Batman 4 - Batman & Robin (26 page)

Freeze smashed open the door to the observatory. Bane was right behind him, a satchel in his hand.

Two men turned to look down at them from the tower platform, eyes wide with apprehension. Scientists, from the look of them. Having been one, Freeze knew the type. No doubt, they had been cooing over their prize telescope amid the debris from its dedication party, congratulating themselves on their good fortune.

Which was about to end.

“Hi,” said Freeze. “Sorry about the door.” He looked around, feigning interest. “Am I too late for the party?”

According to plan, Bane began pulling charges from his satchel and setting them around the room.

One of the scientists turned to the other and jerked a thumb in Freeze’s direction. “Who’s
this
nutball?”

Freeze took out his gun and fired a cryonic blast at the man, turning him to ice. He froze in mid-scream.

“That’s
Mr.
Nutball to you,” the villain told him. He tilted his head appraisingly. “You’d make a good bookend, but you’re only half a set.” He turned to the other scientist. “You. Go like
this.”

Freeze pantomimed the first scientist’s frozen expression of terror for the benefit of the second one. Too frightened to resist, the man imitated Freeze’s movements.

“No,” said the villain. “Move your hands up. Higher . . . stop. Now a hint more fear. Excellent.”

Satisfied, Freeze fired another cryonic blast, freezing the second scientist in the same position as the first one. “A matched pair,” he said. “Sometimes I exceed even my wildest expectations.”

That done, he raised his eyes to the mighty telescope and smiled. It would do the job nicely.
More
than nicely. Freeze was reminded of the inmate’s remark back in Arkham.

He looked at Bane. “If revenge is a dish best served cold, then put on your Sunday finest, my friend. It’s time for a feast.”

Barbara descended into the Batcave, eyes wide with awe. It was dark, dormant. She could hear a distant hiss and flitter of movement, echoing from wall to wall, but no hint of another human being.

Abruptly, the automatic activation sequence engaged. Ambient lights blinked on. Great computers flickered to life.

At the other side of the cavern, a giant pedestal began to rise in a cloud of steam. It was the Batmobile, she realized. It had to be.

Skin crawling, throat dry, she crossed to the main computer console. Touched it almost reverently. And was startled to see her uncle’s face appear on the central monitor.

“Uncle . . . Alfred?” she stammered.

Her uncle’s image smiled. “In spirit only, I’m afraid.”

Barbara realized then what was going on. It was a computer program, designed to somehow simulate her uncle’s personality—and perhaps his accumulated knowledge as well.

She glanced at the flanking monitors. The one on the left showed her a signal in the cloudy night sky.
Like the Bat-Signal,
she thought,
but with some significant differences.

“The Robin signal,” Barbara realized.

“So it would seem,” the image of her uncle confirmed.

Then she turned to the flanking monitor on her right. There were actually two images there, both of them revolving slowly. One was a woman, no one she knew. The other fit the description of Poison Ivy.

The mystery woman who had appeared at the Flower Ball. And who was believed to have helped Mr. Freeze spring himself from Arkham Asylum.

One look at her told Barbara the woman was dangerous—in a way Batman and Robin might not be prepared for. She glanced at the Robin signal again, then turned back to the picture of Ivy.

Dangerous indeed. She didn’t know all the details—but then, she didn’t have to. “The boys need help,” she murmured.

Alfred’s computer image smiled at her in a decidedly conspiratorial way—as if it had come to that conclusion itself some time ago. “Your mother would be proud,” it told her.

As Barbara watched, the images on the flanking screens changed, yielding to identical sets of costume schematics. Turning three-dimensional, the schematics began to turn.

“Forgive my being personal,” Alfred’s image said, “but I must know your measurements, my dear.”

“My . . . measurements?” she repeated. “Whatever for?”

And then, all at once, she realized what her uncle’s program was up to.

As Robin traced the Bird-Signal to its source, he screeched around a corner and turned onto Blossom Street, in what had once been Gotham City’s thriving theater district.

Now the street was dark, most of the businesses boarded up and abandoned. Except for one place, halfway down the block. It didn’t seem to be a business, but it was certainly teeming with life.

The
vegetable
variety, Robin mused.

The façade of the building was completely overgrown with vines and creepers and exotic blossoms. As he rode closer, he saw that it had been a Turkish bathhouse at one time. Now it was something else—a jungle, lush, inviting, and mysterious.
Not unlike Ivy herself,
he reflected.

A giant red symbol of a bird was chained to the door. There was a spotlight gleaming behind it, spearing the underside of the clouds with what looked like a bloody wound.

Coasting to a halt, Robin got off his bike and kicked its stand out. As he approached the entrance—really nothing more than an opening in the overgrowth—he saw the Bird-Signal go out.

Obviously, it was no longer needed. He was here, wasn’t he?

With more curiosity than caution, he entered the building. It was lush and mysterious inside, too. Giant floral fans spun dangling from the ceiling. Leaf curtains undulated in the breeze created by his entrance. Full, ripe fruits seemed ready to burst with the promise of pleasure.

And Poison Ivy lounged on a giant bed of buds in the middle of it all, clearly the mistress of this floral domain. In recognition of Robin’s appearance, she touched the buds on which she rested. They blossomed instantly, transforming themselves into a riot of color.

Robin smiled. He felt good in Ivy’s presence, intoxicated with her beauty. He came a little closer.

“Is your thumb the only part of you that’s green?” he asked.

The green woman smiled back at him. “You’ll just have to find out.” She extended her hand to him.

Stepping out of the shadows, he took it.

At Gotham Tower, perched alongside the scientists on a platform overlooking the observatory floor, Freeze began the intricate process of attaching his powerful icing engine to the massive telescope.

At the same time, Bane laid his explosive charges on the floor below. Unlike Freeze’s task, it didn’t take long. When he was done, he climbed up the tower to stand by Freeze.

Even when he was a simple molecular biologist, Freeze had hated to have people hover over him as he worked. Silent people, especially. Becoming a creature of the cold hadn’t changed him in that respect.

He looked up at Bane. “Big family?”

Bane just stared at him through the slits in his mask.

“Like pets?”

Still no answer. Just that stare.

“Don’t talk much, do you?”

Bane remained silent. As always.

Just as well,
thought Freeze. The fellow didn’t look like he’d have a whole lot to say.

Turning back to his work, the villain completed his preparations and engaged the engine. Suddenly, the entire platform was washed in a blue wave of freezing cryonic energy.

Bane leaped down to avoid it. But Freeze basked in it.

At least for a while. Then, with a wink at the scientists, he climbed down and looked out one of the windows in the place.

From his vantage point, he watched a wave of blue-white ice spread from the telescope to the outside of the building, and then descend along its flanks. Before long, the wave had encased the edifice, turning it into an icy fortress. But it wasn’t done there.

The ice wave spread even farther, whitening the banks of the Gotham River, turning them into snow cliffs. And after that, the river itself came under its influence. In a matter of seconds, it had frozen solid.

Freeze considered the fruits of his labor and nodded approvingly. It was just as he’d pictured it.

In the midst of her private jungle, Poison Ivy sat on her bed of many-colored buds and drew Robin down beside her, until their faces were only a few small inches apart.

“I’m glad you came,” she murmured. “I can’t breathe without you.”

“I want us to be together,” the boy said earnestly, even. passionately. “But I need to know you’re serious about turning over a new leaf.”

“You have my word,” she told him.

“I need a sign.”

“How about dangerous curves?” she suggested.

“A sign of
trust,”
he said. “Tell me your plan.”

Ivy smiled. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me and I’ll kiss you,” Robin whispered.

What could it hurt?
she thought. He wasn’t going to live to tell about it anyway. “Freeze has turned the new telescope into a freezing gun. He’s going to turn Gotham City into an ice cube.”

Robin recoiled. “I’ve got to stop him.”

Ivy pulled him back. “One kiss, my love. For luck.”

The boy hesitated for a moment—but only for a moment. Then he gave in to her charms.

They kissed, eagerly and irrevocably.

Then Ivy withdrew and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “Bad luck, I’m afraid. It’s time to die, little bird.”

Robin looked at her, obviously as confused as a little bird could be. “What do you mean?”

“You should have heeded your pointy-eared pal,” she told him. “These lips of mine can be murder.”

Understanding began to dawn on his flawless, young face. “Then . . . you never loved me?” he asked, with almost childish innocence.

“Loved you?” she echoed, making it sound like the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard of. “I
loathe
you. I loathe your bipedal arrogance, your so-called animal superiority. My only joy is knowing that even now my poison kiss is sucking the life from your apelike face.”

“I’ll resist saying I told you so,” said someone in the shadows—someone Ivy hadn’t noticed until now. The hairs rose on the back of her neck as she saw Batman move into the light.

“You’re too late,” she spat. “Say bye-bye, Birdie.”