Batman Versus the Fearsome Foursome by Winston Lyon

Author:Winston Lyon
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-03-01T01:20:13+00:00

Bruce Wayne’s condition was grave. That, of course, meant that Batman’s condition was also grave. Disheveled and battered from the effects of his recent fierce battle, he lay sprawled on a sofa with his hands tightly bound behind his back. He breathed stertorously. He was still unconscious from the heavy blow he had taken on the back of his skull.

Nearby, the Catwoman sat watching him. Her emerald eyes even through her mask had an anxious glitter. She was wearing her feline costume—a domino mask which covered much of her face, a tight-fitting leotard, and a small shoulder cape.

A few feet away the Joker was chuckling merrily to himself as he screwed down a section of flooring with a large screwdriver. He gave the screwdriver a final twist and looked to where the Riddler was pacing in a coiner.

“It’s all set! Batman puts his foot down anywhere on this section of floor, and my secret jack-in-the-box fires. He’ll be shot up through the skylight and into the Penguin’s giant umbrella.”

“That’s all very well,” the Riddler said. “But you may have noticed one thing missing.”

“What’s that?”

“Batman!” the Riddler answered shortly. “I can’t understand why he hasn’t dashed into our trap. He should’ve been here hours ago.”‘

“Maybe you didn’t leave a clear-enough clue in Miss Kitka’s apartment.”

“Of course I did! It was another of my riddles. That confounded Batman never has trouble solving even the hardest ones I think of. He certainly wouldn’t have trouble solving the easiest!”

“Well, he’s bound to show up.”

“Where is the Penguin? Still on the roof tinkering with that giant umbrella?”

The Joker nodded. “He keeps putting finishing touches on it. Now he’s spraying the wire supports with the Giant Umbrella Poison. He’s so delighted with himself it’s a shame to stop him. I can’t blame him for being so pleased. And you have to admit it will be a humorous death for Batman. Pinioned to the wires of a huge umbrella. Sprung there by my jack-in-the-box.” The Joker bent double with the humor of it. “Hyaaaa-ha-ha-ha!”

“Stop that infernal laughing,” cautioned Catwoman. “Bruce Wayne is just starting to recover consciousness.”

On the sofa Bruce Wayne stirred, groaned, and rolled over onto his back. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Everything he looked at swam fuzzily. His head rang as though someone were beating an anvil inside his brain.

He tried to move and discovered his hands were bound behind his back. That brought everything sharply back into focus for him. He remembered the sudden flying assault of the Riddler, the Penguin, and the Joker, the fight in Miss Kitka’s apartment.

He drew up his feet and sat up. His head was cleared by a flash of anger—and alarm.

He was not alone. The Catwoman, that infernal diabolic mistress of mayhem, was seated nearby. Then he saw the Joker and the Riddler also in the room.

“You abominable outlaws!” he cried hoarsely. “What have you done with Miss Kitka?”

A faint smile flickered on the Catwoman’s lips. “She’s quite well, Mr. Wayne.”

“What have you done with her?”

The Riddler answered caustically, “None of your business, Mr.

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