Before Batgirl and Robin Abjure Them Back to Prison

The Curved Crusader was far from inconspicuous on the Batgirlcycle and let Muffy’s cab remain several car lengths ahead to minimize the chance the henchwoman would realize she was being followed. A car weaving rapidly through traffic caught Batgirl’s eye as it sped past.

The heroine considered making the police aware of the speeder. ‘I missed the license plate number and if I pull over and call the police, I’ll lose Muffy,’ she angrily thought.

Batgirl leaned far to her right to keep an eye on the taxi as the intervening vehicle got between the Batgirlcycle and the cab. Buildings and parked cars alongside the highway flashed past.

The speeder passed beneath a bridge far ahead a full minute before Muffy’s cab. The caped huntress suddenly realized the distance between herself and her quarry had increased. Batgirl decided to close the distance a little and bent closer to her handlebars, focusing on her mirrors to study the traffic pattern the speeder had disrupted.

Suddenly, a searing pain jabbing her left shoulder distracted Batgirl from the chase. Glancing down, she realized something sharp and thin had penetrated her costume and remained lodged in her shoulder. Instinctively, she looked up and turned back to see the car that had sped past her stopped on the bridge she had just passed beneath. She also immediately spotted something more significant—and dangerous.

A crouched, partially concealed figure was raising something to shoulder level. The object was a rifle!

The road ahead was almost devoid of traffic as the fingers of Batgirl’s left arm involuntarily gripped the Batgirlcycle’s handlebars more tightly. She briefly considered steering her vehicle to evade additional fire, but hesitated as she began to ponder the initial effects of the dart.

‘It was drugged,’ Batgirl thought. ‘The sniper is still up there. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a beautiful target behind a smoke screen.’ She changed her mind almost instantly. ‘I need to do something about this drug!’

Quickly, Batgirl’s unaffected, right hand tore at one compartment of her utility belt. Her eyes remained focused on the highway as pellets fell into her hand.

Batgirl maintained her speed, but before she could swallow the pellets in her hand, there was another muzzle flash on the bridge. A second dart impaled Batgirl’s right, uninjured shoulder from behind. Her gaze flicked down as the pellets in her hand fell to the road, bouncing away uselessly.

‘I only have one chance now!’ Batgirl thought, as her fingers clawed at the darts protruding from her shoulders.

She felt both her arms go numb as she slipped the darts into an empty compartment of her utility belt.

‘Can’t steer!’ she thought.

Batgirl’s eyes went wide as she glanced forward, focusing on the road along which she sped. Instantly, the Curved Crusader realized the road was about to turn!

“Slow down,” she told herself, clumsily moving her hand toward the switch which would turn on her hazard lights while rapidly decelerating. “I have no room, and I’m nearly out of time.”

Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. The road had begun to turn. ‘It’s too late–’

The Batgirlcycle hit a guard rail ahead of her and stopped, flinging the Curved Crusader forward head over heels. Her shoulder hit the windshield, which bent forward and tore free from the bike’s frame. Glass shattered and littered the roadside along with twisted metal after the windshield skipped away from the smoking wreck of what had been the Batgirlcycle. Beyond the front fender, Batgirl tumbled rapidly and repeatedly down with her arms and legs flailing like the limbs of a puppet with cut strings. Velvety blackness enveloped her utterly as her body came finally to rest.

Soolin watched her darts do their work as her hands moved mechanically, taking apart and putting away her sniper’s rifle. With the scope, the gunwoman looked past the now abandoned Batgirlcycle, where a cloud of black smoke hung like a shroud. Soolin grinned with pleasure as she studied the site of Batgirl’s fall, spying a purple boot extending from a thicket at the bottom of a steep slope beyond the roadside barrier.

Traffic was slowing to glimpse the damaged Batgirlcycle as Soolin merged back among the flow of cars. ‘If I’d finished rehabbing, I’d climb down to the body and be certain I’d taken care of Batgirl,’ the beautiful Briton thought, shrugging as her car returned to the highway. ‘Oh well. With luck, Batgirl snapped her neck before the body came to rest.’

She pulled the car off the road again, snatching her rifle scope as she noticed something else in her mirror.

Another woman had stopped her car, exited, and moved to the side of the road to look at the wreckage of the Batgirlcycle, and of the heroine herself. At first Soolin only saw flowing curls of black hair cascading behind the woman’s shoulders. The brunette had dressed in black with slacks molded closely to her legs and the flare of her well-proportioned hips. A silk blouse straining to contain the swell of her breasts was tucked into the slacks and a thin, silver belt encircled her narrow waist. As her shoulders shook with what was probably laughter, Soolin could see she kept herself in excellent physical condition.

The gunwoman inhaled as she glimpsed the brunette’s face when the woman on the roadside returned to her car.

Catwoman?!?

“That’s impossible!” Soolin said. “I saw Catwoman in jail earlier today!”

‘Of course,’ the gunwoman thought, ‘she would have had no reason to reveal she would be released when we spoke, and under the circumstances, she might not have wished to do so.

‘Catwoman would naturally be interested in seeing her orders carried out . . . and there's no better method of follow up than a personal inspection. She's always been a practitioner of hands-on management.'

“Maybe,” Soolin hesitantly murmured.

‘Changing her hair, as well as dispensing with her usual costume, certainly might allow the boss to oversee her hench-kittens’ work without attracting undue attention from either the subjects or the police,’ Soolin reasoned. ‘The justice system, however, moves slowly and Catwoman would hardly have had time to have her hair done after being released from prison. Might one of her pet guards have done her hair? Such a move on Catwoman’s part would undermine the effectiveness of such a disguise.’

“It doesn’t make sense,” Soolin complained aloud. “That woman can’t be Catwoman. Can she?”

Just then Soolin’s phone rang.

“Hello,” the young gunwoman said, pulling into traffic again as the woman she had been watching also resumed her journey.

“Muffy just got out o’ her cab and walked into a place called the Lurex Underground.”

“I’ve heard of the Lurex Underground,” Soolin announced. “It’s a fashionable and risqué, subterranean lounge. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. By the way, I arranged a swan dive for Batgirl over the side of the road, where the Batgirlcycle crashed. She didn’t move a muscle while I was watching.” The young gunwoman felt her lips twitch into a thin, satisfied smile.

“Well, I reckon if it all went well, she ain’t never gonna twitch again.” Okie Annie laughed. “Is there anything else?”

“There is one last thing. A woman who closely resembles Catwoman got out of a car to take a look at the wreck, and Batgirl’s body. I don’t know who she is. Catwoman is in jail.”

“I know,” Okie Annie said, “you and me done talked to her earlier. The woman you saw might o’ been an escort named Vixen who don’t like Batgirl one bit.”

“Well, her actions support your view of her feelings, but why does she look like Catwoman?”

“I figure she must ‘o got plastic surgery.”

“Getting plastic surgery doesn’t make any sense,” Soolin objected. “I know from painful, personal experience Catwoman does not tolerate imitators!”

“The rumor is the surgery was Catwoman’s idea and that she paid for it,” Okie Annie explained. “I done heard Vixen is real good at her work and has been with almost every crook in Gotham City at one time or another, ‘cept maybe Shame.”

“You know you’re still obsessed with him,” Soolin said.

“If you done said that while I was anywhere near you—”

“I know,” Soolin said, unable to suppress a grin or keep the humor from her voice. She quickly became serious once again. “I’ve heard of Vixen, and if I did see her, what was she doing? I hear she likes to work for psychos and doesn’t care what they ask her to do. In fact, if her chores are kinky, I hear she likes them even better.”

“Everyone has heard o’ Vixen. She does more than you might think for her employers,” Okie Annie replied. “I hear she can bust into anything, can fight, and is always thoroughly professional about her work.”

“So, could she be competing with us?”

“I doubt it. Batgirl is . . . I ‘spect we can say ‘was’ now.” Okie Annie laughed. “Anyhow, regardless, she done been a competitor of ours and Vixen’s for years, and we gotta figure you just put her in a grave, where she done should o’ been years ago.”

“Thank you,” the beautiful Briton said, grinning.

"Let’s forget about both Batgirl and Vixen and take care o’ business.”

“Fine,” Soolin agreed. “I’ll join you soon and we’ll go to work.” The young gunwoman hung up.

As Soolin and Okie Annie’s call ended, Vixen switched off the device she had used to monitor their communication. “The Lurex Underground,” she murmured, smiling. “Delicious . . . and they realize who I am, too.” The call girl nodded. “Excellent.”

When Muffy entered the Lurex Underground, she sat down at a secluded table in a dimly-lit corner. The club was nearly deserted at the early hour. ‘The ten bucks I have won’t buy much, but it will easily cover the drink I need,’ she thought. ‘I hate having to play the role of the poor college student.’

“Give me a strong one,” Muffy told the waitress.

Shortly thereafter, in the back, Okie Annie and Soolin entered, holding fingers to their lips and guns in their hands. Quietly, they covered the club’s small staff.

“A little brunette walked in here a few minutes ago,” Okie Annie said. “What did she want?”

“A drink,” the waitress said absently. “The place doesn’t offer much more until mid-afternoon, when our dancers start to show up. In fact, she is our only customer right now. Isn’t it a little early for you to be robbing us?”

“I reckon you can make the girl her drink,” Okie Annie said, ignoring the comment and gesturing with the gun.

The waitress’ companion did so and frowned as Soolin dropped a pill that dissolved into it. “Serve the drink,” the younger gunwoman ordered.

“O—Okay,” the waitress said. She moved off.

“Right,” Okie Annie said to the remaining employee. “When she gets back, you and her are gonna go get some lunch--somewhere else!”

“It’s pretty early for lunch,” the man hesitantly objected.

“Well, I reckon you two can occupy yourselves somehow and I don’t give a hoot how,” Okie Annie coolly replied. “You should both be gone for at least an hour. If you come back before me and Soolin done finished what we come here to do, we’ll shoot both o’ you. Get it?”

“Got it,” the man responded, staring at the floor.

“Good,” Okie Annie said, smiling engagingly.

“Um,” the man began hesitantly. “What about customers who show up while we’re gone?”

“What customers?” Soolin asked, regarding him with a hard stare.

“Never mind,” the man said, as the waitress returned. “Hey, Bonnie, why don’t we go get a bite to eat? I’ll pay.”

“Now?” the waitress asked.

“Now is probably the ideal time.”

“What about this place?”

“Let me worry about it.”

The waitress shrugged. “Why should I worry? I’m not making enough to care anyway, not even with tips.”

“I’ll just change into something more suitable,” Soolin said, once the staff had gone. She fought to avoid limping as she stepped into the office. Okie Annie waited and watched eagerly in the mirror behind the bar while Muffy played with her drink.

Soon, Soolin emerged wearing a suspenders and a bow tie over a white blouse. “How is the drug working?” she asked.

“Be patient,” Okie Annie said. “She’s nursin' it. The pill will work eventually and we got plenty o’ time--unlike her.” The watchers grinned knowingly as Muffy slowly finished her drink. The brunette shook her head, bent forward, held a hand against her temple, and moaned.

“Now,” Soolin gleefully said. “It’s working.”

“Right,” Okie Annie agreed. “You up to this?”

“I can do it,” Soolin said, taking a deep breath to hide her pain.

“Okay,” Okie Annie said skeptically. “Then, go get her, Soolin.”

Muffy looked up to see a vaguely familiar blonde dressed a little like a club waitress approaching with a glass of water.

“You don’t look well, dear,” the familiar woman sympathetically said, setting down the glass of water.

“Thanks,” Muffy said, lowering her head into her hands. “I had a rough night. I’m sorry.” The brunette sipped from the water glass. “Wow! The alcohol is hitting me harder than I thought. Where's the ladies room?”

“Come on. I’ll take care of you,” Soolin kindly said.

“Thanks,” Muffy said. With gritted teeth, the faux waitress supported her as they made their way to the back of the club and down a staircase leading to an adjacent storage area. “I don’t remember the restrooms being down here.”

“Well, honey, you’re going down, regardless.”

Soolin pushed gently and Muffy fell like a sack of potatoes.

The brunette tumbled helplessly to the bottom of the stairs, landing painfully with a curse. She rolled onto her back and looked up, groaning as her hands rubbed her bruises.

Angrily she began, “What the--?”

The remainder of the question remained forever unasked when Okie Annie stepped into the light and gazed balefully down at Muffy. The brunette began to rise, but sank back down when the older gunwoman aimed a pistol at her.

Meanwhile, Soolin, tightly holding the banister, descended the stairs slowly and smiled down at the condemned hench-kitten.

“Stay down,” the curvy cowgirl warned, thumbing back the hammer of her six shooter. “I’ll put a bullet in each o’ your knees if’n you don’t.”

“Okie Annie,” Muffy said as her eyes went wide with surprise. “I know you.” She turned her head to regard the woman dressed as a waitress. “You’re Soolin. Now that I take a closer look, I recognize you, too.” The gunwomen’s victim took in some air. “What’s happening?”

“Catwoman don’t like you talkin’ to the cops and Batgirl,” Okie Annie explained.

“Catwoman?”

“That’s right,” Soolin calmly said.

“I don’t—”

“Shut up! We’ve been asked to express Catwoman’s extreme displeasure with you,” Soolin added. A nod prompted Okie Annie to hand over a coil of what looked like fishing line. With considerable effort, Soolin crouched beside the fallen henchwoman and began to envelope her body with it. “Recognize this?”

Muffy was speechless as Soolin worked. Soon the brunette felt a strange, gripping sensation surround her entire body. Her wrists were crossed over her head and the terrible, tight twine soon bound her arms; stretched across her breasts; wound around her waist; and continued to bind her thighs, knees, calves, and feet together.

“Finished?” Okie Annie asked, smiling down at her companion’s handiwork as Muffy began to thrash helplessly.

“Yes, Teach,” Soolin replied, struggling to straighten. As she stripped her sweat-soaked shirt from her heaving chest and tried, unsuccessfully, to straighten her hair, she concluded, “Soon, so is she.”

Muffy looked up at her attackers with pleading eyes. “Why would Catwoman—”

“Them Cat’s Whiskers are one o’ Catwoman’s fiendish inventions,” Okie Annie explained. “They contract when placed in close contact with the heat o’ the body, and you look like hot stuff.” The senior gunwoman laughed.

Soolin continued. “Catwoman has different varieties of Cat’s Whiskers. This is the original.”

“I know all about them!” Muffy shouted. “I’ll be strangled to death in a matter of seconds!! But why am I in them?!”

“Our mistress takes a dim view of traitors and informers,” Soolin explained, “but I think she can explain much better herself.”

“Right,” Okie Annie agreed, producing a miniature disc player. “When we spoke to Catwoman about your talk with the cops, she ordered us to take care o’ you and wanted to say goodbye herself. So, listen up and listen good!” The older gunwoman pressed the play button.

“Hello, Muffy,” Catwoman’s voice began. “By now, I’m sure you realize your life is forfeit. I’m sorry to have to lose you, but I cannot tolerate informers. A little while back, I set an important precedent by making object lessons of those who displease me.”

Muffy noticed Soolin’s mouth curl into a wan smile.

Catwoman’s voice continued. “Sadly, you are no exception and will not be given the o-purr-tunity to learn from your mistake. Oh well. Ratting on your employer should have been an obvious no no! Speaking of rats, I recall you saw how effective a different version of my Cat’s Whiskers can be as they begun to squeeze the life from Batgirl years ago. I’m sure you realize what awaits you in my invention’s ghoulish grip. So, I’d advise you to keep your cool . . . as long as you can. Ta ta, until your next life.”

The player went silent after a few seconds of girlish laugher sounded. Okie Annie shut off the device and turned toward the stairs.

“I guess that’s it,” Soolin said. “Let’s have a drink before we hit the road. I’m parched.” As she began to ascend the stairs, using her arms for support, she paused; turned her head; and touched the fingertips of one hand to her lips, blowing their victim a parting kiss.

“No!” Muffy begged, horror stricken. “You can’t leave me like this! I can explain. Please, don’t kill me.” She began to sob uncontrollably.

“Good ideer, Soolin,” Okie Annie enthused, ignoring the pitiful cries of their captive and following her protégée, who had not looked back since resuming her climb. “Adios, Muffy.”

Moments later, Muffy lay alone, groaning as she squirmed desperately in the cruelly constricting clutches of the Cat’s Whiskers beneath the soon-to-be deserted club. She knew her efforts, however, both in the present and near future, would all be for naught. She could feel her bindings slowly tightening against her throat and chest. Shortly, she would no longer have the breath necessary to cry for help, but realized the only people who might possibly hear her would be her killers.

As Okie Annie and Soolin completed their deadly chores, Batgirl moaned, recovering consciousness. Her body ached, but the darkness abated as her eyes fluttered open. She was positioned oddly within a thicket. When she shifted, the pain decreased and she settled more deeply into the foliage.

Methodically, she began to examine her physical condition as her memories flooded back. ‘A sniper shot me with darts. I must have been drugged because I couldn’t steer.’ Batgirl thought. Aloud she said, “Okay. No broken bones.” Slowly, she stood, emerging from the thicket.

“There she is,” a woman called. “Batgirl!”

Batgirl turned to see a tall, blonde police officer regarding her from the top of the slope. “Officer Reece,” Batgirl said, grasping the blue-eyed beauty’s hand as she returned to the road, following a short climb.

“Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better,” Batgirl admitted. “The suspect I was following got away.”

“What happened?” the officer asked.

Batgirl pulled the darts from the pouch on her utility belt where she had put them. “Someone shot me with these and I went over the guard rail.”

“I can give those to a forensics team, if you’d like,” Officer Reece offered.

“Thanks,” Batgirl said, nodding and handing over the projectiles.

“Did you see who shot you?”

“Not clearly,” Batgirl thoughtfully admitted. “I saw the car that sped past me on the bridge up there.” A purple-gloved finger pointed. “The shooter hit me twice, from either side of the bridge.”

“Do you want us to redirect traffic while you have a look?” Officer Reece asked.

“Sure.” Officer Reece spoke into a radio as Batgirl jogged toward the bridge along the side of the road. With each step, the Dark Knight Damsel felt better.

When she arrived, Batgirl threw a rope up over the side of the bridge. Her grappling hook took hold. Climbing, she reached the overpass deck and crossed to the shooter’s vantage points. Her quick search revealed nothing and she swung down to accompany Officer Reece to where the Batgirlcycle had been loaded into a paddy wagon.

“We’re going back to Headquarters, Batgirl. Would you like a lift?” Officer Reece offered.

Batgirl nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “I’d appreciate a ride very much.”

As Batgirl recovered, Robin stepped from the Redbird and moved to the Batcomputer, where he quickly engaged a program and set the wondrous machine to its task. ‘I’ll have an idea of bejeweled targets of interest to Doctor Cassandra and the Eta Beta Lotka girls soon,” he thought, pouring himself some coffee.

Momentarily, a bell prompted him to set his mug aside and snatch the card emerging from the computer’s output slot. Absently, the young Titan glanced at the card. “Holy Jackpot!” he exclaimed, turning toward the Batphone.

Meanwhile, in the disused storage area adjacent to the Lurex Underground, the terrible tendrils wound around Muffy had constricted considerably, despite the cool temperature of the henchwoman’s death chamber. The thin twine tightly encircling her body cruelly crushed her breasts while squeezing the air from her lungs. The victim had quickly become a disheveled mess as she vainly struggled to free herself and tried desperately to go on breathing. Her dark hair was wet with sweat and hung limply across her brow.

Before Muffy had been set free, she had shed her orange jumpsuit in favor of the incredibly tightly fitting black jeans and Eta Beta Lotka t-shirt which normally showcased her body superbly while keeping everything completely covered. Now, the fabric of her clothing was literally pressed into her flesh and sweat mingled with the trickles of blood soaking every stitch of her tattered garments.

“You look terrible,” a female voice said.

Muffy’s tear-filled eyes focused on the stairs where a curly-haired brunette, dressed all in black except for a thin, silver belt wrapped around her hips, was decoratively perched on the banister.

“Help!” Muffy whispered, her voice barely audible as she expelled a precious wisp of air from her contracting lungs.

The newcomer’s eyes had been watching the condemned hench-kitten’s fate unfold with professional interest for several seconds. ‘Interesting,’ she thought, ‘I have never seen Catwoman’s murderous Whiskers in action. This doomed girl would probably be dead already if the floor wasn’t cold cement. Despite her cool environment, without intervention, she will die very quickly. In fact, she probably only has a few minutes left.’

“Please,” the captive’s barely audible voice went on. ‘Communicating with this woman is my only chance,’ Muffy reasoned. ‘My lungs might never expand again!’

The women on the stairs straightened, smiling down at Muffy, and continued her descent. As she approached, her analysis of the girl’s predicament continued.

Her ruined appearance was the least of Muffy’s worries. Following the girl’s death, the Cat’s Whiskers would go on working on her, squeezing until the body cooled to room temperature. Okie Annie and Soolin had looped Cat’s Whiskers around the captive’s throat, and the terrible tendrils would decapitate her as they constricted completely. The choice of the cool environment to enact the girl’s demise displayed Catwoman’s diabolical genius. The cement floor would slow the Cat’s Whiskers while the girl struggled to go on living. Her death would normally have taken mere seconds, but the cool venue would prolong the process, making the minutes of crushing agony seem like hours to the suffering subject. As the dead body’s heat ebbed away, the work the Cat’s Whiskers would do posthumously would occur rapidly.

Vixen inhaled as she was struck by all the fiendish implications of the deadly arrangement. Her respectful admiration for her feline mistress was renewed once again.

Muffy tried to focus on the echoing footsteps of her approaching, potential rescuer and managed to shift her gaze toward the figure. Her eyes, however, closed after a moment.

“I’m Vixen,” the call girl said prompting Muffy’s eyes to open again. Both women smiled at one another.

‘Muffy’s fate would be the perfect object lesson for Catwoman’s remaining followers. Showing mercy is, of course, impossible. The boss lady wants the informant to die, and she must certainly be obeyed,’ Vixen thought. ‘I think, though, I have a different, more useful way to fulfill the contract.’

Muffy listened to the rasp of her breath as she exhaled and felt the Cat’s Whiskers around her chest contract further. Well beyond panic and physically spent, her trembling limbs went numb.

Muffy had no idea whether the woman who had arrived after her killers had left her to die was there to set her free or another of Catwoman’s agents, engaged to watch the murderous Cat’s Whiskers complete their deadly task. She simply didn’t care or consider the question. Regardless, the end now was mere seconds away!

Putting aside her professional interest in watching the Cat’s Whiskers finish their work, Vixen retrieved a fire extinguisher. She aimed it at Muffy and enveloped the victim briefly in a frigid cloud of compressed air.

Muffy felt the sinister strands surrounding her body expand and eagerly began to extricate herself from the Cat’s Whisker’s ghoulish grip. Once the frigid cloud had dispersed, Muffy realized Vixen was helping. “Thank you!” Muffy said, her chest heaving as her lungs expanded once again.

“Softly, dear,” Vixen warned. “Your would-be killers are polishing off a bottle upstairs.”

“We need to leave!” Muffy decided. “They could come down to check on me any time.”

“I think they have reason to be confident about their plans for you. Besides, we have to find you something to wear.”

Muffy looked down at her shredded clothes. “I feel awful,” she said.

“Follow me,” Vixen said, leading the way up the stairs. The two crept past the main club level and up to the performers’ dressing rooms.

“A shower,” Muffy said gratefully, rushing forward.

“Be sure and grab a coat when you pick out your outfit,” Vixen advised. “I’ll give you some privacy. Don’t go anywhere without me. We have to get you out of town. Catwoman may not be convinced you’re dead yet.”

“Sure,” Muffy said, absently. “How can I thank you?”

“We’ll talk about that when I get back. Meanwhile, take your time cleaning up and don’t worry about a thing.”

Okie Annie set a shot glass down and frowned at the empty bottle between her and Soolin on the cocktail table. “Well,” she said, “I reckon that bottle is as dead as the girl downstairs prob’ly is by now.”

“I could get us another?” Soolin offered, grinning.

“Nope, we need to get rid o’ the body. How are you feelin’ anyway? You’ve been pretty active since Catwoman told us to take care o’ Muffy like Doctor Cassandra wanted.”

“I’m tired, but I can move well enough as long as I take it slow,” Soolin said dismissively. “After all, I’m not going to get into a brawl or anything.”

“Right,” Okie Annie said, nodding. She leaned back and grinned, glancing at the clock on the wall. “There ain’t no hurry to do the rest of our work. Maybe we could kill one o’ them smaller bottles.”

“Catwoman is pleased with your purr-formance,” a black-clad brunette framed in the door announced. Both Soolin and Okie Annie spun in their chairs and moved their hands a fraction of an inch before focusing on the newcomer’s gun. “Please don’t reach for your weapons, ladies. Our mutual mistress considers you both too valuable for me to have to kill, and explaining such an unfortunate necessity would be awkward. I’m Vixen.”

“I reckon you got our attention, Vixen.” Okie Annie relaxed, resting her hands on the tabletop. Soolin shrugged and did likewise, leaning back. “You may as well have a seat if we’re gonna talk,” the senior gunwoman invited.

“Bring us a bottle and grab a glass,” Soolin added.

Vixen carried a shot glass and a bottle in one hand while covering the gunwomen with a small, silver-plated pistol. She sat at the table and put her weapon away. “The gun was a mere precaution,” she explained, smiling engagingly. “We’re all hench-kittens here, and our mistress asked me to evaluate your purr-formance. You did a nice job on the traitor downstairs.”

“Thanks,” Soolin said.

“She’s dead then?” Okie Annie asked.

“Quite,” Vixen said simply, pouring shots and draining her glass. The others tossed down their drinks as well.

“I reckon we’ll get a good review,” Okie Annie said.

Vixen nodded.

“Why are you telling us all of this?” Soolin asked.

“Catwoman is unavailable,” Vixen said.

“We know,” the young gunwoman said. “She’s in jail.”

“Precisely,” the brunette confirmed. She then regarded the gunwomen conspiratorially. “Of course, Catwoman realizes you two are moonlighting with Doctor Cassandra in her absence and, under the circumstances, doesn’t mind at all. I wonder if you two might be interested in yet another opportunity.”

Okie Annie raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Vixen produced two envelopes and set them in front of her companions. “I want to retain your services for a week. I think that sum will be enough to hold your interest until the job I have in mind is done.”

“We might have other obligations near term,” Soolin said.

“The job I want to do won’t interfere with your work for Doctor Cassandra, and when it’s over, should you want to leave town, I’m willing to see to those arrangements.”

“Who said we want to go anywhere?’ Soolin said.

“If you don’t, that’s fine. It’s just a suggestion,” Vixen mildly replied, shrugging.

“So,” Okie Annie began, “what is it you want us to do?”

“What I tell you - when I tell you - at the appropriate time,” Vixen replied. “I think you’ll find the arrangement worthwhile.”

“I reckon we’ll keep the money,” Okie Annie said. “Is there anything else?”

“Nothing much right now. Return to Doctor Cassandra and leave what is left of Muffy, and her effects, to me. I’ll contact you when I need you. After a week, if I still need you, I’ll owe you each another retainer. Is it a deal?”

“You won’t object if we determine the amount of our retainers before agreeing?” Soolin asked.

“Of course not,” Vixen agreed.

Both gunwomen were grinning from ear to ear when they had finished counting their money.

“It’s a deal,” Okie Annie said. The trio of wicked women shook hands all around.

“Is there anything else you need, boss?” Soolin asked.

“Not now,” Vixen replied. "Oh, Catwoman and I both would prefer you don’t tell Doctor Cassandra Batgirl and Robin survived her trap.”

“No problem,” Okie Annie said. “We ain’t seen Robin since we checked on the Doc’s trap, though.”

Soolin grinned. “I arranged for Batgirl to take a little spill on the way here, before we took care of Muffy. With any luck . . . . ”

“Hear hear,” Vixen said, decanting another round of shots. “I saw the results of your good work. Let’s raise our glasses to dead mice.”

“I like the idear o’ backyard birds bein’ blasted out o’ the sky, too,” Okie Annie added, pouring more liquor.

“Good riddance,” Soolin said, tossing down her shot. “Batman and the Distaff Duo are next.”

“If’n they mess with us,” Okie Annie agreed.

Vixen smiled at them and slid her chair back. “Who knows? We may have to get rid of them before we’ve finished.” Okie Annie and Soolin both silently toasted their new employer with an additional shot they happily tossed down as the brunette took her leave.

When Vixen returned to Muffy, the shorter brunette was clean, coifed, and wore a very short, black skirt and a half top with thin zebra stripes. She had selected a pair of flip flops and a black trench coat. “I feel like a million bucks,” she happily declared, turning around before her rescuer. “How do I look?”

“Good enough to eat,” Vixen said, grinning. “We’ve got to get you out of Gotham City if you want to go on living. Can you get money?”

“Sure,” Muffy said. “I’ll need my stuff.” She hesitated, frowning. “I must have left it in the bar.” She brightened as Vixen handed over her purse. “Okay. I’m good. If I need to get out of the city, where should I go?”

“I can get you anywhere you want to go in the world,” Vixen said.

“I guess I’ll have to think about it,” Muffy replied. “Is it safe to leave here?”

“Sure. We’ll slip out the back,” Vixen said. “From which bank will you get your money?” Muffy told her.

The call girl slipped on a pair of gloves as she waited for Muffy to emerge from her bank with a pair of bulging envelopes protruding from the pockets of her coat. The girl plopped into the passenger seat as Vixen’s car pulled away.

“Why are you helping me?” the girl asked, regarding her rescuer seriously.

“I didn’t want you to die as Catwoman planned. It looks like I showed up just in time to save you.”

Muffy thought for awhile and smiled. “Thank you again. I’m not sure I understand your reasoning, though. I thought you worked for Catwoman.”

“Sometimes,” Vixen replied. “Lately, I’ve been pursuing my own agenda.” Muffy’s savior smiled thinly as her recent, predatory activities sprang to mind. She was quietly at war with a secret society whose members had, for the most part, wisely fled Gotham City.

Vixen’s campaign had begun after she found the Webmaster. Their brief relationship had yielded Vixen a wealth of information. After the man charged with protecting the Society’s secrets had objected to the girl’s curiosity, she had kissed him goodbye before leaving him simmering in a steamy, bubbling Jacuzzi. Their earlier encounter, in addition to the chemical with which she had laced his drinks, had left him far too weak to even stand.

Vixen’s next move had been more profitable, from a monetary standpoint, and had evolved from the late Webmaster’s information. One of the spoils appeared as the car pulled up in front of a mansion.

“Nice place,” Muffy said. “Didn’t it belong to the well-known, wealthy animal rights activist, Lydia Weaver, who recently committed suicide?”

“How did you know?” Vixen asked, glancing at the girl and raising an eyebrow.

“There are many unflattering stories about Ms. Weaver, the Spider Lady. Apparently, she was so interested in spiders she had a red one tattooed on the small of her back. The irony of her hanging herself in a spider’s web was amazing.”

Vixen knew Lydia Weaver had not committed suicide, but the call girl had staged the scene well enough to prevent too many pesky questions, as she had Webmaster’s ‘accident’. Lydia Weaver would tell no tales now, but before she had perished, Vixen had learned many dark secrets. The mansion’s walls, had they been capable of speech, would have told a listener of horrors more tangible than mere skeletons in the closets.

“Well, while the probate court settles Ms. Weaver’s estate, no one will mind if we use her place for awhile,” Vixen replied. “You’ve had a rough day. Come on in.”

“You’ve been very kind to me, Vixen,” Muffy said as her rescuer opened the driver’s side door of the car.

“Not at all,” the call girl replied dismissively, coming around the car and doing the same for her passenger. Vixen took her companion’s hand and helped the girl to her feet before leading the way both inside the house and to a comfortable room with a large, central fireplace.

Muffy slipped off her coat and shoes, plopping onto a comfortable cushion and stretching her limbs.

“I’ll take that and hang it up,” Vixen offered, accepting the coat. “Then we can get comfortable and plan your forthcoming journey.”

“It might be nice to get some sun,” Muffy said, leaning back; lacing her fingers behind her head; and scooting back as she sank more comfortably into her cushion. “I’ll have to give my ultimate destination some serious thought.”

Vixen glanced around the room and frowned at the cobwebs in the central, enclosed fireplace. Opening the enclosure, she gathered the refuse on the far end of a charred stick. “I already have,” the call girl murmured. “The guardians of this mansion are coming now. This charade is almost over.”

“What?” Muffy asked.

Vixen turned to smile engagingly at Muffy. “Just relax, dear,” she said kindly and more loudly. “I’ll take good care of you.”

As Vixen departed, her fingers closed around the shoulder strap of the coed’s forgotten purse. Muffy blinked drowsily and considered for the first time what her ordeal had physically cost her. “Good idea,” she cheerfully said. ‘Vixen really had a great idea,’ she thought, once she was alone. ‘Maybe I’ll just catch a quick cat nap--’

Mentally, she grimaced at the expression she habitually used and changed her mind. ‘Heck with it! I’m going to sleep.’

Vixen carried the coat to a well-appointed office and tossed it aside after plucking the fat envelopes from each pocket. Before sitting down to examine their contents, she switched on a monitor upon which the image of Muffy became immediately visible.

Catwoman’s lieutenant poured the contents of the purse onto the desk as her eyes hungrily studied the girl on the monitor. The watcher plucked the cell phone from among her subject’s possessions and glanced at the list of saved numbers. “It’s mostly guys,” she said wistfully, shrugging. 'Oh well. She has no idea what she missed by not playing with girls, too. Now, of course, it's too late.'

Tossing aside Muffy’s phone, Vixen’s hands mechanically began to open the envelopes and neatly stack the greenbacks she found inside. Once her lucrative chore was complete, she leaned back and grinned at the monitor, where she saw something black crawl from the chimney of the fireplace, mere yards from the sleeping girl.

“It's time,” the call girl eagerly said, leaning forward and touching the controls for the mansion’s intercom system.

Meanwhile, the first creature emerging from the chimney was slowly revealed. It had eight bent legs, making it about the size of a Frisbee. Legs extended from a cephalothorax the size of a softball. Eyes and fangs also extended from the creature’s body and the abdomen beyond the hindmost legs was even larger. Innumerable other monsters would soon follow.

“Wake up, Muffy,” Vixen clearly said.

Vixen’s voice, addressing her through the mansion’s intercom system, awakened the sleeping girl.

“Vixen?” Muffy drowsily mumbled, focusing on a speaker after a moment.

“Hello, Muffy,” the call girl said. ‘I woke you up to introduce you to Ms. Weaver’s pets. I found them in the house before she died.”

For reasons Muffy did not yet fully understand, she could feel herself starting to sweat. She tried to rise, but fell back. ‘What’s happening?’ she wondered. Wide awake, she tried to rise again and immediately found herself sinking back into the cushion.

‘I can’t move!’ Muffy thought. ‘I feel so weak. Vixen just told me something. What was it?’ As she tried to retrieve Vixen’s words from a semiconscious memory, Muffy arrived at a frightening realization.

Escape from the cushion upon which her body rested was utterly impossible!

“I suppose you’re wondering why you can’t move,” Vixen’s voice continued. “Well, the gloves I was wearing when I helped you out of the car gave you a powerful, yet carefully measured, dose of a drug called Catalepsy. Catwoman developed it to render voluntary muscles temporarily useless.”

“Catwoman?” Muffy mumbled, then thought, ‘She ordered me killed!’

Suddenly, more of the perfidious puzzle fell into place for the helpless girl. ‘Vixen works for Catwoman, and I’ve just been trapped—again!’

Vixen chuckled malevolently. “That’s right, Muffy. Catwoman put a contract on you, and I’m about to carry it out—my way!”

‘I’ve been drugged! I can’t move!’ Muffy thought, as she felt her breath become short. ‘Vixen mentioned Lydia Weaver, and she’s dead!’

Muffy tried to speak, but could not. Her breath simply failed her. ‘No!’ she thought. ‘Vixen killed Lydia Weaver. The Spider Lady’s death was not suicide, but murder!’

“What’s wrong?” Vixen asked, feigning sympathy. “Cat got your tongue?” The woman who had orchestrated Muffy’s doom laughed again, reinforcing all of the girl’s fears. “I wouldn’t worry, dear. The critters I wanted you to see will reach you soon. In that hot, little outfit, I know they’ll find you delicious. You see, I doubt they’ve had something really suitable to eat for a long time. You do remember me saying you looked good enough to eat, don’t you?”

Muffy’s eyes widened uncertainly as she stared at the intercom speaker and the camera mounted above it.

“Oh,” Vixen said absently. “You haven’t noticed the diners yet. Well, I wouldn’t want you to make your exit without knowing exactly how it’s to be done. Look at the fireplace.”

Muffy looked through the cleft between her breasts, across her flat abdomen, and along her slightly spread legs, one of which was bent. Her feet, as well as the majority of her legs, arms, and abdomen were bare. Her lips curled into a smile as her thoughts became narcissistic.

‘I’ll bet I look better to a hungry critter than I do to most guys right about now,’ she thought. ‘I wish I could move! I wish Doctor Cassandra’s plans for Robin would have worked! I’d much prefer entertaining him than--being here!’

A movement beyond her feet caught her attention and her eyes widened as she stared in unbelieving horror at the creatures still emerging silently from the chimney.

‘They’re spiders—huge spiders!’ Muffy thought as she inhaled audibly. ‘How many of them are there?!!’ Muffy felt her body shiver involuntarily.

“Ah, now you see them,” Vixen happily gloated. “I’m afraid you’ll be served long before your dose of Catalepsy wears off. Goodbye, dear.” She paused to laugh softly. “So, my pets, with both Catwoman’s and my compliments, I give you Muffy. Bon appetite.”

Muffy felt her lungs empty involuntarily as the first spider reached her cushion. Her understandable terror was spurred by her many demons, including both the ones she had harbored since her earliest nightmares as a little girl and those she had freely embraced as she grew older, performing dark deeds in the service of a cruel, criminal mistress. Her diminished lung capacity, however, prevented the lengthy scream she anticipated and hoped would somehow frighten the spiders away. She heard only a weak, pathetic yelp before spiders swarmed over her.

“Purr-fect” Vixen said, rendering a fair impression of her feline mistress as she calmly shut off both the intercom and her monitor. Her last remaining chore was to pack a large, stylish bag with the money Muffy had unwittingly paid before becoming a meal for the monsters the call girl had ‘inherited’.

“I can’t believe or allow it!” Batgirl was saying as she stood in her father’s office.

“I don’t understand why not,” the Commissioner replied.

“I can’t let you repair my windshield at public expense,” Batgirl protested. “There are much better ways of spending the money, whatever the work costs.”

“You are a duly deputized law officer and I have the power to set budgetary priorities,” the Commissioner explained. “Besides, it’s obvious for whom this work is being done and many of the guys in the garage are working on it through their lunch and staying late to have the opportunity to look over the Batgirlcycle.”

“Are you telling me the police mechanics are fixing the Batgirlcycle during their time off and therefore working for free?” Batgirl suspiciously asked.

“Mostly,” the Commissioner said. “Things down there are a little slow right now, anyway.”

“You didn’t give any orders about fixing my bike, did you? I’d hate to think you are arranging favors for me because--”

“No, Batgirl,” the Commissioner said. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Commissioner,” she said, taking a deep breath as she rested her hands on her shapely hips and faced her farther, “I must reiterate, I really can’t accept or allow—”

“I made up my mind about your objections earlier, Batgirl. So, unless you want to donate the Batgirlcycle to the police--”

“All right!” Batgirl said, raising her hands to indicate her surrender. “I’d hate for you and your people to think I don’t appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”

“The main thing is that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she declared, looking heavenward.

“Now,” the Commissioner said as his smiling face transformed, becoming hard, “who shot you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Has the forensics lab come up with anything from the darts Officer Reece turned in?”

“Not yet,” the Commissioner said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“I was hoping to follow Muffy and get a lead on Doctor Cassandra. Apparently, her predictive powers are more than a myth.”

“So, Muffy was your best lead on Doctor Cassandra and the sniper saw to it she got away?”

“I’m afraid so,” Batgirl agreed, “and in a way I feel very fortunate the sniper wasn’t using bullets.”

“Amen!”

“Now, unless your forensics team comes up with something, my best idea at the moment is to look over the coast and see if I can find where Doctor Cassandra is building her faux dockyard. That is, unless another approach presents itself.”

The beeping Batphone prevented the Commissioner from responding.

Half a week later, Doctor Cassandra, Cabala, Okie Annie, Soolin, and the remaining henchgirls from the Eta Beta Lotka sorority gathered at the dockyard they had built as their leader prepared to outline her criminal scheme.

“As you know,” the villainess began, “the lighthouse on Phoney Island is still used to guide local shipping along Gotham City’s coast. Tonight, we will guide the target here and will need to shut the lighthouse down until we’ve finished the job. This task is essential since the target will arrive in the real Gotham Harbor unless we handle it properly. I’ll need one or two volunteers.”

“Okie Annie and I can take care of the lighthouse,” Soolin said after Doctor Cassandra’s helpers excitedly chattered briefly.

“Excellent,” Doctor Cassandra said. “Cabala, stand by the alternate beacon and we’ll wait for our very lucrative opportunity.”

Darkness cloaked the fake shipyard later, when the expected galleon drifted into position beside the pier and its crew tied it into place with professional efficiency. Three trucks parked along the pier prompted the cargo’s transfer to begin.

When the work was complete and the ship had sailed on, Cabala led Doctor Cassandra onto the pier. “This is far out, Docky Baby! Those sailors handed over the jewels without any trouble whatsoever.”

“Precisely, love. This criminal coup is a product of superior planning. As far as the ship and its crew are concerned, they’re just doing their jobs. The intended recipients of this fabulous fortune in gemstones and jewelry will be quite irate tomorrow when their delivery will seem never to have been made. We, of course, will be able sit back and enjoy the chaos from the lap of luxury. As of now, there is nothing in the world we cannot afford.” The criminal couple laughed.

“You can forget reclining in the lap of luxury, Doctor Cassandra!” a female voice announced with authority.

“The only place you’re going is back to jail,” a male voice concurred.

“It’s Batgirl and Robin!” Cabala incredulously said.

“Incredible! How could you possibly have figured out my plans or found us?” Doctor Cassandra demanded. “You’re both supposed to be dead!”

“Oh, we survived your firetrap, Doctor Cassandra,” Robin said.

“That’s too bad,” Cabala quietly said.

“It gets worse,” Batgirl revealed, grinning. “We caught one of your girl goons and – persuaded her to tell us all about your building this dockyard.”

“The Batcomputer easily identified the most lucrative delivery to Gotham City scheduled to arrive by sea,” Robin elaborated.

“Waiting for you to strike was the obvious strategy as soon as we realized what your target was,” Batgirl said.

“Now our plan has worked perfectly and yours has blown up in your face,” Robin added.

“We’ll just see about that, dear boy,” Doctor Cassandra said. The villainess’ voice grew louder as she indicated Batgirl and Robin. “Girls, two things remain standing between us and the huge fortune we were engaged to steal. Exorcize them from existence!”

Instantly, Fluffy, Purdey, Tabitha, Amber, and Emerald emerged from the shadows and set upon the Dynamite Duo.

Amber and Emerald flanked Robin and attacked. The young Titan ducked, prompting the two women to clobber one another. Purdey rushed at Batgirl who sidestepped and slammed an arm into the henchwoman’s chest, toppling her.

Fluffy gripped Batgirl’s extended wrist and spun her around where Tabitha caught and held her. The redhead moved in and went to work on Batgirl’s lower body. “Robin!” Batgirl cried, before a powerful kick took her breath away.

The former Boy Wonder found himself occupied and unable to immediately come to the rescue. He slipped a punch Amber fired at him and he seized her wrist to spin her into Emerald. Both henchwomen collapsed, as the blonde drug user sprawled into the back of Emerald’s legs.

Batgirl set her feet and rammed both elbows back into Tabitha’s abdomen. The ex-stripper grunted as the Curved Crusader felt her attacker's grip loosen. Spinning, the heroine sent the girl behind her crashing into Amber and Emerald, who were regaining their feet. The trio of hencdhwomen collapsed in a heap. Pivoting in the direction from which she had been attacked, Batgirl crouched lower as her eyes searched the darkness for another opponent.

Purdey let out a shout and charged at Robin, who dodged to one side and was powerless to do anything but watch as his attacker, unable to stop herself, plunged from the pier. Purdey’s dismayed cry heralded a mighty splash.

Fluffy suddenly realized she was facing both Robin and Batgirl on her own. The redhead’s eyes grew wide before she turned to flee. “Oh no you don’t!” Batgirl said, charging and slamming a shoulder into the center of Fluffy’s back, propelling the henchgirl to the pier face first.

Emerald; Tabitha; and Amber, meanwhile, surrounded Robin. He managed to avoid two blows that stunned Emerald and Tabitha; dodged past Amber; and shoved her toward Purdey, who was returning to the fight. Two splashes followed.

Batgirl left Emerald squirming in handcuffs and joined Robin in shackling Fluffy and Tabitha. Both heroes were waiting to secure Amber and Purdey when they returned to the pier.

Standing outside the battle zone, Doctor Cassandra and Cabala, stared fearfully at one another. “It looks like pill time, Docky Baby,” Cabala said.

His wife nodded as the victorious heroes approached.

“We’ve dealt with your henchwomen, Doctor Cassandra!” Batgirl announced.

“Now,” Robin added, “we’re going to deal with you!”

“Next time,” Doctor Cassandra said. Then, she and Cabala vanished.

“Holy Now You See Me, Now You Don’t!”

“You two won’t be getting away from us that easily!” Batgirl declared, taking a handful of pellets from her utility belt. She turned around to follow the sound of pounding footsteps on the pier, the source of which was not apparent.

“Well said, Batgirl,” Robin complimented. “Good grammar is essential.”

‘I can’t believe I just said that,’ Robin thought. ‘I sound just like Batman!’

“Thanks, Robin.” Batgirl urged, “Come on! Let’s get them!”

She flung her pellets, which exploded in the center of a pool of light shining where the pier met the shore. Seconds later, a smoke screen enveloped two fleeing figures, the shorter one slightly thinner than the taller. Both bent forward, coughing; convulsing; and clutching at their throats, momentarily disoriented. For the villains, it seemed impossible to leave the smoke screen.

Robin and Batgirl approached the thinning smoke and slammed their fists into the male and female figures respectively. Doctor Cassandra and Cabala were soon laid out on the pier and being rolled onto their stomachs and handcuffed. The Dynamite Duo stood and shook hands, looking over the human debris and grinning.

“Nice work,” Robin complimented.

“I think we can leave them to the police now,” Batgirl said. “Is there anything else?”

“I know of a young lady who plans to feed the Eta Beta Lotka sorority to the Gotham City University administration. Once the college officials realize the sorority was little more than a training program for criminal henchwomen, I’ll lend her a glove and shut them down for good.”

“Your friend’s goal sounds worthy to me,” Batgirl said, smiling. “I’ll call the police on my way back to town.”

“Until next time,” Robin said, waving.

Batgirl returned the wave as the Dynamite Duo took their leave.

“Well,” Purdey fumed, “it looks like we’re all going up the river without a paddle. Ironically, some of us are already drenched!”

“Prison is so boring,” Emerald complained.

“I’ve never been to prison,” Amber fearfully said.

“It’s not so bad,” Tabitha resignedly said, “there are state of the art workout facilities.”

“There are also guys,” Fluffy dreamily said. “Many of them have huge, gorgeous muscles.”

“We won’t be going to prison, girls,” Doctor Cassandra said.

“What makes you say so, Docky Baby?”

“We sent Okie Annie and Soolin to the lighthouse,” the villainess smugly said. “They’ll soon be back here to help us escape--”

A peal of laughter interrupted the villainess thought. Vixen stepped into the light and surveyed the defeated criminals with hands on her shapely hips. “I asked you to do a simple job and what happened? You plan it flawlessly, but then get caught for your trouble.”

Cabala instantly began to object, “Hey—”

“Shut up,” Vixen ordered, kicking him hard in the ribs. “I think you’ve all earned your forthcoming stretch in prison. Before I leave you, I should thank you for securing the jewels I wanted, and I’m especially pleased at how inexpensive this transaction has become, for me.” The brunette laughed again.

“We did the job,” Doctor Cassandra protested. “You’d leave us to be arrested? I might decide to arrange for you to spend some time behind bars for betraying us.”

“Girls,” Vixen calmly said, “show the good Doctor what will happen to her, and her husband, if any of these idiots rat on us.” Without a word Okie Annie and Soolin flanked Vixen, holding a gun in each of their hands. Bullets slammed into the pier outlining both Doctor Cassandra and Cabala. “If you should choose to betray me, none of you will be safe from us – anywhere! Let’s go.” Without another word, Vixen and her blonde companions turned; climbed into each of the trucks loaded with stolen jewels; and drove off as sirens began to sound in the distance.

“Well, that went well,” Cabala said sadly. “Docky Baby, I think your family curse is still intact.”

Vixen led her companions to the Chessman Hotel, where a tall, African-American girl directed them to the loading docks in the back of the building. “This is Puffy,” Vixen said, introducing their hostess, whose polished jackboots and black short shorts showed off her long legs magnificently. Her upper body was sheathed in a sheer, silk blouse that did not hide the leather halter-top, against which her breasts strained. Her outfit was augmented with a scarlet belt, a matching bow tie, and a black, velvet jacket. “She represents the people who will sell off these goods, except for the item I want; deduct their well-deserved premium, from which she will be handsomely paid; and divide the profits between the two of you.”

“You’re being very generous,” Soolin said, as Puffy led them inside.

“We hench-kittens need to stick together,” Vixen said, making a sweeping gesture that included Puffy.

“I reckon Catwoman won’t mind us helpin’ ourselves.”

“She doesn’t,” Vixen said. “One advantage to dealing with the Chessman people is they can conduct us anywhere in the world. If you two want to travel, they can set up any necessary arrangements.”

“While you decide on your plans, we have a suite waiting for both of you,” Puffy said, extending a pair of plastic cards. “Enjoy yourselves. If you want anything not listed on the room service menu, which covers much more than food, call me. I can get you just about anything you want. Chessman Hotels’ service is superfluous, and very discreet.”

“Thank you,” Okie Annie and Soolin said simultaneously, before taking their leave.

“Thank you for everything, Puffy,” Vixen said. “You’ve been super.”

“My cut from this job makes it worthwhile,” the African-American said, showing a row of white teeth. “Besides, hench-kittens do need to stick together.”

“How soon can I see the item I asked you to fetch?”

“It will be in your suite, along with the necessary tools.”

“Splendid,’ Vixen said. “Thank you again.”

Moments later, Okie Annie and Soolin stepped into their suite and inhaled, taking in the luxurious surroundings with greedily glittering eyes.

“Well now,” the curvaceous cowgirl said. “I see we ain’t gonna be spendin’ the night someplace beside the dusty trail in the rain.” She let her hands settle on her hips before inhaling and letting her lungs slowly empty. “You want a drink, Soolin?”

“Sure,” the beautiful Briton replied, vanishing into one of the bedrooms. Five minutes later Soolin emerged from her room wearing a one-piece bathing suit bearing a Union Jack and took the glass from her companion.

“Goin’ for a swim?”

“I thought I’d soak for awhile in the hot tub and see if I feel like getting a massage later,” the younger woman replied, nodding appreciatively after tasting her drink. “You look comfortable, too.”

Okie Annie had carelessly tossed her hat aside and shed her gunbelt. Slowly, she slid her boots from her feet and stretched, sampling her own drink. “I think you got the right idea, livin’ it up for a few days. We may be goin’ back to work right quick.”

“Why do you say that?” Soolin inquired, sinking into the hot tub as the steamy water began to bubble around her bare shoulders.

“Since we done drove off with most o’ the evidence the Law had against the Doc, she and her husband won’t be in prison long.”

“You have a point,” Soolin said. “They sent the girls to do most of their criminal work. You don’t think we’re going to have to kill Doctor Cassandra or Cabala, do you?”

“Prob’ly not,” Okie Annie replied, grinning. “I ‘spect our demonstration made a lastin’ impression.” Both gunwomen were laughing after a moment. “I’m gonna get cleaned up. You want another drink?”

“Make a pitcher,” Soolin drowsily suggested, glancing around the room as she leaned back. “Hey! What’s that?”

Okie Annie determined her student was pointing at a silver disk resting on the player behind the bar. “We done got a note, Soolin,” she said, examining a piece of paper upon which the disc rested. “Somebody wants us to listen to this here disc.”

“We may as well play it,” Soolin said.

Catwoman’s voice began to speak shortly after the disk began to play. “Hello, kittens. I will begin by saying what an exemplary report I received on your recent purr-formance. I trust the payment I had deposited in the casino accounts for each of you will keep you in catnip for awhile. Additionally, should you wish to work after your trip, I have things that need to be done in the vicinity of Death Valley. Should you want the work, call Catalina at the number written on this disc. If you’d rather rest and enjoy the fruits of your recent labors, that would also be purr-fectly acceptable. Ta ta for now. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

“Well now, how ‘bout that?” Okie Annie asked rhetorically. “Catwoman sure treats folks right when they do their jobs. You reckon we ought to go back to work?”

Soolin was far from convinced of Catwoman's benevolence, but felt she would gain nothing by arguing about the matter with her teacher. “We’ll have plenty of time to think about the future,” she said instead. ”Tonight, we should just relax and enjoy the hotel's amenities.”

“It ain’t like we can’t afford all of ‘em,” Okie Annie replied, grinning. “I’ll mix that pitcher o’ drinks for us and hit the shower.”

“I’ll call Puffy about entertainment,” Soolin said, reaching for the phone. “Shall I take care of you, too, or would you prefer to make your own arrangements?”

Meanwhile, Vixen entered her room, where a crate waited on a table beside a hammer and crowbar. She grinned and studied the wooden box with eager interest. She frowned when she found the manifest was written exclusively in English. ‘This is from Europe,’ she thought.

“Maybe I’ll get cleaned up first,” she said aloud, setting the tools aside and walking to the bathroom. Soon the shower was running behind the closed door and Vixen crossed the room barefoot with a gun in her hand. She sat beside the door and screwed a silencer to the end of her weapon.

The stage was set, and she was ready.

The tapping was inaudible over the shower, but Vixen smiled as the top of the crate was lifted and set silently aside. A man in the crate focused on the bathroom door and began to climb from his hiding place.

“Looking for me?” Vixen asked after straightening and taking a shooting stance.

The man whirled and caught bullets in the throat and chest as his weapon clattered to the floor. A moment later, his lifeless body collapsed into the crate.

Vixen took the assassin’s gun by the muzzle and carried to it the phone. There would be plenty of time to pull fingerprints from the weapon and its ammunition to learn who the dead man was. Finding his assets online and looting his estate would take time, but probably be worth the trouble. “Spoils of war,” Vixen murmured, grinning.

Turning her attention to more immediate concerns, Vixen called Puffy. “I have some trash I need taken out right away. Also, whoever was supposed to deliver my crate made a big mistake.”

“I’ll attend to your problem personally,” Puffy said.

Vixen had the shower off when Puffy and a man in a bellman’s uniform arrived with a second crate.

“Come in,” Vixen said.

“I apologize for the mistake, ma’am,” the bellman said. “I have your crate right here.”

“No problem,” Vixen said. The man moved a similarly sized crate to the table after setting the original on his cart.

“The top of this crate is detached,” he remarked, glancing at Vixen and Puffy. Both women shrugged.

“Hey!” the bellman said after opening the crate on the cart, “that’s the guy who—”

“Bribed you to let him in here?” Vixen asked.

“No!” the man protested, raising his hands. “You don’t understand. I can explain!”

“Accepting bribes is unprofessional,” Puffy said. “In fact, it’s grounds for termination. You don’t object, do you, Vixen?”

“Of course not,” the call girl said, her face remaining utterly impassive.

“Get that garbage out of here!” Puffy commanded, indicating the open crate.

The bellman was concentrating on the task he had been given when he felt the bullets tear into his chest and heard the plops of a silenced gun. He fell into the crate on top of the other body when Puffy lowered her pistol.

“I apologize for this inconvenience, Vixen. I hope you and your friends will enjoy the remainder of your stay, on the house. Ask for whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Puffy. I’d like to be alone for the next few hours. After that, we’ll see how I feel.”

“Of course,” Puffy said. “Is there anything else?”

“Search the bodies and keep their effects," Vixen said. “You’ve earned them.”

Puffy didn’t argue. She found nothing on the assassin, but the bellman had a watch, wallet, a ring, and a fat envelope. She closed the body-filled crate and began to wheel it out when she thought of something else. “Thank you. Do you have any instructions concerning this crate?”

Vixen thought for a moment. “Return it to the sender. You can tell me all about him or her later.”

Puffy grinned, nodded, and left.

Vixen inhaled and let her lungs empty slowly. “Finally,” she muttered, pouring herself a drink and turning her attention to the crate on the table. It was open in a matter of minutes.

Her eyes glittered greedily as she pulled out a blue jewel she needed both hands to handle. As the light made the gem glitter, Vixen peered intently at it, closely examining the figure of a woman standing in its heart.

A bone tiara perched atop the figure’s head and, except for the few locks curling over her shoulders from behind her ears, red hair spilled straight back, hanging halfway down her back. The figure in the gem used a pair of petrified spiders as earrings and a third hung from a bone choker encircling her throat. Thicker bones were suspended from the front of the choker, partially covering her breasts, and thin bands of material were wound around each of her wrists, as well as both her upper arms. These bands matched the lower portion of a tightly-stretched bikini covering her waist and hips. These ‘shorts’ were, in fact, the only cloth garment touching the woman’s flesh, which was otherwise bare.

“Beautiful, Spider-Priestess,” Vixen said, grinning as an unholy light began to dance in her eyes. “Your people just failed to kill me--again, and as of now, you are literally mine!”

“Once I’ve seen to your security, I’ll be traveling around the world and exterminating the remainder of your network.” The comely killer laughed. “I’ll hunt the members down and pick them off one by one. The list I’ve developed is quite comprehensive and I can’t wait to begin crossing off names.”

“When my enemies and I finally meet in Gotham City, we will join forces to perform the ceremony and bring you back. Whatever is left of the Bluestone Spider Society will be yours to command.” The call girl laughed. “Making the required arrangements to pull your proverbial strings thereafter will be a profound pleasure.”

Vixen was about to put the gem away when she stopped dead, remaining utterly motionless as she regarded the figure in the gem.

Spider-Priestess’ lips had curled into a smile.

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