Make Sport of Rich and Heroic Prey

A faint line of predawn light glimmered on the horizon as Batgirl continued to struggle. Her helpless writhing neither separated her from the solar energy conduit to which Catwoman had stuck her nor opened the shackles restraining her limbs.

While a common citizen might have been amazed at how the Feline Fiend had transformed George Henry Lyons’ solar energy facility into a deathtrap, members of the Gotham City underworld had often proven more than capable of using advanced, scientific equipment to try to accomplish murderous ends. As Batgirl considered her limited range of movement, she recalled some of her previous, nearly lethal experiences. Most similarly, the Siren had trapped her inside a particle accelerator in an attempt to transform Gotham City’s gorgeous guardian into a second sonic sorceress.

Batgirl’s memories only caused her glib words about escaping, often spoken in criminals’ presence, to simultaneously haunt and mock her. ‘If I’m still stuck against this thing when the sun fully rises, the energy the solar collectors gather will incinerate me in a matter of seconds!’ she thought.

The metal objects in her belt; the Batcuffs restraining her wrists and ankles, which held her body festooned against the metal power conduit in an insidious, inverted hug; and the metal strands woven into her costume itself had enabled Catwoman to use Batgirl’s own Bat-magnet as a malfeasant means of restraint. ‘When the sun rises, I’ll roast like a marshmallow!’

Batgirl shook her head and chastised herself for thinking negatively. Her task was to discover a means of escape and she clearly understood her life depended upon success.

There was a slim chance help would arrive from the outside. ‘A guard making rounds or doing a security sweep could find me,’ the Curved Crusader thought. ‘A technician arriving shortly after sunrise to check on the energy storage process, though, is much more likely to discover Catwoman’s handiwork – too late!’

As usual, Batgirl’s escape would most probably be her own responsibility.

She could move, but her movements amounted to little more than squirming. Her magnet’s invisible grip would never allow her to reach the golden utility belt wound closely around her waist and holding her lower body practically immobile. Nevertheless, she was grateful to have its comforting weight in place. Batgirl’s enemies frequently deprived her of her amazing accessory and the ingenious wonders it held.

Before Catwoman had taken it, Batgirl’s belt had contained both her Batcuffs and the Bat-magnet the Feline Fiend was using against the Curved Crusader. The irony of the heroine’s own crimefighting equipment being employed in its owner's murder was lost upon neither Catwoman nor the trap’s intended victim. The villainess had, in fact, commented on it before departing with her hench-kittens.

Batgirl well knew the monstrous force her device generated would continue holding her in its seemingly inescapable grip until sunrise, unless she could somehow turn her magnet off. To do so, she would need to gain the use of her shackled hands.

Fortunately, she carried an array of tiny lock picks and knives in her boots and gloves for use when her utility belt was unavailable. She had selected tools made of non-magnetic material in order to keep her reserve arsenal from being detected. Now, she hoped that choice would once again save her life.

Working by feel, Batgirl stretched her fingers toward the flanges of her gloves and a lock pick she knew could free her from her Batcuffs. She imagined the terrible consequences of letting her potentially life-saving tool slip through her fingers.

Her breath rasped as she inhaled, filling her lungs before emptying them slowly as she worked toward escape. She could feel sweat forming between her costume and her flesh.

She was thankful she wore gloves and would not be handling her lock pick with sweat-slicked hands. Batgirl’s fingers stretched toward their goal as she released a breath she did not realize she was holding. When she located the tool, she knew pulling it free from her glove slowly would be essential to keep her hope of escape alive. Before finally doing so, she let go and took a fresh grip while calmly filling her lungs. Moments later, Batgirl’s implement was poised to win her freedom.

Fortunately, the lock mechanism inside the cuff was, like her pick, made of non-ferrous material. The remainder of her task was relatively simple. Soon, the cuff flew open.

Although she now had one free hand, Batgirl was surprised to discover her other hand remained immobilized! The metal in the cuff and linking chain was being pulled taut toward her Bat-magnet behind her, twisting her body around the conduit!

‘I didn’t expect my magnet to be this strong! Did Catwoman somehow soup it up?’

Now, she faced a critical decision. She could try freeing her other hand or attempt to shut off her Bat-magnet one-handed.

Twisted against the pillar-like conduit and fighting her Bat-magnet’s pull, she realized her Batcuff was closer to her free hand than her Bat-magnet. Yet, with time running out, freeing her restrained hand might waste time she would need to shut down the magnetic field.

To free herself, Batgirl would need to move her hand closer to the Bat-magnet. To that end, she put away her lock pick and drew her feet as close to the back of the pillar as she could, while trying to rise. She knew the magnet would help draw her hand closer to the source of the fiendish force restraining her, but would constantly draw her waist and hips back against the conduit as she worked. Slowly, her body became completely drenched with sweat as it began to wind around the deadly conduit.

A sudden tap and intermittent scrape brought her efforts to a stop and she found it impossible to continue moving toward her objective. She instantly knew what had happened. A chill having nothing to do with the warming temperature ran along her spine.

'The Batcuffs and chain restraining my ankles have encountered the pillar!'

Instantly, she realized gaining access to her Bat-magnet with only one hand would not win her freedom before sunrise. Freeing her other hand from her Batcuff was now her only chance! Batgirl rested as she retrieved her lock pick. Then, she positioned the potentially life-saving tool and went to work.

Seconds later, she heard a "click," then an immediate “clang.” Both her hands were now free from the metal bracelets and her cuffs had been drawn against her Bat-magnet.

“Yes!” Batgirl exclaimed, smiling as she gratefully emptied her lungs and permitted herself to relax as her knees slowly settled onto the floor. “Now, to get out of here!”

She reached for her utility belt and grasped the buckle firmly. Manipulating it, she heard the golden girdle "clang" against the magnetized conduit behind her. She leaned against the pillar and reached back to pick the locks of her ankle restraints.

'Can I free myself before sunrise?’ Batgirl wondered.

Only a minute remained before the moment of truth.

Earlier, Catwoman and her attractive, avaricious aides had prepared their ambush for the armored car. Their initial destination, after Batgirl’s fate had been arranged, had been the security room. The guard who responded to a knock at the door found Dayna standing before him, wearing a worried look.

“May I help you, ma’am?” he had politely asked.

“Come quickly,” the black hench-kitten had urged before turning to hurry away from the door.

“One moment, ma’am,” the guard had said, stepping into the hall to stop her. “I’ll need to see your authorization.”

Dayna had paused, glancing back to regard him quizzically without a word.

The guard had apologetically continued. “The rule helps assure your safety. As we speak, my colleagues are checking out reports of gunshots inside the building.”

“I have her authorization right here,” Catwoman had replied, stepping behind him from her position against the wall beside the door. An arm wound tightly around his neck, enabling a razor-sharp claw to caress his throat. “Get back inside, or I’ll cut whatever little brains you have, out!” The guard obeyed and Catwoman followed, maintaining the position of her deadly claw. Dayna followed, stationing herself beside the door just inside the room.

“What’s going on?” another guard had asked.

“You boys are going beddy bye,’ Catwoman had purred. “Shoot them, kittens.”

Golden cat darts had impaled the other guards in the security room before the Feline Felon’s gorgeous gunwomen entered and pounced upon their victims.

“What did you do to them?” Catwoman’s captive had demanded.

“I’ve had them purr-forated with a drug called Catacol. I purr-sonally designed it to attack the central nervous system. They’ll be helpless enough while they’re detained.” A nod prompted the gunwomen to remove their mistress’ drugged victims. Catwoman moved her hostage to a chair and had leaned close to his ear. “Now, you will recall any guards on patrol.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Unless you want to choke on your own blood, you’ll do as you’re told!” Catwoman had said. “If you can’t help me, I don’t need you.” A tap of her claw against the guard’s throat emphasized her threat and the guard obeyed. One guard reported he would be returning shortly after investigating bullet holes he had discovered on the executive level. Another indicated he had nearly concluded his rounds.

“Please leave me alone, now that I’ve done what you want,” the guard had pleaded.

“Kittens!” Catwoman had called, ignoring him.

“Yes, boss,” the terrible trio had replied in unison, returning to their leader.

“Dayna will attend to this one and keep watch for our money from here,” Catwoman said. Her claw had scratched the guard, rendering him both speechless and helpless.

Catwoman’s African-American assistant had nodded.

“Okie Annie will deal with the guards who return,” the Princess of Plunder had commanded, prompting the cowgirl to nod as well. “Come, Soolin.”

“What are we doing, boss?” the beautiful Briton asked, following her mistress to George Henry Lyons’ private office.

“Loot the safe,” the Princess of Plunder directed as she sat at the mogul’s desk and began to quickly search it. “I want information about Lyons and the woman for whom he dumped Lisa. He gave me Batgirl on a silver platter, but hasn’t offered me a single cent! It isn’t like I didn’t ask nicely, so it’s time to address this situation seriously!”

“Are you only after Lyons because of Lisa?” Soolin asked, pulling open the safe.

“No,” Catwoman said matter-of-factly. “Lyons has a great deal of money and he set me up. He, not Batgirl, was supposed to meet me this morning.” Catwoman grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Of course, the double cross will blow up in his face in the end and I’ll destroy him for his error in judgment.” She laughed and her voice became hard. “I demand respect and expect purr-fection!”

“Yes, Mistress Catwoman.”

“Never mind, Soolin. You’ve served me well enough.”

“Thank you, boss,” the girl said, her voice exuding genuine pleasure.

Catwoman turned to the safe and smiled at the greenbacks her blonde companion was gathering. Then, a click returned her attention to the file drawer upon which she was working. It was open in seconds and Catwoman was pawing through a thick stack of files.

“Oh, this is interesting,” the villainess purred. “George hired his new girlfriend. I wonder how long he was seeing her on the side without Lisa knowing?”

“You’re saying Lyons has basically been behaving like a guy?” Soolin asked. “I’d hesitate to guess his girl’s job title, but the tart’s duties aren’t hard to imagine. What’s her name, anyway?”

“Jo Grant,” Catwoman answered, leaning back. “I’m curious. Lyons was with Lisa and she seems easily capable of keeping a man’s interest. Of course, if he was working closely with Ms. Grant, she might have turned his head, and I wouldn’t blame her at all for taking full advantage of a rich man’s interest.”

Soolin closed the safe and set the loot aside before bending over the contents of the file her mistress had been studying. “Hey, boss, Ms. Grant is staying at a place called the Eagle’s Nest according to the note in the margin of that page,” she said pointing. “I thought Eagle’s Nest was a popular nickname of the nightclub on top of the Gotham City State Building, the Airy?”

“Purr-fectly correct, Soolin,” Catwoman said, grinning. “The Eagle, though, was also the cognomen by which the influential, exiled dictator from Latin America, Senor Anthony Aquila, was better known. Apparently, he took care of enough plants in his secluded, purr-sonal residence to create a small jungle.”

“He must have had a big yard.”

“On the contrary,” Catwoman replied. “He had a penthouse.”

“So his jungle was indoors?” Soolin asked.

“Purr-mit me to explain. The Eagle was a purr-ticularly fat bird Riddler once plucked. His famous, indoor jungle wasn’t his only notable greenery. He kept at least one million dollars in his wall safe at all times. A purr-ticularly tasty sum, I’m sure you’d agree.”

“No question,” Soolin said, nodding. “If Lyons continues the Eagle’s habit to this day—”

“Oh, but he does,” Catwoman purred.

“Why does he keep so much ackers close at hand?”

“Purr-haps it’s because Lyons distrusts banks,” Catwoman suggested. ‘On the other hand, who cares why? He just does.”

Soolin shrugged. “So, you think this blighter Lyons may be putting Grant up in this dictator’s old home?”

“Purr-haps.”

“That safe sounds like a good reason to visit. My new skills could come in handy.”

“Indeed,” Catwoman agreed, grinning and rubbing her hands greedily together. “You may have just provided the purr-fect avenue of attack against George Henry Lyons.”

Soolin grinned. “I suppose you could launch a new, multi-pronged campaign,” she said. Then, she hesitated. “May I ask a personal question, boss?”

“Purr-haps,” Catwoman answered, regarding her employee with a steady gaze.

“Well, you’ve spent a lot of time in jail recently and just changed bodies with a gorgeous socialite who asked you to go after her ex-boyfriend.”

“Will your analysis reach a point soon?”

“It occurs to me, Lisa might still be attracted to Lyons even though he dumped her, and I guess it’s been awhile since you . . . um . . . you know?”

“Careful, Soolin,” Catwoman warned. “This topic is normally taboo, so I’d choose my next words very carefully.”

“You’re right, boss. It’s none of my business,” Soolin diplomatically said. Then she smirked, “For the record, though, if you have the kind of itch I think you . . . might, I’d . . . well, certainly . . . consider . . . um, you know, letting him scratch it.”

Before Catwoman could admonish her assistant again, Catwoman’s cell phone rang. “Speak!” she commanded.

“The truck is coming, boss,” Dayna reported.

“Purr-fect!” the Feline Fiend said, closing her phone.

“Lyons’ grant just got here, Soolin.”

“That’s great! Look! The sun came up.” Soolin pointed out the window and excitedly went on, “That means Batgirl—”

“Is as gone as you should be!” Catwoman said.

The young gunwoman nodded without a word and hurried away.

‘Soolin may have a point,’ the Princess of Plunder thought, shrugging mentally. ‘Purr-haps . . . .’

The villainess stood and gathered the contents of the file she and Soolin had been studying. She slid it into a bag before strutting to the file cabinet and glancing over the labeled tabs on the files inside the drawer. Chuckling, she plucked another file and paged through its contents briefly before adding it to her bag. A delighted sound, perhaps a meow, issued from her throat as she picked up the loot bag Soolin had filled and returned to the vacated security room.

‘Yes,’ the crime queen thought. ‘Lyons offers me much more than money. I can kidnap his girl before I tend to him—purr-sonally.’ The beautiful blackguard wrapped her arms closely around the skin-tight lurex of her costume as she sank into a comfortable chair to watch her kittens work. She purred, smiling and eagerly anticipating her next cunning, criminal coup.

Batgirl’s feet were still shackled to the solar power conduit as the whir of machinery began. The Curved Crusader quickly pulled her hands away from her ankles and leaned forward. As power surged through the conduit, the magnetic pull against her ankle bindings intensified.

Batgirl was suddenly aware of both warmth and pain simultaneously and she noted surprise when her Batcuffs encountering the pillar-like conduit did not register. She had no time to ponder this curious fact because her chest, face, and hands slammed into the floor before blackness enveloped everything.

Soolin found Dayna and Okie Annie outside the loading dock where the armored car would arrive. Dayna had put on a lab coat and approached when the vehicle stopped.

“Good morning, sir,” she said pleasantly. “I’ve been asked to inspect the money.”

“Sign for it, please,” the driver said, handing over a clipboard.

“Sure,” Dayna said, taking the clipboard and writing.

“Okay, ma’am,” the driver said. “Let’s take a look.” The guard stepped from the cab of the armored car and moved to the back. He knocked and opened the door, swinging it wide.

“Hey!”

“What just happened?” the man in the back of the armored car asked.

“I don’t know,” Dayna replied, letting a worried look cross her pretty face.

She was, of course, lying. Okie Annie had just shot Dayna’s companion in the back with a tranquilizer dart, but had been unable to prevent him from crying out before he collapsed. The African-American hench-kitten first thought she might allay the guard’s suspicions, but immediately changed her mind, deciding direct action would be more practical. She reached up for the guard’s hand.

Instinctively, he reached down and gripped hers. “I’ll need to know what just happened before I--”

Dayna pulled sharply, pivoting and burying a knee in the man’s gut as he fell from the back of the truck.

As the fallen guard regained his breath, he rolled onto his back and realized the African-American girl had climbed aboard the truck and a blonde was smiling down at him, aiming a gun at his chest. The hand he raised defensively did nothing to prevent the dart from impaling him.

“Good going,” Dayna complimented.

“I just finished what you started, and Annie got the first one,” Soolin said dismissively. “What about the money?”

Dayna gestured at the stacks of bills behind her. “We should probably take the truck to the lair, unload it, and get rid of the vehicle somewhere. I see no need to detain these guards further.”

“Your thinking is quite sound, Dayna,” Catwoman said, stepping into view, “however, I have an account at Max Chessman’s hotel casino where this money can be deposited. We’ll have access to it anywhere in the world in a few days, following its laundering.”

“Should we just show up with the truck?” Okie Annie asked.

“You and Dayna should,” Catwoman said, turning to the black hench-kitten. “You will ask for Puffy. She’s on my payroll and will know what to do with the money. By the time you arrive, she’ll be expecting you.”

“What about the truck?” Dayna asked, climbing to the ground.

“Get rid of it.” Catwoman replied.

“No problem,” Okie Annie said. “Do you care what happens to the guards?”

“Tie them up and toss them off to the side of the road on the way to the casino. Delaying their conversations with the police would be prudent. By the time these guards get loose, you’ll have attended to the money.” Dayna and Okie Annie nodded, bound the guards and put them in the back of the truck. Okie Annie climbed up after the captives while Dayna slid behind the wheel.

“What about me, boss?” Soolin asked.

“You have more safecracking to do before I arrange to scratch an itch which has become purr-ticularly purr-sistent since we spoke.” Catwoman laughed. “This afternoon should be purr-fectly delightful.”

“Speakin’ of scratchin’ irritations,” Okie Annie said, and grinning wickedly, “The sun done come up.”

“You’re right,” Dayna said. “That means Batgirl–”

“Is gone forever,” Soolin cut in, smiling knowingly.

“Purr-fectly correct. She’s gone up in smoke by now, never to return,” Catwoman purred, chuckling. “We’re finished here, kittens. So, let’s scat.”

Okie Annie pulled the truck’s rear doors shut as Dayna started the engine. Catwoman and Soolin took their leave.

Meanwhile, Batgirl moaned as she regained consciousness and inhaled painfully. Her body was splayed face down some distance from the conduit upon which Catwoman had intended her to die. Rolling over and sitting up, the Curved Crusader noted the scorch marks on the sides of her boots which faced one another.

‘I must have been flung clear of the conduit when it began to function,’ she reasoned, rubbing her temples. ‘Wearing boots made of heat-resistant material was certainly a good idea. The Batcuffs restraining my ankles, as well as my Bat-Magnet and utility belt, were obviously destroyed.’

“It could have been a lot worse,” Batgirl muttered, gingerly regaining her feet and moving experimentally toward the door. Each step gave her confidence and made her feel better. Seconds later, she was walking almost normally. A wide grin crossed her face as the sliding door opened.

Slowly, she made her way to an office and sank gratefully into the cushioned desk chair. The soft material felt heavenly against her aching body. She closed her eyes briefly before reaching for the phone and dialing.

“Lieutenant Mooney,” Batgirl’s best friend on the police force said after a single ring.

“Diana, this is Batgirl. I’m at George Henry Lyons’ solar energy plant and just avoided literally going up in smoke courtesy of Catwoman. She told me she’s after a cash grant being delivered here within minutes. You’ll probably miss her, but I need help.”

“I’ll be there with a team in two shakes,” the policewoman promised. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

“Okay. Good. Does Lyons know what happened?”

“Not yet. I’ll call him, though,” Batgirl said.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Batgirl said, “Bye.” She cradled the phone and began dialing again immediately.

As the forces of law and order began to mobilize against Catwoman, Dayna pulled the armored truck up behind Max Chessman’s hotel and casino, where a tall, leggy African-American woman waited. “Hello, sister. You must be Puffy,” Dayna said, rolling down the driver’s side window.

“Dayna?” she asked, nodding and leaning forward so her black, velvet jacket almost touched the door. The jacket was worn over a sheer silk blouse that did not hide the leather halter-top, against which her breasts strained. Her scarlet bow tie matched a belt surrounding her waist and drawing deserved attention to her hips. Her legs were her most noticeable feature, however, and her black short shorts showcased them magnificently, as did her polished jackboots. “Catwoman told me to expect you. Pull inside and I’ll take care of your cargo,” Puffy said. “You aren’t alone, are you?”

“She ain’t,” Okie Annie replied. The cowgirl descended from the back of the armored car once they were all safely inside. “It’s nice to see you again, Puffy.”

“Hello, Okie Annie. I’m not alone either.” Puffy snapping her fingers, summoning half a dozen men in black slacks; matching bow ties; white shirts; red jackets; and polished, wing tip shoes.

“It seems we were expected,” Dayna said, sliding from the vehicle and standing behind Puffy while Okie Annie rested her hands casually on her gun butts.

“Easy, ladies,” Puffy said, raising her hands slowly, suddenly acutely aware of the dangerous position in which the pretty pair had placed her. “The boys are here to handle a lot of money for you. Catwoman told me to expect you. Why don’t you grab something to eat while I prepare your receipt? Breakfast is, of course, on the house.”

Dayna regarded Okie Annie, who nodded. The hench-kittens retired, prompting Puffy to relax after ordering the men to begin their work.

As Puffy and her associates’ began perpetrating their criminal chores, a perfidious pair entered a palatial penthouse remodeled to resemble the one-time plantation residence of the once-exiled, Latin American dictator, Anthony Aquila, the Eagle. The main room was enormous, quite warm, and slightly humid. Illumination was indirect and designed to simulate daylight, thus enabling a variety of ferns, other deciduous plants, and small trees to grow in pots both suspended from the ceiling and arranged in rows on the floor. The unusual residence really did sport a small, indoor jungle.

Neither Catwoman nor Soolin was interested in exploring the underbrush. A gesture sent the blonde moving silently along the walls in search of the wall safe. She found it and glanced at Catwoman who nodded. Soolin bent her head beside the safe so she could listen to the tumblers as her fingers began to manipulate the dial. Catwoman looked on with hungrily glittering eyes, greedily anticipating the conclusion of Soolin’s task.

Moments later, another woman watched expectantly with folded hands from a hidden vantage point among the lush greenery behind them.

“This is easy,” Soolin murmured.

“Purr-fectly simple when you know how,” Catwoman agreed, stepping more closely behind her employee and purring as the safe opened. “Look at all that luscious loot.”

“That’s why we came,” the hench-kitten said.

“Get busy, Soolin.”

”It will be my pleasure,” Soolin said. “You know, boss, this safe seems a little crude to protect such a large amount of money. I mean . . . I cracked it like an eggshell.”

“You’re talented.”

“Thanks, but I’m not that talented. I still think this job has been a little too easy so far.”

“The safe is in a penthouse,” Catwoman replied. “Besides, you and I aren’t just anyone.”

“She has a point,” the woman watching from the underbrush said. She spoke with a British accent as she shed the thin cloak draped over her shoulders and stepped forward. “I thought that safe was pretty easy to crack myself. So, I installed a short-range micro transmitter to page me whenever it opens.”

Catwoman and Soolin whirled to face the bubbly blonde woman. “Jo Grant, no doubt,” Soolin said. “If our information is correct, she’s Lyons’ newest bird, and surprise! She seems interested in his money–”

“Among other things,” Jo replied. “I didn’t realize my personal life was your business.”

“Not hers, Ms. Grant,” Catwoman responded. “Mine!”

“Oh, it seems I’m entertaining the infamous Catwoman,” Jo said. “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

“I’ll bet you think you’re dead clever,” Soolin said.

“You have no idea. Let’s just say I know I’m smart enough to outwit you, or any of Catwoman’s other lackeys. Tell me, do you really call them sex kittens?”

“The term is hench-kittens, I believe, and it’s been popularized in the media. You see, my dear, I’m straight.”

“Oh, you’re a crook all right,” Jo Grant said, grinning. “I hear Catwoman's preferences are also changeable, like bodies. So, I have to wonder about her hired help, since the topic has already . . . um . . . come up.” The newcomer glanced at Soolin, who shot back a look that, not for a lack of trying, did not induce spontaneous human combustion.

Jo folded her arms and continued regarding her uninvited visitors. She wore black slacks tucked into matching, knee-high boots. A red top encased her upper body, but the light jacket she had laced closed over it gave her ensemble a vaguely nautical appearance. Her bare abdomen and navel both contrasted with and enhanced her mode of dress, along with the jeweled rings glittering on her fingers and the short, blonde hair framing her pretty face.

“Shall I shut her smart mouth for you, boss?” Soolin asked.

Catwoman grinned and laughed. “I think we have endured enough chit-chat, Soolin,” Catwoman decided. “Get her!”

The blonde hench-kitten had neither taken a step nor reached for her guns before a soft pop heralded a puff of smoke, which issued from a tiny nozzle below the safe. Soolin could not help inhaling some and fell immediately to her knees, rubbing at her streaming eyes. “It’s tear gas!” the hench-kitten said, her voice not concealing her dismay. Soolin swore.

“Surprise!” Jo Grant mocked, laughing. “To respond again to your comment earlier, yes, I do think I’m dead clever.” She turned to Catwoman. “I know about safecracking; explosives, as your girl just discovered; and cryptography. I’ve also found I can be much more effective fighting with my mind. George hired me as a security consultant.” Jo Grant shrugged. “After I did the job, things happened.”

“So, do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?” Catwoman asked, interestedly.

“Try to clean out the safe and you'll find out,” Jo sweetly invited.

Catwoman threw back her head and laughed, stepping to one side and watching as Jo pivoted to regard her. “I understand you are Mister Lyons’ guest. You treat his money like it’s your own, or you’ve stolen it already.”

“My interest in my employer’s money, as well as the rest of his property, is professional.” Jo said, smiling sweetly. “I’ve known you were here ever since you arrived and I know you’ll both soon be leaving—empty-handed!”

“I have a better idea,” the Feline Felon said, once her intended victim’s back faced the sobbing hench-kitten. Jo instinctively dropped her arms to her sides. “Soolin!”

Instantly, Jo realized how dangerous her originally vulnerable position had become and spun to see the weeping henchwoman rising. Unfortunately, Catwoman was waiting for Jo’s actions and pounced, pulling Jo off balance and letting sharp claws dimple the victim’s bare flesh without breaking the skin. It was Jo Grant’s turn to swear.

“Now, you will clean out the safe,” Catwoman commanded.

“I don’t think so,” Jo defiantly replied.

“I’ll spill your guts, if you don’t,” Catwoman softly said. “On the other hand, if you do, after you’ve finished, I’ll ask you to do me one other little favor. Then, our business here will be concluded.”

“So, you won’t hurt me if I surrender the money?” Jo asked.

“Of course not,” Catwoman said, smiling. The villainess’ voice had become much too friendly for Jo’s taste. “I brought Soolin along to attend to any necessary violence.” As Jo glanced at the other Briton, she realized the tear gas had worn off. Soolin moved a hand to the butt of one of her guns and smiled without benevolence.

Jo managed to shrug without Catwoman’s claws biting into her flesh. “It’s just money,” she said philosophically.

“Purr-fect,” Catwoman purred, shoving her captive toward a sculpture near the safe. Jo whirled to face the villainess as the thin smile on her face tranasformed. Catwoman cut off whatever Jo had intended to say with a look and pointed imperiously at the safe. “Get my money, now!”

Jo Grant emptied the safe and tossed the bulky loot sack to Catwoman. “All right,” the crime victim said. “You have the bloody money! Now, go away and leave me alone!”

“As I said, I need you to do me one more little favor first,” Catwoman said.

“What?”

“Call your boyfriend at his solar energy plant and invite him to come here. He needs consoling.” Catwoman grinned and was pleased Soolin did likewise.

“What do you mean, ‘He needs consoling?’” Jo Grant demanded.

“He lost a lot of money this morning and, if I’m right, he’ll have to shut his solar energy plant down later this week.”

“You’re talking about the government grant money,” Jo said, her eyes growing wide. “The plant is largely experimental. Government aide is essential to keep the top people working on the project. We have a chance to free ourselves from the crushing grip of the oil sheiks’ greedy hands. The plant is a real opportunity for alternative energy!”

“You’re an environmentalist,” Catwoman observed.

“George and I have a lot in common. Why do you want him to come here?”

“So he and his ex can kiss and make up. Did you know I’m using her body right now?”

“You’re horrible, Catwoman. I knew you were capable of body swapping, but I never imagined you were such a–”

“You’ll make the call for me?” Catwoman asked, her tone matching the other woman’s sweetness.

“Never!” Jo shouted.

Jo was poised to flee or fight, but felt Soolin’s hands grip her shoulders and hold her fast. “I’m going to enjoy punishing you,” the gunwoman whispered. “You’ll do as Catwoman wishes in the end, but we’re in no real hurry. Tell me. Have you ever experienced pain?” Jo began to struggle in the hench-kitten’s grip until she felt herself shaken once roughly. “What about agony? Do you know what it is?”

“Just hold her, Soolin.” Catwoman ordered. She set the money bag aside and approached her hench-kitten’s captive. “I hope we can purr-suade Jo to coop-purr-ate before you have to hurt her too much. Regardless, we need to get her ready. After all, I’m only asking her to call her boyfriend. My request should really be a labor of love.” As Catwoman spoke, her voice seemed to purr.

“You potty slag! You can go to–”

“Hush, dear,” Catwoman said softly. “You’ll be screaming your head off soon enough, unless you do as I say. You’re not nearly ready yet.” Catwoman hooked a claw beneath the lowest lace of Jo Grant’s jacket and cut through it decisively, chuckling briefly. “There. We’re closer to being ready now.”

“Oy! What are you talking about?” Jo demanded. “If your girl is so eager to hurt me–”

“Oh, I am,” Soolin said. “Gas attacks are the lowest of dirty tricks.”

Jo Grant had come to Gotham City in the company of the latest incarnation of the Clock King and recalled watching him ambush the Riddler and his gang before utterly dismantling the punctuated supervillain. This attack had been performed as revenge for Riddler’s gas attack on Clock King, which had resulted in both the Monarch of Moments and his granddaughter’s lengthy incarceration. She understood Soolin’s feelings perfectly, but sweetly said, “They are effective, though, aren’t they?”

“Let me just shoot her,” Soolin pleaded without emotion.

“Not yet!” Catwoman snapped, slicing the next tie of Jo’s jacket. “Four more, Jo.”

“So what?” Jo defiantly asked.

“Once I’ve opened the jacked, I’ll cut along the sleeves and have it removed. Then every other scrap of cloth will be removed from your body in similar fashion, so to speak, but very, very slowly.”

“You’re balmy,” Jo declared.

“You asked,” Catwoman replied, shrugging. The voluptuous villainess went on, purring. “When my claws have finished undressing you, I’ll give Soolin my cat-‘o-nine tails and let her flay you until you agree to do my bidding. I suppose I should warn you, though. I have trouble discerning subservience, when it’s mingled with anguished screams.” Catwoman laughed and cut the next tie from Jo’s chest. “Three more.”

“You won’t get away with threatening or torturing me, Catwoman!” Jo Grant said desperately. “I’m personally acquainted with Batgirl!”

“Too bad,” Soolin said, laughing delightedly. “Did you see the sunrise this morning?”

“Yes, I like rising early when I’m on my own,” Jo said, confused. “Why do you ask?”

“Batgirl was incinerated this morning at that purr-ticular time. You may have known her,” Catwoman revealed, chuckling, “but she’ll be of no use to anyone ever again.”

“No!” Jo Grant said, exhaling. “It can’t be true.”

A snap sounded and prompted the captive to look down as Catwoman’s claw curled around the second-to-last remaining tie.

“Two more,” Catwoman purred.

“You can’t do this to me!” Jo protested, but her bravado had all but evaporated upon learning of Batgirl’s death.

Catwoman’s claw severed another lace. “Last one,” the Princess of Plunder purred. “Once these are gone, I’ll start scratching in earnest.”

“Please stop,” Jo Grant softly said as the last lace was cut. Catwoman nodded and Soolin wrapped her arms around the victim’s waist. As she did, the Feline Fiend hooked her claws into Jo Grant’s neckline and drew them simultaneously along the sleeves. Soolin kicked the tattered garment away with a delighted smile, illuminating her beautiful face as Catwoman stepped back, letting her hands settle onto her well-rounded hips. Jo Grant squirmed vainly in Soolin’s grasp.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t quite hear you,” Catwoman said. “What did you say?”

“I’ll ring him up!” Jo almost screamed. “Leave me alone!”

“Purr-fect,” Catwoman said. “Be aware, I don’t want you to invite George here until after he tells you about his horrible morning.” The villainess laughed. “If you tip him off to my presence, I will have Soolin shoot you – in the stomach. Your death will be both lengthy and painful.” Catwoman smiled. “Oh, and then George would arrive just before you die and be completely powerless to save you.”

“I understand,” Jo said. A nod from Catwoman prompted Soolin to let go and follow her mistress and their guide into the foliage. “The phone is this way.”

The short-haired, blonde Briton made the call and glared at Catwoman after hanging up. “Now that he’s coming, what will you do to him when he gets here?”

“Well,” Catwoman answered, “you promised to help him feel better when he arrives, didn’t you?”

“I implied something like that,” the girl replied flatly. “You heard me.”

“I’ll keep your word,” Catwoman said, grinning wickedly. “He’ll think I’m his old girlfriend. Of course, I’d enjoy letting you watch, but you’d only distract him and thus spoil the mood. Write him a note saying you stepped out for some air. Now!”

“Your plan will never work. When George finds you here instead of me–”

“Soolin!”

The gunwoman moved with surprising speed to seize Jo Grant’s arms. “You’re right-handed, aren’t you?” the hench-kitten asked.

“Yes,” Jo said, her eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“We want writing the note to be possible, my dear,” Catwoman explained. The villainess flicked her glance to the taller blonde. “Break her.”

Soolin twisted Jo’s left arm behind the girl’s back without a word.

Jo winced. “All right! Ow! I’ll write the note.”

“Purr-fect,” Catwoman purred, nodding. “I knew you’d see things my way, eventually.”

Soolin released Jo, who wrote briefly on the pad beside the phone and handed her handiwork to Catwoman.

“Well?” Soolin asked after a moment.

“Catch her,” Catwoman commanded, producing a thin glass capsule from her belt and cracking it open with her thumb under the other woman’s nose. Catwoman's brand of knock-out gas looked like green fog and took effect in less than a minute, rendering the petite Briton’s body limp as her captors patiently waited.

“Now what do we do with her?” Soolin asked, lowering the unconscious woman to the floor.

“Take her to the lair and see to it she remains our guest.”

“I’d be delighted to entertain her,” Soolin said.

“We need her intact. If Lyons responds to me, though, she may become quite expendable.”

“I can always hope,” the hench-kitten said, unceremoniously hoisting the captive onto her shoulder.

“Soolin!”

“Yes, Catwoman?”

“Don’t forget the money!”

As Catwoman’s crime wave continued, Batgirl sank into a chair across from her friend, Lieutenant Mooney, in the policewoman’s office. “So,” the Lieutenant said, setting aside a stack of papers she was skimming, “you saw Catwoman and her three kittens when they tried to kill you, but the guards say only this girl, Dayna, and a blonde gunwoman attacked them. Worse, Catwoman got away with every cent of the government grant.”

“She also used one of her vile drugs on the guards your people found,” Batgirl said. “Their testimony may be tainted after a good defense attorney is finished with them. Catwoman is smart, no question.”

“Fortunately, you survived your experience,” Lieutenant Mooney said, shuddering. The Lieutenant had been caught and incorporated into more than one villain’s sinister schemes to do away with Batgirl, both as a second victim and in other, more subtle ways.

“I’m concerned about what Catwoman plans next,” Batgirl said. “Unless we stop her, she could ruin George Henry Lyons.”

“You said she is using Lisa Carson’s body. Could that fact help us find her?”

“Maybe,” Batgirl replied. “Ms. Carson is probably using Selina Kyle’s body. I think, though, speaking to the wealthy socialite, John E. Carson, might worry him unnecessarily. If he takes steps to protect his daughter, your investigation will become vastly more complicated.”

“I agree. For now, I’ve ordered a more pronounced police presence near known cat lairs. With luck, my officers will report something to which we can respond. If we don’t find her, I’ll expand the surveillance to include Lisa Carson’s known haunts.”

“Sounds good,” Batgirl said. “Many Catlairs have been set up in long-abandoned locations. Have you told your people to break in and search them?”

“No. Catwoman won’t be at all the lairs and she may not be at any. We have to be responsible on the public’s dime, and you and I both know how dangerous Catwoman can be. Having officers keep their eyes on the locations seems the prudent way to go. I discourage cowboy police work.”

Batgirl thoughtfully nodded. “Your approach is sensible, even though Okie Annie is now in Catwoman’s employ.”

“So you said,” the Lieutenant said. “I’ll need to consider having Shame’s old hideouts watched, too.”

“Catwoman’s other help is equally formidable,” Batgirl elaborated. “Dayna is a walking weapon who prefers to work with her bare hands. We know Okie Annie is a deadly shot, but Soolin, her protégée, might be faster on the draw. On their own, it’s unlikely they would exercise the restraint Catwoman usually does.”

“Although such ‘restraint’ doesn’t extend to you, or Batman, or Robin, or–“

An officer knocked on the Lieutenant’s door and handed her a printout. “Thank you,” she said. A quick glance at the report made the policewoman frown. “There’s been no sign of Catwoman whatsoever.”

“She hasn’t been on the loose long,” Batgirl mused. “It’s possible she set up a new headquarters. Someone from her ‘fan club’ might have helped.”

“Vixen has been traveling,” Lieutenant Mooney said, scanning a report from her stack, “With Undine and Archie Arcane, beyond this department’s jurisdiction. Tara Kaat is also touring out of town. I doubt either of them is helping the infamous object of their admiration. Another approach to tracking Catwoman would be her target, George Henry Lyons,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “What was your impression of him?”

“Catwoman’s attacks got to him immediately,” Batgirl explained. “He’s responding emotionally, for reasons I completely understand. He’s getting tired quickly and it won’t take Catwoman long to wear him down.”

“My report says he lit up when he got a phone call from his girlfriend. I guess he’s on his way to see her as we speak.”

“Unlike Mr. Lyons,” Batgirl said, “we need to doggedly pursue Catwoman. There may not be a moment to lose!”

“You’ve had a long night,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Let me and my people hunt for her awhile. I’ll have something for you tonight.”

Batgirl hesitated, but nodded. It was nearly time for Barbara Gordon to go to work at the library.

As Batgirl led her dual life and the Gotham City Police Department worked to track down Catwoman, the Feline Fiend was modeling a short-sleeved, orange dress with a scoop neckline which plunged to her bustline before the garment gathered at her narrow waist and descended to her ankles while encasing her legs. “I look, purr-fect,” she purred, chuckling.

She smiled at herself in a mirror and stepped away from the thick, dark drapes. “Now that my arsenal is set, it’s time to strategize.” She settled into a comfortable chair and crossed her legs while dialing her phone.

Halfway around the world, the gorgeous Amazon who was now Lisa Carson lay on a luxurious patch of grass which cost the owners of Semba Island a greater fortune to maintain than keeping their swimming pool filled in the North African desert. Lisa’s pale suntan was still a disappointment, but the flowers strewn over her body were a pleasant surprise and somehow enhanced the black bikini stretched invitingly across her chest and around her gorgeous glutes. ‘Apparently, I dozed off,’ she thought, shrugging mentally.

She extended her arms and shifted so flowers littered the lawn and looked around, noting the sun would soon set. Her most recent admirer was gone. ‘He’s going to hear about this!’ she silently promised herself. The sound of her cell phone intruded upon her thoughts.

Lisa stood and moved gracefully to the lounge chair where she had left her things and picked up the instrument, opening it.

“Selina,” she said, “it’s great to hear from you. I hope things are going well.”

“My plans are proceeding swimmingly. How is your vacation?”

Lisa Carson spotted her most recent companion approaching the flower-strewn grass she had vacated and waved. “I can’t complain, Selina. Just a minute.” She set the phone aside and took a strawberry from atop a mound of crushed ice on a nearby table. “Hi, handsome. I’m on the phone, so you be quiet while I talk to my girlfriend. She’s literally half the world away.”

“But–”

“Hush!” Lisa commanded, pressing the strawberry between the newcomer’s lips. “Eat your fruit and get us some drinks.” As she returned to her phone call, Lisa selected another strawberry and regarded her retreating companion’s backside with a smile. ‘Butt, indeed.’

“Sorry, Selina. One of the more recent highlights of my vacation just got back. I doubt, though, you called just to catch up.”

“I’m prepared to ruin George for you,” Catwoman explained. “I’m now in a position to shatter every aspect of his life, but before I do, I have to decide how far to go. I thought you might have some thoughts on the matter.”

Lisa thought for a long moment. “I don’t care how badly or thoroughly you damage him,” she finally said, shrugging. “Have at him.”

“Then I need information. I have his companies’ financial records, but they don’t tell me much about him.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Catwoman purred.

“Just a minute, Selina.” Lisa’s boy toy had already returned with two frozen drinks. “Darling, why don’t you order us a good dinner and a fine bottle of wine?”

“We won’t be able to eat in the restaurant unless we change,” the man objected.

“Then, go to my room and order room service. I’ll join you soon after it’s delivered.”

“Your wish is my command.”

"Oh, before you go, hand me my hat."

Lisa put on her hat and settled into the lounge chair to watch her companion’s departure. Once he had gone, she reached for her phone again and began to speak quickly about her ex-lover.

Catwoman asked a few questions when Lisa stopped speaking and thanked her friend. “I hope I haven’t upset you by asking about . . . Georgie.”

“Not at all, Selina. I’m over him. Is there anything else?”

“When I’m finished with Georgie, I’ll be leaving Gotham City, probably for Europe and definitely for awhile.”

“I could cut my vacation short and meet you somewhere. I’ll want to hear all about what you did to him.”

“That would be great. I’ll let you go and we’ll make plans later. This little caper is likely to prove both lucrative and satisfying. I’m going to feel guilty if I don’t cut you in on the profits.”

“Sounds good,” Lisa said. “We can work that out when we see each other. For now, have a fabulous day.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Catwoman said, smirking. “Goodbye, Lisa.”

Lisa Carson smiled. ‘It looks very promising,’ she thought. Aloud she said, “Goodbye for now.” After hanging up, Lisa stood and strode purposefully from the pool area.

The scantily-clad Amazon crossed the lawn, still smiling and tossed her hat to a young, handsome admirer after he favored her with a wolf whistle.

Lisa’s admirer was delighted to find a note with a room number taped to the inside and frowned when he noticed the next day’s date beside it. He shrugged and looked up at the departing girl and frowned again as a well-dressed man approached from behind, leering at her.

‘Tomorrow will be a new day,’ Lisa thought, smiling. ‘I hope Selina takes her time with Georgie. My vacation is becoming more fun every day.’

She stepped into the building and hurried to her room, where dinner and other pleasant festivities awaited.

As Catwoman, now armed with her information, put her phone away, she heard the penthouse door open and stood. George Henry Lyons stepped inside and called, “Jo.” When no one responded, he made his way to the phone and read the note Catwoman’s captive had penned. He shrugged and hung his coat in the front closet. When he turned, he saw Catwoman for the first time and frowned.

“Lisa, what are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was neutral.

Catwoman smiled. “I came to return your key. I . . . put it away after letting myself in.”

“Okay.” He kept his eyes on her. “You know, Lisa, I thought you were angry with me. I’m a little surprised you didn’t just send the key.” As he spoke, his voice grew warmer.

Catwoman was pleased at the effect Lisa Carson’s apparent presence was having on her target. “Well, there was one . . . other . . . thing,” she said, stepping toward him and turning her head, looking away and down. “I . . . didn’t know how you’d feel about my telling you. I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Lisa. You can tell me.”

“I didn’t mean I was scared of talking to you,” the girl replied. “I mean, I’m really scared.” Her voice exuded sincerity.

“Okay. You’re scared,” the businessman repeated. His voice grew more gentle as he asked, “of what?” Genuine concern showed on his face. “Why?”

The girl spoke more quickly and her eyes widened as she regarded him. “I’ve been seeing strange men wearing black slacks and shirts with thin, horizontal, yellow and black stripes. They also had black kerchiefs around their necks and funny hats with pointed ears. I’m worried they may be following me.”

“Oh no, Lisa!” the man said, opening his arms and embracing her as the girl stepped into them. “I’m so sorry. I think those men work for Catwoman, and she is coming after me. She must be after you, too.”

“Catwoman?” the Princess of Plunder said, inhaling slightly. “Why would such a beautiful and notorious villainess come after either of us?”

As George Henry Lyons looked down into her entrancing eyes, he recalled how Catwoman had ordered Lisa Carson’s kidnapping and performed the first historic body swap between the attractive women’s rights activist and herself more than ten years previously.

He blinked and his mind snapped back to the present. “I don’t know why she is after me, but I suspect she is after you because we were together.”

“What could Catwoman possibly do to you? You always made me feel safe.” Her arms wound tightly around his waist. “The way I feel now,” her breath seared his ear as it was gently expelled.

Suddenly, a horrid thought struck him. ‘Catwoman might not know I’ve met another woman and turned the page as gently as I could. Worse, her body swap with Lisa represented one of her most daring and audacious capers ever!’

Lisa had been powerless to prevent the switch and had been compelled to spend half a year recovering from Catwoman’s extensive injuries. Lisa had been rewarded with her freedom, but what psychological toll had the experience taken on her?’

“Catwoman unleashed a horde of stray cats in my pet store, tried to extort money from me, and Batgirl told me she stole a grant for my solar power plant earlier this morning.”

“Lisa” did a double take. “Batgirl . . . told you . . . Catwoman stole your grant . . . this morning?”

“Just before I got the call that brought me here . . . to you.”

Recovering, Catwoman smiled up at him. “I’m glad you came.”

“I won’t let Catwoman harm you.”

She kissed his neck tentatively. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, Lisa. I can’t,” he said after the kiss broke. “Please.”

She pulled her lips away from his neck and moved her hands up his back, winding her arms around his shoulders and drawing his mouth to hers. “If you want me to stop,” she said, smiling up at him and kissing him more provocatively, “tell me.”

He thought about her as he once again stared into the colorful pools her eyes had become. ‘For Lisa, my decision to pursue Jo Grant had been totally unexpected and was, naturally, painful. Lisa has every right to be angry with me. I’m willing to take any and all reasonable steps to ease her discomfort. She would have, in time, moved on and relegated me to her past. Yet, this natural process had suddenly been interrupted--because of Catwoman.’

He stood, holding her closely, with her hot breath searing his cheek. “You’re very beautiful, Lisa,” he murmured, drawing her more tightly against him and inhaling her intoxicating scent as he bent his mouth to hers. “I can’t resist you. You always knew I never could.”

“Thank you again, darling,” she whispered into his ear after the kiss, when his arm lifted the back of her knees as he supported her shoulders, literally sweeping her off her feet.

Meanwhile, Barbara Gordon chafed at the need to do her work. Sequestered in her office, she could at least conceal her annoyance. At lunch time, after warning Myrtle she might return a little late, she returned to her apartment and changed into Batgirl to resume the hunt, after buckling a back-up utility belt around her slim waist.

She drove to both restaurants Catwoman had used as fronts: the Cage and the Pink Sandbox. Both were closed and deserted. Next, she explored the equally empty Krazy Kitty Krispies Kat Kakes Kompany warehouse, where food for felines had once been stored.

Before reversing her tantalizing transformation and returning to work, she checked in with the police. Their surveillance of Catwoman’s smaller and more well-known lairs had also yielded no sign of the crime queen or her cohorts.

Both the now defunct Ye Olde Benbow Taverne and the former Eta Beta Lotka sorority house, which adjoined the Gotham City University campus, were deserted. The cat food factory and the loft in the heart of Gotham City’s Garment Center at 32 Pussyfoot Road remained abandoned, as did the Saint Bartholomew Cathedral and the unused storage area of the Lurex Underground, a fashionable yet risqué, subterranean lounge in uptown Gotham City.

At work, Barbara made phone calls to verify the once well-defended mansion Penguin had rented when he teamed up with the Princess of Plunder was for sale; subterranean suite six at the Catacombs Condominium had been recently rented, leaving no vacancies at the property; and Catwoman’s rented rooms in Gotham City’s French Quarter at 13 Rue Madeline were also occupied by other parties.

When Catwoman’s eyes opened, her head rested on George Henry Lyons’ rising and falling, bare chest, and she stared at a bedside clock. She lifted her shoulders, turned her head, and grinned, licking her lips. There was a glow about the man beneath her and a smile lingered on his lips. She drew the single, silk sheet away from them both and climbed to the floor without disturbing her sleeping companion. ‘Lisa Carson’s body has proven to be the most effective disguise I’ve ever employed,’ the Feline Fiend thought.

“You’re exhausted, you poor dear,” Catwoman purred. “You’ve been up all day and I’ve had my paws all over you for most of that time.” She softly laughed and tossed her head playfully. “Of course, cats always toy with their prey.”

She stretched, admiring the proportional perfection of Lisa Carson’s glowing, athletic body in a full-length mirror. Catwoman felt both relaxed and satisfied as she gently drew the sheet back over her sleeping companion. “Later, Georgie.” She regarded him with hungrily glittering eyes and licked her lips again. “You were magnificent, and we’re far from finished.” Another glance at the mirror prompted her to repeat the sentiment, “Purr-fectly magnificent.”

Steam soon billowed around Catwoman as hot water streamed over her body as her mind turned over her immediate, crystallizing plans.

‘For Georgie, my true identity and the fact my kittens are entertaining Jo Grant are a pair of potent bombs. I’ll hold them back to maximize their devastating effectiveness. The fool believes he has been with his ex-lover, Lisa, once again and – unless I’ve seriously misjudged him – will wake up feeling very guilty. Jo will be gone, apparently without a trace, and so will his old girlfriend, with whom he has done much more than just kiss and make up.’ “Poor Georgie,” Catwoman purred, chuckling before resuming her silent scheming.

‘I’ll continue slowly scratching away the tapestry of Georgie's life. Lisa has given me a very lucrative target and robbing him blind is really my main priority. The rest is simply possible and will admittedly be fun. My earlier actions enable me to destroy him at the slightest whim. I have his financial information, but I want to look at it again before leaving his life, career, and reputation in tatters. After all, he has a lot to offer any woman and I don’t want to miss anything.’

She stepped from the shower and toweled off vigorously before returning to the bedroom. Catwoman glanced at herself in the mirror once again, swaying slightly and admiring the body she was using. “You are gorgeous, Lisa,” she murmured, grinning. “Playtime is over, though, and tonight we have a lot to do.”

Once the brunette had dressed, her black, clawed gloves and matching, stiletto-heeled boots were nearly indistinguishable from the material molded to her lovely, long legs; flaring around her hips; stretching across her narrow waist and flat abdomen; cupping the swell of her breasts; curving over her shoulders; and folding into a stiff collar at her throat. Sunlight gleamed on the golden belt she wore low around her hips and the wicked claws extending from her fingers. A pair of cat ears perched on her head and her domino mask would soon complete the entrancing ensemble. “Good afternoon, Georgie,” she purred, bending her elbows and raising her arms while curling her fingers to resemble claws. “I won’t destroy you yet,” she softly said, smirking and chuckling with genuine pleasure. “The power you’ve given me is too delicious not to savor for awhile. Soon, however . . . . ”

In the mirror she could see muscles move beneath her eye-catching outfit as the fabric reflected the light, and the glittering strands sparkled whenever she moved. “Purr-fect.”

That evening, after Barbara Gordon finished her day at work, Batgirl shivered as she explored the disused warehouse on Cattail Lane where she had personally set a deadly trap for Batman and Batwoman. Her involuntary movements had nothing to do with the temperature. At the time, Batgirl remembered, Catwoman had both drugged and hypnotized her, infecting her mind while permitting her to lead the criminal gang. Batgirl’s effectiveness as a criminal gang leader still frightened her several years later.

Her next stop was a maze of dank, catacombed corridors beneath Gotham City she found inhabited exclusively by rats. In New Guernsey, Batgirl found no sign of the Feline Felon at the Catlair West.

She checked with the police in Gotham City as she drove back to town and learned no suspicious people had entered either Duncan's Dance Studio; the Graymalkin Novelty Company; the liquidated Femme Fatale Cosmetics, Inc., which had done business at Thirteen Nine Lives Lane; the industrial building where the Feline Fiend had tried to kill the Curved Crusader at their last encounter in Gotham City; or Pussycat’s one-time recording studio at 666 Pussy Willow Place.

It was well after dusk when Batgirl returned to the city. She took a break to enjoy a Batburger at Dunbar’s Drive-in. ‘I’m down to the Gato and Chat Fur Company,’ Batgirl thought, chewing slowly. ‘It’s huge, and I could spend the rest of the night there without finding Catwoman, even if she’s there!’

Even as Batgirl considered exploring the deeply catacombed interior of the Gato and Chat Fur Company, Catwoman pored over George Henry Lyons’ financial records in the heart of her labyrinthine headquarters. Once the voluptuous villainess had decided upon her plans, she summoned her hench-kittens to her audience chamber.

Okie Annie; Dayna; and Soolin soon arrived to sprawl decoratively on leopard-patterned cushions arranged at the foot of a dais atop which a golden chair awaited their mistress, who strutted into view from behind a curtain. Medea, the black cat, followed and climbed the dais so Catwoman could pick her up and slowly stroke her fur throughout the meeting after sitting down. “The agenda for this meeting involves three items of unfinished business,” Catwoman announced. “First, how did we do this morning financially?”

“Lyons had a million and a half in cash in each of his safes,” Soolin announced.

“Puffy gave me this record of your casino account,” Dayna said, handing over an envelope. Catwoman opened it and glanced at the sheet of paper inside, smiling.

“Now that is one attractive figure,” Catwoman said happily, putting the paper back into the envelope and setting it aside. “Now, the three of you may equally divide the spoils from Georgie’s safes. You’ve all earned it. The rest of the cash we got our paws on will cover expenses.”

“Thank you, boss,” the hench-kittens said in unison.

“Now,” Catwoman dismissively said, “on to our next agenda item. Soolin, how is our guest?”

“I tucked Jo Grant into one of your bondage bags after tying her up this morning,” the young gunwoman reported. “She can do little more than take shallow breaths right now, but she’s conscious and, in my opinion, comfortable enough.”

“You don’t like her much, do you?” Dayna asked.

“I reckon it don’t matter much,” Okie Annie philosophically said, “long as our havin’ her makes our target do what we want.”

Catwoman grinned like a cat eying a canary. “Okie Annie is purr-fectly correct,” the Princess of Plunder complimented, laughing. “I also like Soolin’s choice of the bondage bag. Some may find the feeling of helplessness combined with never quite being able to catch one’s breath rather . . . liberating . . . even euphoric.”

“Are you saying our new guest will come to enjoy being tied up?” Dayna asked.

“Purr-haps,” Catwoman said, laughing. “I think being tied up all alone heightens the bondage experience.”

Dayna and Soolin both grinned knowingly at one another.

“I s’pose,” Okie Annie said, shrugging.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Annie,” Catwoman said. “You aren’t familiar with my bondage bag. Imagine a specially developed fabric covering a captive from head to foot. It only lets in a certain amount of oxygen, an amount finely calibrated to keep the occupant just on the verge of losing consciousness. As long as the person inside doesn’t panic, breathing is possible, but over time, the effect makes the victim rather . . . compliant.”

“Sounds to me like it could be useful,” Okie Annie said, brightening.

“Indeed it could, and we’re about to put the proposition to the test,” Catwoman revealed. “I got some bad news from Georgie this afternoon and it prompts our final agenda item. Somehow, Batgirl survived the sunrise.”

“That’s impossible!” Dayna said. “Your trap was purr-fect.”

“I don’t understand,” Soolin agreed.

“I seen Batgirl do it before,” Okie Annie declared, shrugging. “’Course, it don’t make a lick o’ sense.”

“Never mind, tabbies,” Catwoman said. “Soolin’s treatment of Jo Grant should enable us to maneuver our well-endowed enemy into another purr-ticularly perilous position, in which she’ll be finally scratched from existence--once and for all!” The villainous quartet quivered briefly with laughter.

“Won’t Batgirl back off after what must have been a narrow escape this morning?” Soolin asked.

“Not a chance,” Okie Annie wistfully replied. “Batgirl is one persistent varmint. She’s gonna come after us until an’ unless we get rid o’ her. It’s survival.”

“Oh, there will be much more to disposing of Batgirl than mere survival,” Dayna disagreed, grinning. Her colleagues favored her with a questioning glance. “It will be a real pleasure.”

“Precisely, Dayna,” Catwoman agreed. The four fiends laughed again, following the explanation of Catwoman’s death plot. “Now, Okie Annie will get me the phone while Dayna and Soolin fetch Ms. Grant. Our cute little captive will bring Batgirl between our claws once again—very soon. Then, we’ll pounce, and nothing will save her!”

Catwoman would face the Curved Crusader sooner than she ever imagined, for at that very moment, Gotham City’s Dark Angel was ascending the side of the Feline Fiend’s lair. Batgirl gained the roof and examined the available means of ingress. Seeing nothing suspicious beneath any of the skylights, the heroine decided shattering one would be pointlessly noisy. The door to a central stairwell was more promising and the alarm was no more of an obstacle than the lock.

The well-endowed explorer descended the stairs, pausing to silently open the door at each level while listening intently and looking for a telltale glimmer of light. She had descended a dozen floors before a tap prompted her to creep toward a crack of dim light emanating from beneath another door.

Batgirl found a figure completely covered in a blue-black body bag. Its features were impossible to discern, but the bag clung closely enough to the figure to make it obvious Catwoman’s captive was a woman. The prisoner’s legs had been bent at the knees before she had been placed in the bag and ropes bound her arms to her sides.

Batgirl’s heart skipped a beat. She had originally seen Catwoman’s bondage bags used in a staged demonstration where Catwoman was competing for the apparently coveted title of ‘Bondage Queen.'

On another occasion, the Catwoman herself had been bagged as part of a trap for the Curved Crusader, which a hench-kitten had augmented as a pretty piece of window dressing.

The Feline Fiend’s frequent victim recalled the sluggish feeling one inside the bondage bag experienced, being barely able to inhale, as well as the lingering weakness which had allowed Batgirl to be trapped in yet another perilous predicament following her release.

Catwoman’s current captive was shorter than her captor’s Lisa Carson incarnation. Batgirl was relieved to see the woman’s chest expand slightly.

“Thank Heaven you’re breathing,” Batgirl said, producing a sharp blade and gently penetrating the prisoner’s fiendish, fabric wrap. Carefully, Batgirl uncovered the woman’s face and stared, recognizing the captive. “Jo Grant, what are you doing here?”

Jo moaned in response and Batgirl quickly began to pat her face gently, trying to revive the girl.

As Batgirl worked, her mind raced. She had met Jo Grant once briefly when the petite Briton had been the Clock King’s companion. At the time, the Monarch of Moments had been out for revenge against the Riddler, who had once facilitated his arrest. Nevertheless, when Batgirl had subsequently faced Clock King, Jo Grant had not been among his associates. ‘Has Jo somehow displeased Clock King?’ the Curved Crusader wondered. ‘If so, why would he have turned her over to Catwoman?’

“Oh . . . where am I . . . ? What happened . . . ? Batgirl, you’re alive! But . . . what are you doing here?” Jo Grant asked as consciousness returned.

“Catwoman is holding you for some reason,” Batgirl said seriously. “I’ll ask her about her plans when I find her. Then, I’ll bring her to justice.”

“Catwoman?” Jo murmured uncertainly as she slowly gathered her wits. Then, as Batgirl watched, the captive leaned forward suddenly as her eyes grew wide. “Look out behind you!”

Batgirl turned her head and spotted Dayna entering the room with Soolin following closely.

“It’s Batgirl,” the African-American hench-kitten said. “She is alive.”

“We’ll soon remedy that,” Soolin said, as guns appeared in her hands.

“Don’t kill her!” Dayna cried in dismay as Batgirl threw herself out of Soolin’s line of fire and tumbled over, coming to her feet a moment later. Soolin’s shots missed Batgirl, but impaled Jo Grant’s abdomen through the bondage bag, causing the bound woman to sink helplessly back to the floor.

“I’m using cat darts!” Soolin protested.

“Catwoman should have told you I now take antidotes for all her vile drugs ahead of time. You won’t incapacitate me that way!”

“Good,” Dayna said. “I have a much more pleasurable approach to our work.” The crew-cut combatant laughed, approaching and sinking into a fighting crouch. “This time, I can play with you until the job is done.”

Batgirl pivoted and smiled inwardly as her opponent pressed her attack. A purple heel slammed into Dayna’s gut, doubling the black woman over.

The Curved Crusader fended off an onslaught of blows after Dayna straightened and delivered a pair of powerful shots that hit the hench-kitten with the force of driven pistons.

Soolin moved forward, gripping her guns by their muzzles as Batgirl circled Dayna.

Batgirl deflected the majority of Dayna’s attacks and slipped hard counter punches through her defenses to pound the center of the hench-kitten's chest again and again.

Soolin’s shadow fell across Batgirl’s shoulder from behind and the Curved Crusader dropped to one knee as the Briton unleashed a vicious blow that would have impacted the back of the crimefighter’s head. Off balance, Soolin fell forward and felt Batgirl’s battle-honed elbows slam into her ribs before falling head-over-heels onto her back, landing hard. Before she recovered, the British gunwoman felt both her weapons plucked from her hands and tossed aside.

Dayna dove at Batgirl, but was surprised when a purple, booted foot hit her in the chest, where Batgirl’s fists had previously pounded her. The African-American gasped in pain and fell forward onto her face.

“I thought you had planned to reform, Dayna,” Batgirl admonished. “I don’t understand how anyone can take such pleasure in causing others pain.”

The hench-kitten let out a harsh laugh and coughed, convulsing and holding her chest. She was inclined to renew her attack immediately, but realized Batgirl was waiting for such a move and decided to talk while she recovered, regaining her strength.

“I’ve had a lot of time to consider our conversation about my reform . . . and for months I’ve been looking forward to telling you what a manipulative bitch you really are, Batgirl!” Dayna revealed. “The talk where we discussed my ‘plans’ was totally one-sided! The idea of becoming a weak, good citizen is so pathetic!”

“I–”

“Shut up! You tried to make me believe I had no options but reforming or dealing with vengeful criminals against whom I would have absolutely no chance--all by myself. You were so wrong! There may be no honor among thieves, but Catwoman came and specifically recruited me after I tried to become a wage slave. My first honest paycheck was a joke! I’ve been looking forward to properly repaying you for trying to manipulate me into a life of abject poverty.”

“Don’t you see how Catwoman is leading you down a thorny path?” Batgirl asked. “Education is the key to higher wages. Your future–”

“I’ve gotten my education in the School of Hard Knocks. You took advantage of me after Playgirl’s assistant basically had her way with me. When I get a shot at her, I’m going to dish out the same kind of beat down I’m about to put on you!”

“You’re welcome to try taking me,” Batgirl sweetly invited.

“Catwoman respects me,” Dayna explained. “She’ll respect me even more after I’ve finished annihilating you!” As Dayna spoke, she sprang at Batgirl, who sidestepped; tripped her; and crouched over her to slam her head into the floor. Dayna would remain unconscious for some time.

Soolin had crept up behind Batgirl once again and was surprised when the Curved Crusader reached back, gripped her heels, pulling forward and upending the young gunwoman. Batgirl turned on her, maintaining a fighting crouch. “What’s your story, Soolin? I’d guess you were a foreign exchange student in the Eta Beta Lotka sorority before Catwoman got her claws into you.”

“Spot on,” the young gunwoman admitted. “I’d never actually met you before last night, but I thought you’d died a couple times when Doctor Cassandra was advising the sorority.”

‘The sniper on the bridge,’ Batgirl thought. She recalled how she had been shot with tranquilizer darts while driving the Batgirlcycle near the end of Doctor Cassandra’s brief tenure as the young criminal women’s leader. At the time, those tranquilizers had prevented her from steering properly and caused her to tumble down a hill and end up in a roadside thicket. She knew how lucky she had been to survive relatively unscathed. “You’re the one who shot me while I was following that girl who told me about Doctor Cassandra’s plans while she was in police custody.”

“We quickly determined you would follow her,” Soolin replied, shrugging. “So, before we took care of her, I took a shot at you to get you out of our way. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite get the job done. Had I been a little further along in my rehabilitation, I would have followed you down that hill and finished you off.”

“I believe you,” Batgirl said, “but I wasn’t aware of your injury or rehabilitation.”

“My medical history is none of your business. Now that we’ve become acquainted, Batgirl, you’ve done nothing but try to put me behind bars.” Soolin grinned wickedly. “You don’t seriously expect me to just go along to jail like a good girl?”

“There are many alternatives to a life of crime for someone with your beauty and intelligence. If you cooperate, your debt to society may be light as a first-time offender.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Soolin said, favoring the Curved Crusader with a knowing smile. “I think I owe Catwoman a little something, though. She hand-picked me to be her bodyguard. Considering she’s right behind you, this would be the wrong moment to betray her, especially since she’s about to dispose of you once and for all.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book, do you?” Batgirl’s gaze fixed on the gunwoman’s face. The Curved Crusader's back was to the chamber’s door and Catwoman might have slipped behind her, but Soolin could just as easily be bluffing. Such a bluff was, admittedly, a very old trick.

Soolin shrugged, her face betraying nothing.

Batgirl’s attention was suddenly drawn to Jo Grant’s body as she heard the unmistakable click of a revolver’s hammer being drawn back. As Batgirl regarded the captive, she saw Okie Annie crouched beside the bound beauty, pointing a gun at Jo’s head.

Batgirl glanced back at Soolin and saw her smile. “Half a bluff,” Batgirl said.

“You’re wrong, Batgirl,” Catwoman said. “I didn’t come alone.”

The Curved Crusader whirled and faced her enemy, who stood leaning decoratively against the door frame, stroking Medea’s fur and grinning at the unfolding scene. “What do you want, Catwoman?”

“Oh, that should be obvious, my dear,” the Princess of Plunder replied. “I want you.”

“So you’ve said in the past,” Batgirl replied, straightening and resting her hands on her shapely hips as her legs spread to shoulder width. “I’ve told you before, I will never be available for your disgusting games for girls.”

“You misunderstand my motives, Batgirl,” Catwoman protested. “Since I don’t expect that fact will change your answer, I’m going to have to have Okie Annie shoot my hostage when I tire of our tedious talk.”

“I’ve already clipped your other kittens’ claws, Catwoman,” Batgirl said. “What makes you think I won’t dispatch Okie Annie as well?”

“Another life now hangs in the balance, Batgirl,” Catwoman purred. “You caped, crimefighting clods are well known for not taking that purr-ticular sort of risk.” Catwoman grinned knowingly. “We both know I’m in the catbird seat now. So, surrender.”

“I’ll face whatever sick and unpleasant death you’ve planned for me, if I do?”

“Naturally, but my hostage will live.”

“You’ll let her go?”

“Once she is of no further use I will--one way or another.”

“What kind of a deal is that?”

“It’s the only deal you’re gonna git outa this here Mexican standoff, Batgirl,“ Okie Annie observed. “Everybody knows you ain’t gonna sacrifice an innocent life. You need a much better poker face.”

“Okie Annie,” Batgirl said, glaring at the senior gunwoman. “Is murder the thanks I get for saving your life?”

“Oh, I am obliged to ya, Batgirl, but I’m workin’ for Catwoman right now and the boss lady calls the shots, so to speak,” Okie Annie replied, smiling. “Besides, you wouldn’t let me take care o’ Calamity Jan after she tried to kill me. I reckon you saved her life after you done saved mine and that our little score is even.”

“Calamity Jan went to jail with a much stiffer sentence than you received,” Batgirl said, shaking her head.

“Whatever,” Okie Annie replied. She shrugged. “For right now, unless you want to be wearin’ this here hostage’s brains, you’ll do like Catwoman says and give yourself up.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” In a flash Batgirl drew a Batarang in each hand and flung both in opposite directions. Batgirl’s projectile plucked the gun from Okie Annie’s hand, enraging the gunwoman, who lunged at Batgirl. A showgirl kick dispatched her. Soolin began to rise, but stopped, sinking back to the floor and relaxing, as the wing of Batgirl’s second Batarang buried itself in the floor between her thighs and remained quivering. “Stay,” the Curved Crusader commanded.

“Well done, Batgirl. You’ve dealt ably with my kittens. Now, let’s see what you do with my cat!” Catwoman said, flinging Medea at Batgirl. The Curved Cruasader reached out and caught the creature, keeping the flying feline’s paws away from her own limbs and body. Batgirl crouched and gently set the cat on the floor.

“That little trick worked once years ago, Catwoman,” Batgirl admitted, straightening. “Whatever you coated the cat’s claws with will never touch me. Using your feline pet to subdue me won’t ever succeed again!”

“Touche’, Batgirl.”

As the Curved Crusader confronted the feline crime queen, Soolin signaled Okie Annie. Both retrieved their lost weapons and began working to revive their cohort.

“What hit me?” Dayna groggily asked as she revived.

“One of Batgirl’s boots,” Soolin said.

“Take it easy,” Okie Annie advised. “The boss is givin’ us a chance to do somthin’ about Batgirl.”

Catwoman had drawn a pair of golden pistols, aiming at the Curved Crusader. “See what I have in my paws?”

“I inoculated myself against your devious drugs, Catwoman,” Batgirl announced.

“All of them?” the Princess of Plunder inquired sweetly, stepping forward. “I’ve warned you, you’ll eventually become addicted to the antidotes.”

“Stopping you is worth the risk!” Batgirl shot back. “I can still fight your infernal drugs.”

“Have fun trying,” Catwoman said, firing one gun.

Batgirl slid to one side, dodging the shot and twisting to avoid the second.

“The boss is driving Batgirl this way,” Dayna pointed out, rising. “Let’s get her.”

“Easy, girlfriend,” Okie Annie cautioned.

“Leave her to us,” Soolin agreed.

Both blonde kittens tossed their guns into the air and caught them silently by the barrels as they crept to where Catwoman’s shots were driving Batgirl.

“Take her!” Catwoman shouted.

Batgirl spun as Okie Annie and Soolin viciously swung their gun butts. Purple-sleeved arms blocked the potentially devastating parallel blows. Both gunwomen hit Batgirl in the gut with their fists and followed up their successful attack with raised knees while Batgirl’s body was wracked with sudden pain as she began to collapse. Two booted toes slammed into the bruises on Batgirl’s abdomen and the force of the double kick sent the Curved Crusader sprawling.

“Happy landing?” Dayna asked mockingly, looming over Batgirl with her white teeth flashing as she glanced at her criminal mistress.

“She’s all yours, Dayna,” Catwoman said. “She knocked you out.”

“Thank you,” the short-haired hench-kitten said. She knelt over Batgirl and slammed an ebony fist into the fallen heroine’s chin. Batgirl’s eyes closed involuntarily and Dayna straightened, lifting the unconscious heroine. “I hope we’re about to take her out—for good!”

Catwoman chuckled and picked up Medea, stroking the black cat’s fur gently, as the hench-kittens balefully regarded their helpless captive. “Purrfectly correct. It’s time to wrap up Batgirl’s crimefighting career and sew up her fate once and for all.”

“What about out other guest?’ Soolin asked, glancing at where Jo Grant, with only her face exposed, lay bound and wrapped tightly in Catwoman’s bondage bag with two cat darts sticking out of it.

“She ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Okie Annie said confidently.

“Leave her,” Catwoman ordered. “She’ll be useful once we’ve dealt with Batgirl. Her continued well-being will rest in Georgie’s hands before morning.”

“What will we do with our pretty, little bundle of ransom if Lyons doesn’t pay?” Dayna interestedly asked.

“I will make that decision in due time, Dayna,” Catwoman declared. “I’m sure Batgirl’s deadweight is growing heavy.”

“She’ll be lighter without her toys,” Soolin pointed out.

“Purr-fectly correct,” Catwoman concurred. “Okie Annie.”

The curvaceous cowgirl stepped forward and manipulated the utility belt buckle, sliding Batgirl’s golden girdle from her waist and tossing it carelessly away.

Catwoman nodded with satisfaction and commanded, “Come!” She led her hench-kittens through a series of labyrinthine passages until they entered a chamber where a mat of lynx fur had been spread over the top of an enormous table. The gorgeous gang leader grinned and ran her hands lovingly along Medea’s back. “All right, kittens, it’s time to go to work. Put her down and bind Batgirl.”

Dayna set the captive down and Soolin rolled Batgirl onto her stomach before the curvey cowgirl handed lengths of rope to the two other hench-kittens. Soolin secured Batgirl’s wrists and elbows after drawing her arms behind her back, while Dayna knotted ropes tightly around the Curved Crusader’s ankles and knees.

Catwoman laughed. “Purr-fect. See to the remaining details.” Her shapely sycophants nodded, grinning wickedly and taking up needles and strong thread.

They drew the fur mat around Batgirl, sewing it closely into place. Okie Annie mercilessly tightened thread along Batgirl’s spine, immobilizing her bound arms completely. Soolin’s handiwork accommodated the flare of Batgirl’s hips and the curve of her buttocks before tapering along her lovely legs and enclosing her booted feet. Dayna smoothed fur over Batgirl’s shoulders, tightly enclosing their contours while accommodating the swell of her breasts as they strained against their unusual restraint.

A gesture from Catwoman prompted the sinister seamstresses to roll Batgirl onto her back following the final stitch. Batgirl’s entire body, except her head, would now remain tightly wrapped in the luxurious fur as whatever plans Catwoman had formed for her slowly unfolded.

“Well done, kittens,” Catwoman praised. “Now, Batgirl looks absolutely purr-fect, and she’s starting to heat up nicely.” Catwoman laughed and her helpers joined her after a moment. “Wake her up, Dayna!”

The African-American hench-kitten slapped Batgirl’s face until the heroine’s eyes fluttered open.

“Whatever you’re planning will fail, Catwoman!” Batgirl defiantly announced.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Batgirl,” Catwoman purred. “I haven’t even described how you will make your exit, but I will, once I’ve gotten warmed up. Speaking of which, things are really about to heat up for you, before you die!”

It was true. Batgirl could feel beads of sweat forming on her face and between her costume and her body. ‘Is the fiendish fate Catwoman has devised for me underway already?’ Batgirl worriedly wondered, feeling an incongruous chill travel the length of the sinister stitches running parallel to her spine.

Batgirl was determined not to reveal her fear. “Criminals have tried to cook me before—and they have always failed,” she defiantly declared.

“Oh, you aren’t on the menu, Batgirl,” the black-clad brunette purred. “You’ll soon discover I’ve a much more claustrophobic fate in mind for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Batgirl demanded.

“Oh, you’ll soon see. Kittens, let’s position the mirrors!”

The Princess of Plunder and her avaricious aides slid a polished mirror along each side of the gleaming, metal table upon which Batgirl had been laid. Immediately, Batgirl saw how the fiendish, fur wrap enveloped her shapely body, having taken on her fantastic, feminine form to reveal all of her comely curves magnificently.

“You look fine, Batgirl,” Okie Annie said, “for now.”

“Not bad,” Soolin agreed, critically. “She has very little body fat. I guess super heroines really do keep in fabulous shape.”

“She is pretty hot,” Dayna said, absently. “Do you think she’ll sizzle audibly after we literally . . . turn the up heat?”

“Oh no!” Batgirl said, ignoring Dayna’s question. Her voice utterly failed to conceal the horror with which she had been stricken. “Body heat will cook the moisture out of the fur more quickly than any external heat source could cook me to death!”

“Purr-fectly correct, Batgirl. As the moisture is extracted from that fresh lynx fur, the animal skin will shrink even more closely around your very hot body,” the voluptuous villainess explained. “After a time, you’ll feel it begin to squeeze, gently at first, and much more firmly later. As the pressure . . . mounts, you’ll discover just how fragile the human body is, once adequate, external force is applied.” Catwoman laughed, letting her hands slide lovingly over Medea’s fur, perhaps to subtly emphasize the nature of Batgirl’s planned demise.

“Your fur won’t keep me from breathing,” Batgirl defiantly retorted.

“Of course not! What it will do is crack your ribs like eggshells and force blood, muscle, bone shards, and vital organs into your skull. In other words, it will squeeze you like a tube of toothpaste—crushing you all the while,” the Feline Fiend elaborated. “Unfortunately, the physical capacity of the human skull is, unlike one’s learning capacity, finite. So, after a time your eyeballs will burst from their sockets. Shortly thereafter, your innards will be forced through every aperture in your skull, and eventually, the skull’s capacity will be maximized, then exceeded, thus expanding your head until it pops like a balloon.”

“I’ve never heard of a more horrifically torturous, murderous death plot,” Batgirl declared. The look of undisguised horror on her face pleased Catwoman and her associates extremely.

“Thank you. I imagine it will become quite messy in the end. Before we leave you, there are two final details. Bring over the lamps.”

Okie Annie, Dayna, and Soolin rolled three sunlamps across the room and focused them on the captive.

“If blokes thought you were hot before, Batgirl,” Soolin said, smirking and delightedly chuckling, “it will soon be obvious they had no idea how hot a woman could make you.”

“It does look like Catwoman has a crush on you,” Dayna teased, shrugging. “or soon will. Too bad we can’t stay to see the mess you make after you’re squished.”

“Catwoman is gonna prove there’s more than one way to skin a bat . . . girl,” Okie Annie thoughtfully said, laughing.

“We’ll see about that!”

“Purr-haps,” Catwoman said. “In just a moment, I’ll turn on the sunlamps above you and you’ll really feel the heat. There is, however, one last thing.” She set Medea down and slid a pair of sunglasses into place over Batgirl’s eyes.

“The sunglasses will keep my eyes from incinerating?”

“Just so,” Catwoman complimented. “Do you think Batman would be jealous if I told him you had become my main squeeze?” the Feline Fiend asked, chuckling mischievously.

“I think he’ll have a clearer picture of what you’re really like, if this plot succeeds.”

“In that case,” Catwoman said with a smirk, “I’m delighted the truth will hurt you. Come along, kittens. We’ll leave Batgirl and attend to other pressing business while she dies. Jo Grant and Georgie are about make us a lot more money.” Catwoman nodded, prompting her hench-kittens to simultaneously tug gently at the dangling cords that switched on the hot sunlamps focused on Batgirl. The voluptuous villainess regarded Batgirl with a wicked, knowing smile. “Shortly before your crushing finish, this blistering heat will give you quite a sunburn on that lovely lower face of yours. Once your skull pops, though, it won’t matter.”

Warmth beamed down and reflected off of the mirrors around Batgirl, enveloping her entire body and drawing a startled gasp and then a lengthy moan from her throat. Catwoman led her avaricious assistants to the door and looked over her shoulder, touching the fingertips of one hand to her lips, blowing her victim a parting kiss.

“Don’t do this, Catwoman,” Batgirl said. “You’ll regret it . . . eventually.”

“Goodbye,” Catwoman purred, laughing and leaving the chamber. The hench-kittens beamed maliciously at their victim and stalked after their mistress.

Once the door had locked behind her captors, Batgirl filled her lungs, imagining the animal skin sewn snugly against her drawing even more closely against her entire body after several searing seconds passed. With the invariable warmth of Catwoman’s artificial sunbeams assailing her, Batgirl had no idea how long she would go on living. She was also uncertain she could do anything to buy herself more time—not even a precious second!

‘I do know the longer I wait to escape, the more certain any attempt will be to fail!’