she’d stopped paying attention to it.
In the video, Victor Fries put his arms around his wife. “Beautiful,” he agreed. “But not half as beautiful as you are.”
What’s more, he still thought that. Still believed it with all the soul he had left. Even in her frozen state, Nora was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
“ ’Scuse me, Chief.”
Freeze turned and saw Frosty standing behind him. As usual, his aide looked tentative, apologetic.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Frosty, “but I got something here you might want to see.”
He held out a newspaper clipping.
Without a word, Freeze lifted his gun and fired. In a flash, Frosty had frozen solid, still grasping the clipping.
“I hate it when people talk during the movie,” he muttered.
Then he turned back to the video screen. He and Nora were on a sailboat now. A white sailboat on a painfully blue sea. The wind was in her hair and she was laughing, and he could see the snowflake pendant sparkle in the hollow at the base of her throat.
His lip began to quiver ever so slightly. It wasn’t fair, he told himself. It wasn’t fair at all. For someone so lovely and full of energy to be stricken with such a disease . . .
Suddenly, Freeze couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting his cryo-gun, he aimed it at the screen and fired. The sailing trip exploded into a hundred flying shards of light.
He whispered to the smoking, sparking ruin of the monitor. “One more diamond, my love. One more.”
Freeze got up and began to walk away. Then he noticed the newspaper clipping in Frosty’s frozen hand. Breaking the paper off, he read it.
It said Bruce Wayne, the filthy-rich philanthropist, was donating a diamond to the Flower Ball that evening. Nodding, Freeze crumpled the paper in his gloved hand.
A diamond, he thought. How convenient. He could almost taste his wife’s lips again beneath his own.
Inside the Gotham Botanical Gardens, an immense glass greenhouse set atop the roof of a mighty skyscraper, a hanging banner that read GOTHAM CHARITY FLOWER BALL blotted out the stars overhead. A giant beast mask covered the entrance to the place, so every guest who entered had to do so through the beast’s mouth.
Drummers were pounding on conga drums, and all the guests were dressed as flowers—all except two, that is. And those two were dressed as gorillas who romped and cavorted about the room as if they were real.
But the guests weren’t the only ones in disguise, Batman reflected. He himself was dressed as an employee of the gardens in a loose, brown jumpsuit. The same for Robin. And each was wearing a disguise that would have stood up even to the closest scrutiny, thanks to Alfred’s well-earned cunning at theatrical makeup.
As a publicity ploy, the Flower Ball had invited Batman and Robin to attend the party through an ad in the Gotham Gazette. But of course, they hadn’t responded to the invitation.
Batman didn’t like to show himself in public places, preferring to remain a creature of uncertain reality—an urban legend of sorts. If he was never pinned down, never defined, that legend could continue to grow. It could insinuate itself into the dark heart of the city.
So when he confronted a bunch of hoods in a lonely alley, it wasn’t a man they faced. It was whatever they imagined him to be—and that was usually far more terrifying than anything he could become in truth.
Still, Batman couldn’t have avoided the ball entirely. Not if he hoped to close the trap he’d laid as Bruce Wayne.
“You think Freeze will take the bait?” asked Robin, sotto voce.
“He’ll be here,” Batman asserted. “He won’t be able to resist.”
Up on the stage, the president of the Gotham Botanical Club came out alongside the infamous Gossip Gerty. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “Gerty and I would like to welcome you to the gem of our evening.”
Heeding their cue, two armed guards emerged from behind a curtain bearing a cushioned
In the video, Victor Fries put his arms around his wife. “Beautiful,” he agreed. “But not half as beautiful as you are.”
What’s more, he still thought that. Still believed it with all the soul he had left. Even in her frozen state, Nora was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
“ ’Scuse me, Chief.”
Freeze turned and saw Frosty standing behind him. As usual, his aide looked tentative, apologetic.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Frosty, “but I got something here you might want to see.”
He held out a newspaper clipping.
Without a word, Freeze lifted his gun and fired. In a flash, Frosty had frozen solid, still grasping the clipping.
“I hate it when people talk during the movie,” he muttered.
Then he turned back to the video screen. He and Nora were on a sailboat now. A white sailboat on a painfully blue sea. The wind was in her hair and she was laughing, and he could see the snowflake pendant sparkle in the hollow at the base of her throat.
His lip began to quiver ever so slightly. It wasn’t fair, he told himself. It wasn’t fair at all. For someone so lovely and full of energy to be stricken with such a disease . . .
Suddenly, Freeze couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting his cryo-gun, he aimed it at the screen and fired. The sailing trip exploded into a hundred flying shards of light.
He whispered to the smoking, sparking ruin of the monitor. “One more diamond, my love. One more.”
Freeze got up and began to walk away. Then he noticed the newspaper clipping in Frosty’s frozen hand. Breaking the paper off, he read it.
It said Bruce Wayne, the filthy-rich philanthropist, was donating a diamond to the Flower Ball that evening. Nodding, Freeze crumpled the paper in his gloved hand.
A diamond, he thought. How convenient. He could almost taste his wife’s lips again beneath his own.
Inside the Gotham Botanical Gardens, an immense glass greenhouse set atop the roof of a mighty skyscraper, a hanging banner that read GOTHAM CHARITY FLOWER BALL blotted out the stars overhead. A giant beast mask covered the entrance to the place, so every guest who entered had to do so through the beast’s mouth.
Drummers were pounding on conga drums, and all the guests were dressed as flowers—all except two, that is. And those two were dressed as gorillas who romped and cavorted about the room as if they were real.
But the guests weren’t the only ones in disguise, Batman reflected. He himself was dressed as an employee of the gardens in a loose, brown jumpsuit. The same for Robin. And each was wearing a disguise that would have stood up even to the closest scrutiny, thanks to Alfred’s well-earned cunning at theatrical makeup.
As a publicity ploy, the Flower Ball had invited Batman and Robin to attend the party through an ad in the Gotham Gazette. But of course, they hadn’t responded to the invitation.
Batman didn’t like to show himself in public places, preferring to remain a creature of uncertain reality—an urban legend of sorts. If he was never pinned down, never defined, that legend could continue to grow. It could insinuate itself into the dark heart of the city.
So when he confronted a bunch of hoods in a lonely alley, it wasn’t a man they faced. It was whatever they imagined him to be—and that was usually far more terrifying than anything he could become in truth.
Still, Batman couldn’t have avoided the ball entirely. Not if he hoped to close the trap he’d laid as Bruce Wayne.
“You think Freeze will take the bait?” asked Robin, sotto voce.
“He’ll be here,” Batman asserted. “He won’t be able to resist.”
Up on the stage, the president of the Gotham Botanical Club came out alongside the infamous Gossip Gerty. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “Gerty and I would like to welcome you to the gem of our evening.”
Heeding their cue, two armed guards emerged from behind a curtain bearing a cushioned
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