"And, at Barbara Gordon's Midtown Apartment..."

Barbara had set up a large map of the eastern seaboard in front of her canary's birdcage. Charlie the canary watched with interest as she used a pointer to tap a body of water on the map.

"...so in that 14 hours, the Riddler could have taken the subs as far south as Lackawater Point...and as far north as Fishkill Cove. He also might have put in at Amoeba Inlet. Come to think of it, he could have snuck inland up the Hogtrough River, too." She sighed.

"I'm afraid there's just too many possibilities for me to check out on my own, Charlie. I'll be most effective by doing my part to help get the Riddler talking. Unfortunately, the greedy hospital management wants verification of health insurance before they give the Riddler their full attention."

She strolled over towards her secret room. "Sooo I'll just have to make sure they're properly motivated. Another wig and some tighter clothing transform me into..." putting on the wig, she spun to face Charlie. "...Master Insurance Claims Representative!"

At stately Wayne Manor, Dick, Bruce and Alfred were pacing solemnly back and forth in the study.

"Our best bet is for you to take the Batcopter and head due east and see if you can locate any trace of those subs," Bruce instructed Dick. "If the Riddler happened to bang up against an outcropping of rocks, there may be some debris on the water."

"You're not coming along?" Dick asked.

"I'm afraid not. I got enough of a look at Dr. Wow's physician schedule to keep me close to home."

"You recognized one of the names on the list?"

"I did indeed. Imagine a man with a brow like Shakespeare, a face like Satan, and the magnetic eyes of a cat. Imagine a man with a giant intellect and all the resources of science, past and present, at his disposal. Then imagine a cheap, second-rate imitation of that individual."

Alfred looked up. "You don't mean that horrid Dr. Daka?"

"The dastardly demon doctor himself," confirmed Bruce.

"But he's in jail," said Dick.

"No longer, Dick. I just contacted the penitentiary. Apparently Warden Crichton felt that letting Daka out on work release would take his mind off of world domination and get him once again engrossed in the science of medicine. The warden issued a glowing recommendation and assurances of Daka's complete reform. The hospital approved his posting several weeks ago."

"If I might offer an opinion, I'd say this fellow is too dangerous to have access to any sharp objects, let alone an entire building full of them," said Alfred. "I fail to see the wisdom of tasking such a person with mending the injured."

Dick nodded. "You bet, Alfred! We might not have stopped him the first time if he wasn't so bloodthirsty that he kept a pit full of alligators under his hideout."

"The loss of his arm and leg to his hungry pets only served to fuel his psychosis," responded Bruce. "And his unquenchable thirst for conquest of the Western Hemisphere still burns in his belly, long after the death of his emperor."

"But the more we hang around the hospital, the more we risk revealing the missile theft and starting worldwide chaos!" Dick exclaimed. "Aw, heck! What's the use, Bruce? You can't be there to keep Daka away from the Riddler, and I've got hundreds of miles of ocean to search!!"

"If I may say, Master Bruce, this looks like a very dark situation indeed," Alfred agreed.

Bruce looked up at the large portrait of a couple that hung on the wall. The man in the painting looked exactly like Bruce except that he had a mustache.

"Twenty seven years ago, I made a solemn vow to uphold the legacy of my father, physician Thomas Wayne, by avenging his murder and sparing all who walk Gotham's streets from his grim fate. Now, the time has come for me to follow in his footsteps in a more definitive manner – to emulate his traits beyond mere bravery."

He opened the drawer of a desk beneath where the portrait hung, and with great reverence removed a doctor's bag.

Dick recognized it immediately. "Your father's medical kit! You're going to be a doctor!"

Alfred hesitated a moment before deciding to speak. "Begging your pardon, Master Bruce, but even with your all-encompassing sagacity, you cannot hope to match the decades of knowledge your father compiled in the medical field."

"True," Bruce agreed. "I may not have performed many complex surgical procedures that involved living, human patients – yet! However, I have a stout heart and a steady hand. Plus...I have something more to guide me."

Patting his father's bag, Bruce turned and strode purposefully from the room.