Arthur Brown poured himself a cup of coffee, dropped some sugar into the mug, added a touch of milk, and turned to head back to the living room. The man jumped, nearly spilling the hot beverage as he saw the dark figure before him. “You know, you’re gonna give someone a heart attack one day,” he muttered as he placed the mug down for a moment. “I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason as the cops. Want a drink?” he added, gesturing to the coffee pot. The Batman merely stared at him. “Fine, suit yourself.” Arthur grabbed his mug as he walked into the living room, Batman stalking after him.
“What do you know?” the man in black demanded in a low growl.
“Only what the cops, and the paper, told me,” Brown replied. “That someone robbed a jewelry store last night, and he’s using my old ‘routine’.”
Batman glared at Brown as the other man took a seat, motioning for the cowled crimefighter to do the same, and not surprised when Batman remained standing.
“Look, you can glare, and threaten me all you’d like, but we both know I didn’t do it. You know I got out of the ‘business’ years ago, and you know why as well,” Arthur stated simply.
Batman turned to leave, his gaze passing over a picture of Brown and his family during happier times. “I’ll be watching you,” Batman told him.
“Yeah, and so will that unmarked police car they got outside,” Brown commented. “That’s fine with me. I didn’t do it, and you’ll know that soon enough.”
“Oh?” Batman replied, turning back to face him.
“Of course,” Brown said. “Whoever’s doing this is either sick like I was, or is trying to frame me. Either way it’s only a matter of time before they strike again. Not that I’m telling you anything you don’t know.”
Batman said nothing as he turned away from the man, Arthur Brown returning to his coffee and watching TV as the caped man vanished.
* * *
“ ‘Pick three numbers on my face, then inside, valuables you place’,” Bruce muttered to himself as he read a copy of the riddle from the night before, created using his near photographic memory to copy it exactly as the real one had appeared. “What does it mean?”
“A safe,” Carrie said, as she looked over Bruce’s shoulder, the young woman biting into a piece of toast.
“What?” Bruce replied, turning to see Carrie standing there. “Oh… Right, the riddle. I guess I’m just not that good at these things,” Bruce told her, with a weak smile.
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Amazing how you can run a worldwide company, but not get an easy riddle.”
“Well actually I have others that do most of the running for me,” Bruce told her, once more putting on the meek charade.
“You certainly seem to spend enough time at work to be running the place,” Carrie commented. “Anyways. Alfred said he would be willing to take me to Gotham’s Annual Gymnastics competition tonight, and I’m gonna be late for school if I don’t leave now, so I’ll see you tonight, Mr. Wayne.”
“Oh… sure. Take care, Carrie,” Bruce replied. “And please call me Bruce.”
“Okay, Bruce!” Carrie called back from outside the kitchen as she exited the mansion.
“I see Miss Carrie has as much respect for the morning meal as you do, Master Bruce,” Alfred commented as he entered the room. “One wonders why I even bother making breakfast at all. At least Master Dick knew about proper nutrition when he lived here.”
“Dick liked to eat,” Bruce corrected in his best deadpan and then handed his butler the piece of paper. “What do you make of this, Alfred?”
Alfred looked it over, shrugging as he handed it back. “It does seem strange,” he commented. “Someone who essentially announces his or her next crime in advance, but in a vague enough clue to offer nearly any location in the city as the target.”
“I just feel I’m missing something… something obvious,” Bruce muttered, scanning over the riddle again. “Maybe there’s another answer, something more…” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to bed,” Bruce finally said, standing. “I think I have a long night ahead of me.”
“I’m sure you will, Master Bruce. After all, when do you not?”
* * *
“So… you sleep with him yet?” Steph asked, an evil smile on her face as she walked up to the rest of the gang at school.
“What?!” Jason sputtered, spitting out his drink in shock.
“Old Brucey,” Steph replied. “Just wondering if Carrie and him have done it.”
“Not funny, Steph,” Warren replied shaking her head.
“Let me guess,” she responded. “You beat me to it.”
“Yes and I didn’t find it funny then either,” Carrie commented.
“Okay, okay. You’re right, it was a horrible joke. What’s he like though? I mean, I know we kinda meet him when you moved in, but… you hear all those rumors.”
“He’s a pretty good guy,” Carrie replied. “Quiet, keeps to himself. I think he spends too much time on his work, either that or he’s out partying all night.”
“Oh Timmy-poo!” came a new voice. The group turned to see an attractive blond woman walking towards them. “Why are you still hanging around with these losers?”
“Morning, Kitten,” Tim muttered, trying to be polite. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
“Not too busy for me I hope,” Kitten Van Cleer replied, stepping up beside him. “Come on, let’s get to class. Get away from these nobodies.”
“You know, Kitty,” Carrie grumbled. “Money isn’t everything.”
“Please,” Kitten replied. “Obviously
you think it’s important enough that
you’re shagging a millionaire.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Jason growled, stalking towards Kitten.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steph said, stepping between the two. “You know it’s not polite for a gentleman to hit a lady,” she told him. “Let me do it.” Steph turned towards Kitten.
“Forget it,” Carrie said, grabbing hold of Steph’s arm. “She’s not worth getting in trouble over. Besides we’ve got tickets to the gymnastics competition tonight. Let’s just go.”
Jason and Steph muttered as they nodded, following Carrie and the others down the hall, leaving Kitten alone by the lockers.
* * *
Alfred dropped Carrie off in front of the Knights’ Dome Sporting Complex, where she meet Steph. Alfred told the young woman he’d be back to pick her up after the event ended. Carrie nodded, and the two women entered the building, grabbing a snack as they took their seat. She and Steph had been attending this event for the last few years. Gymnasts from universities and colleges all over the state came to this event since the winners were often contenders for the U.S. Olympics team. Steph loved to watch because of her interest in gymnastics, and Carrie… Well Carrie just liked to watch the fit, muscular young men in their spandex tights.
The event went as expected, the crowd watching with oohs and ahs, while the athletes preformed their routines, coupled with the odd gasps as someone fell, or missed their dismount. Fortunately there were no major injuries this year.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” Steph said to Carrie as the parallel bars event ended. “You want anything?”
“I’m fine,” Carrie replied, shaking her head. She watched her friend stand and slip down the aisle before turning her attention back to the event floor, where the medals for the parallel bars were about to be handed out. As a handful of presenters carried the awards to the podiums, a number of small explosions released clouds of smoke, filling the arena.
Carrie jumped at the noise as those present began to panic, pushing their way to the exits while those in charge yelled over the intercom for them to remain calm. Trapped in the crowds, near the front of the arena, Carrie forced down the sense of fear filling her. As the arena was emptied she realized that the explosions had caused no damage, and that no fire was filling the building, only smoke. Curiosity, combined with the fact that she felt no serious danger, and not wanting to try to fight the mass of bodies leaving the building, forced Carrie to stay.
* * *
He swung through the city, his city. The night had been relatively peaceful, the Batman having only come across a handful of robberies and muggings, all easily dealt with. It was quiet, too quiet as they say, as if Gotham itself was holding its breath until the next major crime rocked its streets. Batman heard a familiar tone, Alfred’s voice coming over the mini-earphone inside his cowl.
“I do hope you don’t intend to injure yourself tonight, sir,” Alfred said over the tiny speaker. “I would hate to be late in picking up Miss Carrie from the event.”
“Don’t worry, Alfred,” Batman replied. “Nothing of note has happened tonight, and it doesn’t look like anything will. You’ll have no trouble picking her up.”
“Very good, Master Bruce,” Alfred commented. “I’m sure Miss Carrie is enjoying the gymnastics competition.”
“I’m sure she…” Batman started, then bit off the rest of his words. “Wait! Where is she?”
“Why, the annual gymnastics competition,” Alfred replied. “The one Master Dick won a medal in a few years back.”
There was a long pause before Batman spoke again. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered.
“Now, now, Master Bruce. You may be many things, but an idiot? Surely not.”
“Get back to the arena now!” Batman told Alfred.
“Why…?” Alfred started, before Batman cut him off.
“Because the answer to the riddle isn’t a safe… it’s a vault!”
* * *
The arena was empty as the smoke began clearing enough for Carrie to see more then a few feet ahead of her. Through the remaining wisps of smoke, she saw a man, dressing in a green suit, and bowler hat, and carrying a cane with a question mark for a handgrip.
“Too easy,” he said to himself as he walked towards a table standing near the podium, the medals having been abandoned, the performers having chosen to flee for their lives instead of saving some lumps of metal. Carrie watched, ducking down behind the seats in front of her, as the man placed a card under one of the medal boxes, before starting to gather up the awards inside, placing them into a canvas bag he held.
The criminal turned, and headed towards an exit, when a figure in black dropped to the ground before him, blocking his path.
“Ah, the Batman,” the man in green announced, setting the bag down as he bowed towards the other man. “I see you figured out my riddle.”
“Who are you?” was all Batman said in reply.
“Riddler’s the name, riddles are the game,” came the answer, as the man drew a sword from his cane. “En guarde!” The thin sword slashed out, as the man struck towards Batman.
Batman easily dodged the first strike, and quickly moved to knock the sword out of the Riddler’s hand, but the Riddler was too quick, he spun as he stepped backwards, Batman’s blow striking only air. Riddler then went on the defense, studying Batman’s fighting skills as he kept moving away from the man, his only attempts at attacking a few simple thrusts that Batman easily dodged, or blocked.
As they fought Carrie watched, wanting to help the cloaked hero in someway. Then she saw her opening. As the fight moved away from the bag, Carrie jumped from her seat, ran down the remaining stairs, hopped the railing, and dashed across the field. The fastest sprinter in her school, Carrie quickly reached the bag, and took a quick look to see that Batman and the Riddler were both still involved in their battle, neither noticing the young woman’s presence. Grabbing the bag, she quickly made her way to the nearest exit.
The Riddler had been watching Batman’s moves closely, until he saw the opening he was waiting for. The green clothed man quickly slipped in past Batman’s defenses, and struck, his sword sinking slightly through the suit’s armor, and into Batman’s arm, causing a grunt of pain from the hero, as he moved backwards. Riddler grinned, “Looks like I’ve figured out one riddle about you,” he said, before his smile faded when he looked towards the empty spot where his loot had been.
Batman seized the second of distraction to knock the sword from the Riddler’s hand. The Riddler quickly recovered, and dodged Batman’s rapid attacks, diving for his sword and rolling to his feet, blade back in hand.
By now the police had arrived on the scene, shouts of ‘freeze’ and ‘throw down your weapon’ filling the arena. “Looks like we’ll have to continue this some other time,” Riddler said, as he slid his sword back into the cane, and pressed a button on a remote from his pocket, clouds once more filling the arena.
Batman ran toward the Riddler's location, but found nothing. He quickly looked around, finding a trapdoor in the floor and yanked it open, but the Riddler had already made his escape. The caped crusader grimaced as he pulled out his grappling gun with his bleeding arm, and by the time the smoke cleared, both had vanished from the building.
* * *
“Looks like he got away with the medals, but we found this, Commish,” Detective Bullock told Jim, as the commissioner arrived at the arena. Gordon took the card and saw the expected riddle.
“Actually sir, I don’t think he did,” said Detective Yin as she walked over to him with a bag and Carrie. “Seems this young woman here managed to grab the bag, while our criminal was busy fighting with the Batman.”
Jim’s eyes widened slightly as he semi-recognized the young woman. “Aren’t you…?”
“Carrie Kelly, sir,” Carrie nodded. “We met the night…” her voice fell away, unable to say those final words.
Jim nodded, but before he could speak Alfred arrived, Steph by his side. “There you are, Miss Carrie,” the British man said. “Thank goodness you are alright. Master Bruce would be quite worried if something untoward had occurred.”
Steph nodded. “When I couldn’t find you outside I got worried.”
“She’s fine,” Yin told the two, before Carrie could speak. “I just need to take a statement from her about tonight. If you don’t mind?” she added, looking towards Carrie.
“Oh no, of course not,” Carrie replied as the two went off to the side, while Alfred stepped over to Jim, the two chatting away like old friends.
