How Quickly Sirena Learns

The confrontations between Batgirl and Siren had become very personal. Batgirl was getting quite tired of the brazen beauty's ability to repeatedly escape.

While the Curved Crusader correctly deduced that the criminal partnership between Siren and Lady Peasoup was born mostly of convenience, she saw the emergence of Sirena as an ominous development.

The apprentice arch-criminal's somewhat ambivalent attitude, however, gave Batgirl hope. She still was young and impressionable and, perhaps, still able to reform. She could be saved, Batgirl decided.

First, though, Batgirl had to figure out a way to save herself.

The Ffogg dungeon obviously wasn't a prime Ffoggshire tourist attraction, but Batgirl had managed to be in this dank, dark hellhole not once, but twice. After his first release from prison, Lord Ffogg had begun redoing the dungeon, but those plans had been interrupted by his and his sister's second arrest. Not much had been changed, so Batgirl hoped her familiarity with the place was an advantage.

Lady Peasoup had learned from her and her brother's previous failed attempt on Batgirl's life. Instead of the unstable and flawed lethal fog pellets, which had been a dismal failure, she had elected to pump a new version of paralyzing fog into Batgirl's basement prison.

Years of being in similar predicaments had heightened Batgirl's senses in situations such as these. She noticed that her ears popped at the sudden change in air pressure as the gas began to be introduced into the large room.

‘This gas is odorless and colorless,’ Batgirl observed.

The size of Ffogg Place's dungeon was a plus for the Delectable Dynamo, as it obviously would take some time for the gas to be dispersed around the room, meaning more time for Batgirl to escape. Peasoup had correctly figured out that it was Batman who had released Batgirl from her chains the previous time, so the older villainess wasn't worried about the Buxom Beauty breaking her bonds.

The Caped Crusader was in Gotham City, so Batgirl would have to do it by herself this time . . . but how?

Her utility belt was gone. Unlike in her younger days, she didn't waste much time struggling with her restraints. She had learned, after being stuck in many such traps, that once she determined her bonds wouldn't break with moderate physical effort, to look for a different solution.

As always, time was the key element. Soon, her muscles would begin to tighten as the paralyzing gas did its work on her. Then, she wouldn't be able to muster the strength to walk up the long staircase, even if she did manage to free herself.

She began moving her arms in an attempt to keep them limber. That's when she noticed . . .

‘I can move my forearms through the shackles,’ she thought. ‘Maybe there is a way out of here . . . and maybe it's actually a good thing I didn't take my vitamins this morning!’ She smiled to herself. Then she leaned to her left against the wall, bringing her right arm as close as she could to her left.

It was uncomfortable, but she had to do it. She lifted her right arm and pushed it through the shackles as high as she possibly could, straining to do so. Batgirl was able to bend her arm just a little bit, even though the restraint still was above her elbow. She did the same with her left arm, bending it to meet her right hand.

‘Yes!’ She was able to reach a small, but very strong, industrial file concealed in the flanges of her left glove. She lifted it out of the glove and slowly managed to grip it with her right hand. She began filing away at the restraint.

Fortunately, these chains were as old and rusty as the ones with which Batgirl had been originally bound years ago. Although ankle restraints had been added, the workers had apparently just used whatever shackles were already in the dungeon. Nevertheless, filing through them was still slow and tedious work.

Finally, a mighty twist separated the metal. ‘One down, three to go,’ she thought. ‘I wonder how much gas I’ve breathed in already?’

She transferred the file to her now unencumbered left hand and began the same procedure, sawing the restraints on her right arm. This was even tougher, because Batgirl was naturally right-handed.

Then, to her horror, she noticed the muscles in her fingers and hands stiffening. Even though this new type was not as fast-acting as the original, the insidious paralyzing gas had begun to do its work!

Fortunately, the gas had no odor, so at least Batgirl wasn't coughing. Still, her breathing was becoming more labored, as even her heart seemed to be beating more slowly. She could feel her lungs getting heavier and heavier. Normally, the Dominoed Daredoll would feel her chest pounding as she tried to escape a predicament such as this, but the gas, as promised, even was affecting her involuntary muscles.

‘If I'm here much longer,’ she thought, ‘my heart will literally stop!’

Breathing more and more heavily, the escape artist finally freed her right arm from the shackles. Desperately, she tried to focus.

‘OK, what's next? My legs, that's right.’

She began sawing away at the shackles around her right ankle. She now was able to use her right hand, but her fingers were becoming ever tighter, slowing the process down tremendously.

‘Can't stop now,’ she thought.’Have to keep going.’ Finally her right foot was freed.

After what seemed as if an eternity to Batgirl, her left foot pulled free as well.

Like a swimmer in a relay, she pushed off from the wall, using it to give her heavy legs some impetus in the opposite direction. The stairs were about fifteen feet away, but it felt more like fifteen miles. Still, she kept going.

Finally, she reached the foot of the stairs.

‘I feel like I'm about eighty!’ the thirty-year-old heroine thought as she ascended the stairs slowly, straining to lift both of her tired feet onto one step before climbing to the next.

‘Will I be able to pick the lock and get out of here?’ Batgirl wondered. ‘One problem at a time,’ she decided. ‘I’ve got to get there, first.’

When she was three steps from the top, a light suddenly shined in as the door opened. It was Lady Peasoup, carrying a flashlight with a surgical mask over her nose and mouth. A couple of steps behind her was the Siren, also wearing a surgical mask.

"What?!" Peasoup exclaimed. That's the only word she had time to utter before backing away into the Cricket Pavilion. Batgirl's adrenaline-rush from this unexpected opportunity to immediately escape enabled the Vigilant Vixen to bound up the remaining steps and barge through the door before Peasoup had time to close it!

Making sure to first close the door to keep the gas safely behind her, Batgirl lunged at the older villainess.

The move was a success. Peasoup went down in a heap under the force of Batgirl's weight, a loud grunt punctuating the nefarious noblewoman's hitting the floor. She appeared to have had the wind knocked out of her, as she said nothing after hitting the deck.

Batgirl, though, wasn't in much better condition. Still holding on to Peasoup to prevent an escape, the Delectable Dynamo saw her narcissistic nemesis run across the room, once again demonstrating surprising speed for a woman sporting Greek-style sandals and a huge bouffant hairdo. Siren ran to warn her protégée.

"Run, Sirena, run," she said. "Wait for me in the van outside."

Her charge followed orders.

"Congratulations, Batgirl," a magnanimous Siren said just before she left. "You got one of us. Bravo. But don't get any ideas about calling Ireland Yard until I'm gone, or we'll have to see eye-to-eye once again. That wouldn't be good for you, considering we removed your tinted contacts while you were unconscious."

Siren briefly had thought about putting Batgirl under her hypnotic spell, but remembered the second time she had tried to do so back in Gotham City. The sexy sorceress had wound up nearly having a seizure.

‘Was that because of Batgirl’s strong will, or the fact that I hadn’t prepared myself properly, or some combination of the two? In any event, it doesn’t seem prudent to try again under similar circumstances, especially when I likely will meet Batgirl again some other time, when I will have more of an advantage.’

"You can't avoid me forever, Siren," Batgirl vowed.

"We'll see about that," the luscious lawbreaker said, "and if you're expecting her Ladyship to turn on me, think again. Ta-ta!"

Siren exited, leaving her pulchritudinous pursuer to ponder that promise.

Moments later, Batgirl had recovered enough to find her utility belt. She pulled her cell phone out and punched in the number for Ireland Yard.

‘At least one supervillainess is out of circulation.’

ONE DAY LATER, AT A NEARBY HOTEL

‘Why does this always have to happen?’ Dick Grayson thought.

Here he was, on a business trip to Londinium. His mentor, Bruce Wayne, had entrusted him with putting the finishing touches on a deal between Wayne Industries and British Amalgamated Traders.

The deal was done and he had a few more days on his own in the city. He even had tickets for the Wimbledon women's and men's tennis finals, which would be contested in just a few days . . .

. . . but as he looked out his hotel window at the Grotto Arms Londinium, overlooking Hide (And Seek) Park, he was troubled by what he had read in the Londinium Times.

At the bottom of the front page, under the headline Noblewoman Arrested Again, there was a short story about the apprehension of Lady Penelope Peasoup. For most people, the arrest of an arch-criminal would have been cause for celebration . . .

. . . but not for Dick Grayson, at least not in this case.

He thought about Robin's and Batman's encounter with the refined rogue, and quickly realized what was bothering him. Previously in her criminal career, she had worked with her brother, Lord Marmaduke Ffogg, who had remained in prison when she was released. Dick’s crimefighting instincts told him Lady Peasoup was unlikely to work alone. That meant she probably had sought out a perfidious partner.

So, in the guise of Robin, he decided to call Ireland Yard.

After quickly dropping Commissioner Gordon's name, he was connected to Superintendent Watson.

The English police official would rather not have told Robin, an American civilian, after all, the true situation. The Superintendent knew, however, he needed all the help he could get.

"Holy Apprentice Hypnotist," Dick muttered under his breath as Watson told him about the re-emergence of Siren, who, Watson said, now was apparently accompanied by a younger siren with the same mind-control ability over men.

"Believe me, Robin," Watson concluded, "any help you can provide would be most appreciated."

"I'll do my best, Superintendent," he replied. "I'll do my best."

He looked at the Wimbledon tickets on his night table.

"So much for that," he said.

MEANWHILE, IN A HOTEL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF LONDINIUM, AN EERILY SIMILAR SCENE UNFOLDS

Betty Kane took a small photo of herself out of her purse. The blonde, blue-eyed beauty, though, wasn't admiring her own looks. She proved that when she flung the picture across the room.

‘I won't be needing that anymore!’ she thought.

Of course, the confident athlete had booked her room for three full weeks. That included a week of practice before the tournament as well as the two weeks, counting the Saturday final, that it would run. This was the year, she thought, that she would finally break through and win it, but it didn't happen and now disappointment was beginning to mix with boredom for her.

Betty had spoken to her Aunt Kathy earlier that morning. Kathy Kane could tell her niece already was becoming restless.

Betty’s mother and Alan Kane – Betty’s father and Kathy’s brother – had been murdered by burglars years ago while Betty was away at a tennis camp. The two young women had taken a sacred vow to avenge themselves upon the underworld.

Kathy knew Betty was an inveterate thrill-seeker, which was also part of the motivation for the tennis player’s alter-ego of Flamebird, the Goggled Guardian of Gotham City. Kathy suspected her niece wouldn't be spending much time in a hotel room, now that the Wimbledon title was out of reach.

"Just be careful, Betty," she reminded her.

"Of course I will, Aunt Kathy," she said with a knowing smile. "Aren't I always?"

SEVERAL BLOCKS AWAY, ON THE TOP FLOOR OF A WAREHOUSE

"Why should I look in the mirror," Siren asked herself, "when I already know I'm beautiful?" The self-assured chanteuse walked away from the mirror toward a cardboard door frame with large musical notes affixed to it.

‘I'm glad I had some of Riddler's old decorations sent across the pond,’ she thought.

Through that makeshift door was Sirena's room at Siren's new base of operations. Because the dominating diva had no time to scour Londinium for an abandoned building to use as a new hideout after Batgirl had routed them from Ffogg Place, she went in a different direction.

‘After all,’ she thought, ‘I can MAKE any building an abandoned one!'

She quickly discovered a three-story industrial building on the city's west side that was in-between tenants. She placed a call to its owner, and one note two octaves above High C later, the sonic supervillainess was the new owner of this warehouse, free of charge.

Siren found the still-somewhat shy seductress sitting on her bed, her arms folded over her knees as she rocked her head back and forth.

"Sirena, this is no time for privacy," she said, pronouncing the last word in the English fashion, with a short ‘I’ and the accent on the 'V.' Siren looked sternly at her protégée and added, "We have much to do in a short period of time."

"I'm sorry, Siren," replied Sirena in a quavering voice. "I just noticed something. Where are the other students?"

"Their presence wasn't needed anymore, Sirena," was the answer. "Don't worry — I sent them all back to their respective homes safe and sound, except minus the knowledge of having known either of us. As far as they are concerned, sirens exist only in mythology."

Siren smiled wickedly, adding, "They are entitled to their opinions. In fact, because I caught Lady Peasoup off-guard one day and gave her a little attitude adjustment as well, I can assure you that she won't be providing the bobbies with any information about the two of us, no matter how many times she is interrogated."

"Oh, OK," Sirena said haltingly, glad they seemed to be in no immediate danger of being apprehended by the police, yet still uneasy with this new lifestyle.

"You don't sound well. Are you all right, Sirena?" Siren almost was taken aback by the actual compassion she detected in her own voice.

She smiled to herself. ‘I thought I was beyond that.’

"I wish you would call me Kristina again," her youthful charge answered.

"Well, you can still use that name, when you must. I still use my given name sometimes, whenever I'm having hapless, hypnotized men sign their assets over to me. When it comes to legal documents, I'll always be Lorelei Circe.

"Yes, you never will be merely Kristina again, so you'd better get used to it, young lady." Siren paused and tried her best to look concerned. "Something else obviously is bothering you."

"You let Lady Peasoup get captured."

"I didn't LET her get captured, Sirena. She did that herself, by using a half-arsed deathtrap for Batgirl. I chose to save ourselves from the law. I can assure you that a Brit such as myself never would purposely have a fellow Englishwoman get nicked. Now, an American such as Catwoman or Poison Ivy, that might be a different story."

"I'm an American," Sirena reminded her.

"Yes, but you're too valuable to me," the ever-practical Siren said, "and, besides, in case you haven't noticed, I've become somewhat attached to you. You remind me of myself, a long time ago."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Sirena rolled her eyes.

Siren shook her head and looked intently at her reluctant protégée. "It's not just the powers you've been given, Sirena. It's your reaction to them, the way you're struggling with this gift. Empathy is a very strong emotion, my dear."

"You don't understand,” Sirena said. “I came to England because I wanted to make it big in the music industry, the way a lot of Americans have here. I just didn't think my career would take a turn quite like this."

"You'll get over it eventually, Sirena. I know I did."

"So, you once felt this way, too?" Sirena asked, looking up.

Siren nodded her head and then spread her arms in the air. "I wasn't always the woman you see standing before you, Sirena. It took me time to come to grips with my transformation, just as it is for you. It will get better, I promise you that. Believe me, this is the greatest gift that a woman can receive. I know that from experience, however, it takes time getting used to."

Sirena looked down and said nothing. Siren looked away from her.

"Maybe you're right, Sirena," the experienced enchantress said. "Maybe I shouldn't have bestowed this gift upon you. Maybe I should have chosen one of the other girls . . ."

"Like who?" Sirena's pride suddenly came to the fore.

"I'm just bluffing, Sirena. It was obvious to me that you were the only one of them who could handle this. So don't let me down."

"But I don't know if I have it in me, Siren, you know, to be a villainess. I'm not sure I can do it."

"You can. I know you can. Listen, I wasn't the least bit evil before I was transformed. When I became the Siren, it totally was without warning. I never asked for it."

"I never asked for this, either."

"Actually, you did, Sirena, when we first met, remember?"

"I suppose I did," she replied, suddenly recalling how she had said she wanted to be "just like” Lorelei Circe.

"Believe me, it wasn't easy for me at first, either. As I said, it takes time to get used to this ability. At least you'll have something I didn't have."

"What's that?"

"Well, me," Siren said, smiling. "At least you have someone to commiserate with, someone who's been there before and understands what you're going through. I will teach you how to use this power as best as I can."

"Then let's get started," Sirena said, her face brightening.

"OK. Lesson No. 1, Sirena, is that evil for the sake of being evil is wasted energy. Evil always should have a purpose, my dear. The sooner you learn that, the better off you will be. Some of my greatest mistakes occurred when I put evil ahead of common sense."

"Like when?"

"Such as the time, my dear, when I hypnotized that cretinous cop, Chief O'Hara, back in Gotham City, and directed him to drown himself. I did it on a whim, because it felt good. It, however, accomplished nothing to advance my evil plan. In fact, thinking back, once he was under my power I should have had the good Chief deliver the entire Gotham City Police Department to me. Back in those days, it was virtually 100 % male. Instead, I stupidly chose a moment of evil ecstacy that eventually led to my downfall."

"Why was that?"

"Well, Sirena, had I instructed Chief O'Hara to direct his police officers to me, all it would have taken was one stunning note, and I would have had dozens of well-trained and obedient constables at my disposal, instead of the overweight and ineffective twits who were my henchmen. Maybe then I wouldn't have had to order Bruce Wayne to join the fight. Then Robin wouldn't have knocked him into me, and I wouldn't have wound up dangling from the roof, begging for my existence.

"That's how I lost my original voice, Sirena. In exchange for saving my life, that blowhard Boy Blunder forced me to release that penniless fop Bruce Wayne from my spell with an antidote note, three octaves above High C. No one had done it before, and no one has done it since. It ruined my vocal cords until I got an electronic implant to compensate."

"Please forgive me for saying this, Siren, but knowing you for the last week or so, I'm surprised you didn't double-cross Robin once he saved your life, and refuse to perform the note." Sirena looked genuinely puzzled.

"Forgive you?" Siren smiled. "On the contrary, I thank you, Sirena. That's the nicest compliment I've gotten from someone not under my spell in quite some time. Double-crossing a man normally would have been my natural reaction."

Siren shook her head as she continued. Just thinking about it made her visibly upset.

"That bloody Batboy was so angry. I mean, if you had seen the way he forced me to the ground in front of Mr. Wayne. He was throwing me about like a veritable rag doll."

Siren exaggerated that a little bit to make her point.

"You know, I still haven't paid back that little git. I just didn't know what he was capable of at that moment, so I thought it best to play it safe. Of course, I wish I never had attempted to make Bruce Wayne jump off the roof, either."

Sirena said, "But I thought that's what sirens did, lured men to their deaths . . ."

Siren smiled. "It appears that someone has been doing some research, most likely on that blasted internet. Very good, Sirena. You've done your homework."

Sirena nodded her head to acknowledge the compliment.

"However, my dear, look here." Siren gestured down as she struck her favorite pose, a hands-on-beautiful-hips to rival even Batgirl's. She then thrust her fingers outward.

"You'll notice, young one, that I don't have the body of a bird, or a fish for that matter . . . and while my silver fingernails are somewhat long, they are hardly flesh-shredding talons. I assure you that we are not bound by the constraints of the sirens of mythology. In fact, there are very few boundaries for us at all.

"To us, Sirena, men are toys. To be acquired, used and discarded as we see fit . . . and don't you ever forget that."

"Were you born with these powers, Siren?"

"No, I wasn't, but it's a long, long story."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sirena said with a smile.

"I was once the lead mezzo-soprano at the Londinium Opera House, my dear."

"I know. Your career was, I mean is, legendary."

"Thank you, Sirena. It would be a lie, my dear, if I were to tell you that great beauty, such as what I obviously possess, is a blessing rather than a curse. I freely admit that my looks helped get me in the door at the Londinium Opera House all those years ago . . .

". . . however, it was my incredible voice that kept me there. Yet it seemed as if nobody could believe that such a tremendous voice could come from this body, and this face. Is there a law that states that the most beautiful woman in England couldn't be the most talented?

"So the critics all downplayed my ability," Siren said, a sneer crossing her lovely lips.

"What about the public, the fans?" Sirena asked.

"Well, season subscriptions among males in the 18-to-49-year-old range quadrupled after I was made the featured female performer. I doubt that all those men suddenly discovered culture," Siren continued.

"You still haven't told me how you got this way," Sirena interjected.

Siren took a deep breath, and began her story.

"Since you're technically still a student, I'll give you the Cliffs Notes version," she said, smiling. "I was trying to branch out from being an opera singer. Toward that end, I was performing at an outdoor concert in this city when I was struck by lightning. My voice was gone, but only briefly. When it returned, I discovered I could sing two octaves higher than I ever had before. I also discovered that when I did that, all men in my presence immediately would be hypnotized."

"Wow," was all Sirena could say.

"So when I saw you on stage at the Cashmere Club," Siren said, "it took me back ten years, to the first time I used my sonic abilities in a public setting. I'll never forget that feeling of raw power." Siren took a deep breath and looked past Sirena, once again basking in that long-ago moment.

A week after her transformation, Lorelei Circe played a now-defunct strip club called The Cave on the east side of Londinium.

“Why did you book yourself at a strip club, Siren?” Sirena asked.

“I picked the most testosterone-dominated setting I could imagine, so that I could turn the proverbial tables. That is exactly what I did!

"Silver wasn't yet my color of choice," she recalled as Sirena stared at her in wonder. "I was wearing a black dress with straps and a choker, and opera gloves as a nod to my former career."

With the crowd expecting a striptease, Lorelei Circe instead stunned them literally and figuratively, when she unleashed the note two octaves above High C.

"I can see it now," she said, her beautiful green eyes widening with pride. "Every single man in the audience became speechless and motionless."

She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the audience. Every male seemed to be paused in mid-thought, waiting for her next word.

"What did you do?" Sirena asked.

"I wasn't sure what to do. I suppose," the evil enchantress said, "that I was just as stunned as those men were. Finally I gathered myself and ordered each one to come up on stage and give me one twenty-pound note."

"I assume they did."

"Yes, my dear, every single one of them. Well, one of them had nothing smaller than a 100-pound note, so I was quite happy to accept that instead. It was at that point, as this procession of mesmerized men paraded before me, that I decided henceforth I would be known as 'The Siren.' The name just seemed to fit. Still does, as a matter of fact.”

"Will I ever be able to harness this the way you have?"

"In due time, Sirena, I promise you that. What you need to know now is that our hypnotic spells don't last indefinitely. Eventually, my dear, the men do awaken, however, they don't remember anything that happens while they are under our control."

Siren purposely didn't tell Sirena that their hypnotic spells work over the phone. 'She doesn't need to know that just yet,' Siren thought.

Sirena didn't think to ask about that, but she was puzzled at some of this information. “So, why didn't you just tell Robin that when he demanded you sing the antidote note, I mean, that it would wear off?”

“You try thinking straight when you’re being dangled from a building,” Siren said with a wan smile. “Plus, as I said before, I didn’t know what that bloody Boy Blunder was capable of at that moment. It, however, actually was for the best. With my electronic implants, it requires a lot less effort now to put men under my control. I’m sure it will be the same for you, my dear.”

Sirena suddenly was warming to her new abilities as a look of confidence washed across her face. "Is there anything else we can do to keep them under our control?" she wanted to know.

"Funny you should ask, because there is something you should try," Siren said. "I can give a man a post-hypnotic suggestion to obey me for a short period of time, even after my sonic influence wears off. I never had done that until after I lost my voice and the Minstrel installed voice-enhancing implants in my vocal cords. Of course, I never had tried before then, so maybe I had that ability all along. That's something to keep in mind, young lady."

"I will, Siren, I will. Thank you so much."

"My pleasure, Sirena." The supervillainess then actually found herself briefly hugging her protégée.

‘Just don't mess my hair,’ Siren thought.

Barbara Gordon spent most of the next day in bed in her hotel room at the Ipswich Inn, too tired from the toxins still in her bloodstream to do much of anything. She had visited a local hospital under the guise of Barbara Wilson, and with Barbara Wilson's medical insurance card, had told a doctor that she had fainted while mixing housepaint. It was the best story she could come up with on short notice.

She didn't think the doctor believed her, but yet he didn't question her too hard. He did tell her, though, that she needed to avoid strenuous activity for a few days while her body expelled all the toxins. It also gave her time to devise some sort of defense, should Siren and Sirena pool their vocal talents against Batgirl again.

Still, her main focus was to try to figure out what Siren's next move would be. While Barbara was concerned about Sirena, she could tell that Siren was doing all the planning in this criminal collaboration. Barbara's mind drifted back to when Batgirl, under the influence of Cataphrenic, had briefly been a henchwoman of Joker's. ‘Got to think like a criminal to catch one,’ Barbara thought, as she also drifted back to Siren's last words before her stunning foe had left her in the Ffogg Place dungeon. Maybe it was the influence of the Riddler, with whom Siren had worked twice, but she seemed to love dropping hints about what her next move would be. It was as if she wanted to demonstrate that she couldn't be stopped, even if Batgirl knew what she was going to do and where she was going to strike.

'Siren said something about being a "royal nuisance,"' Barbara remembered. ‘Could it be? Could the Siren be that ambitious?’ Barbara shook her head and shuddered slightly.

‘I think it's time I paid a visit to the Londinium Library,’ she decided. She mustered her remaining energy, went down to the street and hailed a cab.

THAT EVENING, AT SIREN'S WAREHOUSE, AN INTERESTING SCENE UNFOLDS

This time, Siren strode into Sirena's room at the hideout and encountered a totally different young woman than she had hours before.

Sirena was admiring herself in a full-length mirror, wearing a new outfit composed of Lurex pants and a Lycra halter top with ruffled sleeves, all in the shimmering silver favored by her mentor. Her belly button, of course, was exposed.

Unbeknownst to Siren, who had taken a nap after her long heart-to-heart chat with her protégée, Sirena had left the hideout and hailed a cab. The round-trip was, naturally, free of charge. She went to a nearby store specializing in exotic women's clothing, and helped herself to several outfits to fill out her wardrobe.

Her mentor didn't quite know what to make of her fashion sense, as Siren almost never displayed the navel, even favoring one-piece swimsuits instead of bikinis, for the most part. Siren, though, liked the initiative and, most importantly, the confidence Sirena had shown.

The Siren decided this was as good a time as any to go to the next phase in her plan.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Sirena."

"Thank you, Siren. I'm ready to show you that you made the right choice. What's next?"

Siren smiled wickedly. "I'll tell you later, Sirena. First, however, you need some rest. We have a busy night ahead of us."

Sirena's eyes widened as she clasped her hands together and began giggling. It was infectious, and her mentor soon began laughing, too.

IN THE WEE HOURS OF THE NEXT MORNING, TWO LONDINIUM POLICE OFFICERS ARE CRUISING THE DESERTED STREETS

Officers Flaherty and Doherty were in their patrol car when they received a call that the alarm at West End Appliances had gone off. Because they were the closest to the store, they responded.

When the two officers arrived, they were surprised to see the front window shattered, giving them a clear vision of the woman standing behind it . . .

. . . and she was quite an interesting vision, a young blonde dressed in a shiny silver halter top and matching pants and boots. She didn't appear to be carrying a weapon. The two cops had no way of knowing Sirena had shattered the window through the sheer force of the highest note in her vocal repertoire.

As they advanced toward her, she remembered what Siren had told her---that most Ireland Yard officers didn't carry guns. Indeed, neither bobby had one, which gave Sirena even more confidence.

"Young lady," Officer Flaherty said, "you won't get hurt if you come quietly."

Sirena smiled as she walked out of the store, toward the two men. She was holding a stolen karaoke microphone. It wasn't turned on, but she thought it made a good prop.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but when you have a voice as fantastic as mine, it's hard to be silent, you know?"

She then sang the note two octaves above High C. Both policemen shook their heads slightly and then stared at her.

"OK. Now that I have your attention," she smiled, "can you load all of these appliances into my van, parked in the back alley? It shouldn't be too hard. You two appear to be fairly muscular."

Both officers nodded their heads and silently began to cart TVs, CD players and Region 2 DVD players from the store to the nearby silver van. Standing next to the van was its owner, Siren.

The Siren was wearing a small fur wrap over her silver mini-dress, a nod to the cool temperatures of even an early summer Londinium night. Sirena didn’t even notice the slight chill, thanks to the adrenaline flowing through the newly minted criminal’s body.

Normally, Siren would have been livid to have any men ignore her. Not this time, as she beamed with approval as the men walked by, not even paying any attention to her. All they were concerned with was Sirena.

Siren looked like a mother watching her first-born graduate from college. ‘I can't believe she's learned so well, so fast,’ the veteran vixen vocalist thought. The often-catty Siren wasn't even that bothered about Sirena's heavy eye makeup, which almost made her look like a Goth enthusiast. Siren resisted the temptation to tell her protégée, "Next time, try using an eyebrow pencil instead of a magic marker, Sirena."

She also didn't feel compelled to remind Sirena about the next step in the plan. As it turned out, there was no need.

As the van quickly became filled with stolen merchandise, Sirena yelled, "Stop!" The two men immediately froze in place. "You," she motioned to Doherty, "will call your dispatcher. Tell him that you were unable to apprehend the suspect"— Sirena had heard that on a television show and thought it sounded appropriate — "a woman wearing a silver outfit, and she appeared headed toward the West side of Londinium. But try to do it in as natural a voice as possible. Is that understood?"

The officer nodded and went to the squad car to place the call.

"Was that all right, Siren?"

"All right?" Siren replied. "I couldn't have done it better myself, young lady. You are becoming just as evil as I."

Sirena wasn't quite sure about that, but blushed nevertheless.

The two silver-garbed sirens had hoped to reel Batgirl into their trap, but soon learned they had enticed a pair of birds instead of a bat.

Both Robin and Flamebird had been monitoring police scanners, and while none of Londinium's Finest were able to pick up the seductresses' scent, the two twenty-something heroes almost literally ran into each other outside Siren's warehouse.

Robin could feel his heart beat faster as Flamebird walked briskly toward him. The Tennis-playing Titan wore her trademark outfit, which was somewhat based on Robin's costume. It featured gold-tinted goggles, a red choker with a gold clasp, red gloves, a red top with green and yellow trim, yellow tights and red boots.

Although Flamebird's crush on Robin was a little stronger than the one he had on her, she usually did a better job of hiding her feelings whenever fate and crimefighting duties placed them in proximity. She sensed Robin's excitement at seeing her, but the dazzling do-gooder kept her cool. She was quite used to men eyeing her.

Even though he was an accomplished lip reader, Robin removed one tiny earplug. He enjoyed hearing Flamebird’s voice. Nevertheless, Robin was the first to ask the inevitable question.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was bored," Flamebird evasively replied with a smile, "so I was listening to the police radio. It sounded as if my presence was needed. I take it you felt the same way."

"Right – and from what I'm told and what I've heard, this is a criminal I've faced many times before," Robin said. "The Siren."

"I've heard of her," said Flamebird, who never had been face-to-face with the evil English enchantress. "Evidently, she has some bizarre powers. What can you tell me about her?”

Robin shook his head. "Where do I begin? Put it this way: she's a woman who can use her voice to hypnotize any man within earshot."

"That's crazy. How is that possible?"

"Don't ask me. I have no idea. I do know it is possible, because she's done it to me more than once.” He held out the earplug in the palm of his glove. “That's why I’d already inserted these in my ears and have taken some other counter-measures as well.

Flamebird’s serious expression turned even graver as Robin continued. “In addition, Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney both told me the Siren’s recently come up with a new ability: the power to entrance women just by looking at them!”

“Maybe my goggles will protect me?” Flamebird said unconvincingly.

“I hope so, Flamebird. Still, try not to look into her eyes.”

Flamebird nodded solemnly. Unfortunately, there was one shoe yet to drop.

"The worst thing,” Robin went on, “is it appears she is now working with a young woman who has similar abilities. Who knows what the two of them can do together?" Robin's expression gave Flamebird an idea of how serious this situation was.

Flamebird pointed up at the building and said, "It's almost 3 a.m. and there's a light on up there. I guess they're expecting us."

"Maybe we can surprise them," Robin replied. "Do you think you could climb up this building with me?"

Flamebird flashed her brightest smile and said, "You want me to follow you, Robin? No problem at all." She reached for the grappling hook in her utility belt, as Robin replaced the earplug and then did the same.

Siren had prepared an ambush for Batgirl, and was shocked to see the former Boy Wonder and some new heroine with which the Siren was unfamiliar enter through one of the windows. She pointed at Robin and said to Sirena, "You know what to do, young lady. Plan B."

Sirena nodded. "Uh-huh," she said, smiling.

By now, Robin had become almost blasé about the villainesses and henchwomen the young crimefighter found himself squaring off against. It seemed each one was more attractive than the last. Of course there were times when he was impressed by their beauty. Who wouldn't be? But he had an oath to uphold and a duty to perform, so their appearance rarely fazed him for more than a few seconds.

Still, as he clambered through the window, just before Flamebird, Robin was taken aback by what he saw when he focused on this newest of nemeses. He guessed she was just about his age. A blue-eyed blonde, she was a few inches shorter than the Siren and almost as gorgeous, albeit in her own way. He noticed she had copied the Siren's fashion sense, at least to a point, and Robin was momentarily blinded by the harsh light of the warehouse interior mixing with the glittering silver of her outfit.

Flamebird noticed Robin's sudden fascination, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Sirena saw it, too, as she caught Robin's eyes touring her body. On the one hand, she enjoyed the attention . . . but, also, there was the frustration she often had experienced as Kristina, when boys were fascinated by her looks, but had no interest in what she had to say.

She smiled to herself. ‘That won't be a problem anymore.’

"My name is Sirena."

She paused, waiting for a reaction from the former Boy Wonder. Flamebird mis-heard the name, and all she could think was, ‘Not another Serena. That's who knocked me out of Wimbledon last year!’

Sirena didn’t notice Flamebird’s momentary confusion. All she could think about was Robin, as she eyed him hungrily. "You like what you see, don't you, Robin?" She laughed. "Get used to it. I think you'll be seeing a lot more of me."

"Not once we've put you away," Robin said, glancing at Flamebird with an affirmative nod. "Your looks can't even begin to compare to Flamebird’s beauty, you evil temptress!"

Flamebird smiled, satisfied that Robin had paid his penance for his momentary slight to her. She also was quite pleased with the compliment.

Now it was Sirena's turn to be jealous.

‘I am talented and I am beautiful!’ she thought as she glared at Flamebird. ‘I’ve seen plenty of girls like her before. They all figured they could have any boy they wanted. Well, not this time! He'll never choose her over me again. I'll make sure of that!’

"I think you'll change your tune, Robin," Sirena said, "once you hear my song."

Robin shook his head. "Didn't your malevolent mentor tell you that, thanks to the Bat-Earplugs and Bat-Synchronizer, sonic spells are useless on me?"

Sirena smiled sweetly. "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"

She then opened her mouth and released her high-pitched note.

Although the sound obviously was quite muffled as it came through his Bat-Earplugs, Robin noticed immediately that it sounded a little different than the Siren's trademark note.

Sirena held the note and kept it going. As she did, Robin suddenly noticed he was having difficulty concentrating. He shook his head and tried to snap out of it, but he could almost feel his judgment and free will slipping away.

‘Why aren't the Bat-Earplugs and the Bat-Synchronizer working?’ he thought. Then the terrible truth hit him.

‘Sirena's voice is operating at a different frequency than Siren's!’

Frantically, he began adjusting the dial on the Bat-Synchronizer, trying to hone in on the frequency of Sirena's voice.

That would be his last independent thought for a long time.

Finally, Sirena ended the note.

"Robin, can you hear me?" she asked.

"Yes." Robin's voice was a monotone as he stared at the fledgling felon.

"This is soooooo cool," Sirena said as she approached Robin. "You're now my slave. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, who?" she prompted as she patted him on the cheek.

"Yes," Robin paused, "Sirena."

"Snap out of it, Robin! Please!!" Flamebird pleaded. Although the Goggled Guardian had, on a couple of occasions, been an unwitting pawn in a criminal plot, such as when Sandman had briefly transformed her into a sleeping beauty, or when she was under the influence of Catwoman's Cataphrenic, she never had seen a man overwhelmed by a sonic spell.

"He can't hear you any more," the young temptress said, turning briefly toward her blonde rival before eyeing Robin again as she took a seat in a nearby chair. "He sees and hears only me."

Sirena could sense there was some sort of relationship between Robin and Flamebird. How strong, she didn't know.

There was no way to know at this moment. While normally Robin's choice between the two young blondes would have been easy, his choice now was mandatory.

It was Sirena.

"Robin! That woman standing next to you, bring her to me."

"Your wish is my command, Sirena."

Flamebird was so shocked by events she failed to evade Robin’s grasp. Once seized, she was unable to tear away. The hypnotized hero dragged his partner in crimefighting toward his new mistress. Flamebird's protests fell on deaf ears as she found herself forced by Robin to kneel in front of Sirena.

The young villainess was blunt. "I don't like you," she said to Flamebird, "and I don't want you around. You're standing between me and something — someone — I’ve decided I want very badly.”

"Siren gave me some of this," the budding baddie said as she pulled a small spray bottle from underneath her chair. "She said she doesn't need it anymore."

Sirena pointed the gas in Flamebird's direction. Within seconds, the headstrong heroine was unconscious at her feet.

She stroked Robin's face. "I have some work for you to do," Sirena said.

"Anything you desire," Robin said.

Just then, Siren entered the room, an amazed smile forming on her face. Robin didn’t even react to her appearance, his concentration completely focused on Sirena.

"I heard the whole encounter,” Siren said, briefly clapping her hands. “That was incredible, Sirena. Again, I couldn't have done it any better."

Sirena took the compliment in stride this time. "What's next, Siren?" she asked.

Siren's hatred for Robin made her desperately want to get rid of him now, once and for all . . . but she could see how much fun her apprentice was having, and didn't want to ruin it. So, she decided not to mention him.

"Well, don't forget our rendezvous Saturday at 900 hours sharp,” Siren said. “I’m going to be staying for the next couple of days in the luxury high-rise I lived in when I was merely Lorelei Circe. I called ahead, and quite conveniently, they happen to have an empty penthouse apartment. I was going to invite you to stay with me, but I suspect you may want to make other arrangements.”

As much as she detested Robin, it was obvious that a very smitten Sirena held the opposite viewpoint. ‘I was young once, too,’ Siren thought as she decided to give her apprentice permission to go her own way for the next two days.

“Do whatever you want,” Siren said with a sigh. “Just be sure to use the directions I will provide you, and contact me Saturday at 830 hours for further instructions.”

Sirena nodded her assent, clearly pleased at the latitude her mentor was giving her.

“As for this young lady," Siren pointed to the unconscious Flamebird, "you've earned the right to handle her any way you want."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Sirena responded. "I really don't like this one, but I like that one over there," she looked at the mesmerized Robin and grinned widely, “a lot.”

“Just remember everything I’ve taught you,” her mentor said.

“I will, Siren. I will.”

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, FLAMEBIRD AWAKENS TO FIND HERSELF IN A PRECARIOUS PREDICAMENT

When Flamebird awoke, she realized she was lying spread-eagled on a table, with her hands and feet bound to it. Above her was a large skylight.

She heard Sirena's voice before she saw her captor.

"What do they call you again?" Sirena asked. "I mean, honestly, I forgot. It's been so long since that young man has mentioned your name. All he can talk about is me."

"Flamebird. The name is Flamebird," she replied angrily.

"Oh, of course. Well, Flamebird, you'll notice that you have been tied to a large work table underneath a huge skylight. And now I know it's hard for you to see the floor because of your uncomfortable position, but if you could, you'd notice there are two CD players connected to four stereo speakers."

"I'm not really in the mood for music," Flamebird said with a huff.

"Oh, but I insist," Sirena said as she slowly walked around the bound heroine. "Both players contain an identical copy of me performing the scales. Once I reach my highest note, it will shatter all the glass in this room, including that skylight, which will then plummet on top of you and turn you into a bloody mess, as they say in this country.

"But to show you that I'm not all bad, I won't remove your sunglasses or whatever those hideous things are. At least your eyes will be unscathed. Too bad I can't say the same about the rest of you."

"Gee, your kindness is overwhelming," Flamebird said with a sneer.

Sirena then walked over next to Flamebird, and addressed her up close, bending over to make her point.

"I remember your type from high school back in the States," she said. "You think you're so wonderful. You think you can have everything you want. Well, guess what? I've decided that you can't."

"So, that's what this is all about, Sirena?" Flamebird asked. "Jealousy?" A thought occurred to Flamebird. "Where is Robin?! What have you done with him?!"

"Don't worry, dear girl," Sirena said. "He's quite happy, I assure you.

"Robin, come to me," Sirena commanded.

The Twentysomething Titan walked in from the other room, still in a trance. He didn't even look at Flamebird, as all his attention was devoted to the hypnotic Hispanic-American.

"What do you desire, Sirena, you beautiful creature? Your wish is my command," Robin said as he fell to his knees in front of his mesmerizing mistress.

"Well . . . how about if you kiss me?"

Sirena kissed Robin hard as Flamebird tried to look away, but couldn't. Eventually, tears welled in her eyes as the kiss continued and she sensed that tongues just had to be exchanged at some point.

Finally, they separated as Flamebird tried to regain her composure.

"Hey, Sirena," she said. "You know, if you execute your plan, and it rains, it might ruin your hideout. You wouldn't want to do that, would you?"

Although not as experienced as Batgirl, Flamebird knew enough to try to stall and reason with her captors.

"Nice try, little birdie," Sirena responded. "You are good, aren't you? But I checked the long-range forecast, and it calls for sunny skies for the next few days. I wish I could say your future was that bright.

"Besides, I don't think I'll have any problem finding a male contractor to fix that skylight, free of charge, of course. That is, once we've removed your lifeless body from underneath. Remember, the police lost the trail after my appliance-store appearance. Nobody knows you're here.” Sirena began giggling. “And since this isn't your home country, it may be a while before anyone figures out that you were ever here!"

‘Sad to say, that’s true,’ the trapped Flamebird thought. She didn't tell Aunt Kathy exactly what she would be doing, and Batwoman wouldn't even consider her missing until the day after the Wimbledon final, when Betty Kane was scheduled to check out of her hotel.

‘Why are you thinking like that?’ Flamebird thought. ‘There's got to be a way out!’

"You haven't seen the last of me, you blonde witch!" Flamebird yelled. "You can't get rid of me this easily!"

"We'll see, little birdie. Robin!"

"Yes, Sirena?"

"Would you please place the two CD players next to one another, and press the PLAY button on both at the same time?"

"If that is what you wish, my dear."

"I don't have time for manual labor, Flamebird," Sirena said with a smile. "I'm sure you can guess who tied you so tightly to that table."

‘And Robin did quite a job of it, too,’ Flamebird thought glumly.

Robin again did as he was told, and Sirena could be heard singing through the speakers.

"I just love hearing my own voice," she said. "Enjoy this performance, because it will be the last one you ever hear. I wish I could stay and watch, but I'm sure this young man and I can find more interesting things to do."

Sirena eyed the mesmerized hero lasciviously and added, "Robin, would you like to say goodbye to Flamebird?"

Robin turned to Sirena and looked at her quizzically. "Who?"

Sirena patted Robin on the cheek. "Good boy. My sentiments exactly." Sirena said loudly, "Bye, bye, birdie. Follow me, Robin."

Flamebird said nothing as Sirena and Robin left the room.

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