- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
All characters are copyright of DC Comics. I derive no monetary gain from their use.

Coherence hesitantly crept back into Nightwing’s mind and his eyes fluttered open with a bit of effort. Above, a pair of huge green eyes, each bigger than his head, was fixed directly upon him.

 

            “Ahh! Geez! Still not used to that…” Panic subsided when he remembered his situation but Barbara flinched at his reaction.

 

            “Dick, I am sooooo sorry,” she insisted. “I don’t know what came over me.”

 

            “It’s all right, Babs,” Nightwing said. “No harm done.”

 

            “No, it isn’t all right. I almost swallowed you alive! Like a damn oyster! This whole situation’s completely insane!”

 

            The miniature hero walked over to her hand and tried to stroke her index finger reassuringly. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. Really. I’m still here, aren’t I? Besides, you and I know from insanity. Comes with the union suits and the flashy codenames.”

 

            Barbara would have none of this. “It was irresponsible of me. You could have died. Can you…can you forgive me?”

 

            “Nothing to forgive, babe. Now how about a lift so I can stop shouting?”

 

            Oracle turned her hand over and let the tiny man climb aboard. Gently, she lifted him to eye level, still looking at him with a remorseful expression.

 

            Nightwing leaned casually against her thumb and regarded this vast landscape of a woman that had almost consumed him. Truth be told, he was still a little shaken but he knew he’d caused Barbara enough heartache already. “So how long was I out?”

 

            “Most of the day,” she answered. “I was worried I’d killed you.”

 

            “Nah, I probably just pushed myself a little too hard yesterday. I needed the rest. Did you know Dr. Death hit S.T.A.R. Labs last night?”

 

            “What, again?” Barbara asked. “That’s the fifth time this year!”

 

            “Tell me about it. I told the science guys they should start charging him rent.”

 

            This elicited a slight giggle from the giantess and Nightwing smiled up at her. “There’s my girl. See, we can handle this. Just let me admire that knockout mouth of yours from this side of the lips from now on.”

 

            Barbara swooped in and gave his little head a quick peck. “Deal.”

 

            Nightwing sat down, Indian style, in the center of her palm. “So where do we go from here?”

 

            “The girls couldn’t locate the Atom,” Barbara said.

 

            Nightwing sighed. “Great. Big brain speed dial it is, then. Who do we try first?”

 

            “Dick, we need to call Bruce. He has a right to know what’s going on.”

 

            Nightwing sighed again. An awkward silence passed. “….All right. Call him.”

 

            Placing the tiny man on her shoulder, Barbara picked up a headset and adjusted its settings. “Batman, this is Oracle. Please respond.” Dead air crackled through the earpiece.

 

            “Oracle to Batman. Over.”

 

            “Maybe he’s on a case,” Nightwing suggested. “He may have gone radio-silent.”

 

            “I’ll try the Cave,” Barbara said. She picked up her laptop and set it on her lap, opening the satellite uplink to the Batcave. Within moments, the kindly face of Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred Pennyworth, appeared on the screen. Beside him stood Cassandra Cain, the young runaway who’d been entrusted with the mantle of Batgirl. In embarrassment, Nightwing quickly hid himself behind the scarlet strands of Oracle’s hair.

 

            “Build to it slowly, Babs,” he whispered. “This will probably be a bit of a shock.”

 

            “Er, hello, Miss Barbara,” Alfred said, his genial demeanor attempting to disguise agitation. “What a pleasant surprise. I only wish your correspondence came under better circumstances.”

 

            “Why, Alfred?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

 

            “A most alarming turn of events,” the unflappable old gentleman answered. “The Manor had an unexpected and most assuredly unwelcome guest earlier this evening. One Prof. Strange.”

           

“Oh no…” Barbara muttered.

 

            “It’s wholly beyond my abilities to describe,” Alfred continued. “Miss Cassandra, perhaps a visual aid?”

 

            The pretty Asian girl slowly lifted a hand to the screen, revealing the minute form of Tim Drake (Dick’s successor as Robin) sitting in her palm.

 

            “Hi, Barbara,” he squeaked sadly.

 

            Nightwing parted the long red hair like a curtain and waved to the screen. “Looks like we’re a matched set, Tim.”

 

            “Whoa!” the tiny Robin chirped.

 

            “My word!” cried Alfred.

 

            “Strange has been a busy little beaver, hasn’t he?” Barbara said. “Please tell me he didn’t get Batman too.”

 

            “Well, that’s the rub, my dear,” Alfred declared. “I’m afraid Master Bruce is not at home. He was out of here like a shot pursuing that ruffian, Strange. The villain turned tail when Miss Cassandra disarmed him.”

 

            “She got the shrink ray?” Barbara asked, excitedly.

 

            “No,” Batgirl said. “It broke.”

 

            “I’m afraid it shattered in the scuffle,” said Alfred.

 

            “Well, at least Batman didn’t get shrunk,” Barbara reasoned.

 

            Alfred looked more concerned than ever. “Ah…that remains to be seen, Miss. Those dratted beams were firing everywhere towards the end. The silver closet will never be the same, I fear. But more importantly, Cassandra insists she noticed a change in the Master.”

 

            Though the young girl struggled with language, Cassandra’s unique training allowed her to read body language and study those around her intuitively. Barbara’s heart sank. “What’d you see, Cass?”

 

            “Different,” insisted Batgirl. “Smaller.”

 

            “Master Tim’s transformation was instantaneous,” Alfred added. “But Master Bruce may be slowly dwindling as we speak. We’ve been trying to reach him via radio.”

 

            “Us too,” said Barbara.

 

            The proper English gentleman rubbed his chin. “Oh dear. This is a conundrum. I wonder where he could—”

 

            Just then, a police scanner in the background squawked to life, sounding out its doleful news. “All units, hostage situation at the Gotham Horticultural Society. Suspects believed to be Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.”

 

            “Harley and Ivy too?” Barbara said. “What is this, a full moon?”

 

            “If I know Batman,” Nightwing called to the screen. “That’s where he’ll be.”

 

            “You’re probably right,” agreed Barbara, rubbing her temples wearily.

 

            “Eh? What’s that, Master Dick?” Alfred said, leaning closer to the speakers to hear the tiny man’s voice. “You think he’s there? Surely not. Not in his condition. What do you think, Miss Cassandra?”

 

            The roar of a motorcycle was his only answer. Batgirl was gone, already in hot pursuit…and the miniaturized Robin with her!

 

* * * *

 

            The members of the Gotham City Horticultural Society sat nervously in their meeting hall, trussed up in tendril-like vines and brambles. Before them stood a tall, voluptuous redhead in a green, leaf-covered leotard. With a wave of her hand, Poison Ivy caused the vines to tighten around her prisoners, holding them fast to the spot.

 

            Only the heavy-set, balding Society president seemed unconcerned. “Nice to see you again, Miss Ivy.”

 

            The deadly villainess paused. “Uh…likewise, Herbert.” Much as she didn’t want to admit it, Poison Ivy had indeed formed something of an awkward rapport with this man. After all, this was hardly the first time she’d held the Horticultural Society hostage. Such was the peril of being a theme villain with a penchant for plants—eventually you run out of viable targets.

 

            “So what is it this time?” Herbert inquired curiously.

 

            “Just after some rare seedlings and pods from South America and the Philippines,” she replied.

 

            Herbert nodded. “Doing a little cross-breeding?”

           

“Yes,” said Ivy. “I’ve been working on a new species. Some kind of hybrid mutant to guard my secret lair. You know. The usual.”

 

            “Right, right. Well, best of luck with that.”

 

            Behind them, a slender woman in a red and black jester’s uniform came bounding into the room carting two large sacks.

 

            “Hey, Red!” came Harley Quinn’s distinctive high-pitched squeal. “Got your seed-thingies!”

 

            “Thanks, Harley,” Ivy answered. “Now let’s get out of here before any unwanted company arrives.”

 

            As if on cue, a small, dark shape descended from the ceiling and began spiraling about Harley’s body. In its wake, it left a thick cord that clung tightly to the clown-girl’s curvy form, tangling her up completely. As she tried to wriggle free, Harley lost her balance and tumbled forward, landing face-first on the floor with a crash.

 

            “Yipe!”

 

            The lady clown blinked and shook her head slightly, trying recover from the fall. She wondered if she had hit her head harder than she thought. That almost looked like a Ken doll-sized Batman standing before her face.

 

            “Having fun, ladies?” it snarled.

 

            “I don’t believe it,” Ivy said, staring down at the tiny figure in incredulous shock. She reached out to touch this apparition and was stung by a hail of batarangs the size of rice grains. The miniature Batman darted into the shadows.

 

            Poison Ivy quickly rushed to Harley’s side and began to loosen her bonds. “Come on, Harl, help me catch it!”

 

            “Holy smokes, Red, what is it?!”

 

            “I…I think it’s Batman,” Ivy stated.

 

            Harley closed one eye and looked at her friend bewildered. “Batman? But isn’t he…y’know, taller?”

 

            The two women began hurrying about the room, searching for the bizarre human doll. Furniture was flung this way and that as their quarry continued to elude them.

 

            “Are you sure it’s Batman?” asked Harley. “Maybe it’s someone new. This town’s crawling with heroes. Maybe this is, um…a Bat-Mite or something.”

           

“Ask questions later, just catch it!”

 

            As the creature came into view once more, the villainesses dove onto their stomachs, trying to tackle it and missing by inches. The Bat-doll squirmed through their slender fingers, tossing tiny, explosive smoke pellets directly at their faces. Harley and Ivy began to cough and hack uncontrollably as their victim scurried away once more.

 

            At last, the agile Harley launched herself into a flying cartwheel and careened over the small figure below. She landed nimbly in his path, blocking his progress with a frilly boot. She dove down to snatch him up greedily in her hand.

 

            “Red! Red!! I got ‘im!”

 

            The little Batman struggled in Harley’s grip but the giant girl was too strong for him. She gave him a quick squeeze to ensure his obedience and marched proudly over to her partner.

 

            “Ivy, look at him! He’s so small! Can we keep him?”

 

            Poison Ivy examined the stoic face of Harley’s captive, recognizing that unmistakable scowl. “Keep him? Harley, this is Batman. Our mortal enemy, the constant thorn in our sides. You tried to shoot him with a bazooka last year.”

 

            “But he wasn’t all cute and little then!” Harley protested, nuzzling the Dark Knight with her nose.

 

            Ivy looked at the helpless figure trying to free himself from Harley’s fist. By all rights, she knew they ought to crush him then while they had the chance, rid Gotham of its caped avenger once and for all. But seeing their foe this size did present some…interesting possibilities.

 

            “Okay, Harl. We can keep him.”

You must login (register) to review.