As Batgirl scaled Freeze’s ice cliffs, using the spikes and ropes she’d found stored in her Batblade, she glanced at her newfound allies. If someone had told her a week ago that she’d be working with Batman and Robin, she’d have called them crazy.
Yet here she was.
“We have eleven minutes to stop Freeze and thaw the city,” said Batman, shouting to be heard over the howl of the wind.
Batgirl wasn’t sure how he knew that. On the other hand, she wasn’t about to question anything he said. After all, he was the most famous crime fighter in the world. If he believed it, it must be fact.
She turned to Robin. “Pardon me for saying so, but this sort of thing always looked so hard to me. The scaling, I mean. It’s rather easy, isn’t it?”
Robin shot her a sober look. “Crime fighter’s rule number one. Never say that.”
“Why?” she asked.
Abruptly, a squad of ice-climbing thugs poured over the ledge above them, suspended on ropes. And as they slid down, their guns barked fiery death.
“That’s why,” Robin told her.
One of the shooters came flying down his rope right at them, his gun blazing. Robin swung wide on his line, grabbed Batgirl, and pulled her out of the line of fire. Hitting a snowbank, they let go of their ropes and rolled one over the other.
Batgirl was nervous—but she tried not to show it. “Does this mean we’re going steady?” she asked Robin, looking into his eyes with a show of merry bravado.
She’d barely gotten the words out before four Icemen landed in the snow beside them. Their guns were drawn, their barrels steaming.
Batgirl caught sight of Batman up on another ledge, a higher one just below the observatory. He was going nose to nose with another squad of Icemen—and holding his own, from the look of it.
More than I can say for us, Batgirl sighed inwardly. Surrounded by the Icemen, she and Robin moved back-to-back. Their enemies leered, savoring the moment of their demise.
“Crime fighter’s rule number two,” said Robin.
“I’m afraid to ask,” she responded.
“Be ready for anything.”
Then he did the last thing she would have expected. He put his hands together and yelled, the echo shooting up the hill. A tremendous rumbling came back to them—and a cantilevered overhang of snow collapsed on some of the Icemen, burying them.
Batgirl smiled. The odds still weren’t very good—but they were good enough. As Robin did a standing backflip into the thugs directly behind him, she chose the low road—and, pivoting on the heel of her hand, took out a couple more with a leg sweep.
“Pow!” she said, kicking another thug. She socked another. “Wham!” And backhanded a third. “Kazow!”
Robin looked at her. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just feels right.”
Slowly but surely, she and Robin began fighting their way through the Icemen in the direction of the observatory.
Batman pulled himself up onto the aperture ledge of the observatory, his breath freezing in a cloud about him. Beneath his mask he was perspiring, having expended too much energy on Freeze’s Icemen.
Suddenly, he saw two heads pop up at the opposite side of the ledge. He tensed for a moment—until he recognized them as Robin and Batgirl. Dragging themselves up, they joined him.
The giant chamber was empty—eerily so. The telescope had been abandoned, though it was still aimed at Gotham.
“No sign of the snowman,” said Batman.
Robin grunted. “Maybe he melted.”
“Don’t we wish,” Batgirl gibed.
Batman spotted the frozen scientists, helpless in their sheaths of ice. Shooting a Batgrapple into the ceiling, he swung across the room toward the tower and dropped a couple of Batcharges at their feet. Then he continued his swing and landed on the telescope platform below.
Robin and Batgirl were right behind him. They landed on the platform a moment after he did.
Up on the tower, the Batcharges began to glow. Their radiating heat started thawing the scientists.
Batgirl turned to him ominously. “I hope you’ve got about ten million more of those little toys.” She pointed to the digital clock on the telescope’s control console.
The time was 11:52.
“Freeze started his barrage about three minutes ago,” said Robin. “Eight more and a city full of Gothamites are ice cubes forever.”
Batman thought furiously. Then it hit him. “Sunlight could reverse the freezing process.”
“Sunrise isn’t for five hours,” Batgirl reminded him.
Batman glanced at her. “Here.”
“But it’s morning in the Congo,” Robin added, his eyes lighting up.
Batman pointed to a screen showing a series of satellites—the same one the scientists had used for their demonstration at the press conference. “If we could relay the sunlight—”
“From the other side of the equator—” Robin said, continuing Batman’s thought.
Batgirl smiled. “It’ll take the satellites about a minute to realign, I expect, but . . . damn!”
Robin looked at her. “Damn? Damn is not good.”
“Those targeting mirrors are frozen,” she said tautly. “The sun-beam won’t work without them.”
Batman glanced at the two small mirrors sitting on the telescope barrel. Both were encased in ice.
“I’ll set the telescope,” he decided. “You two thaw the mirrors.”
His sidekicks raced out onto the surface of the telescope. Each one pulled a laser from his or her Utility Belt.
“I love this belt,” said Batgirl. “Can I get a matching handbag?”
A moment later, their lasers flared, and they began thawing the mirrors. At the same time, Batman turned his attention to the telescope’s main control console. He began working the keyboard.
Typing feverishly, he tried to visualize the results of his efforts. High above the earth, satellite thrusters would be firing. The giant orbital mirrors designed to work with the telescope would be turning . . .
On the monitor in front of him, graphic representations of the satellites were making adjustments to his specifications. He targeted a blinking graphic of Gotham.
Beside him, the digital clock showed 11:54.
Six minutes. No more.
Batman aimed the telescope. But the shaft shuddered with a sudden impact—and the Gotham skyline visible through the crosshairs was obscured by an unexpected blur.
Even before a hand closed like a vise over his windpipe, the Dark Knight had a fair idea what had happened.
It was Freeze. He had dropped from the rafters onto the mighty cylinder and stuck his helmeted face in front of the targeting scope. And then grabbed Batman while he still had the element of surprise.
“Tonight’s forecast,” the villain laughed, “a Freeze is coming!”
With that, he used his considerable strength to hurl Batman up over his head. The Dark Knight landed on the telescope barrel—just in time to see Freeze reach out with his free hand and yank on the telescope’s joystick. The far end of the barrel swung down all of a sudden.
Unable to stop themselves, Robin and Batgirl went tumbling down its length, rolling toward the end and a dizzying drop to the ground below. Batman tumbled as well—but he stopped himself after a moment and spun around, cape billowing behind him.
Freeze was climbing toward the main control console. Batman had to stop him or Gotham City was as good as dead.
But at the same time, Robin and Batgirl were near the end of the telescope. They needed his help, too.
There was no way to get to both Freeze and his crime-fighting partners. No way to be in two places at once. Batman had less than a heartbeat to make his decision.
Clenching his jaw, he went after Mr. Freeze.
A moment later, he felt the subtle tilt that told him Robin and Batgirl had slipped off the end of the telescope—and were dropping toward the icy streets of the cit
y. He tried not to let it slow him down.
Up ahead, Freeze was working at the telescope controls. Before Batman could reach him, he hit a switch.
Instantly, the crime fighter realized what his adversary was up to. Freeze was disabling the telescope’s target lock. Up in space, thrusters would be quitting. The satellites Batman had realigned would be halting in mid-turn.
With renewed determination, the Dark Knight struggled up the slope of the telescope toward Freeze. Seeing him, the villain pulled the control lever around, causing the telescope to tilt and spin madly.
By then, Freeze’s machine had frozen the moisture right out of the air, creating a snowstorm right there in the observatory. It only made it that much more difficult for Batman to hold on.
Slipping, sliding, with nothing to hang on to, the crime fighter lost his perch and fell. As he dropped, he reached out.
And caught hold of the telescope frame.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As Robin plummeted toward Gotham City, his first thought wasn’t for himself. It was for Batgirl, who was falling below him.
The wind was whipping at him mercilessly, numbing him, trying to slow him down. Still, he managed to take a Batgrapple out of his Utility Belt and fire it over his head. Before his eyes, the grapple shot up and secured itself in an icy overhang.
As his line began to play out, Robin reached down for Batgirl. She was reaching up for him at the same time. A fortuitous gust of wind brought her closer. His hand was inches from hers, the city coming up fast.
Just a little farther, he told himself. A little farther . . .
Batman used his grip on the frame to flip himself back up onto the wildly spinning telescope. Flattening himself against it, he slithered toward Freeze and the control console.
He tried to distract the villain, take his mind off the conflict at hand. “Millions will die so you can save on air-conditioning. Isn’t that taking self-help a little too far?”
But Freeze wasn’t easily distracted. He drew a cryonic pistol and grinned savagely. “We aim to freeze!” he cried. And he fired.
But Batman deflected the blast with his suit armor.
“That’s new,” observed Freeze.
It was, too. But the crime fighter had known he would need a defense against Freeze’s cryo-weapons.
“Let’s swing,” the villain sneered.
Then he smashed the joystick forward as far as it would go. The telescope’s spin accelerated, forcing Batman to cling for all he was worth.
But it wasn’t only his life on the line. The two scientists, who had finally thawed, were in danger as well. They were standing on the tower platform in pools of water, the massive telescope careening toward them.
And Batman was in no position to do anything about it.
Freeze hadn’t actually intended to destroy the scientists.
The truth was he’d forgotten about them. All he’d wanted when he hit the joystick was to send Batman flying off the telescope—so he could smash himself on something hard.
On the other hand, Freeze wasn’t going to go out of his way to avoid hitting the scientists. He would just as soon have worried about an insect as those bespectacled fools.
“This just isn’t my day,” groaned one of the scientists, as the telescope swung his way.
As it turned out, it didn’t hit him. But it did crash into the tower a few rungs below him, causing the structure to topple.
Two things happened then. First, the scientists leaped and somehow managed to land safely on the swinging telescope, where they hung on to the tensioning bar for dear life.
Second, as the tower platform crumpled under the force of the swinging telescope, it fell into the rail of the floor-level telescope platform—the same telescope platform where Freeze was revolving around the room in accordance with the telescope’s gyrations, one hand still on the joystick.
Taken by surprise, he was thrown off his feet by the impact. And perhaps more important, he lost his grip on his gun.
Cursing himself for his clumsiness, Freeze scrambled for the gun. Just as his fingers were about to close on it, he saw a dark apparition loom in front of him.
A dark and unfortunately familiar apparition.
Batman didn’t get there in time to beat Freeze to his gun. But when the villain aimed it at him, he was quick enough to kick it out of his hands.
Weaponless, Freeze leaped at him and the two of them began to wrestle on the twirling telescope platform, pitting strength against strength and spirit against spirit.
It was a battle of titans, of men possessed—though by very different demons. Batman’s demon was his hunger for justice, for balance. Freeze’s demon was his need to make the world over in his own frigid image.
“You’ve turned Gotham to ice,” the crime fighter grunted—and socked Freeze in the head with a vicious right hook. “You’ve endangered millions of lives,” he snarled—and smashed Freeze with a devastating left.
“But this,” he rasped, “is where the Ice Age ends.”
Gathering all his strength, the Dark Knight hauled back and delivered a mighty blow, hurling Freeze onto the back of the telescope. Then, before he could recover, Batman turned to the console and began typing out commands.
On the monitor, he could see graphic representations of the satellites flashing green. The word “targeting” strobed in red above them.
According to the clock, it was 11:58.
Two more minutes. Batman typed even faster.
With agonizing slowness, the targeting mirrors overhead opened and began to glow with ambient sunlight. Freeze screamed hideously at the searing touch of the emerging light—
—and plowed into Batman, stunning him, sending him sprawling into the opposite rail. Dazed, Batman looked up in time to see Freeze’s fist. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the telescope barrel.
As he tried to climb off it, the villain kicked him hard in the face. As the telescope pitched, Batman fell backward and rolled down its barrel again. He clawed at it, seeking a handhold.
But this time there wasn’t any. The frame well out of reach, he continued to slide toward the opening and the cityscape of Gotham many stories below.
Stretching his fingers out as far as they would go, Robin took hold of Batgirl’s hand—just as she fired a Bat-grapple from her wrist.
A moment later, Robin’s tether pulled tight, wrenching horribly at his shoulder. But somehow he found the strength to hold fast—both to Batgirl and their lifeline.
The two of them dangled over the frigid city, suspended by a tether thinner than his finger. “I’ve got you,” he told her.
Robin had saved her. Just as Dick had saved Barbara when it looked like she would go over the side of that bridge, back at the motorcycle race.
But then, that’s what he did. It was his job. He saved people.
He was still thinking that when his grapple ripped loose from the melting shelf of ice high above them—and suddenly, they were plummeting just as fast as before. For a moment, Robin thought they’d had it.
Then Batgirl’s grapple hit the metal roof near their heads and held firm, jerking her upward. At the last possible fraction of a second, she reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.
Now it was Batgirl’s tether that pulled tight against her supple strength, her hanging on to it their only chance of survival.
He could see her grimace as she felt his weight drag her down. But she wasn’t letting go. He could see it in her eyes.
“No,” she groaned as they dangled there. “I’ve . . . got . . . you.”
Then, with a mighty effort, she pulled him up to eye level. He grabbed her and held on for dear life, his face inches from hers.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he told her.
Batman was sliding helplessly toward the slot in the observatory dome—the one through which the telescope projected. He could see the lights of Gotham along the river far below.
He wasn’t going to die t
hat way, he told himself. Not tonight. He had too much to do, too many people depending on him.
As Batman slipped out into the night, a frigid wind whipping at him, he pressed his cheek, his gloves, his knees against the barrel of the telescope. Gradually, inch by painful inch, he slowed himself—until it looked like he might have a fighting chance of surviving this.
But the end was looming—literally. Another few feet and he’d go plummeting the way Robin and Batgirl had plummeted. Except with the direction in which the telescope was pointed now, there would be no city beneath him—only the jagged rocks by the river.
Come on, Batman told himself, the wind shrieking all around him. Come on.
And then, miracle of miracles, he stopped himself—less than a foot from the bitter end. He took a breath, let it out.
“Wow,” said a nearby voice, just audible over the howling of the wind. “Batman.”
He turned and saw the two observatory scientists clinging to a targeting groove along the body of the telescope. They looked frazzled but secure enough. And his presence seemed to have had a calming influence.
“I’ve seen you on TV” one of them said. “Something that might have been you, anyway. My friends told me you didn’t exist.”
Batman glanced down the length of the telescope barrel. At the other end, Freeze was working his way back to the control panel. Knowing how little time he had, the crime fighter glanced at the scientists again.
“Can you give me any more height on this thing?” he asked.
One of the scientists reached down and grabbed a red emergency lever. “Going up,” he said.
Then he pulled the lever and the telescope swung straight up, sending Batman soaring through the frigid night toward the stately observatory dome. Flipping in midair, he aimed for the slot made for the telescope . . .
. . . and Freeze, who was visible through the aperture.
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