Siren's Voice on Trial

A PEACEFUL DAY AT GOTHAM CITY PENITENTIARY. CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING, HOWEVER, WHEN THAT DAZZLING AND DIABOLICAL DIVA, THE SIREN, IS INVOLVED?

"You have a visitor, Circe," the tall female guard said, peering briefly from behind her sunglasses.

The beautiful brunette prisoner was sitting on the bed in her cell, wearing a bright, almost garish orange dress, which began with a strap over her right shoulder and eventually tapered down to the middle of her left thigh. She looked up with her gorgeous green eyes and began surveying the interloper. She was a very thin, brown-eyed dirty blonde, wearing a grey blazer with a matching skirt cut very high on the right leg. Her outfit blended in quite nicely with the drab walls of the cell.

While Siren looked her over, she did the same to the English enchantress, before finally getting down to business.

The uninvited visitor walked up to the Siren, who still was seated, leaned down and shook her hand. "Hi, I'm Ally McBeal. I will be representing you in your case."

"Are you a court-appointed barrister?" Siren asked with disdain. "That's all I can afford, because the powers that be have frozen my assets, claiming they all are ill-gotten."

The British beauty shook her head sadly. "Is it my fault men choose to bestow upon me the fruits of their labor?"

"Actually, I am not court-appointed," the lawyer said. "I believe one of our representatives has spoken with you. I am with the Gotham Civil Liberties Union, and we've decided to represent you in your appeal pro bono."

"Ah, yes," Siren said. "I must apologize. The stress of incarceration apparently has made me quite forgetful. Now that you have jogged my memory, I do remember speaking to one of your minions, who told me you would be here today. Thank you for coming. Please, sit down."

"Your case has First Amendment ramifications, as I'm sure you are aware," Ms. McBeal said as she sat on the uncomfortable bed.

"Yes, most certainly. I've studied your Bill of Rights in quite minute detail," replied the Siren, who invoked her Fourth Amendment rights to Robin during her first solo criminal caper in Gotham City. "I can't believe they want to take away my voice. Why, that's desecration!"

"Well, that's the punishment the all-woman jury chose for you during the penalty phase of your recent trial."

"My trial," Siren said, sneering. "I was supposed to have been judged by a jury of my peers, was I not? No woman is as beautiful as I; no woman is as powerful as I; no woman is as talented as I and no woman is as intelligent as I. Thus, I have no peers.

"That's why they want to take my voice away. They all are jealous of me. Who can blame them?" Siren stood up and placed her hands on her luscious hips.

Ally took in the bizarre scene with wonder mixed with bemusement, as well as some trepidation. 'How in the world,' the experienced lawyer thought, 'will I be able to get anyone, no less a judge, to sympathize with this woman?'

She took a deep breath while her new client finished her impromptu pose and sat back down.

Ally stayed pragmatic, adding, "Obviously, it would be a literal violation of your First Amendment right to freedom of speech. That's why we've taken your case."

"Is it going to bother you to have to defend someone of my ilk?"

"It's not the quality of the defendant," Ally replied with a stern look. "It's the quality of the case that matters. That's something I learned a long time ago. If the authorities are able to take your voice away, that will start us all down a slippery slope, Ms. Circe, that none of us who believe in the Bill of Rights want to travel."

"Please, call me Siren."

"Uh, no, Ms. Circe. I will be doing my best not to call attention to your persona as a super-powered supervillainess. We want the judge to view you as a normal defendant, however difficult that might be. You may have noticed that I am not wearing sunglasses."

"Yes, I did. I am quite surprised at that. You have a lot of spunk, I must say, even though I always have detested spunk."

For some time, the Siren had been able to hypnotize men with her melodious voice. Years later, she survived a nearly-fatal electric shock at the studios of KGC-TV, and awakened to discover she had gained the ability to entrance people, including women, with her eyes as well.

"You can go ahead and hypnotize me if you like, Ms. Circe, but I assure you it won't help your cause. I need to be as clear-headed as possible to provide you with the best possible defense. Is that understood?"

Siren chuckled to herself, realizing how many times she had said those last three words. "Yes, it is understood, Ms. McBeal," she finally replied with a slight smile. "You may, in fact, call me Lorelei. Please explain to me again what will transpire next."

"My pleasure," Ally paused before adding, "Lorelei . . . and you can call me Ally. There will be a hearing exactly three weeks from today to determine whether the state will be allowed to remove your vocal cords. As such, there will be no jury. Under Gotham state law, your fate will be up to Appellate Court Judge Cleaver."

"A woman, I assume?"

"Of course. So there will be no opportunity to sway her with your, uh, charms, unless you can get next to her, which I am sure the female guards won't allow you to do . . . but that doesn't mean we can't appeal to her humanity by demonstrating yours.

"Now, usually, there wouldn’t be any testimony in an appeal, but due to Gotham precedents set in cases involving the castration of male sex offenders–"

Even the hardened Siren winced at the thought.

“. . . you will be given the opportunity to testify in your own behalf.”

"When will you start prepping me, as you Yanks call it?" Siren asked.

"I could come back tomorrow," Ally replied.

"I would like to get started straightaway. Is that possible?"

"Yes. We can start right now."

Siren looked at her new lawyer very seriously. "What are my chances? Will I really have my voice taken away?"

"I doubt it, honestly. I don't think the judge will let the government go that far."

Siren smiled. Her grin quickly faded, however, as she pointed at her surroundings. "Is it possible to get me away from this drab environment?"

"Not for quite awhile, considering that you've already been convicted of six counts of grand larceny. You won't be up for parole for at least six years-"

"No, that's not what I meant, my dear. I was wondering if I could be moved away from these---these COMMONERS."

"Oh, OK, I understand you now. You're not fond of the accommodation in the women's wing. Well, I hate to tell you this, but I would advise you not to petition for a move back to your normal prison haunt."

Siren's nostrils flared. "Why on Earth not?"

"Well," Ally replied with a slight smile, "to be housed in something called an Arch-Criminals Wing while your case is still pending is somewhat prejudicial, wouldn't you agree?"

"Touche, young lady, touche," Siren said as she nodded her head. "I do, however, miss the amenities one is afforded in the Arch-Criminals Wing."

"Such as . . . what?"

"The privilege of wearing your own outfits, for instance." She gestured at her dress. "Why, I had to fashion this from a standard-issue prison jumpsuit. It was fortunate that I was able to convince a couple of prisoners in the next cell block to serve as seamstresses."

"Well," Ally said, "I have some different outfits for you to wear in court. They will be much less revealing."

"I cannot wait," Siren said, rolling her eyes ever-so-slightly.

The attorney either didn't notice her client's negative attitude or pretended she didn't. Ally then looked up at the Siren and her mouth quivered for a split-second, which caught the attention of her client.

"Out with it, young lady," Siren said, grinning. "I know what you wish to ask me."

Ally nodded sheepishly. 'Maybe she can read minds, too,' she thought. 'Or, more likely, she's been asked the question five hundred times.'

The lithe lawyer said in a hushed voice, "What's it like? I mean, to have any man instantly at your beck and call, what is that like?"

Siren laughed heartily and threw back her unfettered hair.

"I wish, young lady, I could tell you it's a terrible burden to not be able to feel true love from a man, only mindless adoration . . . but I won't lie. It's an incredible feeling, although I do suppose I take it for granted. It's become old hat to me. For the last ten years, that has been my world. I do not know if that answers your question . . . but it's the best I can do."

Ally listened to the answer, but it really didn't register, as she daydreamed about how different her chaotic love life would be if she were a siren. 'How easy it–,' she thought, until she looked up and saw Siren's bemused expression.

Embarrassment briefly colored Ally's cheeks as she said to the sexy sorceress, "Why don't I start prepping you for the witness stand?"

Siren merely smiled and nodded.

"As you know," Ally said, "I will begin with the direct examination . . ."

THREE WEEKS LATER, THE SIREN MEETS HER ATTORNEY AT THE PRISON LIBRARY.

The Siren was wearing the new outfit provided by her lawyer. It was a pink and lavender dress that almost looked like someone's idea of Christmas wrapping paper, except with tiny crabs and lobsters adorning it. With that dress and the lavender bow in her neatly-coiffed brown hair, the Diabolical Diva almost appeared innocent. Disproving that incorrect assumption, however, was quite easy, once she opened her mouth.

"I look like I've been gift-wrapped for Captain Nemo," Siren said, scowling. "I am the Siren, not a mermaid. While it's true I can look ravishing in any outfit, this particular one offends my sensibilities."

"Well, you're really quite correct, Lorelei," Ally said. "We are indeed presenting you, packaging you, as it were."

“This drab package would be a tad better with a silver bracelet, right about here,” Siren said with a hopeful look on her face as her right hand touched her left arm, just above the elbow.

“No, it wouldn’t. We're trying to demonstrate that you CAN be innocent and demure and, most importantly, not a threat to society."

"I wouldn't say I'm a threat to all of society, Ally," the sexy sorceress said with a smirk. "I merely am a threat to financial institutions and the bank accounts of wealthy men."

"And jewelry stores, wouldn't you say?" Ally asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yes, those, too." Siren said.

Ally smiled wanly as her client so much as admitted her crimes. She again thought, 'What must it be like, to have every man hanging on your every word? Maybe then I wouldn't go through boyfriends so quickly.’ She laughed to herself. ‘Or maybe I'd just go through them even faster!'

The defense attorney's smile widened as she pondered the possibilities.

"I must admit, my dear, you seem to have become accustomed to the tales of my exploits," the Siren said.

"Well, two of my colleagues at the firm where I used to work once took on a civil suit in which the defendant claimed that her pheromones made her irresistible to all men. Judging by my colleagues' reaction to her," Ally's eyes widened, "I'd say she was right."

Siren's eyes grew bigger as well. "Interesting," she said, clasping her hands together. "I would love to meet her. I bet the two of us would have plenty about which to talk."

"I'm sure you would," Ally said with a wide grin as she grabbed her briefcase. "Let's go. I believe the van is waiting. I'll see you in the courtroom."

"I'm curious — why did you leave that firm?” the Siren asked. “I am sure you were remunerated more handsomely there than in your current position."

"Let's put it this way — I grew bored working there. I wanted to go someplace where I could make a difference."

Ally's smile faded into a serious expression as she left the room.

SHORTLY THEREAFTER, THE SIREN IS ON THE STAND, RECEIVING DIRECT EXAMINATION FROM HER ATTORNEY.

". . . I know I can do it, and I will do it," the Siren said firmly as she looked at the judge with as honest an expression as the calculating crooner could muster. "This time, I WILL reform."

Ally looked downward for a brief moment, in an unspoken sign which the two had agreed upon earlier. It signified that Siren was supposed to ratchet down her emotions a little bit, but asking the tuneful temptress to tone down her theatrics was akin to trying to persuade Batgirl to take off her cowl in public.

"And if your voice was taken away," Ally asked, "you would be unable to earn a living, isn't that correct?"

"That is correct. Why, since I was twenty years old, I've made a living with my voice. Singing is the only career I've known. I want to go on a straight path, but how can I do it if there is no way for me to support myself?"

District Attorney Harvey Dent rolled his eyes at that comment, but the Siren didn't notice and continued.

"Taking away my voice not only would be inhuman," the mesmerizing meta-human continued, "but it also would leave me without my best chance at being a productive member of society." Siren punctuated her declaration with her sweetest, most innocent smile.

Ally put her hands in the pockets of her navy blue blazer, and leaned back on the defense table. "So what, if it were up to you, would you suggest, Ms. Circe?"

"Objection," Dent said.

"On what grounds?" asked Judge Brenda Cleaver. The African-American justice wore a no-nonsense expression.

"Your Honor," the semi-disfigured lawyer said, "I hardly think it is appropriate for the appellant to suggest her own solution to the-"

"Stop right there," the judge said forcefully. "The precedent-setting nature of the prosecution's penalty-phase request has precluded the chance for a plea-bargain. Thus, I see no harm in the appellant attempting to solve the problem through some other means. Objection overruled. You may answer the question, Ms. Circe."

Siren looked around her. Except for Dent, and a few male media members, there were no other men in the courtroom. Every guard and bailiff was female, and all were equipped with sunglasses.

"Ms. McBeal," the beautiful Brit said, "I believe it's these electronic implants attached to my vocal cords that have given my voice extra power for the last several years, since I originally lost my voice after singing a note three octaves above High C. Since the time when these implants were installed, I have been able to retrain my voice to sing in all of the lower registers. Thus, if the implants were removed, I believe that I would be able to sing normally, with no chance of my voice unduly influencing anyone. I truly believe that."

Of course, she conveniently left out the fact that she could have the implants re-installed after they were removed.

"No further questions, your Honor," Ally said. She then nodded slightly at Siren, letting her know she had done well on the stand.

"Your witness, Mr. Dent," the judge said.

Dent got up from the respondent’s table and approached the enchanting Englishwoman.

"Isn't it true, Siren," Harvey Dent began to ask, "that you have—"

Ally interrupted. "Your Honor, I object."

"On what grounds?"

"It is prejudicial for Mr. Dent to refer to my client by her criminal alias."

“Your Honor, if there were a jury present, Ms. McBeal might have a point, but does she mean to suggest this Court would be prejudiced by my use of the appellant’s adopted name?”

"Sustained," Judge Cleaver said. "Prosecution shall refer to the appellant by her legal name."

The scarred left side of Dent's face shot an angry glare toward his adversaries. Siren was merely bemused, but Ally flinched ever so slightly when she caught it. 'I wonder what rage lives within a person after going through something like that?' she thought, thinking of the incident in which Dent had been scarred indelibly by the super-magnesium flare set off by an accomplice of Playgirl's.

Then the winsome lawyer thought, 'I've known a lot of guys whose personality changed on a dime, but nothing like THAT.'

Ally quickly refocused as the D.A. continued his questioning.

"Isn't it true, Ms. Circe," he said, accenting each syllable of her name for effect, "that you have placed dozens, even hundreds, of men under your sonic hypnotic spell? And once in that trance state, those men were completely at your mercy, and subject to your every whim?"

Ally again said, "Objection, your Honor."

"Counsels will both approach the bench," Judge Cleaver said.

"Your Honor, prior bad acts are not necessarily an accurate predictor of future behavior," McBeal said.

Dent replied, "Your Honor, I am attempting to show there is an unbroken pattern to the appellant's criminal behavior. She refuses to reform, and will almost assuredly do so only if she is forced to by the removal of her superhuman voice."

The judge sighed. "Overruled," she said, looking at McBeal. She then turned to the Siren. "The witness will answer."

Siren hated taking orders from anyone, yet stayed composed.

"I suppose it's true, Mr. Dent, but I promise you and everyone else, that part of my life is over."

"That's a wonderful sentiment, Ms. Circe," he replied, "but we all know there's really only one way to ensure that. Isn't that correct?"

"Objection," Ally said.

"Withdrawn," Dent quickly answered. He added under his breath, "We all know what the answer is."

Dent decided to stop his cross-examination now, realizing there wasn't much more to which Siren would admit. Anyway, he felt he would be able to explain it all much better in his upcoming summation.

"We're just about out of time for today," the judge intoned, "so I will ask both sides to save their closing arguments until tomorrow morning. We will begin at nine a.m. sharp."

With the court proceedings over for the day, Siren was taken to the official Corrections Department van that would transport her back to the penitentiary. Two female officers, both wearing very dark sunglasses, helped her into the back seat and then flanked her.

As she looked out the window at the urban landscape, Siren's mind drifted back to that fateful night atop the Wayne Foundation Building.

Since she was fifteen, Lorelei Circe had been defined by her voice, which even superseded her incredible beauty. Back then, it only was five octaves, which still was more than enough to make her wealthy and successful beyond her fondest dreams.

As she once had told her understudy at the Londinium Opera House, "Pretty girls are a sixpence a dozen, my dear. A voice such as this, however, always will set one apart."

It was her voice that got her into the Royal Academy of Music as a teenager. It was her voice that made her the lead soprano at the Londinium Opera House, when she supplanted Diana Valencia, who was unceremoniously let go to make way for the new, beautiful and younger star. It was her voice that brought her fame, fortune and international recognition, long before she had become the Siren.

Then, in one horrible night, she had lost that voice, as well as her identity when Robin forced her to sing an eight-octave "antidote note" to release Bruce Wayne from her spell. The following months in prison were a struggle, that is, until the Minstrel came up with a plan to restore her voice with electronic implants.

Now she faced the removal of her voice forever. ‘Not again!’

Her first reaction was the same one she had when Robin was dangling her from the roof of the Wayne Foundation Building.

'I'd rather die,' she thought. 'If I'm not the Siren, what reason is there to live? This would, indeed, be a death sentence.'

THE NEXT MORNING . . .

Siren wore another demure dress, a white-lace number which looked as if she had donned a giant doily, as she listened to her lawyer's summation.

Ally again brought up the points that had been covered during her direct examination of Siren, particularly the fact that merely removing her vocal implants could potentially solve the problem.

"Your Honor," she concluded, "what my client said on the stand is correct. Ripping out her vocal cords would be inhuman, and inhumane."

Siren shuddered slightly at that graphic description, but understood why Ally had phrased it that way.

Siren patted her on the shoulder and mouthed the word, "Thanks," as Ally returned to the appellant's table.

Dent then took his turn. He scoffed at the notion that merely removing Siren's implants would be a solution, and added she still was a huge threat to the community.

"It's only through good fortune that the people at her command, yes, under her spell, if you will, have not killed themselves or someone else," he said, again eyeing her coldly. "But someday, it's quite possible that our collective luck will run out.

"There is only one way to ensure this person's cooperation," he said as he continued to glare at the spectacular sorceress, "and that is by removing the root of the problem. Sometimes, extraordinary people demand extraordinary measures on the part of law enforcement. Thank you, your Honor."

Dent sat back down.

"I have read the copious medical report on Ms. Circe," Judge Hatchett said, peering over her reading glasses as she held the dossier, "a report which I will note offered no explanation for her unusual abilities, despite extensive testing. I also have considered all the evidence and testimony, and please understand, Mr. Dent, that I do realize the conundrum this woman presents to conventional law enforcement as well as conventional law. That said, however, I believe it would be best to try to redress this situation through the Gotham State Legislature, rather than through the courts."

Dent slumped slightly in his seat as the judge continued.

"I am not naïve," she said. "I am not sure at all that this appellant"---she stared at Siren---"is capable of reforming. But I must admit that I am not comfortable setting precedent in this case. If I uphold the jury's decision, then where does it end? Do we remove the fingers from a convicted forger? Do we lop off the ears of a convicted safecracker? An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth may have worked for some societies, but it shouldn't be the standard for ours.

"Yes, I realize we do have the death penalty, but this appellant never has been charged with murder. So with that in mind, despite my misgivings, I have no choice but to reverse the jury's decision to remove the appellant's vocal cords, however, I hereby decree that the subject shall have her electronic vocal implants removed within three weeks from today. Court adjourned."

Ally rose from her seat and shook Siren's hand. "All things considered, that wasn't so bad."

"Thank you," Siren said. 'Now I must find a way to get out of this,' she thought.

Some twenty minutes later, Siren was considering her next move as she sat in the Corrections Department van, when the vehicle suddenly stopped. The driver, another female officer wearing sunglasses, pulled over because a GCPD police car had driven behind her and flashed its lights, indicating for her to stop.

The siren on top of the car was turned off, but a quite different one emerged.

It was Sirena, dressed in her idea of what a policewoman, or perhaps a police siren, should look like. Her long-sleeved black uniform top seemed about two sizes too small around the torso, the better to show her off her taut stomach. Strawberry blonde hair peeked out from underneath a black police cap. Red lipstick and fingernails accentuated the presentation, which was capped off by microscopic black shorts, fishnet stockings and thigh-high black boots.

The driver, however, at first didn't notice the unusual attire of the "officer," because she was fumbling for her badge and official Corrections Department identification. She finally looked in the side-view mirror and saw Sirena approaching.

She thought, ‘Who IS this officer? And why is she dressed that way?’

She didn't, however, think quickly enough. Before she could react, Sirena had sprayed her with knockout gas. She slumped forward onto the steering wheel, unconscious.

Sirena reached the through the open window and unlocked the driver's side door. Working as fast as she could, she poised herself to spray the other two officers. There was no way, however, to render them unconscious without also knocking out Siren. Sirena had no choice.

"Sorry, Siren," she said as she sprayed the women in the back seat. All three fell unconscious.

Sirena didn't say another word until she walked back to the squad car. In the front seat were two of Gotham City's Finest, Officers Jordan and Santos.

"Boys," she said sweetly. "I have some very precious cargo for you to handle. Please go into the van, and remove the woman in the back seat who isn't wearing sunglasses. And please, please, please make sure you lift her carefully without bruising her. If she gets one scratch or so much as a cracked fingernail, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Your wish is our command, beautiful Sirena," they said in unison before very carefully lifting Siren out of the van and placing her in the back seat of the police cruiser.

"Well done," Sirena said. "Now, you boys will drive us to the location I gave you before. Then you will return to your precinct. Is that understood?"

Both men nodded.

Hours later, at an abandoned warehouse which used to be the factory for Heavenly Harmonicas, Siren began to awaken. She was wearing a white sweater and a dirty blonde wig, both of which had been provided to her by Sirena while the Siren had been unconscious.

"Where am I?" she asked in a low voice.

"You're free," Sirena responded with a proud smile. "And I did it!"

Siren smiled as broadly as her apprentice as she looked at the surrounding walls, which almost were as drab as the ones in her prison cell. It looked like a luxury townhouse, however, to the English enchantress.

"I obviously taught you well," Siren said, stretching her arms. "Thank you, Sirena."

"You're welcome. How bad was prison?" Sirena asked.

"It was dreadful, absolutely dreadful," Siren responded. "I suppose, however, there was one positive—I didn't have to watch my countrymen exit in the quarterfinals of the World Cup."

"I wasn't going to bring up England's loss," Sirena said with a serious look.

"Do not sweat it, Sirena," the British beauty responded. "I forgive our lads. I blame our loss on the WAGs."

"The WAGs?"

"The wives and girlfriends of the players. Purportedly, they were partying all night in Germany and then ravaging the boutiques during the daylight, all while their boys were practicing or cooped up in hotel rooms. That is absolutely shameful."

Siren shook her head while Sirena smiled to herself. 'Partying all night and shopping all day,' she thought. 'I could handle that lifestyle.'

Fortunately, Siren didn't notice Sirena's brief grin. "I must admit, young lady," she said, "I thought you had forgotten about me."

"Never, Siren, never. It wasn't as much fun without you around. It's better when we work together. When we really work together," Sirena emphasized.

The older sorceress looked at the floor sheepishly. Saying she was sorry wasn't something she had done since she became the Siren.

"I was wrong," she finally said in a halting voice. "I apologize. I should not have deceived you. I am so used to doing it to others, I suppose I felt I could do it to you as well."

"So from now on, it'll be a fifty-fifty partnership, right?" Sirena asked as she extended her hand.

"Yes, of course," Siren said as she shook hands with the blonde beauty.

'For now, anyway,' she thought.

DAYS, WEEKS AND MONTHS HAVE GONE BY . . .

For months, Batgirl had tried not to think about Siren's escape. She didn't, at least not when she was battling other supervillains. She often agonized, however, over her alluring adversary's whereabouts.

‘I can't believe she hasn't resurfaced. She couldn't have stayed underground this long. She must be somewhere else.

‘But where?’

Not Londinium, that was for sure. One of the advantages of her father now knowing about her secret life was that Barbara Gordon could, clandestinely of course, persuade the Commissioner to make a phone call or two on her behalf. She had suggested he call Superintendent Watson at Venerable Ireland Yard to find out if Siren had returned to her native country, and the Commissioner had called several times, in fact. That also proved to be a dead end.

"We've got a large shipment here, Barbara."

The voice of her colleague, Drusilla, returned Barbara Gordon to the task at hand. Several new books had arrived at Gotham City Library, and it was up to Barbara to check them in and enter them in the library's database. It was dull, mindless work, but it had to be done.

Barbara was in the midst of this when one book caught her eye. It was titled The Mythology of Ancient Greece Revisited.

Naturally, she immediately flipped to the index at the back, looking for "sirens."

‘Maybe there's something here that can help me,’ she thought as she began reading.

"The flowery island of Anthemoessa was said to be the legendary island of the sirens. It is believed now to be the island of Capri, off the west coast of Italy."

Barbara thought, ‘Could that be it? Could that be where the Siren wound up? It seems crazy, but maybe it's worth a try.’

She continued reading. "The island has many beautiful spots for tourists, including a huge cavern filled with water. Sunlight passing through an underwater cavity shines through the water and illuminates the cavern. It is known as La Grotta Azzurra, or in English, the Blue Grotto. The sirens of mythology were said to live in grottos."

Barbara felt a chill run through her body. 'The Blue Grotto.' She recalled that when the Siren came to Gotham City for her first solo criminal caper, she stayed in a hotel called the Grotto Arms.

'I know I'm right. This has to be where she is!'

She cajoled her father into calling the Italian police authorities. Surmounting the language barrier wasn't easy, but the Commissioner found a translator from Gotham University's Romance Languages Department. He called his daughter at home later that day.

"I have good news, Barbara," he said. "There have been no reports of any criminal activity whatsoever on the island of Capri in the last six months."

"None? In six months?! Doesn't that seem a little strange to you, Daddy?"

"Yes, it does," he admitted sheepishly. He was hoping that for once Batgirl wouldn't be a sharp detective, so that maybe his daughter would drop this crazy idea of pursuing the Siren halfway across the globe.

"Why would crime all of a sudden disappear entirely?" Barbara asked rhetorically. "Maybe because whoever is REALLY running that island is covering up her own crimes. This is what she's always wanted to do, to literally become the queen she fancies herself.

"Go ahead," she said, issuing a challenge to her father. "Aren't you going to try to talk me out of this?"

"No," her father said with a resigned voice. "It wouldn’t make a bit of difference. This has become personal for you."

Barbara knew he was right, so she said nothing.

"I'll drop by to see you off later," the Commissioner said.

"Thanks," she responded. "I would appreciate it."

The trip to Capri was long. First, "Barbara Wilson" had to fly from Gotham City to Rome. She could have flown to Sorrento on the coast, but it would have cost a lot more because there were no direct flights from Gotham City. She landed in Rome at midday, then soon departed on a train for a four-hour ride to Sorrento.

Staring out the window at the lush Italian countryside, Barbara's mind wandered briefly as she thought about all the vineyards and landmarks she wouldn't be seeing. ‘Nope, this is a business trip.’ Knowing how long the train ride would be, she had made plans to stay overnight in Sorrento.

Not that she slept much, as all she could think about was what she might find the next day. ‘Maybe I’ve invented all of this. Maybe everything will be perfectly normal when I arrive in Capri.’

The next morning, she was on a hydrofoil that would take her over the Tyrrhenian Sea, from Sorrento to Capri. Looking at the shimmering blue waters soothed Barbara somewhat. As the island loomed closer, she noticed its highest point, Mount Solaro, accessible only by foot or chairlift.

After reaching the island, she had no problem renting a motorcycle.

‘I suppose that's a good sign,’ she thought. ‘Or is making everything appear normal the perfect way to deflect suspicion?’

Barbara was determined to drive the entire coastline as Batgirl, just to see if something might be amiss.

She was getting quite tired when she finally saw the woman for whom she was looking.

There she was, the Siren, shimmering on the beach in a silver dress. It wasn't her traditional one, but the style was unmistakably hers.

Siren appeared to be posing among the ruins, just off the shoreline, as a photographer snapped away. Batgirl approached as stealthily as she possibly could.

Still, Siren noticed her. It was hard to camouflage a flash of purple, which seemed so out of place on the white sands of the beach.

Siren addressed the photographer.

“You may take a break, my good man,” she said. “I will summon you when your presence again is needed.”

“Your wish is my command, signora,” he said as he put down his camera and walked away.

Siren then turned her attention back to her nemesis.

"You finally have found me, Batgirl. Congratulations."

"With your sense of drama, Siren, this was the perfect place for you to go," Batgirl said. "I didn't think you'd go back to your beloved Londinium, considering the authorities there are much more aware of you."

"I'm not surprised that you figured it out, Batgirl. I must admit, you are quite the detective. Dare I say it — you're almost as smart as I, but not quite."

"Oh?" she replied.

"Well, if you were as smart as I, it wouldn't have taken you so much time to figure this out. In that time, I've already established a beachhead here, so to speak, as you will discover momentarily."

Siren smiled at Batgirl and let out her piercing note.

Batgirl's green eyes widened as hundreds of men suddenly appeared on the beach. Batgirl closed her eyes briefly in anguish, but quickly forced herself to look as her pragmatic nature got the best of her. She knew what to expect — every man had the classic appearance of one of Siren's victims, stock-still with blank expressions and vacant eyes.

As always, Batgirl maintained her bravado in the face of impossible odds. "Three hundred against one hardly seems like a fair fight, Siren, but I'll gladly give it a shot."

"Oh, Batgirl, don't flatter yourself," Siren said, placing her hands on her hips in her classic pose. "It wouldn't take that many of my mesmerized minions to subdue you. A dozen or so of my men probably would do the trick." Siren shook her head.

"I just wanted to demonstrate to you that I am in total control of this island. I control the police, the transportation and all the industry. Escape, for you, is not possible.

“Batgirl, welcome to Anthemoessa, legendary home of the sirens, and current home to two of them!

"This is what I once had hoped to accomplish in my native country, albeit on a much larger scale there . . . but who's complaining? Certainly not any of my extremely loyal subjects, all of whom seem quite happy with the new government."

"But what about the language barrier?"

"It's quite amazing, Batgirl. Shortly after I arrived here, all of my people learned to speak English incredibly rapidly. That shows you what people can do when they learn this wonderful language from a native Englishwoman, and not an American. No offense, my dear."

Batgirl changed the subject. "You said two sirens. Where's your partner in sonic sorcery?"

"You mean the lovely Sirena? Oh, she certainly is enjoying herself. In fact, she will be appearing in concert tonight at the Lorelei Circe Arena. A capacity crowd is expected."

"I'm sure," Batgirl replied glumly, quickly adding, "the Lorelei Circe Arena. How convenient. I suppose you had no trouble getting that built."

"You are quite correct, Batgirl. When one is the real power behind the Capri treasury, the Capri Department of Public Works and the Capri Committee for the Performing Arts, it's quite easy to get projects approved. It's also quite easy to do away with anything and anyone of which I disapprove, such as overconfident heroines who believe they possess more intelligence and more beauty than the Siren."

"Why is this always about your limitless ego, Siren?"

"It always is about the Siren, simply because I am the most intelligent, most talented, most beautiful, most powerful and most charming woman in the world."

"Your song is charming, not you," Batgirl replied angrily. "Why won't you ever admit that?"

"I will not admit something that is not true, Batgirl. Yes, my voice gives me power over men, but the allure of my beauty ensnares them in my web long before I open my mouth. Why, I never will forget my first encounter with that bumbling bureaucrat, Commissionah Gordon."

At the mention of Gordon's name, Batgirl's jaw instinctively clenched as she recalled the two times the Diabolical Diva put the Commissioner under her spell, transforming him into her willing henchman.

"The first time I sashayed into his office, he had no idea who I was. Yet the moment he saw me, he was mesmerized. What man, really, could resist this face, body, etcetera? My voice, my dear, merely is the proverbial icing on the cake.

"Enough, however, about me. It's time to talk about you, my dear. As for your itinerary, my uninvited guest, while it would be fitting to have you dashed to purple bits on the jagged rocks by the shoreline, I've devised something more practical."

She turned away from Batgirl and addressed her mesmerized minions.

"Boys! Please subdue Batgirl. I want her to stay and enjoy our hospitality."

The hypnotized men, all three hundred or so, began slowly advancing on Batgirl. She looked behind her. There was nothing but ocean.

Back to the Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage!