Hours after Bruce Wayne had coolly exited the Penguin's umbrella shop — bug discreetly planted, suspicions dodged — the Batman returned.
The silence from the transmitter was troubling. Not a pulse, not a ping. Something was off. Sunspots could interfere with transmission, sure. But Bruce Wayne didn't believe in coincidences. And so, under cover of night, cloaked in shadow and intent, he doubled back — not as the curious socialite, but as the Dark Knight.
The Penguin's lair appeared undisturbed when Batman slipped inside through the rooftop ventilation shaft. The alley behind the building was silent, the streets still under Gotham's blanket of midnight hush. But as he landed inside the upper level, the warehouse suddenly sprang to life.
A snap of rigged wires, a rumble of chains, and then — clang! — a heavy net dropped from the rafters, ensnaring him like prey.
"A net trap," Batman growled, struggling. "Crude… but effective."
Below, the Penguin waddled into view, flanked by his ever-loyal henchmen, Hawkeye and Finch.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Bat in the flame!" Penguin cackled. "Toasty welcome, isn't it?"
The floor beneath Batman glowed faintly — a furnace below beginning to heat the steel grate.
"Let me guess," Batman said, twisting against the mesh. "The bug never worked because you found it. You planted a decoy umbrella."
"Very good! And you returned, right on time — like clockwork! You really are predictable, old chum."
The heat intensified. Batman's cowl began to sweat.
Robin, back at the Batcave, leaned over the console, fingers flying. "Alfred! I'm not getting anything from the bug — not even a dead carrier wave."
Alfred, polishing silver nearby, looked up sharply. "Odd indeed. Could be solar interference, but I have a most uncivil feeling about this."
"I'm heading out," Robin said. "If Batman's in trouble, we've got no time."
But Batman was already one step ahead. Hidden in the heel of his boot was a compact butane capsule — enough compressed gas to turn the smallest flicker into a flash.
The Penguin was gloating, monologuing, boasting about his big plan at precisely 6:00 PM. Batman listened, memorized every word, and then, without hesitation, twisted his heel and tossed the capsule through the grate.
Whooom! — a burst of fire surged upward, startling the goons.
"He's loose!" Finch shouted.
Batman burst through the flaming ropes, dropping to the floor with a combat roll and launching into them with methodical strikes. One blow to Finch's chin, a sweeping kick to Hawkeye's knee — and both were down.
The Penguin staggered back, nearly falling over his own umbrella. "Get him! Get him! He's—!"
Batman grabbed the Penguin by the lapels and lifted him onto his toes.
"This is over."
"Ha! Not yet, Bat-brain!"
Click.
The Penguin twisted the umbrella handle. Batman threw him down just in time as a plume of knockout gas burst skyward. He reeled back—but it was too late.
The gas was potent. The world swam sideways.
Batman collapsed.
When he awoke, the warehouse was empty. The Penguin, Finch, and Hawkeye were gone.
So was the bug.
Back at Wayne Manor, Bruce changed clothes in silence.
"Sir," Alfred said softly, pressing a cold cloth to his temple, "I do believe you've been barbequed."
"I let my guard down," Bruce muttered. "But we still have a lead — the umbrella. The colors."
Robin joined him, unfurling the object on the Batcomputer table.
"Green, red, purple. Any of it ring a bell?" Robin asked.
"Could be a gem reference," Batman said. "Emeralds, rubies. The jeweled meteorite at the Gotham Museum?"
Robin pulled up the schematics. "No good. Triple-reinforced glass, pressure-sensitive floor, twenty-four-hour laser grid. Not even a flying penguin could crack that."
Batman turned the umbrella slowly.
"It's almost… pretty," Robin said.
"Like a dawn," Alfred offered absently.
Batman's head snapped up.
"Dawn."
"Sir?"
"Dawn Robbins. The actress. She's in Gotham shooting The Mockingbird. Staying at the Pelican Arms penthouse."
Robin's eyes widened. "Every word is a bird."
"Penguin's planning to kidnap her. And cost the studio thousands. It's extortion — with feathers."
They suited up fast.
The Pelican Arms Hotel gleamed under the city lights as the Dynamic Duo arrived. From a rooftop across the street, they examined the terrace of Dawn Robbins' suite.
"She's vulnerable up there," Batman said, lowering his night-lens binoculars. "That balcony's a landing zone. If Penguin uses his umbrella gear to zipline across…"
"We set a trap."
Inside the suite, Dawn Robbins paced in her silk robe.
"Publicity, scripts, makeup…" she muttered. "I'm nothing but product. Why doesn't anything exciting ever happen?"
Batman and Robin dropped onto her balcony like whispers of shadow.
She turned. "Eek!"
"It's all right, Ms. Robbins," Batman said. "We're here to protect you."
"From what, a wardrobe malfunction?"
Robin leaned in. "Kidnapping. Penguin has you in his sights."
"Really?" she asked, eyes lighting up. "Finally, something interesting!"
Before Batman could respond, a clang echoed from across the rooftops.
"He's coming," Batman said.
From the adjacent building, a black umbrella shot across the gap, connecting to her terrace. A second later, Penguin, Hawkeye, and Finch began ziplining across.
Batman stepped forward.
"Not this time."
But as he reached for his grapnel gun — snap! — his utility belt yanked forward.
"What the—?"
They were being pulled — literally dragged toward the Penguin's line.
"Magnet!" Batman said. "He's using a magnetic pulse keyed to the belts!"
They tried to rip them off, but it was too late. The magnet was too strong.
They slammed against the rooftop like puppets.
Penguin landed in a twirl.
"Checkmate!" he shrieked. "How does it feel to be outgunned, outgimmicked, and outplayed, Batman?"
He scooped up Dawn, who only blinked in surprise.
"Oh my," she murmured. "This is very exciting."
Batman struggled, but his arms wouldn't move.
Robin grunted beside him, gritting his teeth.
"I underestimated him again," Batman said bitterly.
Later, back at Gotham City Police Headquarters…
Commissioner Gordon slammed his fist on the desk. "We had her under protection!"
"And Batman was trapped like a steelhead trout," Chief O'Hara added.
Penguin's ransom note had already arrived: $200,000. No police. Trade at 10 a.m. sharp — Wayne Manor foyer.
Bruce and d*ck had gone "fishing," conveniently unavailable.
Alfred, however, answered the call.
"Master Wayne is away, sir," he said smoothly. "But I would be happy to allow the trade… provided the manor isn't damaged."
Batman, disguised, delivered the suitcase to the Penguin himself — hidden inside one of the Wayne Manor armor suits.
When the exchange was made and Dawn lay peacefully on the couch, the armor came alive.
"Surprise," Batman growled.
Gas erupted — but this time, Penguin's plan backfired. The armor was fake. Dummies.
Batman and Robin swung down from the rafters instead.
"This is your last dance, Penguin."
"No! This was foolproof!"
"Not quite. We bugged your bug. Heard your whole plan. Even your exit to Alaska."
Penguin reached for his umbrella — Batman kicked it aside.
A swift, clean fight. Four birds, one Batcave.
Later, at a Wayne Foundation gala, Dawn Robbins stood near Bruce Wayne, sipping champagne.
"Strangest thing," she said, eyes scanning the room. "I barely saw him… but I can't stop thinking about Batman."
Bruce offered a gentle smile. "Some men leave strong impressions."
She turned away, sighing. "If only I knew his face…"
A flicker of something crossed Bruce's eyes.
He said nothing.
To be continued...