Strange And Amazing Adventures Are In Store For The Terrific Trio - And For You, Too, Dear Reader!”

Exit Daka - Raging!

by HONK!

Robin skillfully guided the Batcopter out over the ocean. Although the setting suspiciously resembled what we have seen of the Batcopter in previous episodes, be assured that on this occasion it was actually much farther out to sea, in a completely different location. Robin tried the radio.

“Calling Bruce Wayne! There could be villains inside the submarines ready to fire missiles at any approaching aircraft!” He waited for a response, but received only silence. “Doctor Wayne? That’s funny. I just talked to him. Why isn’t he still on break?”

Tragically, Bruce Wayne was still trapped at the center of Dr. Daka’s diabolical dissecting contraption. Bruce could hear the faint chirp of Robin’s voice coming from the radio transceiver in his coat pocket. Bruce desperately tried to maneuver his strapped arms to get at the radio. Just as he had managed to fish it out enough to touch the reply button, a swinging hydraulic arm knocked it from his grasp. The batteries popped out of the radio as it hit the floor.

Bruce looked up to see a number of sharp-edged scalpels poised directly above him. As he tried desperately to devise a means of escape, the scalpels simultaneously descended on him from multiple directions. In the Batcopter, Robin briefly heard the sound of metal gears grinding before the connection was just as swiftly broken.

“Bruce! Bruce!” he cried. The only response was static.

And, in what just minutes before been the Riddler’s hospital room, Barbara Gordon sat struggling with her bonds. With brave determination, she attempted to wiggle her arms free of the chair back around which they were tied.

Meanwhile, Daka and the treacherous Nurse Blondy Jo sat relaxing in the back of an automobile. Behind the wheel was the Riddler, as he received instructions via Daka’s mind-controlling microphone. Daka fitted a cigarette into his cigarette-holder as he savored the moment.

“I feel it is worth noting, Mr. Riddler, that you seem to be held in higher regard than I by our brethren in the super-villain elite,” Daka sneered as he lit his cigarette. “Yet it is you who the world will observe chauffeuring us around your city (turn left here). You, a lowly driver, the only role in this monumental plot which would suit your limited capabilities.”

Barbara had managed to tug her arms up over the chair back and now straightened unsteadily to her feet. As she began hopping across the hospital room, its former occupant was pulling to a stop at the street that bordered the front gate of the hospital. A blur of speeding traffic from both directions whooshed past in front of them.

Daka spoke into the microphone. “Wait. Wait. After this car you will go. And then we may discuss these submarines of yours.” Registering the fact that a car had indeed passed by, the Riddler started to pull into traffic.

“No, wait!” said Daka, forcing the Riddler to suddenly brake. “Not that car, fool...this one!”

“Wait! Thayat truck!” added Blondy Jo.

“Yes, wait,” agreed Daka. “You go just after this truck.” The Riddler waited, his blank gaze directed straight ahead.

Barbara’s leaps had by this time brought her to the opposite side of the room. Gasping for breath, she resolutely forged ahead, thrusting her torso at a button on a wall panel. A label under the button read ‘Bubonic Plague Contamination Alert’. By straining on the tips of her toes, she managed to press the button with her nose. The sound of claxons immediately filled the air.

The repercussions of the alarm were instantly felt out at the front gate. The activation of the alarm automatically triggered the closing of the huge security gate, albeit very slowly. Inside the nearby car, debate continued over ideal traffic-merging conditions.

“Go! What you wait for?” Daka snarled at the Riddler.

“Nu-ooo!” cried out Blondy Jo, spying a speeding car sliding over into the nearest lane.

“Stop!” Daka commanded just in time to save them the oncoming Cadillac. The three villains remained oblivious to the huge gates continuing to close on either side of them.

“Get ready...not yet...wait,” Daka said.

“He shudda gone!” protested Blondy Jo.

“Not yet...not yet...yet! I mean, now!”

The Riddler obediently hit the gas. The car plowed straight into the unyielding clutches of the security gate. The massive gate crushed the front end of the car like a walnut, stopping it dead in its tracks.

In the hospital room, Barbara had located a tiny pair of scissors and was now using them to cut through the tape binding her wrists.

The Siren quietly crept through the bushes lining the hospital’s fenced perimeter. Although the alarm had now shut off, she was still wary of being spotted. Hearing a shout, she turned to see Daka standing by his damaged car. He was waving his claw hand in the air and swearing in his native tongue. Her eyes widened as she spotted the Riddler standing by passively during the tirade. She hurried in that direction.

An astonished Doctor Wow entered Amphitheater B and gasped at the scene before him. He stood frozen in shock for a moment, then rushed forward to help the motionless figure of Bruce Wayne.

Daka was giving hasty orders to the Riddler via his microphone. “Mr. Riddler, I may not have the chance to interview you privately in the near future, so you must respond to my next question directly. Where are...”

“Not so fast,” interrupted the Siren, arriving just in time to spoil the interrogation.

“Leaves us, woman. You will betray no loyalties here.”

“Can you hear me, Riddler?” asked the Siren, searching for some sign of intelligence in his blank expression. “Have you regained your senses?”

Daka turned to Blondy Jo. “Please to cover ears, nurse.” Blondy Jo dutifully covered her ears.

“My ears! Quickly!”

Blondy Jo covered his ears just before the Siren opened her mouth and let loose with a piercing note that reverberated across the grounds. The Riddler watched all this transpire in blank fascination.

Yelling into the microphone over the sound of her voice, Daka ordered, “You will ignore this woman, Mr. Riddler! Her singing means nothing to you!”

The Siren’s note finally died off. She and Daka each grabbed the Riddler by an arm.

In unison, the two bellowed, “Riddler, come with me!”

The Riddler tried to cope with the conflicting commands, both of which he was compelled to obey. His eyes spun around in his sockets as the sensory overload took a horrible toll. Dr. Daka and the Siren watched closely, searching for a sign of which command had won out inside the defective workings of the enigmatic skull. After a long pause, the Riddler opened his mouth.

“Woo Woooo!”

His mind now freed from the confines of sanity, he broke away from both villains and sprinted off across the lawn.

“Clickety-clack-clickety-clack-clickety-clack,” they heard his voice receding in the distance.

Turning toward the other, Daka and Siren snarled (again, in unison), “See what you’ve done now!”

Kicking off her heels, the Siren took off angrily in pursuit of the Riddler. Daka called the Riddler’s name repeatedly into his microphone, to no result. He angrily shook his claw, then spied two guards exiting from the hospital.

“Doctor Daka! Why aren’t you with the Riddler?” asked one guard. “Surely you don’t want us to stay away from the room if he’s alone up there.”

“No! The Riddler is over there” Daka pointed after the fleeing twosome. “...escaping with the woman in white! You must stop them both!” He turned to Blondy Jo as the two guards gave chase. “This way!”

“Ain’t we gonna go aftuh the Riddler?” she asked.

“I have a hospital full of guards who will do that for me - as long as my authority is recognized. Now that we must remain longer than anticipated, I will be cutting short my experiment on Bruce Wayne. He is horribly disfigured by now, but still agonizingly far from death. The machine has been programmed to deny Mr. Wayne that relief until daybreak. While the guards recapture the Riddler, we must focus on preserving our standing here. We will also do mankind the favor of ensuring that future generations of the Wayne lineage are never unleashed.”

Back inside, Doctor Wow had finished unstrapping Bruce Wayne, who appeared to be perfectly well. “My word, Mr. Wayne! You’re very lucky you weren’t killed in that device! What on Earth happened?”

“Your new employee, Dr. Daka, decided to take his revenge upon me,” Bruce replied. “But his diabolical contraption was faulty! The machine’s metal arms kept colliding against each other until they were all locked together and incapable of doing me harm!”

Continuing to mimic train noises, the Riddler raced through the corridors of the hospital. “Clickety-clack-clickety-clack!” He stopped to open the nearest door, and stuck his head in. “Woo Woooo!”

“Oh, merciful heavens!” came the unmistakable voice of Aunt Harriet from inside. She had come to the hospital for a routine medical examination.

In a nearby room, Barbara had finished freeing herself. She ducked behind a curtain to begin her transformation into the Dominoed Daredoll known as Batgirl.

Daka opened the door to Amphitheater B with great anticipation. Inside, he found the room completely empty. His towering surgical machine by now consisted of a single gnarled knot of appendages. Daka threw his cigarette-holder down in fury.

Through a window, he spied a helicopter approaching in the distance. The copter had bat-shaped wings.

Foreign-tongued expletives could be heard echoing through the halls of the hospital.

Batgirl had just finished changing when she heard a commotion out in the hallway. She opened the door slightly. The Riddler went barreling past the room. He was still yelling, but had altered his mantra.

“I’m Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs! Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!”

Batgirl leapt into the hallway, only to collide with a sprinting figure in white.

“The Siren!” Batgirl exclaimed, recovering quickly from the fall. “Just as I suspected!”

Both women got on their feet and took off after the Riddler. Unbeknownst to them, the babbling quizmaster had randomly chosen an empty room and zipped inside. As he a came to a halt, his two pursuers went racing past the room and on down the hall.

The Batcopter was just landing out on the lawn. Batman rushed over to meet the disembarking Robin. “Batman! I was real worried about you!”

“And with good reason!” said the Dark Knight Detective. “You’d have seen the last of me were not fortune smiling down upon me this fine day. Now, let’s go! We’ve got to locate Daka and the Riddler!” The duo raced off on foot.

On the other side of the hospital grounds, Doctor Daka and Nurse Blondy Jo were sneaking out a side entrance. Blondy Jo looked back to make sure they weren’t being followed. Daka, absorbed in his thoughts, grumbled in fury.

“Eight hundred dollars! Eight hundred dollars for a deathtrap that could not kill a butterfly! There will be dire consequences for this outrage.”

Back in the ground floor hospital room, the Riddler stood surveying his surroundings. The only piece of art gracing the walls was portrait of a house, bearing the words “Home, Sweet Home” across the bottom.

Home. The word penetrated the cobwebs of the Riddler’s scrambled mind. Fond images of crossword puzzles and gaunt, cheese-stained faces in hooded sweatsuits flashed through his consciousness. A sad smile crept across his face. Suddenly feeling very alone, the Riddler hopped out of the window. He looked around the grounds, then headed off aimlessly.

Dr. Daka and Blondy Jo had by now succeeded in breaking into another car in the parking lot, and Daka’s “hotwire” hand attachment was currently being put to good use.

“Success!” he said, as the motor started. “Now to depart before we are spotted.”

Pulling out of the parking space, he gave the car some gas. He was surprised to see Batgirl and the Siren standing several hundred yards ahead of them. Batgirl had finally caught up to the erstwhile opera singer and hauled her to a stop. Grinning fiendishly, Daka floored the accelerator.

Batgirl turned towards the sound of a loud motor being taxed to its limits. Seeing that the large vehicle was heading straight for them, she released her hold on the Siren and moved out of the vehicle’s path. Leaning too far in the opposite direction and unprepared for Batgirl to let go, the Siren promptly fell on her backside.

Daka grinned in delight as the fallen form of the Siren was pinned in his headlights. But just before his car was upon her, another figure darted in. Grabbing the Siren under the shoulders, it pulled her back with a swift yank. She kicked her legs up just quickly enough to avoid having them crushed by the screeching tires. Collapsing in relief, she looked up to discover the identity of her rescuer.

Doctor Wow hovered over her looking concerned. “Are you all right? Tell me where it hurts,” he said gallantly.

Daka’s car screeched to a halt. He look back behind him angrily.

“Keep goin’!” Blondy Jo yelled at him. She tromped her foot over his on the gas pedal. The car shot forward again.

The Dynamic Duo came bounding through a hedge of bushes. Spying the Siren and Batgirl, they sprinted over to the buxom pair. “So, Siren,” declared Batman, “tripped up by your quest for valuables again.” Not getting a response, he fell silent and watched as Dr. Wow tended to the fallen opera star.

Seeing that the super-villainess had only a minor bruise, Batman didn’t hesitate to interrupt the doctor’s examination. “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to share your opinion on a theory of mine, Doctor Wow,” he said, pulling the reluctant doctor aside.

Noticing that the smiling Siren’s eyes were shut as she awaited the doctor’s further ministrations, Batgirl furtively knelt beside her and put her hand under the Siren’s skirt.

“Given the Riddler’s current dilapidated mental state, wouldn’t you say that a frontal lobotomy would fix the poor devil right up?” Batman asked.

“Uh, right you are, Batman. An excellent idea,” concurred Wow, as he glanced back towards the Siren.

Pleased to have his hypothesis validated, Batman turned to counsel his admiring sidekick. “Who knows, Robin? Perhaps operating on the Riddler’s diseased mind would turn his brain to more healthy, productive pursuits.”

With the Siren now aware of her presence, Batgirl pressed her for answers. “It was you that we narrowly missed seeing in the Riddler’s hospital room, Siren. Why was he mumbling about isolation when we arrived?”

“Ah, poor Batgirl. Too dim to outwit even a brain-dead Riddler? Although, I certainly have no knowledge to what you’re referring. I caught the Riddler in the act of damaging hospital property, and gave chase, as any good citizen would.”

Batman gave a heavy sigh. “Where does it all end, Siren - the cheating, the pilfering, the lies? Is this how you really want to fill your checking account? With the destruction of entire cities?”

“Batman,” she replied, “if so inclined, I’d be perfectly capable of filling my checking account by merely threatening the destruction of entire cities.”

Batman shook a stern finger at her. “Siren, I call upon you to forsake your evil ways! Let me help you escape from this quagmire you’ve made of your life...”

Not far away, the Riddler staggered unsteadily past a trash can. Sticking out beneath the lid of the overfilled can was a beat-up, dusty top hat. The Riddler examined it for a moment, then pulled off his now-useless zombie headpiece. He compared the two critically. Deciding the top hat suited his mood, he put it on and tossed the zombie headpiece to the ground. Instantly, his whole manner and posture changed. Unnoticed by anyone, he sauntered away towards the city.

Daka’s stolen car screeched to a stop in a swirl of dust outside of Honest Gabe’s House of Scientific Discoveries And Deathtraps. Presently, the owner/proprietor heard some persistent knocking at the door. He found an elderly, handicapped man and a stunning blonde woman standing on his doorstep.

“Hah there,” Blondy Jo began, making shushing motions with her hand at Daka. “Uh, we bought this tentacle thingy for slicin’ and dicin’ folks from you about a week back…and…well, we’ve come to ask fer our moneh back.”

“Because?”

“Because the device is useless and so are you!” snarled Daka.

“I beg your pardon?”

“After I expended great time and effort in vanquishing my opponent, all that was required from your machine was to finish off a bound, beaten fop. A six-year-old with a mallet could have accomplished this, but your ridiculously expensive product could do nothing but malfunction.”

“Your description would indicate to me that operator error was involved."

“It was not operator error, it was manufactu-error!” thundered Daka. “The machine is in need of extensive maintenance. It is still under warranty, so you must fix it, or, if you are too ignorant for the task, pay someone else to.”

“Ignorant?” gasped Gabe. “I’ll have you know that I am the inventor of the world’s first functioning Voice Eraser, as well as a prototype for a revolutionary Feline-Enlarging Machine! Both were used to great effect by my client, Catwoman, the world-famous celebrity, who is exceedingly pleased with my work. Now then, Mr...what did you say your name was?”

Two discussions of great import were occurring simultaneously on opposite sides of the city.

“You see, life is a series of paths to choose from,” Batman was explaining. “...the high road or the low. The correct route: self-evident! Choose the high road at every turn, and you will inevitably tower exultantly above the selfish riffraff of society.”

“Save your breath, Caped Crusader,” scoffed the Siren.

“Yes, sometimes the Sea Of Life contains periods of turbulence,” he said, ignoring her, “however, once past those rapids, you’ll discover tranquillity and inner peace as you’ve never known. This ill-gained fortune you seek would only drag you below that surface, halting any peaceful progress achieved on your serene voyage!”

Several miles away, Daka was in the midst of waving an object around in his claw. He finally held it still enough for Gabe to recognize it as one of the arms from the giant surgical machine.

“This is the result of our purchase,” bellowed the Demon Doctor. “It does not deconstruct patients! The only damage it is capable of inflicting is upon itself!” He angrily hurled the arm to the floor. “This is the only motion you will observe from it!”

“Are you certain you purchased this from me? This resembles an item they stock over at Real Value Hardware. Do you have a receipt?”

Daka waved his claw hand. Impaled upon it was the receipt.

“Behold!” he said. “You are therefore responsible for repairing your wares.”

“Oah bettah yet, maybe yuh can reimbuhs us,” added Blondy Jo.

“Now, hold on a minute. How do I know you weren’t misusing it?”

“The device is designed to cut through human bone! How would I misuse it?” asked Daka.

“Maybe you thought you could use it for household woodworking projects. Perhaps you tried to use it as a merry-go-round.”

“You represented the machine as being able to perform eight surgeries at once, while it was actually incapable of performing even one. It is clear that I am the victim of false advertising.”

“Since your sole experience in operating the machine at full capacity came on your initial use, and only several days after your purchase, it seems more than likely that you did not fully read the accompanying owner’s manual. Also, you have indicated that the item was intended for use in a human dissection procedure, however, the owner’s manual clearly states that the machine, as with all our fine merchandise, is intended for entertainment purposes only.”

Back at the hospital, Batman was just getting warmed up. “Remember, the vine of villainy bears rotten vegetables! And if you let that dreadful vine take root, it will choke out the sun-loving goodness within you!”

Batgirl put her finger to her lips in thought. “I wonder if, by ‘isolation’ the Riddler could have been referring to...”

“No talking during Bat-lectures!” Robin whispered urgently.

“Excuse me?”

“The ninth rule of crimefighting!”

Batman cleared his throat. “Robin, we can discuss appropriate settings for light conversation later - when I’m able to properly reprimand you. For the moment, if you’ll be good enough to pay attention...”

Robin glared at Batgirl.

“Do you mean to imply that I have participated in some manner of fraudulent enterprise at your expense?”

“What I am implying is that you have my eight hundred dollars and I have in return a device that does not function.”

“Very well, then. Since your remarks seem intended to defame my character, consider yourself warned that any subsequent remarks by yourself that attribute criminal intent to my business dealings will be dealt with in a manner befitting the severity of the accusation.”

“So, seein’ how you’re so honest, are you gonna fix it?” Blondy Jo asked.

Honest Gabe sighed. “At this point, I’ll need to see the item to make an appraisal. When can you bring it in?”

“The device will not move!” said Daka. “If it did, we would not be here now wasting time with you.”

“Batman’n Robin prob’ly have it bah now.”

“Look, ma’am, I can’t work on what you can’t find. This isn’t a lost and found service.”

“You are a thief and a liar,” growled Daka.

“Well, if I am, I must be pretty good at it, because I don’t get convicted twice a year, unlike some people I could mention.”

“You have deceived me with faulty merchandise, and now, you will pay a terrible price,” Daka threatened.

“A full refund? Out of the question,” said Gabe, “however, since I am exceedingly reasonable, I’ll allow you to count it as a trade-in on your next deathtrap.”

“Trade-in fuh whut?” Blondy Jo whispered to Daka suspiciously. “We ain’t gonna pay a lot fuh this deathtrap!”

There was a short pause. “How are you with timepieces?” asked Daka.

Batgirl glanced at her watch as Batman continued. “...and Batgirl, Robin and I triumph continually not with our fists, but through the unblemished purity of our souls. My instincts tell me that there is goodness in you, and it beseeches your favor. It strains to burst free from the hardened shell of cruelty enveloping the lovely heart beating within that chest.”

A long silence followed, and it began to dawn on the others that the speech might actually be finished.

“Now, Batman?” Robin asked as he approached the Siren, his Batcuffs poised for use.

“That won’t be necessary, Robin,” Batman replied. “You’re free to leave, Siren.”

The Siren took several hesitant steps away from the Terrific Trio. Seeing that Gotham’s sworn protectors were making no attempt to stop her, she hurried around a corner and made for the front gates.

“Gosh, we’re just going to let her go?” asked Robin.

“I’m sure she’s learned her lesson,” Batman said as he watched her vanish from sight. “Besides, I noticed that Batgirl planted a bug on the hem of the Siren’s skirt. Maybe she’ll lead us to the submarines or the Riddler.”

“I’ll have Commissioner Gordon put out an immediate all points bulletin on the Riddler,” Batgirl suggested. “Locating our concussed clue-dropper is of the utmost urgency.”

“But then the media - and the whole world - will know about the submarines!” Robin pointed out.

“Yes,” Batman agreed, “but at this point that can’t be helped. At least we kept it secret long enough to prevent the hospital from being inundated with cheap hoodlums.”

“Still Wearing The Battered Top Hat, The Unbalanced Riddler Has Become Convinced That He Is The Mayor Of Gotham City. He Has Retained Enough Presence Of Mind To Find His Way Home To His Evil-Smelling Hideout. We Find Him There Now, Demanding To Be Served Crumpets And A Martini.”

An irritated Whiskers entered the room carrying crumpets and a martini on a dinner tray. He set it before the Riddler. “Here you are, sir.”

“Why, thank you, Betty,” replied the Riddler. “But you forgot to curtsy.”

Whitey exchanged glances with other the River Rats. “Uhh...Riddler, we wuz wonderin’ where...”

“What did you call me? You will address me as ‘Mr. Mayor’ at all times!”

“Yes, Mayor Linseed. Sorry, sir,” Whitey apologized.

“Linseed? What decade are you living in?” said the Riddler. “I’m Mayor Talker...the man of the people...the politico of Prohibition! I walk the walk and I talk the talk!”

“Mr. Mayor, we got a call from...uhh, the governor...about these missing submarines. Have you heard anything about them?” asked Whiskers.

“Submarines are a federal issue, not city. I don’t see how I can help the man.”

“Well, there’s this bad man named Batman who’s trying to steal these submarines, which is why it’s so important that we find them.”

“Oh, yes; that deluded fellow who’s just determined to frighten everyone around him. I believe this Batman would scare the twelve apostles if he could. Perhaps it’s time for me take an extended vacation in Europe until the things cool off here.”

“But, Riddler...” Whiskers protested.

Refusing to respond to the name, the Riddler ignored Whiskers and sipped from his drink.

“There’s nothing like a fine martini after working up a thirst addressing my throngs of admirers! I’d better pace myself, though - there’ll be lavish festivities into the wee hours tonight in celebration of my re-election.”

Fangs whispered to Whiskers. “Maybe if we bring out that spare green suit, it’ll jog his memory.”

Whiskers shrugged. “Worth a try. Let’s try out some crossword puzzles, too.”

“Hey there, Mr. Mayor,” Fangs said, picking up a crossword puzzle magazine. “You wouldn’t happen to know a six-letter word for an affliction of the hypothalmus?”

The Riddler visibly perked up.

Hearing a voice from the radio announce, “...and now, here’s your favorite radio broadcaster, Barry Brown,” Whitey turned up the volume slightly.

“Hello, citizens of Gotham,” said Brown from a location that suspiciously resembled the den of his home. “Do you remember how I promised I’d get to the bottom of this Naval base lockdown? Well, your eagle-eyed correspondent has done it again! I can now confirm, for those that are ‘vitally interested’, that it was caused by the theft of four nuclear submarines, each one loaded with a full complement of missiles. They were taken by none other than the Riddler, who easily outsmarted Batman in their latest battle of wits. The Riddler was temporarily incapacitated and detained, but soon fooled Batman again and is now back on the loose! Our ‘Terrific Trio’ didn’t even bother to learn the location of the submarines before allowing him to escape! As if Gotham’s law enforcement - and what passes for it - didn’t err terribly in allowing the heist in the first place, they have now placed you, loyal listener - and every member of your family - in terrible danger! The Riddler is now free to exact vengeance on Gotham in any manner he chooses!”

It was a humbled super trio that gathered at Commissioner Gordon’s office the following morning. The Commissioner gestured in exasperation at a pile of newspapers on his desk. The one on top of the pile contained the blaring headline “Riddler Escapes With Nuke Subs”. Only bits of the other dailies’ headlines were visible beneath it, but the words “Panic”, “Failure” and “Evacuation” were evident in equally large print.

“I’ve been fending off reporters all day,” said Gordon. “And the Coast Guard still hasn’t found any sign of the missing submarines.”

“Unfortunately, neither have we,” said Batman.

“We’ve got to find them - and quick, before the Riddler recovers his senses!” Robin said, smacking his fist in his palm.

“Wherever the Riddler left them, he hid them well,” chimed in Batgirl. “Are we sure that he didn’t return to Gotham by just sailing the subs back into port?”

“Sure! Like the Penguin’s submarine did when they kidnapped the World Security Council,” exclaimed Robin.

Gordon shook his head. “Ah, I’m afraid it won’t be that simple. I’ve had every member of the force out combing the Gotham City coastline.”

“Quite frankly, I’m stumped,” admitted Batman. “Let’s review what we’ve learned of the Riddler in the last twenty-four hours.”

A long moment of silence followed.

“We know that he likes Cocoa Puffs,” Batgirl offered.

Another long pause.

“We know that his River Rat Gang has dropped out of sight,” added Robin. “Probably skipped town.”

“It also looks like we’ve run into a dead end with the Siren,” said Batgirl. “She’s just been skulking around the hospital grounds. She doesn’t seem to have any more idea of where to find the submarines or the Riddler than we do. For now, I’ll just keep tabs on her. I can arrest her anytime.”

“Hopefully, the Riddler is still as incoherent as when we left him babbling in the hospital,” said Robin.

Batgirl tapped her chin. “There’s a little bee buzzing in my bonnet and I don’t like what it’s telling me.”

“I do hope that this incident won’t cast any embarrassment upon the name of our fair metropolis,” said the Commissioner

“Well, this city’s populace is nothing if not resilient,” Batman assured him, “and I’m sure the rest of the nation will have faith in us.”

Chief O’Hara came bustling into the room. “Sor! The Educational Foundation for Nuclear Science just called! They say that due to the theft of the submarine missiles, they’ve decoided to change the hands of the Doomsday Clock! That’s the clock that’s set so’s to illustrate how close the world is to nuclear catasturphe...”

Gordon nodded. “Yes, yes. Go on.”

“And they’re going to hold the ceremonial changing of the time tomorrow right here in Gotham City, with the television networks broadcastin’ it loive all over the country!”

Gordon shook his head. “With multiple nuclear warheads in the possession of a clinically diagnosed schizophrenic, I fear the society will see no alternative but to set the hands to 11:59; a single tick away from the midnight hour denoting global Armageddon.”

“They’ve requested that Gotham Civic Auditorium be reserved for the ceremony.”

“No, the civic auditorium is still undergoing renovations,” said Gordon. “So, as with most public ceremonies, it will have to be held in the living room of stately Wayne Manor.”

“And, In Other Fiendish Developments, We Find That The Siren Has Secretly Returned To The Hospital. She Creeps Into The Riddler’s Empty Room, Her Plans Uncoiling Like A Deadly Snake!”

“Let’s see,” she whispered to herself. “What was that first riddle he was babbling? ‘Who’s got the tune we’d both like to croon, and obtained their bonanza through religious extravaganza?’ Ohhh…think, girl, think! The tune we’d both like to croon? Do the Riddler and I have musical interests in common? No, wait…the tune we’d both like to croon is a fortune! And religious extraveganza….an extravaganza… a religious extravaganza is a mass production! So we can shorten that question to ‘who obtained a fortune through mass production?’”

“Now, what was that second riddle?” she said, searching her short-term memory. “Something about a place that keeps the same name, although you'd expect an evolving variety of namesake names? Well, the most important information in that phrase is that the location is named after someone, but why would I think that someone would change his or her name?"

The Siren paused. "His or her? Marriage?? Because the namesake is a woman?! Maybe a powerful woman who had her husband change his name?”

Hearing a noise behind her, the Siren looked up. Doctor Wow halted for a second, a sharp, gleaming scalpel clutched in his hand. The Siren calmly opened her mouth as he hesitantly strode towards her.

The following afternoon found Stately Wayne Manor all decked out for the upcoming ceremony. The spacious living room was now filled with Gotham’s elite, leaders from society, business and politics. Several large television cameras were stationed in front of a small dais and lectern to record the proceedings. Barry Brown was also in attendance, broadcasting live reports to his radio listeners.

“Batman and Robin appear nowhere in evidence at the event that their ‘heroic efforts’ helped bring about. We’ve long assumed that the police department’s convenient reliance on these vigilantes somehow assured the city’s protection. But today, the stark face of the doomsday clock stands here in Gotham, unblinking testimony to the folly of placing our faith in these masked ‘protectors’.”

An anxious Commissioner Gordon hung back against a wall, along with Chief O’Hara, Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson.

O’Hara lowered his head. “Beggin’ your pardon, sor, but I’m a bit embarrassed to have to go stand up there for this media soidshow.”

“Most embarrassing indeed, Chief. This will be a grave black mark on the record of our fine department.”

“Commissioner, I want you to know that everyone here at Wayne Manor is as troubled by this as you,” Bruce assured Gordon.

“Could I have your attention, everybody?” Aunt Harriet said from the lectern.” I’d just like to say how delighted we all are to have the Educational Foundation for Nuclear Science here at Stately Wayne Manor! It is a great privilege to play host to such a splendid organization! Since 1947, these fine gentlemen have been using this lovely clock to make us all aware of the terrible dangers of the arms race.

“With every change to our world’s military stability, they are there to mark the occasion by moving the hands of the trusty clock farther or closer to that terrible, final hour of midnight! And so it is now my pleasure to present you with our first speaker. He is a man of distinction, as well as a well-meaning scientist...”

Without warning, the chandelier exploded! The assembled guests screamed and covered their heads to shield themselves from falling glass. The blast sent a number of tiny question mark-shaped canisters flying from the chandelier. Little parachutes unraveled from each one, and the objects slowly descended.

“My word!” gasped Alfred.

Bruce turned to Dick. “There’s evil afoot! Quickly, to the study!” Maneuvering around the pointing guests, the two raced for the study.

“Men! Stop those question marks!” called out Chief O’Hara. He and several officers made their way around the spacious room, leaping to grab hold of the sailing question marks.

Meanwhile, several miles out to sea, the Riddler and the River Rat gang were sitting in a boat. Although the Riddler was now dressed in his trademark green suit, the leery thugs kept glancing at their boss as they rowed.

“So...you’re not the mayor of Gotham City?” Whiskers asked for the third time.

The Riddler looked at him strangely. “Not that I’m aware of. What’s the matter with Whiskers?” he asked Whitey. “Did he get into a load of bad cheese?”

The Riddler frowned as he considered an unpleasant thought. “If my own men have doubts about my sanity, will the rest of the world take my ransom demands seriously?” The River Rats averted their eyes and said nothing.

“What to do, what to do? I know - how about I just fire off a missile, completely at random - just to show that I’m back in the driver’s seat. That should get their attention.”

Sitting between the River Rats was a newcomer to the group. The Riddler stood up to make an announcement.

“Men, I know how disappointed you are that the Siren and I have had to part ways - due to her unbecoming behavior . . . but look on the bright side: my plans have changed to include a larger role for you three. And I’d like you all to give a big River Rat welcome to our newest helper...it’s none other than our old pal, Mr. Bluebeard!”

The River Rats applauded politely for the bearded, eye-patched thug in their midst.

“Mr. Bluebeard, you served me well aboard the Penguin’s submarine, and I welcome your expertise to this expedition.”

“Yo ho, sir!” Bluebeard replied modestly.

“Batman and Robin just don’t stand a chance,” the Riddler said, concentrating to keep from having a giggling fit. “They should be getting the riddles right about now.”

“Riddles?” echoed Fang.

“Just a few new ones I left. They’ll never solve these. There’s too many and we’re only a few minutes away from our objective.”

Whitey tried to maintain a dignified demeanor for the occasion, but his joy at being so close to the prize couldn’t be contained. His stoic exterior crumbled and he succumbed to his rodent nature - a depraved expression of open-mouthed, buck-toothed glee.

Back at Wayne Manor, the police had managed to gather up all of the parachuting canisters. Inside each canister, they found separate riddles typed out on 3X5 cards. The puzzled officers were joined by Batman and Robin, who came racing through the front doors.

“The Dynamic Duo! Thank heavens!” exclaimed Gordon. He signaled Aunt Harriet to proceed with the clock ceremony. As she once again began introducing the first speaker to the crowd, the television cameras swung back toward the speaker’s dais.

Satisfying himself that the canisters themselves were of no significance, Batman turned his attention to the cards Gordon was clutching. “What does the first riddle say, Commissioner?”

Gordon read from the top card. “‘What is invisible, but never out of sight?’”

The four upholders of the law stood huddled together, their heads lowered in concentration.

“Wait a minute!” said Robin. “What is in ‘visible’, but never out of ‘sight’?”

“The letter ‘I’?” asked O’Hara.

“Good! Next riddle!” said Batman.

“‘How many peas are in a pint?’”

“I know!” said Robin. “There’s one ‘P’ in ‘Pint’!”

“Excellent! The third...”

“‘What do you have to add to 9 to make it 6?’”

Another long pause. This time the lowered heads were accompanied by tightly-shut eyes and thumbs of fists thumping against foreheads.

Batman snapped his fingers. “Of course - ‘S’! The Roman numeral for nine is ‘IX’. Add an ‘S’ in front and you have ‘SIX’!”

“I sense a trend in these answers,” said the Commissioner. “’Which letter is caused by shushing a number’?”

“H!” said Robin. “Eight-shh.”

“‘Which letters are the most provocative?’”

“The ‘T’s!” said Batman.

O’Hara looked confused. “‘The tease’?”

“Precisely.”

Gordon flipped over another card. “Next is ‘what three letters make a man of a boy?’”

“M-A-N!” blurted O’Hara.

Batman held up a knowing finger. “Your spelling is impeccable, as always, Chief, but I believe the correct answer is A-G-E.”

Gordon continued. “And the final riddle...”

He was interrupted by the sounds of screaming coming from the dais.

“Greetings, Yankee dogs.”

Batman turned to see Doctor Daka, who had just taken the place of Aunt Harriet at the podium.

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Robin. “Not now, of all times!”

Daka smiled patronizingly at the frightened audience. “Please excuse me for a moment while I have a word with my associates.” He produced his zombie microphone and muttered into it. “Members of the American press: your moment of destiny has arrived. The League of the New Order calls you to service.”

As the Caped Crusaders watched in stunned silence, one hat after another bearing a “Press” banner in the hatband was removed to reveal numerous male heads adorned with metallic zombie headpieces. Within seconds, a half dozen reporters and similarly-crowned cameramen were standing in rigid attention before their inscrutable overlord.

Daka licked his lips in anticipation, then delivered a fateful order into his microphone. “Now, my loyal zombies...destroy the assembled members of America’s law enforcement apparatus!”

Dropping their notebooks and cameras, the zombified journalists converged slowly on the Dynamic Duo. Cornered, the masked defenders of decency could only put up their fists and await their plodding attackers.

“Batman! Look out!” cried Robin.

Batman ducked under a punch and answered it with a roundhouse right of his own.
>WHACK!<

Robin dodged a chair that was swung at him. The chair split into kindling as it collided against the wall. Robin leaped forward to deliver a kick to the zombie’s nose.
>ZOCK!<

Seeing his opponent stagger, Robin waded in with a series of jabs, finishing with an uppercut that sent the zombie sailing over the back of a couch.
>ZOWIE!<

Chief O’Hara turned to see one of his lieutenants being gripped in a vicious bear hug by a reporter. O’Hara pulled his pistol, only to be conked on the head from behind by yet another zombie. As O’Hara shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, his attacker picked up the fallen firearm.

The battle royale continued to rage, spilling over into the foyer of Wayne Manor. Batman rushed to the aid of a third officer, who was trying to fend off a large cameraman. A sock on the jaw got the zombie’s attention, but not before he succeeded in ripping the holster from the policeman’s belt. Shoving aside the cop, the zombie advanced on Batman.

Thinking quickly, the Caped Crusader seized one of the suits of armor beside the front door, and toppled it onto the lumbering giant.
>KLASH!<

As Batman turned to battle another zombie, the hulking brute slowly shrugged off the armor and lumbered to his feet.

Robin jumped over one charging attacker and found himself heading straight for Barry Brown.

Brown spoke quickly. “Wait, I’m not a zom-“
>SMACK!<

Although he found the punch guiltily rewarding, Robin’s jubilance was short-lived. He could see that several of the zombies were now in the possession of police firearms. Zig-zagging to avoid their sluggish aim, he backed into Batman.

“Batman! Our only hope now is to use the Bomb-a-rang!”

“No, Robin. Too many innocents would be harmed in these close quarters.”

One of the women in the audience suddenly threw off her wig and shawl, revealing herself as Nurse Blondy Jo. She leaped onto the dais, brandishing a powerful device from the Dynamic Duo’s past: Daka’s radium gun.

“Hi, y’all! Everbody jest be real still now.”

“If you wish to test my radium gun, you will find it is capable of shooting through walls,” Daka warned the gaping audience. “I trust this brings our contest to an end, Batman?”

“For the time being, Daka,” replied the Dark Knight. “Just don’t hurt anyone.”

“An attitude of fatalistic resignation may be appropriate in this instance. You officers who remain standing will surrender your weapons.” Daka then spoke into his microphone. “Zombies, collect the other police pistols.”

O’Hara nodded to his men to do as they were told. Satisfied that order had been restored, Daka gestured at the doomsday clock behind him.

“I salute this ceremonial attempt to confess your city’s culpability in the grave crisis facing our planet. And I am most willing to assist your efforts.” He placed his prosthetic hand on the minute hand of the clock.

“Great Scott!” said Batman. “He’s going to move the hands!”

He held his breath as Daka changed the time from its current setting of 11:53 to 11:59.

Daka faced the audience again. “I will give your corrupt government twelve hours to bring me five million dollars in currency. If my demand is not met, I will be forced to move the hands of your sacred clock to 12:00.”

Horrified gasps swept across the room.

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen - 12:00 - nuclear midnight!”

Aunt Harriet turned pale and fainted.

“You wouldn’t dare!” said Gordon, his face reddening with anger.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Daka hissed, placing his prosthetic on the minute hand of the clock.

Cries of “no, no” and “we believe you” hastily filled the air.

Batman stepped forward. “Daka, are you mad? Think of the little children watching this on television! Don’t they deserve the chance to grow into adults?”

“So sad,” replied Daka, “however, I am afraid the League of the New Order’s progress will not be slowed by appeals to emotion.”

“You must realize that we’ll never let you get away with this.”

Daka sighed. “I must admit, I expected as much. I suppose it is time to have you drilled full of bullets.”

“And that will solve your problem? Do you really think the rest of these people will just sit here and watch you carry out your foul deed?”

“Let us find out. Who here wishes to die with the Caped Crusaders?”

Everyone in the room immediately edged three steps away from the Dynamic Duo.

“Well, this should make it very easy for my zombies to choose their targets,” Daka said, raising his microphone. “My zombies, aim your weapons at Batman and Robin.” Six different pistols were promptly trained on the Caped Crusaders.

“Holy Unpleasant and Quite Possibly Fatal Development!” gulped Robin.

Daka presented a toothy grin as he gazed down triumphantly at his hated foes. He noted that the duo were on the verge of panic, their repertoire of tricks now reduced to looking around wildly at the numerous gun barrels trained on them.

Spying a torn box at the end of a parachute as it drifted by him, Daka realized that the Riddler had also been at Wayne Manor recently. Then it hit him. The answer to the Riddler's riddle. 'A walkway covered with pasta -- a spaghetti aisle!' He briefly considered ordering a search for the green-garbed villain, but decided against it.

'The Riddler’s mind is too disintegrated to be of use now. The knowledge he once possessed are now nothing but unrecoverable memories.'

Memories - memories - memories. The word echoed around the walls of Daka’s mind.

He unexpectedly found himself witnessing a scene from decades in his past. A younger version of himself was standing in what looked like the office of his former medical practice. As Daka recalled the event from the recesses of his memory, the man arguing with his youthful doppelganger was his former business partner. The business partner was attempting to convince Young Daka to remain in his homeland.

Young Daka refused to listen. “Fame and fortune await me in the war,” he said brashly. “I am going to kick some Yankee fujiguh!”

Daka looked around to see if anyone else in the room saw what he did, but turned only to find yet another vision from his past. This version of himself, just slightly older than the last, was getting adjusted to a new home of America. His younger self was standing on a street corner studying an American newspaper. The paper’s front page contained an artist’s conception of a human bat creature and a boy dressed in red.

“I do not understand,” Young Daka mumbled in confusion. “Why would such a man require a small child along during battle?”

This vision suddenly morphed into a flashback of the youthful Daka approximately a year older. He was looking over the brand new headquarters that had been provided by funding from his homeland. Young Daka was operating a small lever that repeatedly opened and closed some doors built into the floor.

“An alligator pit under a trap door! This is my best plan yet,” he congratulated himself.

Again the air seemed to shimmer, and Daka was now faced with a broken, defeated version of himself that had recently had his arm and leg eaten. He was lying in a seedy hotel room in San Francisco. The bedridden Daka’s misery was interrupted by the sight of several levitating balls of light. The elderly Daka watched in fascination as Young Daka stared at the bright orbs slowly coalescing into curvy, feminine silhouettes above Young Daka.

'Things are looking up!' Young Daka mused.

Next Daka was watching events decades later, in Japan. A just slightly less-aged version of himself was operating the controls of his fantastic machine. An American girl watched in horror as five Sailor Scouts sat in chairs, domes over their heads with sparks shooting out.

'Five super-powered, beautiful, teenaged girls as my obedient zombies,' this Daka lamented. 'If only I was a few years younger!'

His final vision was from years later and depicted himself in the relatively recent past. Old and grey, he had returned from Japan to Gotham City. He was moving into a Gotham apartment that was not a great improvement from the one he had inhabited in San Francisco. A strange figure, dressed from head to toe in a black hood and cloak, appeared in his doorway.

“Hello, I’m the Wizard, your neighbor from upstairs,” said the figure. “You and I should get along quite well.”

“What in the name of Hirohito is that ridiculous outfit you wear?” Daka asked. His new neighbor stiffened in indignation.

It suddenly occurred to Daka that what he was seeing was his life flashing before his eyes. Blondy Jo was looking at her partner with concern. “Whut’s wrong, shugah plum? Ain’t you gonna tell ‘em tu shoot?”

Daka opened his mouth in surprise.

“Ack.”

He toppled forward off the dais and onto the floor with a >SPLAT!<. The gun-wielding zombies stayed frozen where they were as they awaited further orders from the master.

Batman strode forward quickly to check the fallen doctor. He found no pulse in the cold, wrinkled wrist. The Dr. Daka reunion special had come to a chilling end.

He rose solemnly. “Destiny’s mighty hand has snuffed out the life of Dr. Daka.”

“A-Any indication as to the cause of death?” asked Commissioner Gordon.

“Old age.”

A somber silence hung over the room.

“Gosh!” exclaimed Robin. “That sure was swell timing!”

“Yes, Robin, however not completely unexpected. On this day, Dr. Daka reached the precise average median life expectancy for super-villains. A very poor day to be enacting any plots of world conquest, I’m afraid.”

Blondy Jo’s momentary shock came to an end as she experienced an unpleasant vision of her own (of herself, behind bars and in ugly striped clothing). Keeping a tight grip on the radium gun, she headed for Daka’s zombie microphone.

Realizing her intent, Robin drew his batarang and hurled it towards her. His aim was true and the spinning cyclone of justice knocked the radium gun from her grasp. She hesitated, debating whether to dive for the gun or the microphone. Before she could choose, Chief O’Hara tackled her from behind.

“Goldurn, no-account, rassafrassin’...” Blondy Jo protested angrily underneath him.

As other officers rushed in to handcuff the deceitful nurse, O’Hara moved to rejoin Gordon and the Dynamic Duo.

“Quickly Commissioner, what was the final riddle?” Batman asked urgently.

“‘Which letter is the most special?’”

“K! Special K!” said Robin.

“Of course!” said Batman. “Protein in a delicious ready-to-eat cereal form.”

“The best to you each morning, from the good folks at Battle Creek!” Robin added.

Gordon lowered the card. “I fear the Riddler’s corporate sponsorships are effecting the quality of his riddles.”

Batman declined to pursue the matter. “So to summarize, we have the letters ‘I - P - S - H - several T’s - A - G - E - K’. If we had answered these in their correct order, what word would they spell?”

“‘Gap...shittek’?”

“Smag...hektit.’”

“Kgtip...” O’Hara began before stalling.

Jaws hanging open, the four looked to each other, each hoping someone knew the answer.

“We’re very close to having the word ‘spaghetti’,” observed Batman.

“But there’s no ‘K’ in ‘spaghetti’!” said Robin.

“In the Riddler’s diseased mind, proper spelling always comes a distant second to the thrill of the conundrum.”

“But why would he give us the answer ‘K’ if it was completely irrelevant?” asked Gordon.

“That one was too easy, remember?” Robin replied. “Could ‘K’ possibly mean the word ‘cay’?”

“Cay - an island!” explained Batman. “Which means the submarines are hidden off of...”

“Spaghetti Island!” the Riddler proclaimed, making a sweeping gesture at the land mass behind him. “Named after the noodle billionaire and frequent widow, J. Pauline Spaghetti!”

As their rowboat pulled up to an automobile tire floating on the water, the Riddler continued. “This is not just the tire it appears to be. Nor is that one, or that one,” he said pointing to more tires spread out over the next several hundred yards.

“They are actually the entrances to chutes, each of which lead straight down into a nuclear submarine. This tire is directly over the rear submarine, so I’ll need someone to man the broadband monitor on this sub, and radio the sonar readings up to me while I steer the sonar-less submarine at the front. I’ll just need several more minutes to get the front sub up and running. Are you ready?”

Mr. Bluebeard nodded as he zipped his blue wetsuit up to his neck.

“Then dive, Mr. Bluebeard!”

“Dive, yo, ho, sir!” Bluebeard responded, flopping backwards off the boat into the water.

As Bluebeard swam in a hearty manner for the submarine beneath, the other three henchmen rowed with gusto for the far tire bobbing on the water. The group heard a noise as something thudded against their boat. Whiskers looked overboard and saw that it was a corpse floating in the water.

“Aah! Who’s that?”

“You didn’t tell us you killed a guy out here,” said Fangs.

“I didn’t,” said the Riddler, giving the bobbing corpse a shove. “Don’t worry, this must be husband #5. He lasted a good year and a half with J. Pauline.”

The rowboat slowed as it reached the tire that was positioned directly over the lead submarine. The Riddler pulled them in close to the tire, then carefully crawled into it feet-first.

“Sit tight and keep your eyes peeled for trouble, men,” he ordered, then appeared to sink into the water as he slid down into the concealed chute.

Entering the submarine through the hatch he had left open one week earlier, the Riddler swiftly began clicking on lights to illuminate the control room.

He peeked back up the hatch and grinned. “I knew those dolts wouldn’t consider the possibility of my sailing out from under them and just leaving them out here - until it was too late.”

“Well, surely you wouldn’t want to leave me behind, Riddler,” said a female voice from the corner.

“Batgirl! Impossible! How did you get out here before me?!”

The Purple-clad Paragon strode into the light and put her hands on her hips as she calmly explained.

“Even delirious in the hospital, you couldn’t stop giving clues. We found you murmuring what sounded like ‘isolation, such isolation’ after you received a visit from the Siren. Sometime later, it occurred to me that ‘isolationsschlauch’ is German for ‘spaghetti’...and ‘island’ can refer to a place of isolation.”

She picked up a rectangular object leaning against the wall. “Once I made it to the island itself, I used the camera attachment on my trusty Bat-Kite here. It was able to quickly spot your rather conspicuous tire formation from the air.”

“The Bat-Kite? By all that’s puzzling, I vow that I shall never be thwarted by that infernal device again!”

He appeared to calm himself, and sidled up to her. “Since you solved my riddles so quickly, Batgirl, how would you like one more: How are you like the letter ‘e’?”

He was now within five feet of her. “Because you’re both at the very end of life!”

He whipped out a cheese-stained knife and flailed savagely at Batgirl. She skillfully wielded the Bat-Kite like a shield to ward off his jabs. She maintained her grip on the kite until he had slashed five gaping holes in the material. Tossing it in front of his face, she doubled the Riddler over with a kick to the stomach, then promptly straightened him up with a kick that slammed him against the wall.
>PUNT!<

The Riddler staggered unsteadily and dropped the knife. As Batgirl moved by him to retrieve it, he grabbed onto the periscope column overhead and gave a good pull. The periscope descended from the ceiling onto the back of Batgirl’s cowl.
>KLONG!<

Although the blow sent her sprawling, Batgirl was able to kick the knife away before the Riddler could grab it. Her legs whipped back to sweep his feet out from under him. She “softened” his landing by greeting his descending nose with the heel of her hand. Yowling in pain, the Riddler managed to grab onto a console and keep from collapsing face first on the deck.

“Oh, this is embarrassing!” he grunted as he hauled himself back up.

As Batgirl also rose to her feet, he took several bounding steps that carried him to the hatchway. Starting to cackle crazily, he disappeared from view and scrambled up the ladder.

“Well, no matter - I’ve still got a boatful of tough, armed henchmen up above,” his voice echoed back down the hatch.

“Oh, really?” said Batgirl. Stepping over to the ballast control panel, she flipped two switches, causing the ballast tanks to blow. Immediately, tons of water emptied from the tanks and the submarine began to surface.

“Going up!”

Meanwhile, up in the rowboat, the River Rats were starting to get bored. They noticed the water beginning to bubble frantically all around them. Over the sound of the bubbling, Fangs thought he could hear a voice.

“Hey, isn’t that the Riddler?” They listened carefully.

Faint, but growing louder, a desperate voice echoed up: “Grab the guns! Batgirl is down here!”

The rowboat began to rock about. A second later, the Riddler surfaced in a quite unexpected spot, his masked head splintering their floor as it was driven up through the bottom of the boat.
>SPR-RACKK!<

In the submarine, Batgirl heard frantic voices shouting above, accompanied by sounds of wood cracking and snapping against the metal hull. Batgirl smiled as she got the hatch shut and locked.

Back on dry land the following day, Batgirl had reunited with the Dynamic Duo at Commissioner Gordon’s office to explain her findings.

“...and with the hatch to the rear submarine Bat-epoxied shut, Bluebeard could only swim around in circles. The Coast Guard arrived to find all five of them floating unhappily in the cold water.”

“Splendid job, Batgirl!” said the Commissioner. “The entire country owes you a hearty ‘thank you’!”

“And to you four also,” replied Batgirl. “You were able to account for Doctor Daka and his nurse.”

“And you can add one more villain to that category,” said Batman, motioning towards the door of the office. Doctor Wow and the Siren were walking arm in arm towards the group.

“Yes, Batgirl, he’s right,” said the Siren. "After listening to Batman’s lecture and giving his words careful thought, I’ve realized what I really want is to settle down.”

“We’re going to be married Tuesday after next!” Doctor Wow beamed. “We found that we actually have a great deal in common. We enjoy the same movies and restaurants, we frequent the same vacation spots...”

“Plus, we both really like money,” added the Siren.

“She came to me yesterday to tell me she was giving up her life of crime and asked me to operate on her to turn down the power of her vocal implant,” said Doctor Wow. “I proposed to her on the spot!”

“Yes,” said the Siren. “For so long, I’d thought that thrills and excitement where what I craved, but when I looked deep inside, I found that I’d happily throw it all away for the chance to raise babies!”

“Ah, it does me heart good t’hear you say thot, Soiren,” said O’Hara.

Looking slightly uncomfortable, the Siren approached Batman. “You were right all along, Batman,” she said. “All this time I’ve tried to push those thoughts aside, but you made me really stop and think things over. Your words lifted the veil of chaos from my eyes.” Batgirl’s jaw dropped in disbelief at what she was hearing.

“I’m just happy that you were able to set things right and find happiness before it was too late,” Batman said warmly.

“But what about all the crimes the Siren has committed?!” Batgirl objected. She hadn’t forgotten that only recently the Siren had tortured her with sound waves.

“Her brother, Colin Circe, is a decorated Iraqi War hero back in England," the Commissioner explained. "At her brother’s request and in light of the removal of her power to control men, Prime Minister Blair asked President Bush to issue her a full Presidential Pardon. How could he refuse?”

While Batgirl seethed, Batman said with regret, “I only wish I’d been able to get through to Doctor Daka before his time ran out.”

“Speaking of Dr. Daka,” Robin asked, “what would have really happened if the he had been able to turn the clock’s hands to 12:00?”

“Oh, I daren’t even contemplate the horrors of that eventuality,” said Gordon, closing his eyes. “Let’s just all give thanks for being spared such an outcome.”

The group reverently bowed their heads in silence for a moment.

“Well, we’ve got to go pick out some rings,” said Doctor Wow. “We sure hope to see you all at the wedding.” The Terrific Trio watched the happy lovebirds depart.

“Holy Transmogrification!” said Robin. “Events are happening too fast for me to keep up!”

Gordon slapped Batman on the back. “Excellent work, Batman! Another arch-criminal steered down the path of wholesomeness!”

Batgirl, resigned to the vagaries of international politics, became philosophical. “You know, the first villain’s deathtrap I ever faced – it seems like so many years ago – was during the Riddler’s first collaboration with the Siren,” Batgirl reflected. “...and foiling this latest scheme makes me feel like I’ve come a long way.”

“Say! The first deathtrap I remember was one of the Riddler’s, too!” chimed in Robin.

“A persistent customer indeed - we’ll probably be enduring his deathtraps into retirement,” said Batman.

“By the way, has the Riddler recovered from that last blow to the head?” Batgirl asked.

“And So, Our Story Has Come Full Circle; From An Intrepid Woman’s Initial Encounter With The World’s Most Formidable Felon, To The Conclusion Of Her Latest Hair-Raising Adventure!”

“Mr. Nygma, who are you talking to?”

“One Deathtrap Begets Another In An Endless Cycle Of Danger!”

“Can you hear me? It’s Doctor Wow.”

“Today’s Deathtrap is Tomorrow’s Memory . . . But What Thrilling Adventure Does Tomorrow Hold For Our Heroes?”

“Mr. Nygma, I’m very impressed by all these different voices you can do, but you really need to stop now. You’re keeping the other inmates awake.”

“Treachery At Every Turn? A Thrill A Minute? Could Tomorrow Be The Day That The Curtain Finally Falls On...”

“Say goodnight, Mr. Nygma!”

“Good Night...”

“That’s better.”

“...Gracie.”

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