard way,” Wilson added with a wicked laugh.

“Position the captives, boys,” Riddler commanded.

“Do the lady cop first,” Anna Gram directed. The henchmen picked up the policewoman and laid her on a conveyor belt where she lay writhing prettily like a human arrow with her feet pointing at a closed, metal door.

“What are you going to do to me, you fiend?” Diana Mooney demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” Riddler said. “You haven’t solved my riddle yet.” He turned to Anna Gram. “I think her weapons and ammunition can be employed in our cause, along with Batgirl’s toys.”

“You’re right,” Anna Gram said delightedly. She bent over the Lieutenant and drew the policewoman’s pistol. The Lieutenant’s attention was divided between Anna Gram’s actions and the henchmen’s handling of Batgirl.

They had picked up the Curved Crusader and carefully balanced her at the top of a chute so she could descend face first. A large, black vat was suspended by heavy chains below and in front of the chute and the captives’ attention was drawn to the glowing orange liquid inside it.

“Oh no!” Batgirl exclaimed, appalled. “I know the answer to that riddle. The only thing that grows hungrier the more it is fed is . . . fire!”

“Correct!” Riddler enthused. He moved to the metal door beyond Lieutenant Mooney’s bound feet. “Let me show you your destination, my dear. In the end, you will truly be smoking hot!” He giggled and beat his thighs for a moment before opening the door to reveal the blazing inferno his men had kindled in the factory’s industrial furnace. “As the pretty policewoman is being completely consumed, I’ll give Batgirl the hottest shower anyone has ever experienced!”

Anna Gram had slid the cylinder from the Lieutenant’s gun and poured the bullets into her hand. She cleared her throat and playfully tossed each bullet into the orange liquid in the vat below Batgirl’s chute. The bullets melted almost instantly and neither the cylinder nor the gun lasted much longer. With a wicked smile, the redhead pulled out another of the Lieutenant’s captured weapons and put on the same sinister show. The pretty policewoman’s third gun followed before Anna Gram strutted to Batgirl’s position. “Now for a few finishing touches,” she said, reaching for Batgirl’s waist and unbuckling the utility belt from the heroine’s waist.

Batgirl knew the contents of her belt included a few capsules of ammunition siphoned from Mister Freeze’s quick-freeze gun. Her limited budget for crimefighting equipment would never have allowed her develop the dangerous formula, but acquiring items secondhand had become almost second nature and these capsules of captured ammunition had saved her life in the past. ‘Will the freeze solution transform the molten metal into a solid, icy block?’ she wondered.

Anna Gram’s delighted, wicked smile answered Batgirl’s question after the utility belt vanished into the molten metal after the redhead tossed it accurately into the vat. Batgirl knew the freeze solution could lower the temperature of any environment to fifty degrees below zero. ‘How hot is that molten metal?' the heroine silently asked. 'It nullified the freeze solution almost instantly!’

Batgirl had no time to do the math as Anna Gram shoved the bound beauty forcefully down the chute. The Curved Crusader avoided the vat of molten metal poised to pour its contents into the chute she rapidly descended before landing hard on her chest in a cast iron mold. The Shapely Sentinel groaned and rolled onto her side in order to look up at the uproariously laughing villains smiling down at her.

“They’re all yours now, boss,” the redheaded rogue announced.

“Thank you, Anna,” the Riddler said. “Obviously, once I set this machinery in motion, this lovely lady cop will be conveyed into the furnace an inch at a time. Meanwhile, the molten metal vat Anna has been feeding will pour its contents into the chute Batgirl just descended. Once it reaches its destination, the hot metal will spill and pour all over her. Never fear, Batgirl. Your hot shower will only torture and torment you for a few short seconds. I’m sorry we can’t stay for your fiery finish and the screams that will accompany it, but we have a carefully timed getaway planned.”

“You’ll never get away, Riddler!” Batgirl yelled.

“Especially if we die here,” Lieutenant Mooney added.

Riddler giggled, convulsing; beating his thighs; and jumping up and down before pausing to throw a switch. “Your doom will unfold as I’ve described it as soon as the machinery warms up. I’ll leave you with a couple of hints about our means of travel and our destination. You may just have time to solve my last clues before you die.”

“Are you sure you want to clue them into your getaway plans, boss?” Wilson asked.

“You thought you killed them already,” Rawlings pointed out.

“Twice,” the Lieutenant added, grinning.

“And we’re only talking about the last couple of days,” Batgirl sweetly pointed out.

Riddler ignored them. “To determine our means of travel, consider ‘a dozen royals gathered round, entertained by two who clowned. Each king there had servants ten, though none of them were also men. The lowest servant sometimes might defeat the king in a fair fight. A weapon stout, a priceless jewel, the beat of life, and a farmer's tool all come into play.’ What are we talking about here, folks?”

“I wouldn’t worry much about the answer,” Anna Gram advised. “You won’t be around to act on the information, even if you do figure it out.”

“Finally, I’ll clue you into our destination,” Riddler said. “’When you stop and look, you can always see me. If you try to touch, you cannot feel me. I cannot move, but as you near me, I will stay away from you. What am I?’”

An obnoxiously loud screech of protest sounded as the machinery Riddler had activated went slowly into motion.

“It won’t be long now,” Anna Gram enthused. “Let’s go!”

“You’re right,” Riddler agreed, “and now – for what I assure you will be the very last time – goodbye, ladies.” He wound an arm around Anna Gram’s waist and guided her from the prisoners’ presence, giggling maniacally all the while. The henchmen followed, first favoring each captive with a long, hungry look and a nod.

Soon, only the sounds of the machinery, transformed into the engine of Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney’s destruction, echoed in the abandoned factory.