The station at 43rd Street was pretty dead. Chief even made some of the force head home for the afternoon. Just not enough going on, he said. Most of the mob's in jail, and that in turn has somewhat discouraged any trivial side jobs that might have gone on.
After the Chief sent the fifth consecutive officer home, he got a call at his desk. God, I hope it's not my wife. "Chief Miller here."
The voice on the other end shocked him. The caller sounded almost like he had a voice-mask on, the sound is digitized and somewhat hard to hear. "Is this the District 7 Police Department?" he asks.
"Who is this?" the Chief asked. Anonymous tip, perhaps?
The voice continued. "Not relevant. I have sources that say the Gotham National Savings Bank less on 43rd Street will be robbed by four men, wearing ski masks and driving a white unmarked van. My source is accurate, Chief Miller, I assure you. You have less than thirty minutes." The receiver clicked as the caller hung up.
Unfortunately, whenever a tip comes in that involves a city establishment, the force has to investigate. Damn, on today of all days. The chief considered calling the sent-home officers back in, but decided against it and rallied his remaining manpower in the station.
On the other side of Gotham City, Lieutenant Johnson picked up the receiver on his desk phone, "Hello?"
The same voice-masked speech is spewed form the headset, but replacing District 7 with District 3, and the Whitaker Bank on Elm instead of the National. The receiver clicks as the caller hangs up. Lieutenant Johnson considers to phone in his neighboring police district for assistance, but decides against it because of the time constraint.
Bruce Wayne sits at his console in the lair he has underneath his mansion. It's a damn good thing that this city has a caped crusader, because Lord knows it needs a detective. Even though Mr. Wayne is a billionaire crime fighter, he is still bored. Even though he finds it difficult to admit, he needs for the city to be in some kind of peril. With the mob partially disbanded and the Joker in Arkham, Batman has had to deal with lower and lower classes of crime. The simple drug rings were becoming a regular, and monotonous, occurance. His detective skills unmatched even by the most vehement on the GCPD, but even so, they were becoming rusty in his eyes.
The monitor beeps and flashes. An icon appears over the Gotham National Savings Bank in the sixth district. The Batman crosses over to his cabinet at the far end of the Bat-Cave, where he keeps his suits that he goes masquerading around the city in. He dons the protective suit, updated with all the latest advances in grappling equipment, bulletproof Kevlar, and reconnaissance gear. He activates the homing beacon on his cowl, and then drapes it over his head.
Batman gives the computer monitor a once-over and sees that another icon has popped up, the Whitaker Bank on Elm. Three more bank icons light up along the map of Gotham City, each in distinct parts of the metropolis. Seven banks in total.
"Why these banks? What about District 8's?" The only district not to be lit up with a bank inside. District 8 only has two banks, the GNSB and the Provident. The GNSB will be networked with the others of its kind getting the threat and will be put on heightened security nonetheless. The Provident is the only of the franchise in the city, and will be left almost totally unguarded, so…
The Batman swoops down and glides to the cockpit of the Tumbler, fresh from the Research and Development at Wayne Enterprises. The engines on the tank-like vehicle roar to life, and the Dark Knight speeds away from the cave.
The Provident Bank sits a good distance away from the GNSB on Elm. No police sirens are flashing. The safes aren't on Presidential Override. Nothing is out of the ordinary, except that the one fact that this particular bank is the only one that is going to get robbed.
A tall man steps through the front door. He is in his mid-thirties, but gives off the air of a much older gentleman. He is very thin, and dressed in a green blazer with a traditional bowler hat of the same color adorning his head. He walks with a cane and attached to the top is a green jewel. The closest security guard is facing the counter of the bank and is standing along the sidewall.
The tall, green-clad man briskly walks up to the security guard. "Sir! Sir! Good morning to you! I managed to break the toughest riddle! I only say this because it pertains to the nature of your work. Would you indulge me in hearing it?"
The guard was lectured earlier in the week that he wasn't being as courteous to the bank patrons as he could have been. He chooses to oblige the strange man. "Uh, yeah, sure."
"When is the top of a mountain like a savings account?
"Gee... I don't..."
The tall man whips out his cane he has been leaning on. The top of the cane comes in contact with the guard's chest, electrifying him and sending to the ground, moaning. "When it peaks one's interest."
The female clerk behind the counter in the bank reaches down and presses the button for the silent alarm. The man smiles.
"No one's coming, miss. I can assure you that. I've engineered it that way. Now, open the safe for me, please." The man points the end of his cane towards her over the desk.
The lights of the bank go out. "And here we go," he says.
The Batman crouches on a rafter ahead of the two people in the bank.
"Welcome, Batman. I was wondering if someone would crack my riddle. If I had to take a guess, I would've put my money on you."
Bruce disguises his voice by lowering it several octaves, and it sounds like more of a guttural sound than anything else. "It wasn't hard, just had to connect the dots. Clever of you to exploit the police separation of late."
"Naturally. You can come out, crusader of crime. I am unarmed, save this walking cane, and it's only for medicinal purposes."
The Batman lunges for the man, but is jabbed in the face with the jeweled end of the cane. Batman's suit quivers with jolts of electricity. He is sent to the ground in agony.
"Medicinal purposes being electrotherepy." The Batman tries to get up, but fails, falling again on his chest as it feels as if all the air in his lungs as been knocked out. "We could have spared this part."
The man takes a whack at Batman a few times with the end of his cane. He rolls the Batman onto his back. When it appears that the Batman is incapacitated, the man brings his hand to his chin. "Let's see. Green eyes, square jaw, large build - very large build. Well, you're obviously wealthy, sporting military grade gear like that, or you're sponsored by someone very wealthy. I think, though, it's the former, making you a one-man deal, which I think you prefer. Have I said enough?"
The Batman leaps up and executes a dodge maneuver and escapes the cane slash downward. He lands a punch squarely on the man's chest, but the cane strikes up and out and catches Batman's head. Batman crumples again.
"Oh, my. Quite a maneuver you pulled there. Reminiscent of Panther-style martial arts. Trained in a dojo somewhere?"
The Batman struggles up once again and throws a few more blows. The green-suited man blocks some and brings his cane down again to crumple Batman to the floor. "I'll take that as a yes."
The Riddler points the gem-tipped end of the cane at Batman's chest and it flashes green. A blast echoes out from the tip of the cane and Batman is hurled backwards and smacks against the concrete wall of the bank. The stranger smiles and says, "Surely not want to die, so time to fly!"
A note card is flicked from the man and lands near Batman's head. Batman barely manages to turn his head to read what is on the card. Just to analyze your face, and also so you would get a taste. Yours truly, RIDDLER.
The Riddler escapes out the front door, calmly walking with his cane in hand.