It was late afternoon when the girl finally emerged from Wayne Manor. She found Alfred dressed in his chauffeur's uniform, sleeves rolled up, washing and waxing one of Bruce Wayne's vintage limousines. Not that it needed either, in the girl's view. But then, she'd always felt more comfortable around motorcycles than cars --- her parents had died in one, after all --- let alone a fancy limo.
"Master Bruce told me what you did last night," he said as the girl grabbed a chamois out of the bucket and gave the front fender an experimental swipe.
Barbara Wilson had spent much of the day resting after her ordeal of the night before, tracking down and eventually capturing Tommy Noonan, the young would-be thug who called himself the Enemy. The long shower after the longer sleep had served to revive her, and she almost felt like a new woman.
"You did quite well, dear girl," Alfred continued. "Good enough to take up cape and cowl again, I dare say."
"Not to hear him tell it," she said, polishing the already sparkling brass frame around a headlamp the size of a small drum. The Batman had found her on the outskirts of Gotham, half carrying and half dragging her unconscious prisoner toward the nearest police precinct. The ride back to the Batcave had been one long lecture on the perils of recklessness.
If it was any consolation, Batman had been alone so she'd been spared the humiliation of being chewed out in front of Robin.
"Master Bruce demands a lot from others," Alfred said, "especially from his wards and partners --- almost as much as he demands from himself."
"So I've gathered," Barbara said, "and he sure is grim about it. I'm not sure the man has any sense of humor."
Alfred turned grave. "One night in the Master's first year as the Bat," he said after a long pause, "I found him curled up in the shadows of the cave. He said something that has haunted me from that night to this very day. His face was ashen and bleeding. His cape was torn. There were human bite marks all over both his hands, right through the gloves. His costume was splotched with green and white and purple paint. He never explained any of it."
"What did he say, Uncle Alfred?"
"He said... 'It's not funny'."
"That's it?"
"No. He also said, 'After tonight, nothing will ever be funny again'."
"The Joker?" Barbara had never encountered the Clown Prince of Crime, but there were enough records of his nefarious doings in the Batcave.
"That was my first guess too, Barbara, but only later, after I became aware of the Joker. On the other hand, I'm not sure the Joker even existed at this time... and as I say, the Master never explained. Indeed, he has never so much as mentioned that night. Sometimes I wonder if it ever really happened... or if I simply dreamed the whole thing."
"Dark dream," Barbara said softly.
"Yes," Alfred said just as softly.
"If it did happen, it might explain a lot about his grimness."
"Indeed."
They were both silent for a while, the only sound that of chamois against metal.
Finally Barbara said, "What if I remained his ward, Uncle Alfred, but not his partner?"
Alfred failed to conceal his twitch of disappointment. "His demands would be fewer," he said, "although no less strict."
"And if I were still his partner?"
"Then you would be part of an enterprise which can ill afford mistakes and which must always strive for perfection. What the Master cannot do is waste time as a babysitter or a fretful parent. Anyone wishing to work with him, then, must demonstrate independence --- but without being foolhardy and without ever questioning his authority."
"Kind of a fine line, isn't it, if you're in the hero business?"
"No one said it would be easy, Barbara. Indeed, it is rare and special work, and to do it well you must be the same."
"But how would the perfect partner, for example, know where to draw that fine line?"
Alfred considered. "A difficult question," he said, "since every situation is different. And this is precisely the area in which Master Dick had --- and still has --- the most trouble. Toeing that fine line between initiative and recklessness. Acting alone instead of seeking help. There is a time for each approach, you see."
"I get the concept loud and clear, Uncle Alfred, but how do you know which time is which?"
"You learn, Barbara. You mature. You develop judgement and instincts."
"Do you think I went to Bruce for help too early the last time?"
"Perhaps," Alfred said with an easy and elegant shrug, coming down more on the side of yes than no.
"And yet I went wrong the other way as Nightbird. And that last time as Batgirl --- going against armed goons on my own in the factory."
This time Alfred left no doubt. "Indeed," he said sternly.
"But I got the job done!"
"This time."
"Which leaves us where, Uncle Alfred? Those are two guidelines, but what's the wrap-up?"
"Should you decide you want it, Barbara, you shall have to find your own place in the cave. But once you do, you shall never be alone again."
She was still not quite convinced. She shrugged her shoulders. "If you say so, Uncle Alfred."
"Stop thinking of yourself as a mere sidekick, Barbara, but also stop thinking of yourself as an invincible one-woman army. Become a partner. Never act like a child, but neither succumb to overconfident pride. Act decisively, but always know when to call in the cavalry."
She reached her decision. "And yet," she mused to herself, "there's cavalry... and there's cavalry."
"Eh? What's that, dear girl?"
"Some words of wisdom for you, Sir Alfred," she said excitedly, "inspired by your magic word!"
"What magic word?" Alfred was utterly bewildered.
"Cavalry." She grinned. "And never bother the General when a scout will do." Then she tossed her chamois back into the bucket, leaned over to squeeze Alfred in a monster hug, and bounded away from the limo. When she sprinted for the front door, wings seemed to blossom from her heels.
Alfred stood by the limousine, long after Barbara was already inside. He smartly flicked the bill of his chauffeur's cap and permitted himself a broad smile. "Once again," he said out loud, "the Master had it correct from the start. That girl does have too much spine to quit."
Then he twisted his cap all the way around backward and fired a jaunty kick at the limo's front tire.
Dick Grayson was studying in his room. The door was open, so Barbara Wilson stepped inside. He seemed surprised to see her. "Hey," she said, starting out slowly but barely able to contain herself.
"Hey back," Dick replied cautiously. He'd heard --- though not from Barbara --- an edited account of her activities the previous night, and he wasn't sure how she was feeling.
She nodded at his textbooks. "My calendar must be off," she observed. "It says summer."
"Mine too," he said with a glum smile. "But there's no rest for the wicked."
"Aw, you ain't so bad," she said with a cocky sparring shuffle. Then she tried to make her next words casual and conversational. "So... no Bruce around?"
"I don't think so," Dick said. "Mentioned how he was gonna follow some hot leads tonight."
"Without you?"
Dick indicated the textbooks spread across his desk. "Since my grades slipped last semester, 'Dad' figured I should hit the books rather than the streets once in a while. Plus I think he's a little ticked off."
"At you too, huh?"
Now Dick's smile turned rueful. "Hey, Nightbird's not the only one around here who can screw up, you know."
Barbara moved deeper into the room. "The Boy Wonder? What did you do, Dick?"
"Nothing major. Just the usual overload of wisecracks and stunts in our last few outings."
"Same old dashing daredevil," Barbara said. "You'll never learn."
He looked up at her with his best cool look. "When you've got the goods," he said, "it's hard not to flaunt 'em."
As if buying none of that nonsense, Barbara stiffly perched on the edge of the desk, crossed her arms, and looked down her nose. "In other words, young man," she said in a scolding schoolmarm voice --- and growing up in England, she had encountered some of the best of that breed, "you've been slipping off that high wire between initiative and recklessness again."
Dick grinned. "And you've been heart-to-hearting with wise old Alfred!"
They both dropped their acts and Barbara suddenly felt closer to Dick. It was only natural; there was no one else like them on earth, no one else who could possibly understand, no one else who had actually brushed capes with the Batman himself.
"Bruce is rough on partners," Barbara said, "Isn't he?"
"You got that right," Dick agreed, "but it's nothing compared to how he is on criminals."
Barbara's eyes grew distant. "Tell me, Dick," she said, "did you ever have doubts... in the beginning, I mean?"
"Are you kidding?" He waved a hand at the ceiling. "Only a zillion. And you wanna know a secret?"
"Yeah."
"Just between us?" Dick's eyes narrowed as he looked at Barbara.
"Yeah."
"Goes no further?" He glanced over at the door.
"Sure."
"I still have doubts," Dick said, "every time I slap on the mask."
Barbara nodded. "So it's not just me."
"No way."
"It really is a tough job, Dick."
"Yeah, who knows --- maybe the toughest."
"I just wish he could see that we're trying ---"
Bruce Wayne's low voice carried the power to shake down pillars. "Trying is good," he said. "Trying is admirable."
Barbara and Dick jumped and whirled. They were riveted by his dark silhouette framed in the doorway.
"But in matters of life and death," Bruce continued, "trying is never enough. Succeeding is the only acceptable goal. You can't expect me to risk your lives if you're not ready."
They strained to see his face, but he was just a dark shape in the gloom.
"I'm not your father, but I am responsible for you, and it's a responsibility that is both grave and precious. I'm still convinced Black Mask is building up to something big. I'm about to follow up another lead right now. Whatever he plans to do, lives will surely be threatened. I don't want yours added to the tally."
Barbara had finally swallowed her heart back down where it belonged. "But you can't protect us forever," she said. "What if you need our help to stop Black Mask?"
"You're right," Bruce said. "I might need help. But what I don't need is the distraction of worrying about you." He paused, took a slow, deep breath. "Dick, you're almost there. At times you are there --- perhaps the perfect partner. Barbara, you're newer. You're still on the edge, and you could go either way. I repeat: This is big, and I can't risk you, either of you." He seemed to look at each of them in turn. "You're too special, both of you."
Then he withdrew his presence and was gone.
Dick let out a long, low whistle. "For his heart," he said, "that's as heartfelt as it gets."
Barbara crossed to the doorway and looked up and down the hall. Bruce was gone. She turned back in to the room. "Do you think that could have been his way of asking for our help?"
Dick thought for a moment and shrugged. "Maybe. He's always saying he's there for us and all we've gotta do is ask, but I'm not sure he could ever come right out and ask for anything."
"Listen," Barbara said urgently, "I think I know who Black Mask is, but I need proof. It's getting dark now. Want to help me take some initiative?"
Dick sized her up. "Any recklessness involved?"
"We could probably find a way to work some into the deal..."
"But not too much," Dick said.
"No, not too much," Barbara agreed. "Never again."
Dick flipped his textbooks shut and stood up from the desk. "Race you," he said, "to the cave."
Barbara was already out the door before the import of her destination struck her. By then it was too late to turn back, not that she felt any desire to do so.
Barbara Wilson emerged from the costume vault feeling more than disguised. She actually felt transformed, finally comfortable in the Batgirl outfit, as if understanding it for the first time.
Wearing it in the past had been mere masquerade, but this time the change was for real. This time she wanted to be Batgirl. This time she meant it. She had something personal to prove.
"Lookin' sharp," Robin said, looking up from buckling his belt, "except for one key item."
"I know," Barbara said, reaching up to brush the hair back from her face. "The mask."
Robin shook his forefinger at her, then jerked a thumb over a shoulder. "Don't leave home without it."
The mask was on the cave floor exactly where she had let it fall more than two weeks ago. "But why is it still...?"
"Batman's orders," Robin shrugged. "He said no one had the right to pick it up except you --- and only if you wanted it badly enough."
"That stinker," Barbara murmured, walking past Robin toward the mask. "He knew I'd be back all along. He never even accepted my resignation."
She plucked the mask from the floor, dusted it off, and put it back in place, where it belonged.
Robin looked at Batgirl and nodded righteously, as if perfect balance had finally been restored to the universe.
Capes flowing, they moved off for their vehicles, ready to dare the darkness and pursue clues.
Batman stood in shadows at the base of the gothic WayneTech building. He raised his left arm and there was a hushed chuff as his wrist-grapnel shot upward, trailing its line. A soft clank, and it was hooked over the deformed snout of a hideous gargoyle. Batman tested his weight on the line and found the grip secure. Swiftly, he began scaling the side of the building.
Reaching the window he wanted, he deactivated the alarm and picked the lock. Then he slipped through the window and dropped into the gloom of the Compu-Link lab. Like a living shadow, he moved straight for the personal workstation of Sean Romaine.
Batgirl found the address she was looking for on a dark side street and cut the Batblade to a halt. Robin jammed the Redbird's brakes and fishtailed to a stop right next to her. They were facing a vacant lot strewn with ancient rubble and years of weeds.
"So what's this?" Robin asked.
Batgirl allowed herself a brief, bitter smile. "The home address," she said, "listed by Sean Romaine in his personnel file."
"Okay, so there's maybe something weird about your boss," Robin said. "Unless he lives under a rock?"
"I don't think so."
"A broken brick?"
"Uh-huh."
"Basement apartment?"
"Nope."
"Okay, so there's something definitely weird about your boss. Now what?"
Batgirl reached down to snap the cap from a small tube attached to the Batblade's frame. She fished out some papers. "So now," she said, unrolling the papers, "we fall back on these records I found in Sean's desk."
Robin seemed surprised. "You stole them?"
Batgirl shook her head. " Nope, that would have been reckless. Photocopied them," she said. "And see here?" She leaned forward to hold the papers in the beam of her cycle's headlamp. Several areas were highlighted. "He authorized three different shipments to an address which matches no client WayneTech has ever dealt with, past or present --- and believe me, I checked."
Robin was impressed. He gunned the Redbird's throttle. "So why are we sitting here breathing rubble dust?"
Batman slid down from his line, dropped to the pavement, and snapped his grapnel from the gargoyle. Although he had been unable to obtain definite proof in the lab, it was at least possible that Barbara Wilson's suspicions were correct. The young woman was admirably resourceful, if somewhat impetuous.
Just like another young ward of his.
But now it was time to pursue the led Police Commissioner Gordon had passed on from one of the original smugglers. Since the man was trying to plea-bargain for less prison time, his information could well prove accurate.
The Dark Knight moved into the shadow, coiling his line as he moved swiftly toward the Batmobile waiting in an alley less than a block away.
"Dark Side of the Moon?" Robin asked.
"Looks like it used to be a nightclub," Batgirl said, "maybe back when you were shaking your booty in the disco daze."
"Hey, speak for your own booty, girl. That was way before my time."
"All right, all right," Batgirl said. "Whatever. Let's just get down with our bad selves and crash this dead party, shall we?"
They had already hidden their cycles under an overpass several blocks away. Now, as carefully and quietly as possible, they pried a splintered sheet of plywood from a boarded-up window of the abandoned club. Batgirl peered into total blackness. There was nothing to see. She slipped inside. Robin followed.
It was almost silent --- nothing but the soft stirrings and chitterings of rats and mice, maybe the sound of cobwebs fluttering in the breeze. Batgirl and Robin stood perfectly still, barely daring to breathe as they turned their heads from side to side, giving their eyes time to adjust. They seemed to be in a vast empty space. Probably the main dance floor, Batgirl decided, back in the Jurassic Era. She turned in Robin's direction and softly whispered: "We should've worn our other mask --- the ones with the night-vision lenses."
"Now you think of it," he hissed back.
They waited another minute longer. Nothing lunged from the darkness. The ceiling did not collapse. Nor did the floor crack open and swallow them whole. But they still couldn't see a blessed thing. Maybe this really was the dark side of the moon.
"Think it's safe," Batgirl whispered again, "to use a light?"
Robin whispered back, "Do it, and we'll know."
So she reached down to her belt and slipped a special penlite from one of its special compartments. She didn't understand how or why, but it was far brighter than any similar flashlight she had ever seen --- brighter by a factor of ten, at least. Batman's own design, battle-tested in heavy-duty darkness.
The tightly focused beam swept through nothing but empty space and floating dust. Batgirl slowed its sweep to a crawl and finally, way in the back, it picked out the dull gleam of a doorknob. "There," she whispered. "If there's anyone or anything here, it's behind that door."
She turned toward Robin, angling the light upward to avoid blinding him, and they were immediately surrounded by a thousand dancing flecks of light. They both gaped.
"A mirrored disco ball," Batgirl breathed, almost in disbelief.
"Boogie on," Robin whispered.
They slipped across the vast dance floor toward the gleaming doorknob. It was like crossing a hardwood ocean. Finally Batgirl stationed herself facing the door. Robin flattened against the wall next to it.
"Ready?" Batgirl whispered.
"It's your dance," Robin replied.
Batgirl leaped forward, kicking the door right off its hinges. It banged and bounced and crashed into the smaller room beyond as she hurtled right past it, skidding and tumbling across the floor before rolling back up to her feet to the right of the door. Robin came off the wall and pivoted into the room right behind her, to her left.
But they were alone. Batgirl held her stance for another beat, flicking her light into every corner, high and low. It was difficult to identify what was in the room, but nothing moved. She relaxed. "Guess we can finally stop whispering," she said in her loudest voice.
"Yeah." Robin tried the wall switch on a whim and it worked. "How 'bout that," he said. "Let there be light."
"And proof," Batgirl said, "proof at last." She was making a beeline for racks of electronic components arrayed against the back wall. "This is some of the equipment Sean requisitioned --- and which he said he was working on at home."
"Hey," Robin said, "here's something even better." He was holding the face of a weeping clown. Several other masks were laid in a row across the workbench next to him.
"Yes!" Batgirl exclaimed. "We nailed it!"
"Slots in the masks are empty," Robin said. "Must be waiting for another shipment of 'mystery chips.' Although they're hardly a mystery anymore, are they?"
"No," Batgirl agreed. "They're mind-control chips." She had turned back to the component racks and was frowning as she skimmed her eyes across them. "You know," she said, "the really important WayneTech equipment is still missing."
"Like what?" Robin asked.
"Like special amplifiers and converter circuitry that could work in tandem with those mind-control chips."
"So where do you think that stuff is?"
Batgirl didn't answer. She was staring at a telephone on the workbench. She moved to it and pressed the button labeled DISPLAY. A row of numbers filled the LCD panel.
Robin leaned his head in. "So what's that?" he asked.
"Last number called," Batgirl replied. She plucked the handset from its cradle. There was a dial tone. She stabbed REDIAL and stuck the handset in Robin's startled face. "Here," she said, "you do the talking. And pretend you're a Blask Mask goon. Keep your voice low and rough." She cocked her head close to his, ready to listen in.
"And emotionless," Robin said as they listened to rings at the other end. "Don't forget emotionless. Black Mask goons are very big on monotone."
"Shhh." The ringing had stopped.
"Red Arrow Radionics," a weary voice replied. "Shipping."
"Uh... right, Red Arrow," Robin said in a phony zombie voice. "I'm calling for Black Mask."
"Yeah, yeah, I told ya --- the shipment's on its way. Driver just called in, matter o' fac'. He's on Route 80. Should be hittin' Gotham in about twenty minutes."
Robin didn't know what else to say, so he twisted his head to look past the phone at Batgirl. They were forehead to forehead. Batgirl raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, very good, Red Arrow," Robin vamped. "And just to verify, the driver will be delivering at...?"
"At the address you gave us," the voice snapped gruffly. "Say, who is this anyway?"
"Uh... sorry, wrong number," Robin blurted. Then he racked the phone as if it had turned into a hot potato.
Batgrl managed to stifle her giggle but not a smirk.
Robin gave her a defiant look. "What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she said, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. "I just didn't realize you were such a smooth operator, that's all."
"Go ahead and laugh," Robin said, "but you try being a zombie." His lower lip was actually thrust out. "It's not that easy, you know!"
Batgirl burst out laughing. "Is it harder," she sputtered, "than being a rocket scientist? Or maybe a brain surgeon?" She laughed even louder. "How about a four-star general? A Boy Wonder?"
Robin's petulance didn't stand a chance. "All right." He smiled. "So maybe being a zombie only rates a three on the difficulty scale. Maybe even a minus-ten. Now where does it leave us?"
Batgirl's laughter faded. "Well," she said, "the Red Arrow shipment --- whatever it is --- could be coming here."
"And on the other glove," Robin said, "it could be going anywhere --- some different Black Mask hideout."
Batgirl nodded. "Yeah," she said, "maybe wherever the missing WayneTech equipment is."
Robin's hands started moving as he worked it out. "If the truck's coming off Route 80, then it'll probably take the Coit Causeway right over the Hub," he said. "And by the way, this shipment could be the lead Batman's following tonight ---"
"In which case," Batgirl said, "he might need our help."
"He certainly needs proof that we can prove ourselves."
"A display of peerless prowess," Batgirl said.
"Efficient and exemplary teamwork," Robin said.
"Demonstration of initiative."
"Without too much recklessness."
"Piece of cake."
They slapped their palms high, then turned toward the door.
The Batmobile was running without lights, and the truck driver was still unaware he was being tailed.
Batma had waited opposite the Route 80 exit ramp, just as the smuggler had instructed. And the semitrailer truck had not been difficult to spot, not with giant letters spelling RED ARROW RADIONICS across both sides.
Now the truck was apparently headed for the long elevated span of the Coit Causeway, placing its destination somewhere on the far side of the Hub. Batman kept his distance, hoping the light traffic would thin even further. Right now there was just enough oncoming vehicles to prevent him from overtaking the truck should he wish to make such a move, and his options would narrow even more on the Coit --- literally narrow, given the causeway's notoriously cramped lanes. But as long as the truck driver didn't spot him, it wouldn't matter.
Then, just at the foot of the causeway, the truck abruptly veered and righted itself. Btaman gave an involuntary snarl as he watched the driver's arm reach from the cab window to adjust the large side mirror. That was it, then: he'd just been spotted in the mirror.
No sense staying back now. He flicked on the Batmobile's powerful headlights and the truck veered wildly in response. Horns blared. Up ahead, an oncoming car tried to get out of the truck's path but had nowhere to go. It swerved into the guardrail, grinding off a long spray of sparks.
Batman could see the car was out of control and might spin off the rail into his path. He stomped on the accelerator and shot ahead to prevent it. There was a long squeal behind him, and then he was forced to jam his own brakes before he ran right up under the semi, more than likely shearing off the Batmobile's roof and quite possibly his own head as well. He watched the Batmobile's front end go under the truck. It would be close. He held the brake and fought the wheel. The truck's bumper grazed the windshield right in front of him.
And then there was separation as the Batmobile continued to slow and the truck struggled up the steep grade of the causeway. Batman faded to a safe distance and simply followed. There was nothing else he could do, not while they were here on the narrow causeway, not without endangering innocent drivers. He had hoped to follow the truck all the way to Black Mask. Now that the truck driver had spotted him, however, he might lead Batman on a merry chase to nowhere, but hardly straight to Black Mask.
He wished there was some way to stop the truck. The oncoming vehicles were still blaring and screeching and skidding into the guardrail. Some rear-ended, and the truck itself had bashed at least three or four others. They were nearing the summit of the causeway's elevation, and it was a long drop to the dark buildings and avenues of the Hub below. Disaster seemed inevitable. If a section of the guardrail gave way...
The Red Arrow driver was so intent on watching the Batmobile in his mirror that he almost missed the spectacle right up front. There was a long gap in the traffic, and it was the snapping of the capes that finally caught his eye. He looked forward just in time to see two weird motorcycles veer into his lane. Incredibly, they popped wheelies right in his face and kept on coming.
He could have plowed right through them, but instead he panicked. He had never seen anything like this and he simply didn't know what to do, so he did the worst thing possible. He slammed on the brakes, spun the wheel, and jackknifed his semi at the crown of the Coit Causeway.
And, since he was not wearing his seat belt, he also slammed his thick head unconscious.
Batman ejected from the Batmobile, soared through the air, and landed at the rear of the jackknifed truck. All traffic had halted. He wasn't sure why the truck had lost control, but he was more interested in the nature of its cargo. Glad that the danger had passed, he opened the back of the truck and froze.
Inside were half a dozen masked thugs, all pointing large guns at his head and chest. The sound of bullets jacking into chambers was loud and menacing and unmistakable.
Creeping along the top of the truck, Batgirl and Robin were about a dozen feet short of the rear when they heard the weapons being cocked. Batgirl caught sight of Batman and instantly stomped the truck roof as hard as she could. Then she and Robin dived forward to the rear edge as bullets ripped and stitched through the roof behind them.
Together, they flipped over the edge and swung down into the back of the truck, already kicking and batting weapons aside. Then they went to work on the masks.
It was all over in no time, and there was little for Batman to do other than watch.
Robin hunched over a crate deep in the truck as Batgirl dropped down to face the Dark Knight. "The driver's out of it," she said. "Won't be talking for hours."
"Nothing in here but more mind-control chips," Robin reported. "Enough to build the ranks of the False Face Society into a real army." He dropped out of the truck to join them. "But still worthless, I assume, as clues to Black Mask's larger scheme."
Batgirl indicated an unmasked thug hanging out of the truck. "And even if we'd left any of these maskers awake," she said, "they'd be just as useless as all the others --- brain-blanked stooges."
And having thus assessed and reported the situation, Batgirl and Robin fell silent and stood waiting.
Batman stared at them for a long time. "You did well," he finally said. "Both of you."
It was the opening Batgirl had hoped for, and she rushed to fill it. "We've been thinking," she said quickly. "Instead of seeing us as a 'double responsibility,' why not cut your worry in half now that you have a second partner?" She had actually worked on the line in advance, hoping it would appeal to his sense of cool, rational logic.
But again Batman just stared, his dark mask betraying nothing.
"Aw, c'mon," Robin said, "at least Batgirl and I can watch each other's back, and that frees you up, right?" Then he reached over to slap Batgirl's back, as if presenting this year's new and improved model. "And by the way," he continued proudly, "she was totally right about that weird boss of hers. If he's not Black Mask himself, Sean Romaine is definitely fused to the geek's spine. We found big-time proof all over the place."
Batman turned away, looking out over the guardrail at the all the city's lights below. "You did demonstrate teamwork and initiative," he conceded.
"But not too much recklessness?" Robin cracked.
Batgirl kicked his ankle, then extended her fist in front of Batman. "Partners?" she asked.
Robin hopped forward on his good leg and touched his fist to hers. They both waited.
The Batman hesitated ---
--- and then made the fists three. "Partners," he said.
On cue, the Bat-Signal blazed upward through the sky until it was stopped by a dark cloud high above the causeway.
"Here's his blackmail demand," Police Commissioner James Gordon said grimly to the three masked heroes facing him on the roof of police headquarters. He held a finely detailed Chippewa ceremonial mask made from sheets of white birch bark. "It's inscribed on the inner surface: 'fifty million dollars by midnight or I unleash elf to black out and blank the whole city.' Although I don't understand what's so threatening about an elf."
"E.L.F., Commissioner," Batman said, spelling it out. "Extremely low frequency waves --- the key to the E.D.O.M. and R.H.I.C. technologies I told you about."
Gordon grunted. "Which he uses to control his gang members. And now he's threatening to turn it on all of Gotham. But how he hopes to mask everyone in the city, I don't..."
"He doesn't have to," Batgirl interjected, "not with the equipment he's stolen, and a twisted application of parallel-linked computer sequencing."
Everyone turned to her. It was clear that she spoke with authority, holding the key to their questions. Even the Police Commissioner was now regarding her as a serious equal, searching for his city's salvation somewhere in her masked face. She glanced at Batman and caught his eye. He remained silent, but she could tell he had already figured it out. Master detective that he was, he might even be way ahead of her. Yet he was willing to let her do all the talking and seem like the brilliant one. She could have hugged him --- if he weren't so scary, anyway.
She took a breath and began slowly, knowing she had to avoid blowing her other identity as Barbara Wilson. So when she told Gordon about Sean Romaine, she made him seem like a suspect who was under surveillance rather than her boss. "He's made various statements," she said, "about hive minds enslaved to a single master controller. He also raved about parallel linkage of human brains, something he bragged he could accomplish with 'the right kind of radionics and delivery system' --- and 'a signal of the proper frequency transmitted into every home'."
"The ELF frequency," Gordon said. "But what kind of 'delivery system'?"
Batman provided the final piece. "The transmitting tower," he said, "atop the Wyvern Building."
Batgirl looked at him and they both nodded at the same memory --- Sean actually showing the notes and blueprints for his master plan to Bruce Wayne, using the proof of his guilt as evidence for his innocence. The man's audacity was astounding.
"Whoa," Robin said. "I'm just getting it now. Really getting it, I mean. The city's main telephone and cable feeds are located at the top of the Wyvern too, aren't they? So if takes control of that building, he can reach everyone with a radio, television, computer, or phone --- which means zombie mush for just about every brain in the city."
"More than that," Batman said. "The power surge from such an ELF feed would blow out every electronic device the grid --- and result in a massive power failure as well."
"A darkness of zombies," Batgirl murmured. "And a nightmare for outside rescue workers."
Gordon looked worried. "Then his 'ELF' really can blank and black us out --- unless I can get City Hall to agree to his ransom demand by midnight."
Batgirl shook her head. "I think he'll do it even if you pay, Commissioner. I think he wants to do it. Besides, he's got nothing to lose --- and a whole city of slaves to gain."
"Then what can we ---"
"We can stop him," Batgirl said. "And we will."
Batman and Robin were already heading for the edge of the roof. "I know we just redeemed ourselves and all," Robin said, "so you may be shocked to learn that we're still not exactly perfect. We, uh... we kinda forgot our night lenses, see, and all this talk about blackouts and ---"
"Spare sets," Batman said, "in the car." Then he turned to see what was keeping the newest member of the team.
Batgirl had turned and started after her companions when James Gordon's voice stopped her. "If you have just another minute?"
She stopped and turned back to face the Police Commissioner, her cape swirling behind her in the not insignificant breeze atop the roof of the tall building.
He somehow seemed both nervous and grateful. "Frankly," he said after swallowing a couple of times, "I really didn't know what to make of you at first."
"I could tell." She took a step toward him.
"It's just that..." He coughed once, twice, as if he was having difficulty with the words. "Well, I have a daughter roughly your age. I guess I worry about her too much. And I wasn't sure it was wise of the Batman to take on another partner. I... I can see now that my doubts were misplaced." He seemed to hesitate, then extended his hand.
How do you know how old I am? Batgirl wondered, hesitating. Then, deciding that it wasn't what was important at this time, she took another step toward him and reached out to clasp his hand in her gauntleted one. "I shared a few of those doubts myself," she admitted. "But you're right, Commissioner. They were misplaced."
Then, releasing his hand, she turned and loped across the roof to join her waiting partners.
They had less than two hours to pull off something big, maybe even a miracle.
If they failed, Gotham would become a city of zombies.
The Wyvern Building rose from Gotham's central skyline like a black splintered sword. Identical dragon gargoyles, glisteningly alien, perched at each of the roof's four corners to keep watch against time. Their ornately jagged wings were spread and extended inward, tips overlapping to encircle the roof itself as well as the towering broadcast spire rising from the roof's center. If they were meant to be the guardians of the Wyvern antenna, they were about to fail.
Attack would come not from the sky, but from within.
The night guard in the main lobby had just begun to doze when the entire world exploded around his head. He jerked away to find plate glass flying everywhere. One wall of the lobby seemed to be missing, and in its place a strange vehicle was grinding through the wreckage on giant treads. It was an amphibious troop carrier, stolen from the North Port armory earlier in the evening, and it had just plowed right into the ground-floor lobby of the Wyvern Building.
Mouth agape, the guard watched as the vehicle swerved and quivered to a halt. A wide door levered open from its top and slammed down to become a ramp. Scores of men poured forth, crunching glass underfoot. They were all masked, and every mask was different. They wore tight black outfits and looked like creepy-faced commandos. The night guard thought to reach for his weapon only after they were already swarming over him.
As a second troop carrier came in, three other guards rushed in from various points throughout the lobby. They too were immediately overpowered.
"Take their weapons," Black Mask commanded. "Then bind their wrists and throw them out of here!" He was standing at the center of the chaos. "This building is ours now," he snarled, and its power is mine!"
He turned to a ma holding a sledgehammer, whose mask made him look like the third goon from the bottom on a totem pole. "All right," Black Mask said, "take out the passenger elevators."
The man dragged his sledgehammer all the way across the marble floor. He stopped in front of an electrical access box and smashed it open. Then he stuffed a modest wad of plastic explosive inside and backed off twenty paces before thumbing an electronic detonator.
There was a small explosion. All up and down the banks of elevators, indicator lights blinked out.
Black Mask turned back to the troop carrier. Four men masked like apes --- chimp, gibbon, baboon, and gorilla --- were wheeling a large cart down the ramp. "Careful with that," Black Mask snapped. It was a gleaming assortment of electronic equipment housed atop a generator mounted to the cart's base. "Get it onto the freight elevator --- now."
Then Black Mask turned to the rest of his obediently waiting gang. Behind his ebony mask, he gloated and sneered. Each and every one of these men would fight and die for him, but only because they had no choice. They were nothing but puppets, and he worked the strings to their weak minds with utter contempt. Soon he would sneer at the whole city. "I want ten more men on the freight elevator --- and up in the control room --- with me and the ape-techs."
Like lemmings, ten masked men counted themselves off and filed toward the freight elevator.
"Then I want three men stationed on every landing in the stairwell," Black Mask continued. "The rest of you will stay here and hold the lobby against whatever may come. And trust me, it will not be a lengthy siege. What remains to be done now is so simple that monkeys could do it."
Then he strode to the freight elevator.
"Going up," he said "To the top."
The Batblade and the Redbird flanked the Batmobile closely, all three engines idling with quiet power and lights off. They could see the shattered plate glass across the street, and dark shapes milling through the lobby.
"He's already here," Batman said, "and the fuse has been lit. No time to plan. We simply move. I'll create confusion on the way in. Then we hit them hard and fast, and we don't let up until they're all down."
Batgirl and Robin nodded.
"And watch those weapons," Batman added.
The Batmobile peeled across the street with the two motorcycles screeching right behind.
A small bulbed missile shot from a tube above the Batmobile's front bumper. It flashed ahead, streaking into the lobby. There was a muffled krumph. A concussion bomb.
The masked gangsters were dazed and staggering when the three vehicles blasted into the lobby. Batgirl and Robin leaped right off their roaring cycles, each hero plowing into a different knot of thugs. Their cycles bowled over others.
The Batmobile was still swerving to a halt when Batman ejected and catapulted right over the nearer troop carrier to land among the largest group of Black Mask soldiers. He shot his wrist-grapnel around a Greek oracle's leg and yanked him off his feet. Then Batman spun around on his heels, whipping the man in a circle, beating back a dozen others and making room for a real fight.
In the top-floor control room under the transmitting tower, Black Mask stood like the new lord of a conquered domain, unaware that it had already been invaded. "Jam that freight elevator," he said to one of his thugs. "Make sure it stays right here."
There were three other ways into the control room: one passenger elevator, the stairwell door, and a ceiling hatchway giving access to the roof. Black Mask wasn't worried about any of them. All the passenger elevators had already been blown out of commission, and men were stationed on every stairwell landing all the way up through the entire building, with ten more right here inside the door. And if Police Commissioner Gordon wanted to try the ceiling hatch, let him. The entire city would be enslaved long before any such rooftop operation could be mounted --- indeed, long before the midnight deadline.
Black Mask smiled bitterly. It was highly unlikely, of course, that the authorities would ever figure out his ingenious plan. But if they somehow did, he knew, they would have to induce their own deliberate blackout just before the deadline. With his special generator, he would still be able to transmit his ELF signals, so the only way to foil the plan would be by preventing the reception of those signals.
Which was why the deadline had been bogus from the start, along with the ransom demand. Fifty million was peanuts when the city was worth hundreds of billions.
Black Mask turned to his techs. "All right, apes," he said, start splicing my equipment into the antenna and cable feeds."
Down in the lobby, bodies were sprawled just about everywhere, their masks and guns scattered. Not a single shot had been fired.
Batgirl and Robin watched from a distance as Batman located the only passenger elevator, isolated from the others, that went all the way up to the top-floor control room. He took a mini-explosive from his belt and forced the elevator doors open just enough to jam it between them. Then he ducked around a corner and waited for the small explosion to release the pneumatic catches. When he stepped back out to try the doors, they slid to the sides without resistance.
He turned and looked down a row of other elevators at Batgirl and Robin out in the main lobby. "I'm going up this shaft," he said. "You can try the stairwell --- but the minute it becomes too dangerous, back off."
Then he turned away and was swallowed by the blackness of the elevator shaft.
"What do you think?" Batgirl said. "The red one or the green one?"
They were at a breaker panel in a utility room not far from the stairwell.
"Hey, don't be stingy," Robin said. "Snip 'em both."
Batgirl did so.
Robin peeked outside. "One of 'em did the trick," he reported. "The stairwell just went dark."
They crossed to the door and paused to listen. Confused voices echoed down the long concrete twist of stairs. "Goons galore," Robin said. "Not gonna be an easy climb."
"Neither is Mount Everest."
"Yeah, so?"
"So," Batgirl said, "nothing else is worth the climb." She reached up to click on her night-sight lenses.
Robin did the same. Cool green details resolved from the blackness of the stairwell. "First advantage," he said, "ours."
"Got your earplugs ready?" Batgirl asked.
"Yeah. Their guns are gonna make one holy racket in there. It's nothing but one long, tall echo chamber."
Batgirl reached for her belt. "Think I'll start with a few flash bombs," she said. "How about you?"
"Probably smoke pellets," Robin replied.
"Ready?"
"Go!"
Batgirl slowly turned the knob, then abruptly shoulder-slammed the door and lunged through with Robin right on her heels. Hurling smoke and flashes and bangs ahead of them, they went up three steps at a time and slammed the first guards down before they knew what was coming.
"Keep going!" Batgirl urged. "Don't give them a chance to brace for us."
They raced up the second flight and Batgirl leg-whipped a man in a volcano demon mask just as he raised his gun. The shot missed by a mile, but even with earplugs they found the explosion nearly deafening as it reverberated up and down the stairwell. Robin elbow-smashed a stylized alligator mask and kicked Richard Nixon flat.
Batgirl shoved Robin's back. "Go, go, go!" she urged.
They fought their way up through eleven more landings before they were suddenly pinned down by a hellish hail of gunfire. It had started with a single shot from high above. And then, within seconds, it seemed like there was at least one gunman firing down at them from every landing above, ear and far, creating so many muzzle flashes that the darkness became strobe-lit. "And here I thought we'd escaped Disco-land," Robin muttered.
Bullets rocketed and ricocheted everywhere. Cement flinders burst from the wall to sting their chins and cheeks. They tried to make themselves flatter against the wall, tried to shrink themselves to smaller targets.
"Remember how we were supposed to back off," Robin said, "if it became too dangerous?"
"Yeah?"
"Think it's time to back off yet?"
Batgirl gave him a thin, mirthless smile. "Over my reckless body, buster."
"All right, but if we're talking about forward and upward," Robin said, "I can't budge another inch. How 'bout you?"
Batgirl shook her head. "Not without getting shot."
A bullet smacked off the wall and whined past, so close they could feel its hum.
"This situation," Robin said, "is really starting to get on my nerves."
"Mine too."
"So, uh... got a plan?"
"Yeah," Batgirl said, "hit 'em where it hurts." Careful to keep her arm close to her flattened body, she reached for the back of her belt.
"And where would that be?"
"In the ears," she said, slipping a sonic Batarang from the small of her back. She pressed a stud in its side, took a deep breath, and braced herself. Then she stepped right out to the center of the stairwell and hurled the Batarang straight upward through the muzzle flashes with all the force she could muster.
The instant it left her hand, the Batarang began shrieking like a thousand banshees riding a flock of berserk bats through a bagpipe regiment. It was an ungodly, keening wail designed to do one thing and one thing only: slice and dice eardrums into utter submission.
The booming, strobing gunfire stuttered to a stop, and the stairwell was again seen through the cool green filters of their night-sight lenses. Strangled cries of pain and confusion came from above. A few guns actually clattered and bounced down past them. Then the sonic Batarang fell back down, still shrieking.
Batgirl and Robin clamped their hands over their ears and waited for it to plummet past.
"All clear," Batgirl said. "How many floors in this building?"
"Thirty-nine, I think."
Batgirl started up the stairs again. "Great," she groaned. "We're not even halfway to the top. Better pick up the pace."
Robin rolled his eyes and trudged up the stairs after her.
Outside, police helicopters buzzed around the four dragons of the Wyvern Building, as if challenging them to an aerial battle. Powerful searchlights swept the transmitting antenna and roof, but nothing moved, not yet.
Were it not for his night-sight lenses and the penlite clenched in his teeth, Batman would have been climbing through pitch blackness. As it was, the elevator shaft was still gloomy enough to make his progress treacherous at best. He had already hauled himself, hand over hand, up past some twenty floors of the building. And now, finally ---
--- he missed his next grip, slipped, and fell through the dark shaft.
More angry with himself than panicked, he slapped his hand out and caught a cable. He slammed against the shaft wall, absorbing as much of the impact as possible with his thickly muscled shoulder. Then he dangled there, catching his breath, holding the cable as it resonated up and down the shaft like a metal whip.
The man in the chimp mask looked up from what he was doing. "What was that?"
"What was what?" the man in the baboon mask replied.
"That twang."
The baboon scratched his head. "I didn't hear a twang."
"Just keep splicing those feeds," Black Mask said. He rose from his chair at the control console and turned toward the sound. Since this was the elevator's upper limit, the anchor housing was right next to the top of the shaft, left exposed for easy repair and maintenance.
"Someone's in that shaft," Black Mask said. "Probably looking for an elevator."
He wrenched a fire ax from the wall. "Let's send him one," he said, and began chopping furiously at the cables wrapped around the anchor housing.
It started as a hum high above him, but swiftly became a roar. Batman looked up to see an enlarging square. It was the bottom of the elevator car, plunging straight down at him. It filled the whole shaft. There was no way to evade it, to escape.
Batgirl and Robin decked another three masked thugs and moved onward and upward. They were really feeling it in their legs now, but they were also very near the top, and that fact gave them a real boost. Only a few more landings, a few more battles, and they would be knocking on the control room door.
Not too late, they hoped.
With the cable twisted around one arm and one leg, Batman ripped the grapnel from his wrist launcher and let it drop.
The elevator car was still hurtling down at him. There was little time.
He jammed a missile into the launcher and fired straight up. The missile hit the bottom of the plunging car, and there was deep, rumbling explosion.
Batman hugged the shaft wall and let the fireball scorch down past him. It stole his breath for a moment and was gone. Then the remains of the elevator car pelted down as bits and chunks of shrapnel. Tightening his grip on the cable, Batman ducked his head and weathered the storm as best he could.
When the last pieces fell past, he was bruised and even bleeding. But nothing would stop him now.
In the control room, the explosion was heard as a dull boom followed by a rattling of the elevator doors. Black Mask whirled in rage. "Who is in that shaft?"
The man in the gorilla mask looked up from his work and cocked his head questioningly. Chimp, gibbon, and baboon all nodded in confirmation.
"Splicing is complete, Black Mask," the gorilla announced. "Access to everyone in Gotham is now possible."
It was a normal night, more or less, throughout the broad avenues and narrow back streets of Gotham. Citizens did what they usually did. Some listened to radios, some watched TV. Some jabbered or cooed on the phone, and others surfed the Internet.
Only a few read books in total silence.
And all of them, of course, were completely unaware that their brains were in dire jeopardy.
"You're sure it's ready?" Black Mask demanded.
As one, the four ape-masked men nodded.
"Then a new era in broadcasting," he said, "is about to commence." Slowly, he reached toward the master switch...
The stairwell door banged open and Batgirl and Robin came swarming in, all flying fists and sweeping feet.
A Batarang sliced unerringly between three masked guards to smack Black Mask's hand away form the switch. He spun to face the intruders, his frozen mask somehow enraged.
Then another explosion blew the doors right off the elevator shaft behind him. He twisted around to see a dark wraith surging through the smoke. It was the Batman.
Black Mask turned and bolted up the few steps to the ceiling hatch. Batman was a swift darkness flowing in pursuit.
The four ape-masked techs simply gaped as Batgirl and Robin continued punching and kicking their way through the guards.
Searchlights from the buzzing police helicopters illuminated the rooftop confrontation between Batman and Black Mask. With his back against the base of the huge transmitting antenna, Black Mask had nowhere to go as Batman closed in on him.
Black Mask waited until he was certain he could not miss, then pulled a 45 automatic and opened fire at pointblank range. But the Batman had already dived for the shadows and was now rolling across the roof as Black Mask fired again and again until his weapon was spent.
Then Batman rose to his full height, stepped from the shadow of a dragon, and began closing in again. Black Mask hurled his empty gun, and Batman barely lifted his hand to swat it aside.
Black Mask turned away and began scrambling up the antenna's superstructure, instinctively seeking higher ground.
With all the guards in the control room felled, Batgirl turned to the real danger. "His transceiver equipment," she said. The four ape-masked techs were blocking it.
Batgirl dropped the gorilla and the chimp with a single flying leap kick. And Robin decked gibbon and baboon with an old-fashioned one-two.
Batgirl moved to the transceiver equipment and frantically began yanking splice cables from its feeds. Robin joined her and kicked the entire wheeled cart onto its side, smashing generator and components alike.
They came out onto the roof in time to see Batman scaling the antenna after Black Mask.
"That computer creep had better watch it," Robin commented, or he's gonna broadcast himself all over the city."
Black Mask couldn't believe he'd come so close, only to be thwarted at the very last second. He hated the dark figure below him, the ruthless and relentless pursuer who had spoiled everything and chased him all the way up here into the high winds at the top of Gotham. It wasn't fair. He had chosen Bruce Wayne and Police Commissioner James Gordon as his opponents, not this supernatural being nipping at his heels. Even worse, he had already outwitted and defeated Wayne and Gordon --- both of them --- and yet his victory was still being spoiled!
In supreme rage, he thrashed his foot wildly down at his nemesis.
Batman darted back, evading the kick, and Black Mask lost first his balance, and then his grip.
With a strangled cry, he pitched off the antenna into the start of what would be a long, long fall.
Even as Black Mask started his fall, others were already in motion atop the roof.
Batgirl leaped out onto the intertwined wings of two dragon gargoyles. "Robin!" she shouted over her shoulder, holding her left hand toward him. "Anchor me!"
Robin grabbed her hand and dug his heels in at the edge of the roof --- even as Batgirl used her right arm to hurl a Batline that snagged the plummeting Black Mask at the last second and at the very limit of the line.
Robin simply gaped as Batgirl dropped from the dragon wings back to the roof, giving his cheek a peck of mock chivalry. "Thanks," she said, "for the slight assist."
Then she hauled up on her line until she had Black Mask back on the roof. He swung at her in rage. She blocked his punch and smashed him with a crunching right cross that shattered his dark mask. The wooden shards fell away to reveal the glazed face of Sean Romaine. She let go and he crumpled. "Yes," she murmured to herself. "Told you so."
Then she stood over the unconscious villain and said more emphatically: "Mr. Romaine, I'd tender my resignation... but I suspect you're fired."
"Effective immediately," said a deep voice from above.
She looked up to the Batman dropping down from the antenna. He landed facing her, part of his billowing cape finally settling down to mantle one of her shoulders as well. Then he put a hand on her other shoulder, looked her straight in the eye, and said: "But your job is safe --- for as long as you want it."
She wished she could stay there like that forever, safe and triumphant and accepted, strong and sure on a high roof within the protective wings of cornering dragons.
Deep under Wayne Manor, three people dismounted from their vehicles and gathered together. A fourth came down the stairs.
"Well," Barbara Wilson said, pulling off her mask and letting her long auburn hair cascade down her back. She made a big show of looking around. "If I'm going to stay in this cave, I think it's time to discuss some changes in décor."
Batman and Robin glared at her. Murderously.
But she was only tweaking them. "Don't worry," she said with a grin. "Your basic Batcave --- deep black and grim, gritty, gray --- is cool with me. At least it can't clash with anything --- and besides, I hear noir colors will be all the rage this year."
Alfred beamed with pride as he turned to Batman. "No doubt about it, sir. You were indeed right about young Barbara, in every detail."
"Neither of us lost faith in her spirit or abilities," Batman said. "We were both right about her, Alfred."
"Hey, wait a minute," Barbara said. "I thought I just proved you were wrong about me."
Alfred simply smiled and winked at her. Then he turned sober and dignified, shooting his cuffs, tugging his vest points, and turning smartly to exit. But he took no more than three steps before pausing to speak as if in afterthought. "By the way," he said, "I shouldn't shed those costumes just yet if I were you. The Bat-Signal is blazing, you see, again." Then, having said his piece, the butler resumed his exit.
Batman looked at his two young partners. "Ready?"
Batgirl and Robin answered in unison: "And then some."
Three gloved fists touched in one-for-all, all-for-one fashion.
And then the Batmobile, Batblade, and Redbird roared from the cave, following the Signal's light to whatever darkness awaited.