Bat-Maloy and the Immaculate Fix

Robyn Jr. was once again in peril. Bat-Maloy had warned him about that shady red light district filled with junkies, hookers, and con men who could weasel you out of your slacks and into a giant hotdog costume passing out flyers for the local meat mart. But oh no Robyn Jr. wasn’t a boy now. He was eighteen, just passed his drivers test, and was recently indicted into the Young Person’s chapter of the Kung Fu Commandos (KFC) so that meant he didn’t want anything to do with that Lame-O Square, Bat-Maloy. He certainly didn’t care about all the late-night movie fests, or the macaroni & soy cheese dinners, or even the Mystical Battle Attack trading card game days that ol’ B-M painstakingly set up every week because that’s what an adoptive parent should do for their adolescent ward, right? Nope, sorry chum, Robyn Jr. knew deep in his bones that that stuff just wasn’t hip. And so off he went in the MaloyMobile zooming recklessly through crime ridden neighborhoods with his sidekick-cum-teen-hero friends and got himself into a sticky situation.
Quick on the BaT-Mobile, he called up his brooding father figure pal and explained the situation. The plucky lads were playing bumper tag with some of Jack Curr’s cronies (Poison Canary, Fey-Face and her brother Tofer) when one of them threw an egg onto the windshield, causing Robyn Jr. to swerve and crash-bang into a tinted light post. When they found the car had lost a wheel, his so-called friends skedaddled and left him stranded in the middle of the funkiest part of town he had ever seen. In short, he was scared and needed someone to come pick him up. Luckily, Maloy (Bat-Maloy’s alter ego) was the sort of compassionate fool to know when not to say I-Told-You-So and this was certainly one of them. He told Robyn Jr. he would be there in a half-hour, needing to suit up before he left the mansion. “Please hurry, Maloy.” the boy wonderful replied with something else besides fear in his voice. Maloy couldn’t quite place it. Longing, perhaps?
Not without speed, but certainly not as much as during the Golden Days, Maloy made his way to the locker room. The familiar musty smells affronted him as he opened the doors, smell of sweat and hesitation, hearty laughter and lonely moments. It was a small and poorly ventilated room, to be sure, which he always meant to remedy but never found time to do so. Or maybe, as he would always contemplate when he was reminded of this chore, things are better left to the way they are. The main area comprised of a long partially stained bench and three lockers: one for Robyn Jr., one for himself, and one for anyone ‘Teaming-Up’ with them on those hairier missions. The last was a clutter of personal effects of some of their previous comrades: Aqua Mike’s fishbowl cleaner, Wanda Wymyn’s progressive literature, Cat-Linda’s Nip Lipstick, and random bits and pieces of candy wrappers and party invites. Off from this area was a shower stall made of linoleum and awkward glances, two fireman’s poles leading to the underground garage and game room, and a stairwell which came from up there.
Maloy opened the third locker, examined Cat-Linda’s Nip Lipstick with careful fingers. After a few moments of reminiscing about battles shared and flirting snubbed, he placed the object back into the locker, shut it, and opened his to begin suiting up.
Maloy was rounding out his second decade of superhero reenactment yet the belief in himself and his peers still resounded deep from his chest. It had always been there for him, the kooky culture of faux-crimefighters, inspiring a sense of agency within him, giving him a purpose in the otherwise befuddled world he saw around him. Sure, by today’s standards, nerds, geeks and dorks along with transvestites, transsexuals, and homosexuals are generally excepted. But nearly twenty years ago, when Maloy first donned the mask imitating his favorite comic book hero, it was still better to hide one’s identity from the public, and wear a costume which could be recognized by similar individuals to then hopefully form a community which could draw its strength from its numbers. Overall, ‘heroing’ as it is commonly called, allows its participants to escape their troubles by becoming something else, something mighty.
His costume wasn’t as updated to meet the sleeker standards of today’s hero market and at one time this may have mattered to him. It was, however, fitting perfectly into the ‘Retro niche’, though this usually made Maloy appear comical to the other crime stoppers and the people he saved. He wore: tights with black Speedo over top, knee length boots, utility belt, grey long-armed torso spandex with crudely sewn insignia (his former butler made it one night while inebriated), elbow length black latex gloves, medium length black cape, a mask with two large spikes representing a bat he saw once painted by a German Expressionist, and an exaggerated bowtie which he wore as part of a clown outfit for Robyn Jr.’s birthday and decided to keep it because the boy thought it was keen. Altogether, when in the costume, along with his gaunt frame, he gave the viewer the impression of something close to a flamboyant yet blind mime. To which Maloy would often reply, “Ah, but I am as blind as a Bat…Maloy…which really isn’t so blind, right?”
A slick slide down the pole landed him in the garage; Bat-Maloy was ready for action! Yet what vehicle would get him to where Robyn Jr. needed him in the most efficient manner? How about the Atomic Pogo stick? Or the ScubaCopter which can fly and swim? Or better still, the Jr. Cycle equipped with fruit snacks for Robyn Jr. and an attachable tow-lift strong enough to drag a battle ship down main street? Bat-Maloy’s pants felt kind-of funny about that option. Reverberating cold steel between the legs is his kind of thing.
Shot out of the barrel and on the go, Bat-Maloy zoomed off to the rescue. Villains and ne’er-do-wells watch out, he likes to serve up justice with a side of hard punch to your face. His code of morals and memorandum of ethics would make you weep, unbeliever. No questions are needed, nor given, before judgment is discerned in his hair-trigger mind like a steel trap. Ever wonder who did the field report for Santa’s naughty list? Look no further than this cowl-wearing crusader for the great American way. Zam! Pow! Another case dealt with cool precision. Don’t need to check your watch, buddy, because it’s always Bat-Maloy time!
It took him only a few minutes to reach the MaloyMobile using the built in GPS guidance system, honing in on the tracking beacon attached to the car. Just as Robyn Jr. explained, the ‘justice jalopy’ was totaled, the missing wheel having gone through the pane window of a nearby hardware store. Jumping off of the Jr. Cycle as it slowed to a stop, Bat-Maloy, ignoring physics, glided over to the car. Ripping off the door in a single heroic jerk, he was dismayed to find his perky partner nowhere inside. Gadzooks! What foul deed may have befallen my chum? he wondered with anguish.
Scanning the perimeter with his keen eyesight, Bat-Maloy spotted the youth being hassled by some rough looking Thugs. ‘Thugs’ are typically seen as troubled youths who, in the style of certain avant-garde movies, usually dress to match a theme and adopt names appropriate for their ‘team’. Often the thorn in many a super-person’s side, they enjoy causing mayhem and ridiculing others’ fashion.
“Hey loser! Whatchya doin’ wearing that queer outfit?” the larger one with a striped shirt, a bowler cap, and poor complexion demanded of Robyn Jr.
“It’s…it’s my costume you jerks.” stammered the ridiculed sidekick who proceeded in vain to look bigger by puffing up his chest. “I’m a superhero!”
“Superhero? Ha! Hey guys I think we’ve encountered our first Cape! You know, them folks who dress up like comic creeps and parade around in their skivvies.” This guffaw came from a second goon, gaunt and garish with his skintight sequin jumpsuit. “I seen some on those news channels my Pops always watches!”
“Freak.” grunted a third squat and stocky fellow wearing a soiled frock.
Rising from the shadows of a alleyway located nearby, Bat-Maloy stepped between Robyn Jr. and his assailants. His eyes became slits. He glared at the three as he lowered his voice an octave or two.
“It is your intolerance which is freakish, gentlemen. I suggest that you be on your way now, before things become uglier than your get-up.”
“Hey Sequins, he’s making fun of your suit,” said the thug with the bowler cap.
“We can’t let him get away with that, Stripes! Sic him, Frock!”
Frock let loose with a mighty bellow and charged our hero. With bat-like reflexes, Bat-Maloy snatched a canister from his golden utility belt. Using sleek precision and unparalleled timing, he sprayed its contents into the oncoming bull’s face. The hulkling reared back in shock and pain, screaming into the clear night.
“GeZeus,” cried Stripes. “he just maced Frock! Let’s get outta here, Dandymen!”
Sequins and Stripes ran over and collected the cringing Frock and dragged him away, threatening to call the police on our valiant vigilante. Bat-Maloy stood rigid, clutching the canister marked “Thug Repellant” in his gloved hand. After a few deep nasal breaths, the adrenaline wore off. He turned to check on his companion.
Robyn Jr. was leaning on the defunct crime carriage, hugging himself with elbow length gloves against the cold and his own falling adrenaline. The two do-gooders locked eyes with understanding. Bat-Maloy often forgot how much he enjoyed Robyn Jr.’s slim-fitting costume. The boy, sorry, the young man wore a simple black sash with crudely cut eyeholes for a mask. His torso was outfitted with a yellow, insulated tee-shirt underneath a large medallion with an ‘R’ carved into it which he hung from his neck. He wore green fish scaled briefs which led into clean shaven legs. Pointed elf shoes adorned his feet, which he saved on from the days he moonlighted at Macy’s during Christmas. This image of innocence was a stark contrast to the capable person Bat-Maloy knew Robyn Jr. to be.
He moved close to his sidekick. He stood almost a foot taller than his young ward. “You’re cold,” Bat-Maloy said as he unclasped his cape and swung it around Robyn Jr.’s shoulders. “We don’t want you to get pneumonia on top of all the crazy happenings tonight.” There was a pause shared between them. The wind blew as they leant on the car, rustling Robyn Jr.’s hair. The lad began to sob.
“What’s wrong, young buck?” Bat-Maloy cradled Robyn Jr.’s head to his robust chest. “You shouldn’t let those hooligans get to you. There is nothing wrong with what we do. We’re heroes, for goodness sake.” He made as stoic of a face as possible, squaring his jaw and tightening his lips.
Robyn Jr. took a long and noisy breath and cleared his voice. “It…it isn’t about them, Bat-Maloy.” He shivered again but forced himself to continue. “I wuh…want you to know that I…that I really do appreciate all that you’ve done for me ever since my parents died in that freak parachuting incident two years ago.”
“Oh, Robyn—“
“No, let me finish.” He repositioned himself in the arms Bat-Maloy had almost forgotten about. “I realized that I was brash and arrogant to treat you the way I did tonight. I guess I was just running away from what I really felt, from what I was scared to admit.”
“Felt about what, boy spectacle?” Bat-Maloy’s eyes widened with wonder as he looked into Robyn Jr.’s goggles.
“About you.” Robyn Jr. brought his face closer to his old friend’s. “Will you kiss me, B-M?”
The two locked lips. Bat-Maloy’s hand pressed against the back of Robyn Jr.’s head as the other hand cusped his lower back. Robyn Jr.’s arms clasped around the cloaked crusader’s neck as they continued to hold their kiss. Well over thirty seconds passed before they parted for air. Without saying a word, Bat-Maloy lifted his partner and opened the car door. They sprawled out on the front seats, their breaths becoming heavy. “Are you sure you want to do this, Robyn Jr.?” Bat-Maloy asked. The other replied by caressing his clean-shaven cheek and giggled. “Of course,” he cooed.
They stayed in the car till dawn.
The driver’s door opened and Bat-Maloy stumbled out. He glanced back at Robyn Jr. who’s naked body was covered by his cape. He noted how peaceful his sidekick looked nuzzling up against the dashboard, a slight smile on his face. In all the time he knew Robyn Jr., Bat-Maloy had never seen the boy so peaceful. Likewise, he thought, I have never known such joy as today.
Allowing his young pal to sleep longer, Bat-Maloy hooked the broken car up to the Jr. Cycle’s winch and towed it back to the mansion. He hummed his favorite theme song all the way there.

Maloy was finishing undressing and Robert (Robyn Jr.’s alter-ego) was in the shower when the phone rang. Still elated from the previous night’s rendezvous, Maloy answered the phone in a giddy mood. “Hello, Luckiest Guy In The World aka Maloy here.”
“Oh, and what are we so excited about?” a female voice purred over the phone.
Maloy’s mood crashed like a bus full of nuns colliding with an explosive shark tank. It was Linda, his ex-girlfriend and ex-partner in ‘heroing’. She was formerly Cat-Linda who used her stylish black leather costume to get free drinks at bars (see issues 38-50). But she gave up the costume world soon after her and Maloy split ways to pursue a life as a circus performer. It didn’t work out.
“Er…hi, Linda. What can I do for you?” Maloy often put on a telemarketer’s voice when he found himself on the phone with people he didn’t like receiving calls from.
“Still the dark and brooding type, I see. Can’t a girl just call up some old friends just to say ‘what’s up’?” she asked. Silence. “Well, anyways, I really was calling you up to ask if you would like to get together for dinner sometime. You must admit it has been far too long since we’ve last seen each other.”
Maloy sighed. The one thing he had never learned to do was to avoid old flames. “You’re right, Linda, maybe we can get together for a meal so we can talk, but I’ll have to check-“
“Great! We’ll see ya tomorrow night!” Linda hung up before Maloy could reply.
He stared at his cell phone and his shoulders sagged. Typical Linda, he thought. As soon as she sees a moment of weakness, she pounces. He heard the shower faucet turn off. Egad! He had completely forgotten about Robert! Surely the next night would be a true test of this hero’s grit, when two of his lovers, past and present, would meet causing quarrels of epic proportions! And what did she mean by ‘we’?
Robert walked in with a towel around his waist and another he used to dry his hair. He found his bachelor buddy in a pensive mood. “Who was that on the phone, Maloy?”
“Um…” he started cautiously. “How about we talk about this over a cup of Maloymilk and a plate of Maloy cookies?”

Bat-Maloy and the Immaculate Fix pt. 2

The table was set for four people because Maloy was certain that although it was rude for Linda to assume she could bring someone over, she wasn’t as brash as to think she could bring more than one. The table was long and made of oak, one of the many lavish features of the mansion which his parents had bought after he had dug up pirate treasure in his back yard when he was a child. His last real memory of them was them waving goodbye, martini glasses in their other hands, as they shipped him off to boarding school before they moved to a remote island they had bought in the South Pacific. This is why he referred to the monthly check he received in the mail as his ‘folks’. They never left a return address.
Robert was attired in a ‘classy-casual’ yellow dress shirt which he kept outside his khaki pants along with open-toed sandals which he usually loafed around in while at the mansion. Maloy had indicated that since Linda was no longer into ‘heroing’ it was best that they too remained out of costume ‘for the most comfort for everyone’. However, He stood next to his place at the table, counting the ticks of the grandfather clock, gripping the back of his chair to the point where his knuckles became white. He was very nervous about the possible outcome of the evening.
Maloy had been a wreck the previous night to the point where he had ‘trouble performing’ leading into a restless night of tossing and turning. That morning saw no relief from the tension as Maloy flitted to and fro like a high-strung fiend, organizing furniture and concocting confectionaries. Robert could do nothing but watch as his friend turned lover fretted endlessly. What could have transpired between Maloy and Linda to cause such calamity?
He had met Linda about a year before while shopping at the local Supermarket for extra grappling hooks and decoder rings. She espied Robyn Jr. (he was shopping in his costume, of course) while perusing the comic book section and called to him. He was startled at first that a middle-aged woman would know his name, let alone be comfortable enough to call to him across a crowded store. Also, she was the only one there not in an outfit. Linda sensed his hesitation and quickly explained that she knew of him through an interview with Bat-Maloy she had read in the heroing rag sheet, ‘The Weekly Trumpet’. Robyn Jr. muttered something about flies, his voice rising with “especially that Pietro Porker!” Linda continued by telling him the article mentioned Bat-Maloy had a new sidekick and the community was abuzz with speculations about their relationship. There was a moment of silence as the teen hero began blushing and Linda smiled at him as if expecting an answer. Luckily for Robyn Jr., Linda noticed some of her old cohorts coming her direction and dived behind a truth-serum display case, whispering to him to distract them while she made a quick getaway. Confused and a little frightened by this woman, Robyn Jr. decided to leave the store instead.
“Great Gazebo!” Maloy cried from the kitchen, “We don’t have any garnish! My casserole is ruined.”
“Maloy, will you please calm down and come out here for a moment,” called back Robert. A tense Maloy entered into the dining room and followed Robert when he beckoned him to the lounge. His shirt sleeves were rolled up past the elbow and flecks of dough and sauce speckled his hands and forearms. “I don’t understand why you’re freaking out so much, man. I’ve never seen you lose your cool like you have today. What’s the skinny?”
The two made their way to a couch. Maloy plopped down with a sigh. “I appreciate you using your hipster language in attempt to calm me down, Rob, but you really don’t know the extent of how much this lady drives me nuts. She’s just so random. I-yi-yi.”
Robert sat down next to him and placed a hand on his leg. He kissed Maloy’s shoulder and then his graying temple. He slowly rested his head down on Maloy’s lap and looked up at his face. There were a few deep lines in the playboy costumer’s face, indications of a well emoted mug, mostly from years of smiling, as his lips assumed their accustomed smirk. He began to pet Robert’s auburn tresses as the lad soothed him, “There’s no reason to worry, Maloy, because you won’t face her alone. I’ll be at your side tonight and always.”
Bliss swelled within the gallant hero’s heart after hearing his partner’s words. “As will I, chum, as will—“ BING BONG “Vishnu’s Panties! They’re here!”
Maloy stood up suddenly causing Robert to crash to the floor, of which Maloy paid no heed as he jumped over him while unrolling his sleeves and tucking in his shirt. He grabbed his smoking jacket and yelled back to his disheveled ward, “Quickly, Robert, get off the floor and make yourself presentable.” Robert grumbled as he stood up and dusted himself off and made his way towards the entrance.
Maloy gave himself a once-over in the hallway mirror and then approached the door as well. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, cracked a few bones in his neck and hands, whistled a lilting tune, smoothed out a strand of hair, checked the toes of his shoes…
“O for Pete’s Sake!” Robert ejaculated. “Just open the damn door!”
He glanced at the lad for a second before complying. Two figures hurried in, pushing aside Maloy and Robert as they made for the fireplace. Maloy stifled a groan as he realized that one of them was Cat-Linda, realizing that he should have gone with his gut instinct that she would pull a stint like this. The other was a taller and more muscular woman, also wearing a superhero costume.
“You know, it is, like, freaking winter outside. Could ya make us freeze on your doorstep any longer?” Cat-Linda growled as she and her companion huddled around the fire. Like Bat-Maloy, she hadn’t updated her outfit in a while, but it also looked as if it had been in a closet for that amount of time. She wore a vintage black rubber cat mask which covered all but her nose and mouth, with cat ears sticking out the top. Covering her torso was a black leather tank-top which lead into pants of the same material, and then boots as well. Under her tank-top she wore a ratty fishnet shirt and her hands were adorned by slender black gloves. Though it still fit well, it was noticeably tight around the midriff and thighs. Maloy could see that her costume was not the only thing that had aged. “And what’s with this attire? Where’s your suit?” She looked at Robert. “And who’s this kid?”
“Um…I’m Robert…we met at the Supermarket about a year ago?” He wasn’t sure she would recognize him without his goggles, which he wished he was wearing. “I sometimes go by Robyn Jr.”
“Oh, of course, darling! Sorry to have been so rude, but you know, I’ve met so many people and their dual identities over my lifetime that my head sometimes takes awhile to sort them all out.” She snorted out a laugh. “But I ask again, why are you two not in costume? Aren’t you guys heroing almost all the time?”
Maloy had been shifting on his feet, wringing his hands during all of this, and wasn’t comfortable having the focus return to him. “Uh, Lin-er…Cat-Linda, who is your guest you felt compelled to bring with you?”
The other woman took a step towards Maloy. “What do you mean, ‘compelled’? Listen pal, if you’ve got a problem with me being here just say so, rather than veiling it in cynicism!” Maloy shrunk back out of intimidation. The woman that stood before him was about 6’5 and had incredibly-sculpted muscles, even her bosom appeared as if chiseled from granite. On top of her flowing black hair sat a silver tiara with a single red star in the middle, possibly a ruby. She wore a bustier with brass cups and red and yellow torso as if she was going into battle. She wore red bottoms which ended halfway down her thighs, exposing rippling muscle and sinew. Her crimson knee-high steel-toed boots were also impressive. On her right hip hung a long yellow chord; what purpose it served Maloy hesitated to speculate.
“Oh don’t mind her, Maloy, she’s just having a bad day.” Cat-Linda intervened. “Maloy this is Wanda Wymyn. Wanda, this is Maloy. And apparently, that’s Robert.” The boy gave her a puzzled look.
“Ah, she’s right, it’s just that another one of my books got rejected by some jerk publishers. Apparently the freedom of press is still under lock and key by rich conservative bastards.” There was an pause in conversation as her eyes darted around and no one else knew how to comment. “Big place you got here, Mallard.”
“It’s Maloy,” he said as he placed a hand on Cat-Linda’s shoulder, eliciting a dirty look from Wanda. “Could I see you in the other room for a second?”
“Okeedoke,” she replied and frolicked after Maloy out of the dining room amidst sputters from Wanda as she tried to vocalize her rage. Robert thought she might be having a medical situation so he ventured, “What’s up?”
“Not progressive thought, apparently!” she snapped. He recoiled, almost knocking over a table lamp. Seeing the fear in his eyes, Wanda relaxed and her tone became sympathetic. “Look, kid, I didn’t mean to explode at you like that, I’ve just had a terrible week and I’m worried about Cat-Linda.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Robert asked.
“I’m worried that she’ll leave me and go back to him.”
“Wait, you two are dating?”
“Yeah, we’ve been fooling around now for about five months now, and I thought we were inseparable. I mean, our relationship has been the muse for all my recent writings. Yet a week ago, she gets it into her head that she needs to contact her old boyfriend. All she has been doing the last twenty-four hours has been talking about this Maynard guy she used to run with, and how wonderful things were back then, and so on.” She sighed as she sat down in an armchair, propping her head up with one arm. Robert was now worried as well, thinking about how long Maloy and Linda had known each other, and how briefly he had been a part of the ‘heroing’ community. He, himself, had only been able to express his feelings for Maloy within the past twenty hours or so. How could he compare to a two decade, albeit estranged, relationship?
“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to Wanda. “I think I’m gonna go put on my costume.” She eyed him as he turned to leave and watched his brow furrow. She didn’t like it when her sour moods rubbed off onto other people, but she has mastered how to remedy it.
“Good. And after doing that, burn that hideous shirt you’re wearing. You look like a damn yuppie!” Wanda chortled with laughter as the lad made his way to the locker room, a smile made its way onto his face. She was glad that there was at least one other person in this house who had a sense of humor.
“I really don’t see the humor in any this, Cat-Linda. You just thrust yourself back into my life outta nowhere and then you bring over that woman uninvited and start acting strangely. For instance, why the hell are you in costume anyways? I thought you gave that up back when we…uh…”
“When we broke up, Maloy? Why don’t you ever have the courage to admit that? It’s like you’re afraid to admit when something doesn’t work out exactly as you plan it. You prefer to just hold onto every scrap and pretend as if you’re fighting a never ending battle. That’s why I left you and the rest of you children who play ‘superheroes’. I was bored with the angst, I wanted to do something with my life.”
“By joining the circus? Oh yeah, real adult of you. You were always pulling that crap ever since I met you, always going from one thing to another, never accomplishing anything. Is it my turn for the Cat-Linda whirlwind ride again, because I can’t wait to get back on.”
“WEAKLING BASTARD!”
“SELF-CENTERED LOON!”
They both bellowed, their screams echoing throughout the house. They then collapsed panting and laughing in each other’s arms.
“Gee Whiz! I’m glad we got that out of our systems,” Maloy said as he left the embrace. “Who knew I had all that pent up aggression?”
“Same here, it’s been far too long. Glad we didn’t wait any longer or we may have killed each other,” Cat-Linda smiled at Maloy. “So I got the impression that you had something to tell me; you were looking kind of anxious back there.”
“Yeah, well, I was just worried how you might feel, because there is a considerable age difference between us and all.”
“Aww…are you and Robert a couple?” Linda clasped her hands close to her face, her eyes grew wide with wonder. “That’s so sweet. You better believe I’m for it, he seems like an excellent guy…he is eighteen, right?”
“Of course! What type of person do you take me for?”
“I’m kidding, I knew he was eighteen, I’m just getting a rise outta you.” Cat-Linda gave Maloy a light punch on the shoulder. “I, too, have an announcement, actually it’s the reason I wanted to get together.”
“You and Wanda are dating, is that it?” Maloy gave Cat-Linda a coy look.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Not immediately, but when I started thinking of the only thing that could get you back into that costume and I put two and two together: you were in love with that intimidating, yet attractive woman.”
“Like I said, she’s just had a bad day, she’s really nice once you get to know her.”
To emphasize this point, when Cat-Linda and Bat-Maloy (she allowed time to change into his costume so he wouldn’t be left out) they find Wanda and Robyn Jr. drinking and singing songs together. The two sat next to their respective partners and everyone was overwhelmed by the love they feel for each other. Their merriment was only interrupted when the clock chimed midnight and Robyn Jr., who still had the occasional attachment to the outside world, remembered that it was KrisMist Day and everyone there truly knew the meaning of the special holiday and their love and enjoyment of life outshone any insecurities or awkwardness anyone had felt within themselves and at that very moment all four felt like they were one, and surely it was the greatest team-up moment the ‘heroing’ community had ever experienced and for many years afterwards the people who had seen this weird amalgamation take place as they were wandering by or were capturing evil-doers told of the wondrous light that had filled their souls as if they knew everything was just a fantastic story written by one who cared about and respected them and they felt safe and warm even though they knew their narrative to be ridiculous, cheesy even, but it was a spread they were honored to be a part of because beyond any shred of doubt this was the most Incredible Fantastic Gooey Holiday Love Festival Event Ever and Bat-Maloy, Robyn Jr., Cat-Linda, and Wanda Wymyn and all the rest went on to appear in many more comics and stories and movies to come for it was never really The End.