The sun reaches its zenith at the height of another fine afternoon in fair Gotham City. But wait! What's this? Do my ears deceive me or is that the foul, villainous laughter of the King of Conundrums, the Prince of Puzzles, the Riddler himself? What kind of danger must the Dynamic Duo face now? All will be answered in:

The Case of the Unsolvable Riddle

"Riddle me this, Dynamic Dolts," a triumphant voice, soaring on the edge of laughter filled the small room and penetrated the groggy consciousnesses of Batman and Robin. "How do you escape from a room with no doors or windows, furnished with nothing but a table? Try and get out of this one by using your heads!" The voice of the Riddler gave into high-pitched, maniacal laughter that resounded off the bare walls, echoing madly.

Woken from unconsciousness by that voice, Batman sat up and looked around the room he didn't remember having entered for the source. He found himself alone apart from Robin, the voice seemingly coming from nowhere. It held a mechanical, tinny quality that he deduced must mean that Riddler's message had been pre-recorded and now played from hidden speakers. From his look around, he found that the message had been correct: the room in which he found himself had no means of escape by either door or window. It was completely empty apart from a large wooden table.

However, the Caped Crusader had more immediate concerns than his surroundings. Kneeling beside his young ward and sidekick Robin, he gave the boy's shoulder a gentle shake and was relieved to see him coming around, blinking behind the green raccoon mask he wore.

"Are you alright, old chum?"

"Holy amnesia!" Robin exclaimed, as he sat up and took stock of his surroundings, a gloved hand going gingerly to explore the bump that was swelling painfully on the back of his head. "Where are we? What's happened? The last thing I remember is rushing to a distress call from the Commissioner."

Gravely, Batman helped his plucky young sidekick to his feet and then assumed his favourite thinking pose, one arm crossed over his chest with his free hand ponderously cupping his chin. Seeing this pose, Robin fell into an expectant silence, waiting to see what words of wisdom would come out of the great bat-detective's mouth after his brilliant brain had assessed the predicament they had found themselves in.

"That call," he began after a moment's silence, "did not come from the Commissioner at all, Robin. I believe it was part of a villainous trap to… lure us out into the open. Whereupon our old enemy the Riddler, that tricky Prince of Puzzles, attacked us from behind, knocking us out and bringing us here, where he no doubt intends us to meet our deaths."

"Gosh!" was all that Robin could come up with to express his absolute disgust at the workings of the criminal mind. To add extra weight to the statement, he drove one fist into the open palm of his hand and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. "Will these foul felons never learn, Batman?" he added, annoyed into further denouncement by yet another extravagant attempt on his and his mentor's life. "Every week they try to kill us, but we always manage to escape."

"That's because that would be the end of the franchise if we were to die, and the creators of this far-fetched nonsense would be out of pocket," Batman replied in a grumbling undertone. He then glanced sidelong out of the page, hoped no one had heard him and clapped a hand on his young friend's shoulder with a grim smile.

"What I mean to say, old chum," he amended in louder, clearer tones, "is that I wouldn't be so sure. We may have been lucky so far, but this time may prove to be our undoing. However, we can't give up hope, so I suggest we look for any way out we might have missed upon first, superficial glance."

So saying, the two crime-fighters split up in opposite directions and made their way laboriously around the circumference of the small, square room. Expert hands searched every inch of the bare grey walls for any cracks that might betray the existence of some hidden door, cleverly disguised to blend in with its surroundings; but the walls were made of cement and uniformly smooth. Moving in to the middle of the room, the Caped Crusaders found that the same was true for the floor.

They found themselves in the centre of the room where the table stood forlornly, with nothing to show for their efforts but frustration and gloved fingertips covered in cement dust from their fruitless search. Impulsively, the Boy Wonder slammed his clenched fists down on the table's surface in anger.

"There's no way out! We're trapped!"

Batman, standing on the opposite side of the table, raised calm eyes to regard his young friend. Under that unruffled, intelligent gaze, Robin felt his annoyance melt away and he relaxed his fists.

"There must be some way out Robin, otherwise how would we have been able to get in here to be trapped in the first place?"

The logic of that argument was unfaultable. The Boy Wonder gave an emphatic nod. "Gosh yes Batman, you're right."

This was acknowledged by the bat-detective with a slight quirk of his lips that seemed to say 'Of course, I'm always right.' Out loud, he continued "And getting frustrated won't help us find it. We need to keep a clear head." As soon as that word occurred to him, his eyes widened behind the bat-eared cowl that masked half of his face and he triumphantly caught his fist in his hand. "That's it! In his message, the Riddler said that we had to get out of this by using our heads. Knowing the Riddler, that must have been some sort of clue."

It was a well-known fact to the Dynamic Duo that their green-suited foe the Riddler couldn't resist committing a crime without leaving behind vital clues, usually in the form of his namesake – riddles. Whether this was out of taunting arrogance on his part, or a deep-seated need to be caught and punished for his misdemeanours wasn't certain because criminal psychology had yet to become fashionable. Villains were for fighting and apprehending, not having cosy chats about their traumatic childhood with.

Excitement initially fell over the two caped crime-fighters at the finding of a clue, but it rapidly descended into thoughtful silence with the question "What does it mean?"

Both simultaneously fell to pacing – the sport of the intelligentsia – as they tried to puzzle out the clue. Each wrapped up in their own individual thoughts, they passed each other silently a few times. Having traversed the length of the room a number of times and still no closer to finding a solution, Robin let his impatience master him once again. He came to an abrupt halt by a wall with a cry of "It's no use!"

Wishing to take his frustration out on something, he turned to drive his fist into the wall behind him. However, his passion had left him less aware of his surroundings than usual and he mistimed the movement, accidentally greeting the wall with his forehead instead of his fist. There was the wincing crack of bone on cement and then Robin staggered back in surprise, clutching with one hand at a head that already ached from the knockout blow he'd received earlier that day.

"Holy migraine," he complained, rubbing ineffectually at his forehead in an attempt to dull the pain. "My head's sore."

"Sore! That's it Robin!" Batman exclaimed, apparently oblivious to his young friend's pain and potential concussion as he raised a triumphant fist, index finger held aloft. "Do you remember the answer to that old riddle 'how does a man trapped in a room with no way out, furnished with nothing but a table, escape?'"

Being an adolescent with a healthy mind, Robin was well-versed in riddles and jokes. "Well sure I do Batman, but I don't see how that's going to help us now." Pain in his head already forgotten, he glanced sidelong at his mentor, wondering if perhaps the knock on his head had caused more damage than simply rendering the man unconscious for a while. But he needn't have worried; the Caped Crusader was in full working possession of his mental faculties and was just, as usual, working a few steps ahead of less well-honed minds.

"Never fear old chum," Batman soothed, "all will become clear soon enough." He started to reach for his utility belt, where he kept everything a crime-fighter could possibly need in any conceivable (and even unconceivable) circumstance, but found it missing. A glance at his colourfully dressed sidekick revealed it to be the case for him as well.

"Riddler must have taken our utility belts after he knocked us out," was the brilliant conclusion. "Luckily I still have a few tricks… up my sleeve." So saying, the Darknight Detective raised a gauntleted hand and delicately worked the two forefingers of his free hand past the hem of his glove. From within it he withdrew a long, thin handsaw that had been hidden against his forearm between the sleeve of his costume and his glove. Obviously Riddler hadn't thought to check for any concealed crime-fighting tools beyond those stored in the utility belts.

"Your handy Bat-saw!" Robin exclaimed upon seeing it. "Holy carpentry, what are you going to use that for?"

Answering with nothing more than a cryptic smile, Batman went to the table in the centre of the room and began sawing it in half. His biceps flexed impressively beneath the tight-fitting spandex of his suit with every powerful, measured stroke of the saw. Within moments, the thick wood had been cut straight through without Batman even breaking into a sweat and the two halves fell cleanly off to either side, landing with a clatter.

Robin was even more confused. "Are we going to use the table to try and knock down one of the walls?" he asked.

"Not quite." Picking up one half of the table, Batman carried it to a wall and leant it up against its surface, so that the wall looked as if it had suddenly sprouted forth a table. He gave it a push to make sure it was steady and then motioned for Robin to bring the other half over.

"I didn't want to mention it earlier," he explained, taking the other half from Robin and balancing it directly on top of the other one, "in case I gave you false hope of escape, but on my first examination of the room I came across this ventilation grille."

Sure enough, near the corner of the wall the two table halves were stacked against, was a ventilation hole, that escape route blocked off by a barred metal grille. Set high up by the ceiling, Robin could see that reaching it would be impossible and understood why his mentor hadn't wanted to get his hopes up by pointing it out earlier. Even by pushing the table up against the wall and standing on top of it wouldn't have brought them within reach. But now with the table cut in half it could be made twice as tall. The Boy Wonder was starting to understand the plan Batman had devised.

"My Batarangs were all in my utility belt, so I knew we couldn't use them to reach to ventilation grille, but when you mentioned that your head was sore, I remembered the solution to that riddle about being trapped in a room and that gave me my idea."

Standing up against the balanced table halves, Batman used his well-toned, muscular waist to press up against the edge of the lower half, thus holding it firmly in place against the wall. To keep the top half from falling down, he took hold of the two remaining legs in each hand and held it steady. In that way, a secure climbing frame was created beneath the ventilation grille.

"Now Robin, using the acrobatic skills you learnt in the circus, you can climb up and pull the grille away from the hole."

Robin scaled the tables with graceful ease for, before his parents had tragically died and he'd been taken in by the kindly millionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne – who was actually the masked crime-fighter Batman – he'd been a trapeze artist in the circus. He still retained the skills and litheness that he'd acquired there and like now, was often able to put them to good use.

Knelt on the top half of the table, he peered over the edge to make sure that Batman was bearing the extra weight okay. "I'm up."

Braced against the table halves that at any moment threatened to topple, knocking the Boy Wonder from his perch and crushing the bat-detective beneath their lethal combined weight, his strength the only thing keeping these disastrous events from coming to pass, Batman looked up at his sidekick and nodded. "Good boy, Robin. Now the grille."

The Boy Wonder disappeared from view and the table halves wobbled alarmingly as he stood up. Batman gritted his teeth and tightened his grip, feeling minute movements tremor through the wood, whilst above him Robin grappled with the ventilation grille. There was a sudden lurch, more violent than the rest, and a few seconds later the clatter of metal falling onto the concrete floor sounded behind Batman. Once again he raised his head and found Robin looking down at him.

"Done, Batman. That ventilation hole must be the way we came in through, because it looks big enough for both of us."

"Good work old chum. You climb out and I'll follow you."

A frown creased the young man's face and he made no move to get going. "But how will you get up here without someone holding the tables steady for you?"

"Don't worry about me, Robin."

With obvious reluctance, although he had every confidence in the older man's physical ability, Robin stood up. He would have refused to go, but that would have been too close to doubting the Caped Crusader, so he turned and boosted himself up onto the edge of the ventilation hole. Lying on his stomach, he was able to wriggle through the hole, out onto the other side of the room and then he disappeared from view.

Left standing alone on the ground, Batman put his great mind to work on how best to get out. He supposed that if he climbed fast enough, he would be able to reach the escape route before the makeshift construct collapsed beneath his weight. Of course, there was a chance that it wouldn't last the duration of even the quickest of climbs, but risks have always been a part of crime-fighting and Batman wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

With the amazing strength and agility that made him the fearsome opponent of criminals everywhere, he launched himself onto the first table half and then the next. The surface sagged backwards under his weight, starting to fall away from the wall, and Batman made a grab for the lip of the ventilation hole. His gloved fingers grazed it and then managed to take hold just as the construct toppled beneath him, leaving his feet dangling in thin air.

Pacing anxiously outside, Robin stopped when he heard the crash of falling tables and called out in alarm. "Batman!"

Seconds later, the familiar masked head appeared from the ventilation hole and answered. "I'm alright, Robin."

Dropping down lightly, Batman found himself standing out in the open. The room he and Robin had until recently been trapped in was a rebuilt shack standing on the quiet outskirts of Gotham city. He surveyed the area and found the one road that lead back to the heart of the city apparently deserted.

"Who knows what dastardly tricks Riddler has been getting up to since he trapped us here? But without the Batmobile we'll have to get to Gotham on foot, allowing him enough time to get away with whatever he's got planned."

Because the Dynamic Duo had been knocked out whilst walking to the Police Headquarters, having already been in the vicinity when they received the phony 'distress call', the Batmobile was still parked in the city and whatever transport Riddler had employed in order to bring them out here was long gone. The road this way was rarely used, as was obvious from its current desertion and the fact that they had heard no traffic whilst they had been entrapped, so there was no point in waiting to hitchhike a lift from some passing good citizen. It looked as if they had no choice but to run.

"Wait!" Robin suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers as a thought occurred to him. "The last part of the riddle's answer, it says –"

"Of course!" The bat-detective interrupted, earning himself a glare from his young sidekick that he failed to notice, so caught up was he in his line of thought. "If my memory serves me correctly, which it always does, then the field where old farmer McDonald puts his horses out to graze during the day is very near here. Luckily we went on that horse riding expedition not that long ago, where we learnt how to ride and… how to call a horse back when it's run away. If we use that call now, we may be able to attract the attention of old McDonald's horses and ride them into town. I'm sure he won't mind us borrowing them for such an important cause."

"Right! And borrowing is just stealing with the intention of giving it back later."

Batman glanced sidelong at Robin, wondering if the boy had at last – a few years later than most of his peers – deemed it fit to begin his foray into adolescence and was kicking off with sarcastic remarks aimed at the ideals of his elders and betters. But looking at his sidekick's youthful, innocent face, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. In fact, it seemed more than likely that Robin was the carrier of some bizarre genetic mutation that would prevent him from ever hitting puberty in the normal, healthy sense of the word. Not that Batman minded a bit. He smiled paternally.

"That's not quite right Robin, but never mind. We've got to shout for those horses.

The crime-fighters let loose the special, secret call that had been taught to them by an elderly Horse Whisperer on their horse riding expedition. Filling powerful lungs with air, they took a deep breath, cupped their hands around their mouths to concentrate the sound and shouted "Ee-i-ee-i-oh!"

They shouted until their throats were raw from the effort, the calls coming in harsh croaks and still no mounts had appeared. Batman tried to continue after Robin stopped, uncomfortably rubbing his sore throat, but all that came out of the Caped Crusader's mouth was a dry rasp. He had shouted himself out.

"Holy bronchitis," the Boy Wonder wheezed. "I've shouted myself hoarse."

"And just in time too! Look!" His mentor returned, pointing over the horizon where old McDonald's farm lay.

Robin looked at to his relief saw two fine steeds galloping towards them. Large, powerful beasts, they tossed their heads proudly as they ran, their rapid hooves churning the soil beneath them and sending up clouds of earth. Except, for legs moving that fast, the horses seemed to be taking an awfully long time to reach the two crime-fighters. Batman and Robin exchanged uneasy glances.

As the mounts got closer it became apparent that they weren't large or powerful at all. Perspective brought back to normal as they trotted up to the Dynamic Duo and nuzzled fondly at their gloved hands, showed the horses to in fact be short dumpy ponies. Hardly majestic steeds, they were more akin to the shaggy donkeys used to give children rides at the seaside.

Never one to lose his dignity in the face of adversity, Batman proudly swung himself astride the squat beast. Seeing Robin's dubious look he said "You should never look a gift horse in the mouth. Come on, we've got a Riddler to catch."

The Boy Wonder considered this for a moment and then gave a decisive nod, driving a fist into his open hand with renewed aplomb. "Gosh yes Batman, let's go!"

With that, he swung a leg over the waiting pony's back, tucked his knees up so that his feet didn't drag on the ground and then gave his mount a hearty slap on the flanks to get it moving. Together, the Dynamic Duo raced upon their steeds to Gotham city, there to save it from the Riddler's fiendish clutches.

"Riddle me this!" The question-costumed crook known as the Riddler giggled maniacally as he levelled his gun at the terrified bank clerk. "What do time, the heart, and money all have in common?"

Knowing that no one would answer, the villain laughed again and clapped his hands in delight at his own prestigious intellect. As usual, he was left to answer his riddle himself and he did so with gusto, punctuating it by stabbing the air with a purple gloved index finger. "Answer: they can all be stolen! Now hand over the money." He shared a triumphant grin with his three henchmen – Query, Conundrum and Quizzical – who stood at strategic positions around the bank to make sure that no one got in or out.

Behind his desk, the bank clerk was reluctantly filling a sack marked with the word 'Loot' full of wads of crisp, clean bank notes. In a sudden rush of defiant bravery he looked up and said to the masked madman "You won't get away with this, Batman and Robin will stop you."

At those words, all semblance of good humour disappeared from the Riddler's face and he rounded so angrily on the bank clerk that the man flinched and went rapidly back to filling up the loot bag, stuffing the money in as fast as he could.

"The Caped Mistake and the Boy Blunder?" Riddler sneered, raising an eyebrow. "They can't stop me. Batman and Robin are dead!"

He started to laugh again but was interrupted by the bank's doors flying open and two familiarly costumed figures jumping in, their fists raised in a classical fighting stance. The Prince of Puzzles' laughter died in his throat as he turned to see the two apparitions.

"That's right Riddler, dead on time to stop your nefarious scheme!" Batman quipped heroically.

It was at that moment Riddler's henchmen recovered enough from their shock to run at the Caped Crusaders, heads lowered like charging bulls and their arms held open to grab hold of their adversaries. Seeing their approach, Batman grabbed Robin by the arm and expertly swung him around, giving the Boy Wonder the boost he needed to kick the first henchman in the face.

Crack!

The henchman crumpled unconscious to the floor at the same moment Robin landed lightly back on his feet. He pivoted just in time to see Batman dodging the fist of a largely built man with the word 'Conundrum' printed across the front of his green sweater, with all the agility and skill of a trained boxer. So swift was the cowled crime-fighter, that Conundrum didn't have time to pull out of his punch and ended up painfully bashing his fist against the wall. Without missing a second, Batman grabbed hold of the unfortunate henchman's head and cracked that against the wall as well, knocking the man out.

Pow!

That only left the final henchman Quizzical, who was starting to look decidedly worried now that he was outnumbered. He was so busy keeping an eye on Batman that he failed to notice the Boy Wonder sneaking around behind him and crouching down on all fours. Then the Batman was rushing towards him and he was so startled that he took a step back, tripping over the waiting Robin. Arms flailing wildly for balance, Quizzical toppled over backwards and hit his head on the floor.

Biff!

Reaching down, Batman gave Robin a hand up and then they shook over a fight well fought. That done, Batman jumped up to grab hold of a light fixture that almost certainly hadn't been there a moment ago and swung the length of the bank on it. He landed lightly in front of the Riddler, who was cowering back against the bank clerk's desk, frozen with surprise.

"How – how did you manage to escape?" He demanded weakly.

"It was easy," Batman answered, sharing a sly smile with Robin as the boy ran up to stand beside him. "We just solved the answer to your tricky riddle."

"Yes, we banged our heads against the wall until they were sore, used the saw to cut the table in half, put the two halves together to make a whole, escaped out through the hole then shouted until we were hoarse, got on the horse and rode here to stop you."

Riddler's mouth dropped open in surprise. "No. No, no, no no, no!" Turning, his knees buckled and he leant against the bank clerk's desk for support, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "That's not possible! That riddle is only word play, it can't be solved physically." Distraught, he slammed his fists down on the desk like a child having a tantrum and then buried his face in his hands.

"When is a criminal like a loose thread?" He muttered dejectedly against his palms before pressing one fist melodramatically to his mouth. "When he is undone!"

"Now that the tide has turned against you Riddler," Batman interrupted, producing a pair of bat-cuffs and snapping them around the punctuated plunderer's wrists, "I'll use that to get you tied up."

Riddler would have banged his head on the desk at that feeble attempt of Batman's to pun in the same manner as his failed death-trap of a riddle, were it not for the very real possibility of hurting himself in the process. Instead, he settled for glaring over his shoulder at the Caped Crusader.

"Looks like we've driven him round the bend," Robin grinned.

"Yes old chum, right to the police station and a cosy prison cell." Batman returned humorously.

Everyone in the bank joined in with the Dynamic Duo's laughter, except of course for the Riddler, and his three henchmen who were still unconscious.