“Hang on, Diana,” Batgirl encouraged. “We’re not dead yet.” As Batgirl spoke, she was glad her friend could not clearly see her face as she struggled vainly in her bonds.
The Curved Crusader often recovered consciousness in the hands of a villain to find she had been helplessly restrained. Hogties seemed to Batgirl to put their victims in a perversely popular, painful position villains seemed to favor. Her opinion was, of course, the product of long, uncomfortable experience.
Ma Legs Parker; her mother; and their gang of Legs’ beautiful, criminal bridesmaids had caught her as they looted America’s Mall at the Crystal Castle. They had taken her to the facility’s trash compactor, intending to crush her to death while making her final moments particularly uncomfortable with a torturously tight hogtie. Legs’ evil entourage had incorporated her throat in the bindings, so the slightest movement on Batgirl’s part would induce strangulation. The young villainess had elected to let the ropes’ evil embrace finish Batgirl off when the heroine’s cramping muscles’ inevitably protested against the Caped Cuties’ pretzel-like position.
One of Leg’s attractive assistants on that occasion had been Vixen. The cunning call girl had been responsible, at least in part, to many of Batgirl’s most uncomfortable experiences in this type of bondage. She had been in Catwoman’s employ when the Curved Crusader had been hogtied and left kneeling in the reliquary at the Saint Bartholomew Cathedral with wax melted from an enormous, blazing candle threatening to fill the pit, thus entombing the heroine. More recently, black felt cuffs and white chords had held Batgirl in a similarly agonizing position after Vixen and seven of Catwoman’s other admirers had been interrupted as they all held Batgirl in midair and began tearing her limbs from her torso.
Marsha, the Queen of Diamonds, had also left Batgirl hogtied and kneeling inside an oversized replica of a maraca. The diamond shards with which the royal rogue had replaced the instruments traditional beans had been intended to cut Batgirl to pieces as the instrument of her death was automatically shaken.
Penguin had devised an even more painful position in which his hogtied victim had found herself, when he and Florence of Arabia had positioned her vertically against a narrow, silver pole at Florence’s ‘Bellydancing Nightclub.’ As Batgirl’s weight pressed her spread knees into the floor, she and a fish tank of piranha had been showered with water so the fiendishly employed, carnivorous fish could escape into a larger pool and feed on the tasty morsel the villains had prepared — namely, Batgirl.
Her experience with hogtying was not, however, exclusively as the victim. She felt her lips curl into a thin smile as she recalled wrapping Catwoman’s whip around the villainess’ bent limbs before leaving her for the authorities in the same uncomfortable and, in the Feline Fiend’s case, particularly embarrassing position.
Batgirl’s reminiscences did nothing to achieve her freedom and she turned her head to look at the suspended vat that would soon fill the chute intended to shower her with molten death. ‘Riddler’s got that machine to move incredibly slowly,’ she thought. ‘There is nothing quite like psychological torture to make a deathtrap infinitely more excruciating.’
Suddenly, Batgirl whispered a curse. Her reflections were accomplishing nothing, and Lieutenant Diana Mooney’s life, as well as her own, depended upon her escape. “How are you doing, Diana?” she called.
“I’ve been better,” her friend called back.
“I was noticing how slowly this fiendish setup is moving.”
“You’ve told me criminals always overlook something when they plan these traps,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Catwoman let us talk to each other before her trebuchet would have launched us across town.”
“I remember.”
“Well, I think you’re saying Riddler has given us time to find a way to avoid the fiery fate he’s arranged for us.”
“Thanks, Diana. I needed to hear my own good advice.”
“No problem,” the policewoman replied, looking through the cleft between her breasts at the flames dancing beyond the peril-fraught portal she inexorably approached. “I hope we find the answer soon.”
“Can you roll off that conveyor belt?” Batgirl asked.
“No,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “They balanced me on my arms. Otherwise, we’d both be out of here and kicking Riddler’s butt back to jail.”
The policewoman had not ceased her struggles, despite her helplessness. Shortly after the villains’ departure, she had imagined herself either rolling off the side of the conveyor belt to safety or lifting her legs to gain her freedom with an acrobatic, backward flip. She quickly discovered, though, how her position, with her weight resting on her forearms bent behind her and fitted against the small of her back, forced her to hold the perilous position in which Riddler had left her, however unwillingly. Worse, the pressure of her body against her forearms had induced oxygen deprivation and using them now in an attempted escape would remain utterly impossible. Nevertheless, she went on struggling and felt sweat from the heat and her efforts drench her body as she inched ever closer to the furnace. Her tight, expertly-fastened restraints held her quite firmly.
Batgirl’s eyes searched the mold into which she had been shoved. She quickly ascertained no metal shards or tools had been left behind for her to use in an escape plan. The walls of her death chamber were completely smooth. Rubbing her ropes against them would be pointless. She took a deep breath and let it out, preparing to reexamine her predicament. To determine how long she would go on living, she glanced up the chute and stared at the suspended vat slowly tipping toward her. Physically tired, her head tilted until she realized she was staring at the edge of the bottom of the chute. ‘Can I use the metal edge of the chute to cut my bonds before the deadly shower pours over me?’
With her limited movement, she would not have much time to get into position. “I’ve got an idea, Diana!” she cried, letting her voice sound hopeful. “Hold on! I’m coming!”
“Hurry, Batgirl! I’m only about a yard away from the furnace!”
Batgirl gritted her teeth and began to inch her way back toward the side of the mold beneath the chute. Once she had reached her goal, she rolled back unto her chest; raised her shoulders; and shifted her thighs until she was balanced on her knees and leaning back. Batgirl turned her head and continued her efforts, slowly moving along the wall toward the bottom of the chute. After a painful eternity, she was close to her destination and remained balanced on her knees. “Almost,” she quietly gasped. “I’ve got to turn around!” Her muscles ached as she rolled along the wall until her back faced the edge of the chute. Panting, she felt her breasts crumple as she leaned against the side of the metal mold, resting.
“How is it going, Batgirl?” Diana Mooney called. “I’ve about had it and it looks like the metal is about to pour into your chute!”
“Okay, Diana,” Batgirl cried. “Here I go!” She hardened her muscles and leaned back, pulling her arms up and her shoulders forward to draw her bindings to their intended destination.
Regrettably, Batgirl’s bindings were too far away to touch the edge of the chute. Her plan had failed!
Batgirl’s shoulders slumped and she felt her knees sliding backwards before falling back onto her face and feeling her breasts compress once again. ‘The Riddler has won!’
In the split second that followed her realization, Batgirl recalled her long, colorful, crimefighting career. She had defeated many of Gotham City’s most diabolical villains on her own, surviving their murderous machinations with little more than preparedness, fortitude and her raw intelligence again and again. No gambler would have backed her perfect record for escaping deathtraps forever. Now, her luck had finally run out, as she always suspected it eventually would.
At long last, Batgirl was about to die, but death did not bother her as much as her failure. She now faced a bitter decision. She could reveal her defeat to her friend, or let Diana Mooney cling to false hope. Regardless, they would both perish in a matter of seconds. ‘Which choice is better?’
She did not have the luxury of agonizing over the choice. She would have to make a decision immediately.
Molten metal was now streaming down the chute! It would reach her in seconds!
Batgirl made her decision. Lieutenant Diana Mooney had served Gotham City well. She had gone undercover against Catwoman and survived the Princess of Plunder’s vengeful wrath. She and Batgirl had fought side by side and faced death together many times. The policewoman deserved the truth.
“Goodbye, Diana,” Batgirl said softly. “I’m so very sorry.” She was disappointed in the softness of her voice and turned her head in a vain attempt to determine whether the policewoman had heard her apology. It seemed the hopeless situation had sapped her spirit as the inevitable end approached. At long last, a villain’s deathtrap would take her life and Batgirl’s courage had failed just before the end.
She could not see Diana Mooney as she looked, but saw the hot, orange flow of metal gathering on the lip of the chute above her. Suddenly, she rolled back onto her side in response to an instinctive, subconscious realization.
‘A few searing drops of molten metal will fall a split second before the deadly deluge pours over me. If my bonds are properly positioned, I have a very slim chance to escape. The problem with my idea will be needing to get myself situated while those first drops of metal fall — without seeing them!’
Anger hardened her arms and legs as Batgirl pulled her limbs as far away from her body as the restraints would allow. She could only hope she had positioned herself properly, as all the action was happening behind her. She was lying on her side, instead of her chest, so the molten metal would have somewhere other than her vulnerable body upon which to fall, if her plan worked.
If her plan didn't work, it wouldn't matter . . . .
In an instant, she felt the heat that told her the initial drops of metal had fallen. Miraculously, the molten metal had landed on her ropes and instantly burned through them! Batgirl wrenched her limbs apart.
Before her burning bonds came to rest, Batgirl sprang upward, vaulting to the edge of the mold in which Riddler had left her to die. She dropped to the safety of the floor, pivoted, and stepped toward where Lieutenant Mooney’s feet were entering the fiery furnace. Her balance faltered and she bent her knees while extending her arms to steady herself. She then dove across the room and rolled back to her feet before reaching up and gripping the switch controlling the conveyor belt upon which the policewoman lay. A downward wrench brought the switch into the ‘off’ position.
Batgirl was holding a blade she had pulled from her boot after taking two strides to reach her friend. Five quick slashes freed the policewoman and the heroine supported Diana as Mooney sat up, the lieutenant’s feet sliding to the floor.
Diana hopped up and down, trying to cool her smoldering shoes. “That’s what I call a hotfoot!”
“Sorry to have cut it so close,” Batgirl said apologetically.
“Don’t worry about it,” the Lieutenant said. Then she grinned at her costumed friend. “But I was starting to have my doubts.”
“We survived a very close call,” Batgirl admitted. “Let’s get out of here and talk about taking down the Riddler before he escapes.”
“The Riddler will get away, unless we stop him,” Lieutenant Mooney said, “won’t he?”
“He’s leaving Gotham City,” Batgirl said, nodding as she sank into the passenger seat of her friend’s car. “He’s probably taking Anna Gram with him.”
“I agree,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “He paid off his goons, but used the money you treated to track him. I’ll have officers use your Batometer to track them down.” She reached for her police radio and issued appropriate orders. “We’ll need to borrow the Batgirlcycle.”
“Borrowing the Batgirlcycle would be fine,” Batgirl agreed. “I'll only need to get my backup utility belt from it. Once we figure out where Riddler went, we can go there in your car.”
“Thanks,” the Lieutenant said, grinning. “Riddler helpfully gave us a couple more riddles. Why does he do that?”
“I don’t think he planned for us to make use of the answers this time.”
“True,” the Lieutenant agreed. “What was the first one?”
Batgirl reviewed the villain’s words before his departure. “He told us, ‘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?’”
“What do royals, servants, and conflicts have to do with a means of travel?” the Lieutenant demanded.
“I’m not sure, yet. Let me try to remember the second riddle.”
“I remember,” the policewoman said. “Riddler went on talking. ‘Finally, I’ll clue you into our destination: 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?’ I’m afraid these riddles always sound like nonsense to me in the beginning. We may as well start with the first one.”
“Okay, Diana. What do you make of the phrase ‘a dozen royals gather round, entertained by two who clowned?’”
“A royal could be a king or queen. I suppose there are also princes and perhaps a princess. Clowns at a royal court were called jesters.”
“Good,” Batgirl said. “The Joker is often called the ‘Clown Prince of Crime’. He’s in jail, though.”
“There are two jokers in the riddle,” Lieutenant Mooney said, beginning to speak quickly. “Of the twelve royals, some are kings because Riddler told us each has ten servants. There must be at least two.”
Batgirl pinched her lip. “We have two jokers and at least two kings with a total of at least twenty servants. Maybe the riddle tells us how these groups are defined.”
“The weakest servant can defeat the king in a fair fight,” the policewoman reminded the Curved Crusader.
“I think the rest of the riddle helps define the groups,” Batgirl said.
“A weapon stout, a priceless jewel, the beat of life, and a farmer's tool make four groups.”
“Each group is led by a king with ten servants each. That makes forty-four group members,” Batgirl said. “How many royals were there?”
“A dozen,” Diana Mooney answered. “If four are kings, each group has three royals. One of the other royals is probably a queen.”
“Four groups of thirteen and two jokers,” Batgirl said, folding her arms. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably,” the policewoman answered. “A stout weapon is a club. Diamonds are priceless jewels. The beat of life is a heart. A spade is a farmer’s tool. If the groups are the suits in a deck of cards, we have two jokers to complete the deck.”
“The ace is the lowliest servant and can trump a king. Now we have to figure out what a deck of cards has to do with Riddler’s getaway.”
“Riddler said the first riddle indicated his means of travel,” the Lieutenant recalled. “He and Anna Gram are getting away on a vehicle with decks, unless we stop them.”
“We’ll stop them,” Batgirl said. “The second riddle refers to their destination.”
“‘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?’” the Lieutenant repeated. “Good question.”
“It never goes away and one can never reach it despite trying,” Batgirl thoughtfully said. “It also remains stationary and the same relative distanced from a traveler.”
“How can something stay in one place while moving?” Lieutenant Mooney wanted to know. “If you can always see it, what happens if you turn around?”
“You’re right,” Batgirl said. “It’s impossible . . . unless . . . .”
“What are you thinking?”
“If we can’t reach Riddler’s destination, why can he?”
“Did he lie about his destination?”
“Riddler is tricky, but he is not a liar. I don’t think he was specific about his plans, but his twisted mind compels him give us a legitimate clue, even if he doesn’t think we’ll be alive to use it.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Let’s think about figurative destinations. Where does the western hero go at the end of the story?”
“Into the sunset,” Batgirl’s companion answered.
“Where is the sunset?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you had to assign a place to the location of the sunset, where would it be?”
“The sun sets in the west?”
“Can you be more specific? Where in the west would the sunset be?”
After all their trying experiences, the policewoman’s patience was wearing thin. ”Why ask me all these ridiculous questions?” Lieutenant Mooney demanded.
“If my explanation makes sense to you, I’ll know I’m not jumping to a silly conclusion.”
“Okay.” Diana said, somewhat mollified. “The sunset is in the western sky.” The Lieutenant snapped her fingers. “It’s at the very limit of one’s vision, and we call that place the horizon!”
Batgirl grinned and did her best imitation of Shame’s accent. “I think we solved ‘em both, podner.”
“Right,” the Lieutenant agreed. “Riddler and Anna Gram are planning to get away on a vehicle characterized by decks which heads for the horizon.” She started the car.
“Where are we going?” Batgirl asked.
“Well, planes have flight decks, but they would be characterized by the wings. That fact suggests Riddler will try to get away on a ship and since he was in a big hurry when he left us to die, it might have left by now. I’ll try to line up a police launch for us on the way to the Gotham Harbor.”
“Good thinking. While you line up a launch, I’ll try to borrow the Batboat,” Batgirl said. “It may be a little quicker and we may not have a moment to lose.”
Shortly thereafter, the ringing of the ship’s bell prompted Anna Gram to roll over and sit up. She studied the other passengers milling around the pool. They mostly were either sunning themselves or chatting in the shade offered by an assortment of fake palm trees and large, strategically situated umbrellas.
Anna Gram stood and walked confidently to the indoor track. There she sank onto a mat in the center of the workout area and extended her leg to one side as her opposite leg bent. She held her position for a moment and straightened before changing legs while sinking to the mat once more. Stretching thus ten times for each leg, she repeated the exercise, turning her ankle so her foot rested on her heel. She then bent from side to side several times and twisted at the waist in either direction before beginning to run briskly along the cruise ship’s indoor track.
After a few laps, sweat glistened on her bare arms, legs, and abdomen as her rainbow-striped bikini slowly molded even more closely to her curvaceous body. Her stride lengthened as her breath rasped and her feet went on pounding beneath her as her legs propelled her forward. As the redhead ran, she focused on her workout, enjoying the release exercise gave her.
Once she had pushed herself through the barriers of pain and fatigue, she was almost utterly oblivious to both the ship’s exercise facilities and the few other people taking advantage of them. Her focus on her workout only shifted when a shrill wolf whistle sounded. Immediately, she slackened her pace to allow her admirer to see and appreciate her better. ‘After all,’ she thought, ‘it is impossible for anyone else here to be so admired. Besides, my tan is better now than when I came aboard.’’
She made a turn and spotted the Riddler wearing a button-down shirt and jacket with matching slacks leaning against the wall beside the door and smoking. His mode of dress was, for him, unusual and might have given him complete anonymity, had not a black question mark adorned his green tie. The girl waved and smiled at him, slackening her pace further so she was walking the next time she passed him. The villain fell into step beside her and began to stroke his chin with his thumb while they talked quietly.
“You look scrumptious,” he said, grinning at her.
“I’m a mess right now, Eddie. Thank you, though. I promise to look like a goddess for you at dinner . . . and afterward you can take me dancing.”
“Eddie?” Riddler said, making the word a question as he raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I can’t call you ‘boss’ or ‘Riddler’ when we speak in public aboard the ship, darling. This cruise will be a lengthy social occasion for both of us,” she reasoned. “You should consider exchanging that tie for something more anonymous. If you don’t have a tux with you, I saw a shop where I’d imagine they can help you.”
“I like this tie,” Riddler protested. “Besides, I wanted to see to the arrangements for our cargo. . . and what makes you think I’ll permit you to tell me how to spend my money?”
“I’m playing a role. Besides, dinner is black tie and you can afford it easily enough. Is everything with the cargo set?”
“I paid off one of the junior officers to see it’s transferred to the foreign bank at the appropriate port. Our offshore accounts are also ready for us. The money transfers will be complete tomorrow morning. Everything is a formality now that our two primary complications have literally gone up in smoke.” Riddler tried unsuccessfully to stifle one of his fits of maniacal giggling.
“Were these arrangements with the officer very expensive?”
“Oh, they were, but we can easily afford them,” Riddler revealed.
Anna Gram laughed with genuine pleasure. “Right now, there is little we can’t afford. Being filthy rich is wonderful. It agrees with me completely. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, my dear. As for thanks, actions speak louder than words.”
“Oh, I’ve been thinking about the best time to thank you properly for taking me along on this cruise. The ship has enough planned activities that locking ourselves in our cabin for the duration would be unthinkable. I will, however, promise to try staying hidden for a few hours after dinner and dancing.”
“I’m looking forward to tonight already.”
“Good,” Anna Gram said, grinning as she picked up a bottle of water and finished it before going on. “Now, go put your tie away and get yourself a tuxedo. Oh, and get rid of that revolting cigarette.” Riddler shrugged and put his cigarette butt in her empty water bottle.
“I’m afraid your itinerary is about to dramatically change,” an authoritative, female voice said. “As for clothes, you’ll both be issued some nice, new prison stripes.”
Riddler groaned audibly as he followed Anna Gram’s glance toward the purple-clad paragon of feminine pulchritude standing with her hands on her shapely hips and her legs spread to shoulder width. “Not again!” he whined. “Batgirl, why can’t you just die like a good superheroine?”
Anna Gram swore. She was practically shouting as she went on speaking and clenching both her fists so her fingernails dug deeply into her palms. “Eddie, your stupid deathtraps never work! Batgirl doesn’t even look singed! You should have just let me shoot both her and the lady cop!”
The Riddler looked at his moll in horror, scandalized by her crude suggestion.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Riddler,” the crimefighting cutie offered. “When you and your supercriminal ilk renounce your evil ways, I’ll be pleased to congratulate all of you and retire.”
“Never!” Riddler cried. “You may have solved my clues and tracked me down, but you’ll never catch me!” He dashed away along the track. Batgirl was waiting as he rounded it, inevitably approaching Gotham City’s shapely sentinel. Riddler darted glances in all directions, panic-stricken. “There’s . . . no . . . other . . . way . . . out . . . .of . . . this . . . room!”
“I know,” Batgirl calmly said.
“Riddle . . . me . . . this, Batgirl!” Riddler said, catching his breath. “I can be short and sometimes hot. When displayed, I rarely impress. What am I?”
Batgirl’s lips curled into a thin smile. “If you’re suggesting you’re about to lose your temper and imagine I’m going to be scared or intimidated, you have a swift kick coming . . . and that will just be the beginning!” The Curved Crusader’s voice was quiet and Riddler stiffened.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said quietly and none-too-convincingly.
“Then, you aren’t very smart.”
“Get out of my way!” Riddler darted forward and scooted around Batgirl with surprising speed as she moved to intercept him. The passage outside the indoor gym was a long corridor Riddler had no choice but to race along. Batgirl calmly pivoted and flung her Batarang at the Riddler’s lower body. The projectile passed his legs and began to return and Riddler tripped over the trailing rope and slid forward on his chest for several feet as the rope entangled his lower limbs. Batgirl waited until he stopped to begin to dragging the supervillain slowly backward.
Pounding footsteps behind her made Batgirl turn to see Anna Gram fleeing. As Batgirl watched, the redheaded henchwoman tripped over something and collided violently with a closed hatch at the far end of the passage. The henchwoman tried the door and cursed when she realized it was locked.
Police Lieutenant Diana Mooney stepped into the corridor, trapping the retreating redhead. “Batgirl and I have got you two this time. There is nowhere to run. Give yourself up, Ms. Gram.”
“I’ve beaten you every time we’ve went at it, copper!” Anna Gram said menacingly. “What makes you think I won’t go through you again this time?”
“If you choose to resist arrest,” Diana Mooney explained, “we’ll have a fair fight . . . this time.”
“It’s two against one and I’m unarmed,” Anna Gram complained.
“Batgirl,” Diana Mooney said, reaching to unbuckle her gun belt and extending it toward the Curved Crusader.
“She’s all yours,” Batgirl said, taking the belt.
“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Lieutenant Mooney said. The policewoman sank into a fighting crouch and raised her fists. “Come on!”
“I will fight you,” the henchwoman decided. “I’ll need a hostage to get out of here, anyway, and you’ll do nicely, Lieutenant!” The redhead bull-rushed the policewoman and was stopped short by a staggering uppercut.
Lieutenant Mooney pressed her attack and pummeled her opponent’s abdomen with a fast, hard-hitting combination.
Anna Gram retreated and backed her opponent away with a jump and kick. Diana Mooney retreated, then turned and slid past her, slamming an elbow into the center of Anna Gram’s back. The henchwoman hit the deck and collapsed.
“Get up!” the policewoman commanded.
Anna Gram sprang at her enemy from a low crouch and slammed the policewoman into a bulkhead. She eagerly launched a combination her opponent fended off for the most part. “I’m going to take you apart!” Anna Gram threatened.
“Shut up and fight,” Diana Mooney replied, raising a knee into the other woman’s abdomen.
Anna Gram’s breath grew short and she began to concentrate on defending against the Lieutenant’s combinations. The new tactics seemed more effective, but Diana Mooney did not seem to be growing tired.
The Lieutenant adapted her own tactics, attacking the weakest point in the henchwoman’s defenses and moving to avoid her enemy’s counterattacks. The brutal routine grew to become a kind of dance Diana Mooney was enjoying as Anna Gram’s anger increased.
Riddler watched as Batgirl snapped Batcuffs on his wrists. “Your friend is taking her time about this,” he said morosely.
“I think she was tired of your girl kicking her around when she was down,” Batgirl said. “She felt a message should be sent. So, pay attention.”
“Will you let Anna go if she comes back and wins the fight?” Riddler asked.
“Sure,” Batgirl said. “The police and the Coast Guard are on their way. I don’t see a pressing need to chase her.”
“It’s . . . so . . . unfair,” the villain lamented. “Where is she supposed to run on a ship?”
“I’m not the genius who decided to escape from Gotham City by boat!” Batgirl mercilessly replied.
Anna Gram had begun to flail wildly at her opponent, missing often, but threatening devastating effects whenever a blow landed. Diana Mooney kept up an assault on the henchwoman’s weakening defenses, slipping in combination after punishing combination.
Anna Gram was tiring rapidly and acutely aware of the ache in her legs, weakened after holding her body in a low, defensive crouch, to say nothing of her recent workout. The pain from the pounding she had endured and the fatigue from her efforts were about to make her body give up, but she was unwilling to submit and flung herself at her opponent in a final, all-out attack. The Lieutenant’s smile told her the effort would fail.
Anna Gram saw her opponent step aside and felt herself collide violently with a bulkhead, before being literally slammed to the deck.
“Had enough?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.
“I . . . think . . . so,” Anna Gram admitted between panted breaths.
“I’ll stop when you surrender.” Diana Mooney pulled the other woman back to her feet and hit her in the mouth. “Until then, you’re all mine.” Anna Gram went down again.
Riddler stared in horror as Diana Mooney systematically dismantled his henchwoman. “Aren’t you going to do something?!”
“I’ve already captured you,” Batgirl said. “Your woman knows how to stop the fight.”
“You stopped Clock King from killing me. I understand, even though you compelled Catwoman to perform a traditional Bessarovian Saber Dance, you made the Cossacks wielding the swords spare her,” Riddler said. “Why won’t you stop your friend from beating up Anna?”
“Diana is doing nothing to prevent Anna from doing that herself,” Batgirl replied. “In fact, I think she’s gone out of her way to keep your henchwoman conscious.”
Anna Gram picked herself up off the floor again. “That’s it!” she angrily said. “I’ve had it!”
“Give up?” Diana Mooney sweetly asked.
“I can take you!” Anna Gram insisted. “I’ve done it before, more than once.”
“You can’t cheat this time,” Diana Mooney replied. “Come on, if you aren’t finished!”
Anna Gram launched a kick at the Lieutenant and felt something catch her rising heel as the policewoman slid beside her. Off balance, the henchwoman could do nothing to prevent the elbow Diana Mooney smashed into her from impacting her throat. The falling woman’s head bounced off the bulkhead and she collapsed, moaning at the officer’s feet.
“Oops,” the conscious combatant said. “Too bad. I was enjoying that fight.”
“You win the Riddler,” Batgirl said, shoving him toward her friend and returning the policewoman’s belt. “I’m going back to Gotham City to ask the banks to freeze these villains’ assets.”
“The Coast Guard will be here soon enough to search the ship for evidence and take these two away,” Diana Mooney said, glancing at her prisoners. “Thanks for all of your help, Batgirl.” When the Lieutenant looked up again, the Curved Crusader was gone.
Riddler glanced at Anna Gram and saw she would remain unconscious. He let a faint smile light up his face and said, “You know, Batgirl may be the most exciting riddle of all.”
Lieutenant Diana Mooney could not disagree.