The Brave and the Bold: Black Canary and Zatanna

Decisions

by HarveyKent

Zatanna was on monitor duty in the JLA satellite one quiet evening. There had been no emergencies, nothing that required the League’s attention. The mistress of magic sat in the comfortable swivel chair at the communications console, her hands folded behind her head and her feet up on the console, watching television. She was wearing her stage magician’s outfit; the top hat rested on the console, and the high heeled shoes stood empty beneath it.

A warning light on the console let Zatanna know that the satellite teleportation entry system had been engaged. She watched the readout for a second, until the LCD display read PASSENGER ACKNOWLEDGED – BLACK CANARY. Zatanna then turned her attention back to her television program.

“Evening, Zee,” Black Canary said as she walked into the communication room. “What are you watching?”

“The Wonder Years,” Zatanna said. “You’re older than I am, Dinah, can you possibly explain this fascination with the Sixties? I mean, it wasn’t that great when it was going on, was it?”

“Oh, that’s just nostalgia,” Canary said. “Happens all the time. When most people reach a certain age, they get disgusted with how little they’ve accomplished, so they start yearning for their younger days. In the Forties, they were nostalgic for the Twenties. In the Sixties, it was the Forties. And, by the time the new millennium rolls around, they’ll be yearning for the Eighties.”

The young magician wrinkled her nose. “I can’t imagine anyone ever getting nostalgic for valley girls and Reaganomics.”

“It’ll happen, trust me,” Black Canary said. “Why the stage outfit, anyway? Are you going back to that full time?”

“Oh, no,” Zatanna said, wiggling her toes in their sheath of fishnet-patterned nylon. “I had a show just before my monitor shift; came right from there. These are just my working clothes. What brings you to the satellite?”

“Research,” Canary said, holding something out to her friend. “Take a look at this.”

Zatanna swung her long, lithe legs off the console and to the floor, and reached up to take what Black Canary offered her. It appeared to be a wristwatch, but it was heavier, with a stranger design. “What is it?”

“A weapon used by Lachesis, one of the so-called Secret Sorority of Super-Villainesses,” Black Canary explained.

“Oh, yeah!” Zatanna said. “Shayera told me about that. A bunch of wannabe super-villainesses you two fought, patterned themselves after male villains!”

“Exactly,” Canary said. “They said they bought their weapons from criminal scientists doing work for hire. I want to find out who. If there is a custom-order super-weapon shop out there, we need to shut it down.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Zatanna said, stepping into her shoes.

Zatanna followed Black Canary into the JLA’s forensics lab. “If there are any clues on this watch,” Canary said, “our equipment will find it.”

“The police already checked for fingerprints, didn’t they?” Zatanna asked.

“Of course,” Canary said. “I doubt anyone smart enough to design this would be stupid enough to leave prints, anyway. But crooks like this are usually vain. Maybe he put some kind of trademark on it, something so small or so hidden he never thought anyone else would see it. Or maybe he left some other kind of clue. If there is anything, we’ll find it.” Black Canary put the watch into a small cube-shaped glass receptacle. She closed the door of the box, and manipulated a few control dials. The watch was bombarded by semitransparent light beams from three dozen different angles; data began scrolling across an accompanying computer screen, faster than her eyes could follow.

“So, Dinah,” Zatanna said, while they waited, “what’s new?”

Dinah, sensing the tone of the question, heaved a loud sigh. “Not you too, Zee,” she said. “I expect it from the guys, but not you!”

“Expect what?” Zatanna asked. “I only asked what’s new? You know, read any good books lately, seen any good movies…”

“Answered any questions,” Canary finished. “I know everyone’s dying to know, Zee! Thing of it is, I don’t know the answer myself.” Before Zatanna could respond, a slight chime announced that the scanner was finished. Canary stared at the readout screen, and muttered a curse.

“Nothing,” she growled. “No trademark, no DNA traces, no unique materials, nothing! It’s a phantom.”

“Let me have a try,” Zatanna said, opening the door of the cube.

“You think you can do something?” Canary asked. “I mean, no offense of course, but I thought your powers had been greatly diminished. I thought creating from thin air was beyond you, anymore.”

“It is,” Zatanna acknowledged. “But that’s not what I’ll be doing.” She held the watch in the upturned palms of her hands. “Quite often, objects are left with a psychic imprint of the mind of whoever touched them. The craftsman who created this, probably more so; it’s a child of his brilliance, or he’d see it that way anyway. Let’s see what we can find.” Zatanna held the watch up at eye level, and chanted, “Wohs su eht rekam fo siht!”

The air above the watch shimmered for a moment, like a heat-image. A face slowly coalesced in it, causing Dinah to gape. “I don’t believe it!”

Zatanna smiled. “Recognize him?”

“I think so,” Dinah said. “I’ve seen him before, somewhere! Probably in the JLA files! I studied them a lot when I first migrated from Earth-Two, you know, familiarizing myself with the criminal element of my new home world. Any way you can get that image into the computer banks?”

“I can try,” Zatanna said. “Let’s see now. Egami emoceb atad, nioj eht ALJ selif!” As the women watched, the floating face changed from full color to a lime green outline, then launched itself into the bank of computer machinery lining the wall.

“Whoa! Very Ghostbusters,” Canary commented. “Good job, Zee! Now let’s see if we can get a match.” Black Canary manipulated the computer console, brought up the brand new image Zatanna had added, and ordered the computer to scan for a match. Faces of known criminals whizzed by in a blur, until another chime announced that the search was finished. The computer screen was split in two vertically, showing two views of the same face.

“Bingo!” Black Canary said. “That’s our boy, all right!”

“So who is he?” Zatanna asked, peering over Black Canary’s shoulder.

“His name is Dr. Albert Nathaniel Davis,” Black Canary said, reading the legend on the computer screen. “Let me pull up a history on him.” The computer searched for a second, then a text biography of the criminal came up. “OK, he fought Ollie a couple of times, eleven years ago. Once he worked on his own, forced an innocent man to rob for him using his high-tech inventions. After that he was one of several criminals working for Professor Amos Fortune; that was the case where Ray joined the League. He hasn’t been heard from since; he isn’t even on parole anymore, he’s a completely free man.”

“Been keeping a legitimate profile since his release, I guess,” Zatanna said. “But he definitely made that watch!”

“Clever,” Canary said. “Keeping below the radar of the law, making weapons for other criminals at a tidy profit. I wonder how he takes his fee? A straight up-front cost, or a percentage of his customers’ take?”

“Either way,” Zatanna said, “we have to find him. Any ideas?”

“One,” Canary said, grimly. “I’ve got a lead I’m going to follow.” The blonde-wigged crime fighter strode toward the forensics lab door. “I’ll see you around, Zee.”

“Wait, Dinah!” Zatanna said. “Let me go with you.”

“What?” Canary said, stopping. “Think I can’t handle it myself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zatanna said. “I just want to go along, help out. It’s been awhile since we two worked a case together, you know.”

Canary’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, for just a moment. “Aren’t you on monitor duty?” she asked.

“I’m due to be relieved in ten minutes,” Zatanna said. “If you can hang around that long, we can be off. Come on, what say?”

“Very well,” Canary acquiesced. “Who’s relieving you?”

“Hal,” Zatanna said. “He’s usually very punctual, he ought to be here very soon.”

“Oh, geez, not Hal,” Canary sighed. “Look, why don’t I teleport down ahead of you, and meet you later?”

“What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked. “You don’t want to see Hal?”

“Who doesn’t?” Green Lantern’s voice came from the hallway outside the lab. Before either woman could reply, the powerfully-built man in green and black entered the lab. “Oh! Dinah! Hello. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Hello, Hal,” Dinah said. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, just fine,” Hal said. “How’s Oliver? I haven’t talked to him in a couple of days.”

“Ollie’s fine,” Dinah said.

“Is he?” Hal asked. “That’s good, that’s real good. Just… fine, is he?”

“He’s fine,” Dinah said.

“Hal, Dinah and I are going on a case,” Zatanna said, changing the subject. “Nothing out of the ordinary; you should have a quiet night on monitor duty.”

“A case?” Hal asked. “Need any backup?”

“We’ll let you know if we do,” Zatanna said. “Looks like a two-woman job, though.”

“Well, OK. Take care of yourselves. Dinah, say hi to Ollie for me.”

“I will, Hal,” Canary said, frostily. The two women left the lab.

“Don’t be too hard on Hal,” Zatanna said, as she and Black Canary entered the teleporter tube room.

“How can I not?” Black Canary asked. “Almost all the men on the team have been like this! I’ll answer when I’m ready to answer, don’t they understand that? This is a big decision! It’s not like deciding what to have for lunch!”

“True, but the guys have been waiting for years for Ollie to finally ask you,” Zatanna pointed out. “It’s only natural they’d be a little impatient, now that he finally has.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Black Canary said, punching in the coordinates of the teleporter. “Well, come on, if you’re coming,” she said, striding into the teleporter tube. Zatanna barely had time to catch up with her before the tube hummed to life. In seconds, Black Canary and Zatanna emerged from the tube atop Star Tower in Star City.

“Where are we going?” Zatanna asked.

“To check out a lead,” Canary said. “If Davis has been making custom super-weapons since he got out of prison, its likely he’s had a few other customers than the Secret Sorority girls. And I’ve got a fair idea where we can find one.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” the young man smiled, welcoming Black Canary and Zatanna into his home. “It’s not often I get such charming callers!”

“Oh, I doubt that, Owen,” Black Canary returned the smile, shaking the young man’s hand. “You’re the up and coming young sensation in Star City’s art community. I’m sure you’ve had lovely ladies up here before.”

“Posers and snobs,” Owen scoffed. “Wouldn’t know true art if it bit them on the ankle, well-turned though it be.”

Zatanna marveled at the ultramodern design of the posh apartment. Kidney-shaped coffee table, spherical hanging lamps, colorful abstract paintings. It was like being in Andy Warhol’s nightmare.

“Actually, Owen,” Black Canary said, “we didn’t come to talk to you about art. It’s about your… past endeavors.”

The young man frowned. “You mean Ozone. Well, thanks to your boyfriend’s pull with the D.A. I got probation. I understand he also talked Oliver Queen into getting me the news promotion I needed to make it in the art community. Ozone is behind me, for good and all. I don’t know how I can help you.”

“I understand what drove you to become Ozone, Owen,” Black Canary said. “But where did a struggling young artist get those bizarre spray-can weapons you used?”

“What, that?” Owen asked. “Well, I bought them. I had heard word on the street that some guy was doing super-weapons to order. I asked around, got a contact name. Why?”

“A contact name, you say?” Black Canary asked.

Owen grinned, the penny having dropped. “I get it! You’re after the guy, the weapons maker! Well, I can’t help you much. None of the customers ever see him. All the business is done through a proxy, an agent.”

“And how do we get in touch with this agent?” Black Canary asked.

Owen hesitated. “You didn’t hear this from me, understand.”

“Certainly,” Black Canary said.

***

“Evening, Eric,” Roy Pinto said, as one of his regulars dropped onto a bar stool. “How’s everything?”

“Everything’s everything,” Black Spider said, noncommittally. “My usual, Roy.”

“One grasshopper coming up,” Roy said, and turned to make it.

“Eric, how are you?” the Cavalier asked, sliding onto a stool next to Black Spider. “It’s been too long, far too long! Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“I been around, Morty,” Black Spider said, a bit uneasily. He didn’t know the Cavalier all that well, but there were rumors about him in the super-villain community that made Spider uncomfortable in his presence. “Hey, you heard from Dave lately?”

“Indeed, I have not,” Cavalier said, shaking his head ruefully. “Not since he joined John Mallory’s grand scheme. I had heard that they were captured, but not a word from any of them since. It’s as though the earth had opened up and swallowed them.”

Black Spider nodded, then his head snapped around to the doorway. “Speakin’ of swallowin’,” he said, “take a look at that talent! Wee-oo!”

Two very attractive young women had just entered the Bar Sinister. One had bright red hair, the color of flames, which she wore cut short and spiky, giving the appearance that her head was on fire; she wore a black leather bustier and black leather pants, with stiletto-point high heeled shoes. The other was of Asian descent, with long straight hair the color of ink. She wore a sleeveless hot pink T-shirt with a Chinese character emblazoned in gold on it, very tight black denim jeans, and high-heeled sandals with very thin straps. Every head in the bar turned to gaze at them as they came in, some lustful, others envious.

“I don’t believe this place!” the redhead whispered to the Asian. “Look at all these criminals! There’s Poison Ivy, and the Prankster, and the Riddler! And isn’t that Black Manta over there at the pool table?”

“Cut the tourist chatter,” the Asian hissed. “I’m just as surprised as you, but we’ve got to play it cool.”

“Hey hey, ladies,” a swarthy-looking man said, stepping in front of the women. He was not wearing his costume, but the Asian woman recognized him: Jack, of the Royal Flush Gang. “You’re quite a pair. Why don’t we make it three of a kind?”

“Buzz off,” the Asian snapped, and walked around him.

“Hey!” Jack cried, grabbing her upper arm. “What’s the hurry, pretty lady? Why not be friendlEEEE!” Jack’s banter turned into a scream as the woman flipped him over her head and across the bar. He came down hard right where the wall joined the floor. The Asian woman saw a woman she recognized as Bad Penny give her a thumbs-up and a wide grin.

The two women walked up to the bar. “Can’t two ladies get a drink without being accosted by big dumb jerks?” the redhead asked Roy.

“My apologies, ladies,” Roy said. “I’m afraid he opened up this evening with a pair of Jacks, both of them Daniels. What can I do for you?”

“I’m Crash,” the Asian said, “and this is Burn. We’re looking to have some weapons made. Friend of ours said to come here.”

“Do I know this friend?” Roy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Her name is Bertha,” Burn said. “She went by the name of Mirror Mistress.”

“OK,” Roy said, smiling. “I’ll let Senor Juguete know you’re here. Anything to drink in the meantime?”

“Naw, it dulls the senses,” Crash said.

Roy glanced at Jack, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Can’t argue with that.”

Roy led Crash and Burn down a dimly-lit hallway in the rear of the building, to a small door. “Right in there, ladies,” he said. “Senor Juguete is expecting you.”

“Thanks, handsome,” Crash said, winking at Roy. The former super-villain walked back to the bar, grinning from ear to ear. The women glanced at each other, nodded once, and opened the door. They saw a dark-haired man of apparent Latin descent, seated at a table. He was wearing a bright green suit with yellow pinstripes, and a green Panama hat with a yellow band. He wore lemon-colored kidskin gloves, and shiny green patent leather wing tips. He grinned at the ladies.

“Do come in, ladies, do come in,” he said, beckoning with his hands. “I am Miguel Juguete, business agent for… certain parties. I understand you wish to have some weapons made?”

“That’s right,” Burn said. “I’m looking for something to go with my name, a miniature flame-thrower of some kind.”

“And I’d like something I can break down walls with,” Crash said. “But light and portable.”

“But of course,” Juguete said. “My employers have a very reasonable fee arrangement. Ten thousand dollars, per weapon, up front, plus ten per cent of your criminal profits for the next three calendar years.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Crash said. Burn nodded. “So, when do we arrange pickup? And payment?”

“I will inform my employers of your request,” Juguete said. “Meet me here, one week from tonight. Of course, if it becomes necessary for the Bar Sinister to relocate before then, I will meet you at the new location, which you will obtain from the grapevine.”

“Sure,” Burn agreed.

“Very well then,” Juguete said, rising from his chair. “I bid you good evening, ladies.”

Crash and Burn rose from their seats as well, and each shook Juguete’s hand in turn. They left Juguete’s office, and exited the bar through the rear. They walked a block away from the abandoned storefront that hid the Bar Sinister, turned a corner, and stopped.

“I still can’t get over that place!” Burn said. “It was like a who’s who of super-criminals! I even saw a couple we have on our files as being dead!”

“They got better,” Crash said. “We’ll call Hal, have the place raided, after we get what we came for. Did you plant the bug?”

“I did,” Burn said. “One of Katar’s Thanagarian specials, undetectable by any known Earth means.”

“Then we just cool our heels and wait,” the disguised Black Canary said.

Two hours later, Zatanna, in her disguise as Burn, returned to their stakeout area with a small plastic bag from a nearby convenience store. “You’re in luck, Dinah,” she said. “I found a bottle of Snapple at room temperature.”

“Thanks,” Canary said, taking the bottle. “If I know I’m probably going to use my sonic scream, I don’t like to put anything too hot or too cold down my throat.”

“Singers do that, too,” Zatanna commented, fishing her own hot coffee from the bag. “Still nothing from our friend Juguete, eh?”

“Not a peep!” Canary said, disgusted. “He hasn’t even moved! He’s been sitting in that chair since we left!”

“Maybe there’s something wrong with the bug,” Zatanna offered.

“No, I tested it by turning up the reception,” Canary said. “I could pick up snatches of conversation from the bar. But from Juguete’s office, nothing.”

“Well, not much we can do but sit and wait,” Zatanna said, reclining on a discarded crate. “So… want to talk?’

“What about?” Canary asked, not meeting her friend’s eyes.

“You know what about,” Zatanna said. “I’m not going to pressure you, if you don’t want to talk. But don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

“I know,” Canary sighed. “It’s so frustrating! I mean, I love the guy. I think I do, anyway.”

“You do,” Zatanna said simply.

Canary stared at her. “How can you be so sure?”

“Remember that time I used my magic on myself, to give myself your judo skills?” Zatanna asked. “Stupidly I just phrased the spell so that I would become Black Canary. A side effect was–”

“–that you fell in love with Ollie,” Canary finished, remembering. “And you thought you were me, too.”

“Right,” Zatanna said. “If you didn’t really love him, that feeling wouldn’t have been translated to me.”

“I guess so,” Canary said. “So why am I reluctant now? I mean, for years I’ve been joking with Ollie about it, needling him about proposing. And now that he finally has, I freeze up!”

“Maybe you never really wanted him to,” Zatanna offered. “Maybe you like things the way they are.”

Canary gaped at Zatanna. “That’s crazy! Me, afraid of commitment? I was married to Lance for seventeen years!”

“And it ended tragically,” Zatanna said. “He was killed, stolen from you suddenly.”

“Well, yeah,” Canary admitted.

“Like your dad,” Zatanna continued. “You told me about him once. A police officer, wasn’t he? Killed in the line of duty?”

Canary only nodded.

“So that’s twice in your life that a man you’ve loved and cared about has been violently torn out of your life. Nobody could blame you if you’re skittish about letting it happen a third time. Especially with a guy whose favorite method of dealing with trouble is marching into it head-on.”

Canary sat there, digesting this thought. Then, all of a sudden, she stood up quickly, dropping her half-finished bottle of Snapple. “Good Lord!” she exclaimed.

“What? Have an epiphany?” Zatanna asked, concerned.

“Sort of,” Canary said. “We’ve got to get back to the Bar Sinister!”

“Why?” Zatanna asked, getting quickly to her feet.

“Because I just remembered what ‘Juguete’ means!” The two women took off running.

***

“Well!” Roy grinned. “Hadn’t expected to see you back here so soon! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey there, handsome,” Black Canary, still wearing the form of Crash, purred at the bartender. “I need to speak to Senor Juguete again. He still around?’

“He is,” Roy said. “What’s the matter? Change your mind?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Canary said. “I wanted to add something to our order, that’s all.”

“Ah, more business!” Roy brightened. “He’ll like that. Hang tight, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks, sugar,” Canary flirted. She watched Roy turn away from the bar.

“Well, hello!” a voice at her elbow said. She turned to behold the petite frame of the woman known as Bad Penny.

“Hi,” Canary said. “Don’t think I know you.” She had to play it careful; it might be suspicious to recognize this woman.

“The name’s Penny, Bad Penny,” the criminal said. “I caught your act before. That was beautiful, the way you tossed Jack around!”

“Creep got on my nerves,” Canary scoffed.

“I hear you, sister,” Penny said. “Listen, if you’re not otherwise occupied, why don’t you let me buy you a drink? Or something to eat? Anything you’d like.” The woman lowered her dark glasses and peered at Canary over them. “And I do mean, anything.”

Canary was startled; she opened and closed her mouth, searching for a reply.

“Senor Juguete will see you now,” Roy said from behind the bar, thankfully breaking the silence.

“Um, some other time,” Canary stammered.

“I hear you,” Penny said, nodding. And she did. She could tell Canary wasn’t interested. She shrugged, and went back to the table where Poison Ivy was nursing a mint julep.

“So wonderful to see you again so soon, Miss Crash!” Senor Juguete smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought of something else I’d like,” Canary said. “A defensive weapon, maybe some kind of personal force field. Is that possible?”

“For my employers, Miss Crash, anything is possible!” Juguete smiled. “I will add it to your order. It will be an additional ten thousand dollars up front, you understand.”

“And well worth it, from what Bertha told me,” Canary said.

“Most assuredly,” Juguete said, and rose to shake Canary’s hand. The disguised Justice Leaguer left his small office, and left the bar via the back entrance, where the still-disguised Zatanna waited for her.

“Did you get it?” Canary asked.

“I got it,” Zatanna confirmed. “Let’s go!”

Not having taken the time to shed their disguises, Canary and Zatanna still wore the forms of Crash and Burn as they roared down the street on Canary’s motorcycle. Zatanna manipulated the Thanagarian listening device as they traveled.

“You want to take a left up here,” Zatanna said, watching the readout on the device.

“You’re sure you caught the signal?” Canary asked, making the turn.

“I’m sure,” Zatanna assured. “Katar showed me how to jury-rig this bug to track radio waves. When you got Juguete ‘talking’ again I caught the signal loud and clear. We’ll follow the beam right back to its source.”

“I still can hardly believe it myself,” Canary said, shaking her head. “He looked so real, so lifelike! When I went back in again, I thought sure I was mistaken.”

“But you weren’t,” Zatanna said. “The radio waves confirm that. Plus I used my magic to scan the office. The only life force in the room was yours. It’s lucky you remembered that ‘juguete’ is Spanish for ‘toy’, or we might never have tumbled to the fact that he’s a robot.”

“Davis and his friends must be real geniuses,” Canary commented.

“Friends?” Zatanna asked.

“I think so,” Canary said. “Contessa Cold said they bought their weapons from ‘a group of criminal scientists’. Juguete himself–itself–said ‘employers’. Davis must be part of a group.”

“A guild of super-weaponsmiths,” Zatanna said. “Sounds bizarre. Like a bad episode of ‘Get Smart’, you know, from the last season? When NBC had canceled it but CBS picked it up?”

“Probably why no one’s found out about it yet,” Canary said. “Too outlandish to be true. Even if we had heard of it before this, we might not have believed it.”

“That’s true,” Zatanna said. “I wonder how long it’s been going on.” Then, more urgently, “Stop the bike! This is it!”

Canary screeched the bike to a halt in front of a small, darkened store. “Here? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Zatanna said.

***

“That was odd,” Dr. Davis said, turning away from the android control console. “Two visits in one evening.”

“You don’t think they suspected that our ‘agent’ is a mechanical man, do you?” Horace Kates asked.

“No, no,” Davis said in a dismissive manner. “Mencken knew how to build them, and no mistake. He made the most lifelike androids I’ve ever seen.” The scientist sighed ruefully. “Our organization lost a valuable member, when Luthor tricked him into that ‘power pirate’ scheme. I don’t see why the rest of you can’t content yourselves with getting rich from work for hire. Why you have to go out every so often and try another grand scheme, and get thrown in jail by the super-heroes.”

“Don’t you miss the adventure, Albert?” Kates asked. “The thrill of the chase? The frisson of excitement?’

“The repeated blows to the head, the rough denim coveralls, the prison food?” Davis asked. “No, thank you. I’ve had enough of that to last the rest of my life. You should have, too. It’s not that long ago I had to break you out of that Coast Guard detention facility where Aquaman and Green Arrow dumped you.”

“Speaking of that,” Kates said, “shouldn’t we be seeing to Winslow’s escape? He’s been in jail five months now.”

“Let him rot awhile longer,” Davis frowned. “I warned him about that ridiculous Christmas caper of his! I warned him! Serves him right if he spends the next couple of holidays in Fiddler’s Hotel.”

Kates looked puzzled. “Fiddler’s Hotel?”

“It’s a joke the Riddler told me once,” Davis explained. “Fiddler’s Hotel is another name for prison.”

“I don’t get it,” Kates said.

“Because it’s such a vile inn,” Davis said.

“Oh,” Kates said, thinking about it. Then he shook his head. “Not very funny. Anyway, I know you want to teach Win a lesson, but remember we’ve got that big order from California to fill. We’ll need every hand, for that. And since Larvan and Mencken were killed, it’s just the three of us.”

“Hm, you’re right,” Davis admitted. “I wonder if it’s time to bring someone else into the organization? Maybe that Morrow fellow—”

Just then, a slight but insistent buzzing noise interrupted the conversation.

“The alarm!” Kates exclaimed.

“Someone’s in the shop upstairs!” Davis said. “Can’t be a customer, the store is closed for the night.”

“Maybe it’s a conventional burglar.”

“Maybe,” Davis said, eyes narrowing. “Or maybe I was too hasty in my praise of Mencken’s work, God rest his soul. If any.”

***

“‘The Days of Knights’,” Zatanna read from the store sign. “Sounds chivalrous.”

“It’s a gaming store,” Black Canary said derisively. “They sell dice and lead figurines and other goofy stuff to guys who play Dungeons and Dragons and similar.”

“Dungeons and Dragons? That’s still around?” Zatanna asked.

“It’s like a drug with some people,” Canary said. The two women were still in their Crash and Burn disguises as they approached the door of the darkened shop. “You’re absolutely sure this is where the robot signal came from?”

“If Katar’s technology can be trusted, which we do every time we teleport,” Zatanna said, “yes.”

Canary tried the doorknob. “Locked, predictably,” she said. “Zee?”

Zatanna pointed a long fingernail, lacquered fire-engine red, at the doorknob. “Nepo skcol, reveohw skconk.”

“How Shakespearean,” Canary commented, as the lock clicked open. The disguised heroine pushed the door open; a tiny bell tinkled at the top of the door jamb. The store was dark and deserted. Shelves were full of tiny metal figurines depicting knights in armor, wizards in long flowing robes, huge hulking ogres, and other such characters. Taller versions of these beings were represented in carved sandstone statuettes, each about a foot tall. Dice of metal, plastic, wood, and other assorted materials, of varying sizes from the standard cubes to multi-sided geometric shapes Zatanna had never seen before, were also on display.

“Weird,” Zatanna said, taking in the decor. “I never knew places like this existed!” Zee glanced at the cash register behind the counter by the front door, and giggled. “Look at that.”

Canary glanced where her friend pointed. On the front of the counter was a small poster in lurid day-glo letters on a black background. It read, DO NOT MEDDLE IN THE AFFAIRS OF DRAGONS, FOR YOU ARE CRUNCHY AND GOOD WITH KETCHUP.

“Juvenile,” Canary frowned.

Somewhere below street level of the shop, two pairs of eyes watched this scene unfold on a closed-circuit television screen.

“Interesting,” Kates said. “Our two customers from this evening!”

“Two shills for the cops, more like,” Dr. Davis scowled. “Or maybe even the Justice League! Well, they won’t live to tell anybody about us!” Davis’ finger moved forward to push a small lever.

“This shop does have strange decor,” Canary commented, observing a fake tree set against one corner. A life-size mannequin arrayed in flowing green robes and laurel leaves, presumably an elemental spirit or wood-nymph, stood under the tree. “But we’re not getting closer to finding Davis and his– OH!”

Black Canary’s admonition turned to a start of surprise as two limbs of the false tree suddenly reached out and grabbed her.

“Canary!” Zatanna cried, watching her friend hauled up into the fake tree. She moved to help, but leapt backward just in time. A foot-high statuette of a wizard in long white robes, conical hat, and flowing white beard suddenly pointed its long, gnarled staff at her, and jet of flame shot from the staff at her.

“Well, that should erase any doubt we’re in the right place,” Zatanna said. She pointed at the statuette and cried, “Erif emusnoc draziw!” The flame jet turned back upon its wielder, and the statuette melted into a slag of plastic and metal.

“I should say so,” Canary said, delivering a precise karate blow that snapped off the false tree limb holding her ankle. She then delivered a double kick to the “tree” that freed her completely.

“No point in maintaining our pretense, after that,” Zatanna said. “Sesiugsid eb enog!” In a shimmering of light, the forms of Crash and Burn vanished, to be replaced by those of–

“Black Canary and Zatanna!” Davis cried. “It’s worse than I thought! Those two weren’t shills, they were the Justice League in disguise!”

“That means this base has been compromised, irreparably,” Kates said. “I think we need to cut our losses!”

Davis hesitated a moment, then nodded. His finger moved to a red plastic button marked DESTRUCT.

“That’s better,” Black Canary said, as her Crash disguise faded. “I was beginning to develop a split personality!”

“I’m sure we’re being watched,” Zatanna said. “Now Davis and whatever friends he has with him know they’re up against the JLA!”

“So we’d better find them,” Canary said. “Any thoughts?”

“Usually find rats in the basement,” Zatanna said. She bent down toward the floor, and spread her hands wide. “Roolf trap, laever ruo seof!”

At the Mistress of Magic’s command, the floor opened like the petals of a flower. The super-heroines beheld two men bent over a computer console. One of them turned his head to gape at them.

“Albert!” Kates cried. “They’ve found us!”

“They’ve found us too late!” Kates declared. His finger stabbed forward.

“NO!” Black Canary cried. “Don’t–”

Before the blonde-wigged heroine could utter another syllable, the world around her exploded in a fury of noise and flame. On the street outside, thankfully deserted at this hour, the building disintegrated in a loud roar. Windows shattered all up and down the street, and debris rained down three blocks in each direction. In seconds, the Days of Knights was a charred, smoking ruin.

“You OK, Canary?” Zatanna asked.

“Yeah,” Canary said, a little dazed. Her eyes were wide, as with shock. “Just— a little shaken up. Wow!” She stared at the carnage around them. If Zee had been an instant slower–!

Black Canary, Zatanna, Davis, and Kates were safe inside a shimmering sphere of transparent energy. Zatanna had uttered the spell that erected the bubble just in time. They had watched the store and the base beneath it explode from complete safety within.

“Erehps fo ytefas etapissid,” Zatanna said. The energy bubble shimmered and vanished, leaving the heroines and their prisoners in open air that stank of burned wood and melted plastic. “That sure was a desperate act, these two blowing up their headquarters while still inside!”

“Guess they’d of rather died than go back to jail,” Canary said, shaking off the last of her daze. “Well, that’s just their tough luck!”

Kates and Davis glanced at each other, then burst out laughing. Zatanna raised her eyebrow.

“Care to let us in on the joke, boys?” she asked.

“You two bimbos!” Davis sneered. Canary moved forward, but Zatanna’s hand on her arm stopped her. “You saw our little toy, Senor Juguete. A completely lifelike android! So what makes you think we’d take the risk of being here ourselves?” And with that, the two villains collapsed, like marionettes with clipped strings. Black Canary and Zatanna gaped at them.

“Robots!” Zatanna gasped. “Robots, like Juguete! They ran this headquarters by remote control!”

“We’ll never track them with the signal-finder now,” Canary muttered in disgust. “They’ve cut the signal. They could be anywhere!”

“But we know about them, now,” Zatanna said. “We know who they are, and what they’re up to. You can bet there’ll be a next time.”

“True,” Canary said. She stared at the wreckage around her, then looked back at her friend. “Zee, mind calling Hal yourself? About the raid on the bar, I mean.”

“Sure, Dinah,” Zatanna said. “Why? Got something else to do?”

“Yeah,” Canary grinned. “I have to see a man about a question.”

Zatanna returned the grin. “You do that, Dinah. And tell him I said ‘Congratulations’.”