“What is that, Clock King?” Lady Romana asked, stepping into another brightly lit room inside the impossibly large craft with circles on most of the white walls.
“What is what?” a male voice boomed, echoing in the empty corridor outside the room she had entered.
“You have an enormous machine with a small circular screen in the center of a group of concentric circles surrounded in turn by several circular switches and vents.”
“Really?” the man asked, leaning his curly-haired head into the room and reaching to tug absently at the long, striped scarf wound repeatedly around his neck that trailed down before his open coat.
“Really,” the girl replied. “There is also a couch in front of it.” She sat down on the couch and stretched her legs along it.
“Oh,” the man said, smiling. “I see there is a couch set up in front of the machine. Do you know what it is, Romana?”
“I’m certain it’s a couch, Your Majesty.”
“Not the couch,” Clock King patiently replied, “the machine.” Both of them were smiling.
“Oh, the machine. It’s an antique,” she said absently, glancing briefly at the machine.
“An antique!” he repeated, taken slightly aback. “That is a time / space visualizer. It’s capable of showing us anything taking place anywhere in the universe at literally any time, and all you can say is: 'It’s an antique.'”
“I suppose it is a rather impressive antique,” Romana hesitantly conceded, smiling more widely and turning her head to regard her companion. “Does it work?”
“What do you mean 'Does it work?'” Clock King demanded.
“Could we use it to see anything taking place anywhere in the universe at any time?”
“Of course it works! Why else would I have brought it aboard?”
“I don’t know,” Romana protested. “Perhaps you wanted to fix it. Maybe you needed spare parts.”
“Romana?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe me when I say it works?”
Romana shrugged. “Of course I do.”
“Splendid! I’ll warm up the machine while you decide what you want to see.”
Clock King began tinkering with his machine. After a small explosion; some muttering about the machine being an antique; and a loud, high-pitched shriek, a picture came into focus.
“There!” Clock King said, grinning at the girl on the couch. “What would you like me to show you?”
“I don’t know. Where is the ship taking us?”
“We could end up anywhere. I know. I’ll show you Gotham City on Earth.”
“You do spend a great deal of time on the Earth.”
“I like the Earth,” Clock King protested. “Gotham City attracts the most formidable and interesting criminal minds on the planet.”
“So, you’ve been there?” Romana asked.
“Oh, yes,” Clock King said. “I find a visit to Gotham City a useful diversion from traveling through time and space.”
“You have associates and competitors in Gotham City?”
“Indeed,” Clock King acknowledged, shrugging. “A few of them are even worthy of me.”
“You mean Batman?”
“Batman drew me to Gotham City initially,” Clock King explained flashing, his white teeth in another engaging smile. “I quickly realized his ally, Batgirl, is quite formidable in her own right and has nearly unlimited potential, of which she is barely aware.”
“Show me a criminal competitor,” Romana suggested.
“All right,” Clock King agreed, manipulating switches before sinking onto the couch beside Romana, once she had moved her legs aside. She leaned against his side and rested her dark hair against his shoulder while the picture became clear.
On the screen, a mustached man with a full, white beard and hair appeared wearing a red suit with white fur cuffs on his long sleeves and a wide, black belt with a polished gold buckle. This fat figure was seated before a blonde woman wearing a white fur trimmed, red robe and conical hat bearing the same color scheme and a fluffy, white ball attached to the tip. She also was seated in the dimly lit chamber and a wrapped package rested beside the girl to her left.
“Father Christmas isn’t one of your criminal competitors?” Romana asked. “Is he?”
“No,” Clock King replied. “The blonde woman is Playgirl, the Gangster Gal of Games.”
“Turn up the sound,” Romana said. “I can’t hear.”
A moment later, Clock King returned to his seat and pulled a crumpled, brown bag from one of his voluminous pockets. “Would you like a jelly baby?” he asked, offering Romana the open bag.
“So, your name is Tim,” Playgirl was saying. “I gather it was the Joker who nicknamed you Tiny.”
“Well,” the enormous thug began, “I worked for the Joker several years ago, so my memories of the details are not as good as they might be. I think the Joker’s girl came up my nickname, but Joker liked calling me Tiny Tim so much the nickname stuck. It’s served me pretty well ever since.”
“What did you do after Joker was arrested?”
“I immediately went into rehab.”
“I, like, don’t understand,” Playgirl said, frowning.
“Joker let his other men and me play with Batgirl a little before he tried to kill her. It was fun. We gave her a very thorough rubdown, which was stimulating for everyone concerned. Joker’s plans to dispose of her failed, and she beat the snot out of me and five other guys, putting us in the hospital with broken ribs and extensive, internal injuries.”
“So, you’re, like, telling me a girl beat you up?” Playgirl asked.
“I’m saying Batgirl beat me up!” the big thug replied. “To be honest, the experience was a little scary. She would normally only try to incapacitate a super criminal’s goons.”
“You healed physically and recovered your criminal senses, though?”
“Oh yeah,” the behemoth confirmed. “Making an honest living is tough from a financial standpoint. People have expenses, you know?”
“Totally.”
“I’ve been doing ‘jobs’ for guys like Lou Craneck and Benny the Butcher. To be honest, Playgirl, this interview is the first time I’ve spoken to a name super-villain about work since I left the Joker. Could I ask you a couple questions?”
“Like, okay,” Playgirl replied, shrugging.
“Why did you ask me to wear this ridiculous outfit?”
“What’s wrong?” Playgirl asked, pretending to pout. “Don’t you like playing dress-up?”
“It doesn’t really matter. I just wondered. I worked for Joker and only he really understands why he does some of the stuff he does. I heard one of his female doctors was chasing him and trying to prove she is just as screwy as he is.”
“Whatever,” Playgirl said. “To address your question, I wanted to find out which of my potential men will, like, do as I say. Asking you to dress like Santa is a harmless enough request, and anyone who has too little respect for female authority to do it will never obey when I command something important be done. Besides, I’m playing, too.”
“I like your outfit,” Tiny Tim said, grinning. “As long as you pay, I can deal with female authority.”
“I gather your experience with Batgirl was instructive.” Playgirl studied her potential employee closely as his eyes narrowed. “Tell me,” she said, “what would you recommend we, like, do if we get our proverbial hands on Batgirl, once my plans are underway?”
“We should kill her,” Tiny Tim said simply. “For the record, I’ll volunteer now for the privilege.”
“You and I might get along famously, Tiny Tim,” Playgirl said, smiling at him. “What else should we, like, talk about?”
“Would you tell me about how you got out of jail?”
“Sure,” Playgirl said casually. “It was easy. I’ve been experimenting with, what a mundane mind would consider, like, the potentially hypnotic powers of sound waves. I built a machine in the prison shop to generate such waves and knew it worked when I persuaded the guys watching me I hadn’t finished it yet.”
“That sounds like an effective test,” Tiny Tim said.
“Totally,” Playgirl agreed. “The next step was to rig receivers to transmit my sound waves where and when I wanted them.”
“I see. Have these been tested?”
“Totally. I gave one to Warden Crichton for Christmas and, like, persuaded him to open it early. Then, I told him to let me go, and he did.”
“Okay,” Tiny Tim said. “What exactly will I be doing for you, if you hire me?”
“Well, I’ve checked over my list of recipients for the sound wave receivers, like, several times. You and my other men will deliver them and help me attend to the obstacles that will inevitably oppose me. When all that work is finished, all of Gotham City will play by my rules, and the rest of the world . . . .”
“When you say obstacles—”
“I mean, like, bats, and I also mean to have them totally exterminated!” the villainess declared. “So, are you, like, interested in the job?”
“Totally,” Tiny Tim replied.
“Goody!” Playgirl enthused, giggling girlishly. “There is just one last, tiny thing, Tim.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
Playgirl’s voice became soft and filled with menace. “Don’t you dare ever make fun of me again!”
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