Author's Note (let's get the legal stuff out of the way first, shall we?):
Olivia Benson, Alex Cabot, Elliot Stabler, John Munch, Fin Tutuola Casey Novak and Don Cragen were all created by Dick Wolf. The characters of Law & Order: SVU are owned by Wolf Films and NBC/Universal.
The Batman was created by the late, great Bob Kane. Batman/Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, The Joker, The Riddler and all associated characters from the Batman universe are owned by DC Comics, which is owned by Time/Warner.
Superman was created by the late, great Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. Superman/Clark Kent, Supergirl, Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen and all other associated characters from the Superman universe are owned by DC Comics, which is owned by Time/Warner.
I'm not making any money off of this story. It was written just for fun.
This story, along with Batman & Benson, exists in its own, alternate universe. Here, Alex Cabot is still being hunted by the drug dealers. And for the shippers: this is very much an Olivia/Alex story. This story takes place several months after the SVU episode "Fault".
Batman & Benson 2
One
"The Approaching Darkness"
"I see somebody now," Donnie said into his cell phone. He stood in the shadows, watching a blond woman cross the street. She walked briskly in the night air, making for the South Side Women's Shelter that was directly across the street from him. When she passed under a streetlight, Donnie pulled out the photo of Alexandra Cabot and held it up, comparing it to the woman. "Yeah, that's her. That's Cabot. Ok, we have a confirmation of the target. Pass it on."
Donnie shut the phone off and put it away. He stared at Cabot as she nervously entered the building. They could have just popped her right now in the street, but nobody was in position yet. Besides, Donnie wanted to wait until she was inside. If he was correct, Cabot's office was the one on the top floor, with the big window facing the street. And blowing her pretty blonde head off while she sat at her desk would make for a really juicy hit.
A mob hit man since he was sixteen, Donnie always enjoyed expressing himself through the more artistic side of his profession. He preferred the hit that made a statement, such as stuffing pennies down the throat of a man who owed money to his bookie, or drowning the crooked councilmember who was an avid swimmer. He was a big fan of irony, and used it often to accent his work, much like a chef uses seasoning in a soup. He became known to many in his line of work as The Stylist.
Cabot was one of these goody two shoes who was a staunch victim's rights advocate for women. She ran this shelter, and offered help to any woman who needed it in Gotham City. Donnie smiled at the image of Cabot's brains being splattered all over the walls of her office. The residents of her precious women's shelter would probably go running screaming in the streets after seeing that sight. The result of her hit would be a women's shelter that was no longer safe; oh yes, that would be most ironic indeed.
Donnie nodded to himself when he saw a light come on in the window on the top floor. He pulled out a pair of small binoculars and smiled as he watched Cabot take a seat at her desk, her back facing the window. 'Jeez, this is gonna be too easy!' he thought.
He pulled out his cell phone and hit redial. Yet there was no answer; the phone just kept ringing. "Dammit, Gus," he whispered, "where the hell are you?"
"Gus is indisposed for the moment," a dark voice said from the shadows behind him. It was so cold and inhuman sounding that it made the tiny hairs on Donnie's neck stand straight up in fear. "Just as you soon will be."
Donnie had a Colt .45 caliber handgun tucked in a holster under his left armpit. Years of experience made him a lightning-quick draw, even with his jacket buttoned. His hand instantly reached for the gun and pulled it out before he could even think about it.
But he still wasn't fast enough.
Donnie was punched hard across the face, the force of the blow knocking the gun out of his hand. He was so stunned by the attack that Donnie abruptly discovered he was sprawled out on the sidewalk before he even realized he had fallen down. He stared up at the streetlamp that hung over him, blinking to refocus his blurry vision, and wondered who--or what--had just assaulted him.
The answer came when a shadowy figure loomed over him. It was a hulking dark creature with two pointy ears on the top of its head.
"Oh God, no," Donnie whimpered in fear. "Y-You're not real! You're just a m-myth!"
The creature reached out and grabbed Donnie by the throat. It effortlessly hauled him up off the ground with one arm. The creature leaned its head close to Donnie's face.
"Let's talk," it whispered to him in that ungodly voice.
Donnie let out a shrill scream as the ground beneath him rapidly fell away. The Bat-creature had taken flight in the night skies, with Donnie at his mercy like a field mouse caught in the talons of a hawk.
B&B
'What the hell was that?' Alex Cabot thought, as she spun around in her seat. She stared out the window, her eyes wide and fearful behind her glasses.
Removing her glasses, Alex stood up for a better look out the window. From what she could see in the illumination from the streetlamps, Alex couldn't see anything amiss on the street below.
'That was weird,' she thought with a frown. 'For a second there, I thought I heard somebody screaming out here.'
Alex was so busy looking for trouble out her window that she never noticed the bright red spot--created by a pin-point laser--that appeared on her chest.
B&B
'He's about ready,' Batman thought.
Donald Harman, a.k.a. The Stylist, hung upside down by his ankles over a five story drop. The pants of his fine Armani suit were soiled with urine as he babbled incoherently about god, the devil and the high price of redemption.
Batman had tied Harman's ankles to a support beam above them. He reached out and grabbed the man by the back of the neck. Pulling Harman close enough so that they were face to face, Batman said, "Who are you working for?"
"No! I can't tell you!" Harman cried. "He'll kill me!"
"That'll be a walk in the park compared to what I'm going to do to you," Batman snarled. "TELL ME HIS NAME!"
Yet Harman shook his head. "I can't! I swear, I can't!"
"Do you worship God?" Batman abruptly asked.
"Wha--? Uh, yeah, I do," Harman said, looking confused.
"Then start praying," Batman said, "because you're about to meet Him!"
With that Batman gave Harman a strong shove, which swung the bound man right over the five story drop like a human pendulum. Harman let out a wild scream until Batman caught him when he swung back. He was never in any real danger of falling, but in his frenzied, disoriented state, Harman didn't know that.
"Who are you working for?" Batman demanded once more. "Tell me, or I won't bother to catch you next time!"
"Boss Thorne!" Harman cried. "I'm working for Boss Thorne! He hired me to kill the Cabot broad!"
Batman was so stunned he took a step backwards. 'Rupert Thorne?' he thought with amazement. 'Why would the crime boss of Gotham City want Alex Cabot dead?' Another disconcerting thing was the fact that they knew Alex's real name; her cover as Nora Bradshaw was effectively blown.
Still, he had to make sure. "Don't you dare lie to me!" Batman warned.
"I'm not lying!" Harman insisted. "The three of us were sent by Thorne tonight to scope out Cabot, and if we could do the hit now, we would have done--"
"The three of you?" Batman said, startled.
Harman let out another scream as Batman released him, letting him swing back over the five story drop. "DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"
Batman ignored him as he somersaulted onto the roof of a water tower. It was the tallest structure in the neighborhood, which offered the best vantage point to search for an assassin. He only prayed that he wasn't too late.
'There he is!' Batman thought, as he spotted the man on the roof of a building a few doors over. He was hunched down along the edge of the building aiming a gun across the street.
Batman dove down from the water tower, spreading out his cape to slow his fall like a parachute. When he hit the roof, he rolled his body to absorb the impact of landing. He sprung up into a full run, his cape flowing out behind him, yet Batman realized that he still wouldn't reach the assassin in time.
B&B
'Damn, what a waste,' Lonnie Mitchell thought, as he watched the woman in the office through the sniper sight on the rifle. 'This Cabot chick is a real babe!'
"Oh well," he muttered, as he placed a finger on the rifle's trigger. "At least she won't suffer."
Yet just as he pulled the trigger, something struck the gun, blowing his shot. Lonnie was stunned to see a metallic silver dart in the shape of a bat sticking out of the wooden stock of the rifle. He was further stunned to see the Batman diving off the ledge of the adjoining building, bearing down right on top of him.
Lonnie tried to bring the rifle up to fire, but by the time he even thought of that idea, Batman's boot connected with his face, instantly knocking him unconscious.
B&B
'Ok, now I know I just heard gunfire,' Alex anxiously thought, as she reached for the phone on her desk.
Marguerite Pena entered Alex's office with a frantic look on her face. "There's a demon crawling along the top of the building across the street!"
Alex paused to shake her head before calling 911. One of Alex's first cases in the women's shelter, Marguerite soon became a trusted friend who now worked alongside her as a counselor. Although she was fantastic at her work (after all, who would know better at counseling battered women than a former battered woman herself?) Marguerite was an extremely superstitious woman.
"Marguerite, you know full well there's no such thing as demons," Alex patiently explained.
Yet Marguerite stood pointing at the window with a look of terror on her face. "NORA!" she screamed, using Alex's undercover name, "RUN!"
And then she took off down the hall, running faster than an Olympic sprinter.
"Marguerite, wait! What the--?" Alex called after her assistant. Then she abruptly hesitated when she felt a strong breeze blowing in from behind her.
'But I always keep the window shut,' Alex thought, as she slowly turned around to see what it could be.
Alex let out an involuntary yelp when she saw the large dark monster hunched on her windowsill. Then she realized that it was the Batman, although that still didn't do much to soothe her nerves.
"You're not safe here," he said firmly. "You're coming with me."
"What?" Alex meekly asked. "Um…you mean right now?"
B&B
"Starting at 12:01 this morning, 911 will connect rape calls directly to the Gotham City Police Special Victim's Unit," Commissioner James Gordon said to the assembled detectives and uniformed officers of the new SVU. "It's been a long road for all of us, resulting in the formation of this squad, and I would just like to thank all of you for taking up the challenge. I have complete faith in each and every one of you. I'd also like to give special thanks to Olivia Benson for all of her help, advice and support in the creation of this squad. Thanks Olivia!"
Olivia felt herself blush when the entire Gotham City SVU squad burst into raucous applause for her. They were a great bunch of guys and gals, and Olivia almost pitied the sex crime perpetrators of Gotham City from this moment onward.
"That's all I have to say--except that you've got a few hours before the squad officially begins operating," Gordon said. "So I'd suggest you'd get some chow."
The SVU squad began to break up to catch dinner and make other plans before the start of their shift in a few hours. Commissioner Gordon came over and shook Olivia's hand. "Just wanted to thank you once again, Olivia. For all your help."
"It was my pleasure, sir," Olivia said with a smile. "You've got a great group here. The perps won't know what hit them."
"If Gotham City has a supreme SVU, it's thanks largely to the woman who put the team together and trained them," Gordon said. "Namely you. Which brings me to something else I'd like to bring up with you, Olivia."
Olivia had been dreading this moment for the longest time, now. While the training of the GPD SVU had been going on for the last two months, she had served as its acting commander. She took some much-needed time off from the NYPD to do this special assignment. But now that the 'shake down cruise' was over, so to speak, and the team was ready to hit the streets, it was crunch time. The new SVU needed a full-time commander, and Gordon had made no bones about how badly he wanted Olivia to run it.
Yet perhaps the thing that scared Olivia the most was the fact that she never really had any desire to return to New York City, let alone go back to the NYPD. Now faced with the major decision of staying or leaving, Olivia no longer had the privilege of avoiding her feelings, which she had kept buried for the better part of the time she'd spent in Gotham City.
When she saw Gordon staring at her intently, Olivia abruptly realized that she had been absently rubbing the scar from the old knife wound on her neck the whole time she had been lost in thought.
"Is that still bothering you?" he asked, concerned.
"It itches," Olivia said. "It's not a problem."
"As you well know, we've got a big weekend coming up here," Gordon said. "In addition to the police convention, we're also hosting the Science Fair, as well as a viewing of the Treasures of the Ancient World exhibit at the Gotham Museum."
"That's quite a lot on your plate," Olivia said sympathetically. "But on the bright side, at least Gotham City is finally being seen as a popular tourist destination."
"If only the tourists would just stay home and send the money," Gordon grumbled. "I know you said you would leave once the unit was set up. But I was wondering if you had considered my offer?"
"Actually, I've been thinking about it," Olivia told him. She shook her head. "But I just don't know. I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to jerk you around, but I'm not sure if I'm ready for the responsibility of command just yet."
"I understand, it's a pretty heady thing to just jump into," Gordon said. "But this team has come to know you, Olivia. They all like and trust you tremendously. And, personally, I think you've done a spectacular job so far in dealing with them. I'll tell you what: why don't you remain as acting commander through the weekend? That way, you can be on call if they need your expertise. Then, come Monday, you can give me a decision."
Olivia nodded. It was basically putting off the decision for another few days, but she could live with that for now. "All right. I'd be glad to hang out through the weekend."
"Great," Gordon said with a smile. He pulled something out of his jacket. "Here, take this. It'll help you to cut through the departmental red tape should you need it."
Olivia eyes went wide when she saw he had given her a Gotham City Police badge and I.D. Her eyes grew even wider when Olivia saw her name on the I.D.: Inspector Olivia Benson, GCPD.
'He promoted me!' Olivia thought with shock. 'I actually outrank Cragen now!'
"Um, sir, I really shouldn't--" Olivia started to say.
Yet before she could say any more, Gordon grabbed Olivia's hand and led her over to a young, red-haired girl with glasses who appeared to be no more than thirteen years of age. "Before you leave, Olivia, there's somebody I'd like for you to meet. This is Barbra, my daughter. Barbra, this is Detective Olivia Benson."
"Oh, hello!" Barbra Gordon said, grinning broadly as she stepped forward to pump Olivia's hand. She looked a little starry-eyed. "It's so cool meeting you!"
The kid was so adorable that Olivia couldn't help but burst into a broad smile. "Well, it's really cool meeting you, Barbara!"
"Barbara has been aching to meet you for the longest time, Olivia," Gordon said with a smile.
"I wanna be a cop," Barbra told Olivia. "And I was hoping you'd give me some advice."
Gordon looked as if he had burst a blood vessel. "A cop! I thought you wanted to be a gymnast, Barb?"
"I'm already a gymnast, daddy," Barbra said, with a roll of her eyes. "Been there, done that! I've decided that I want to do what you do, Olivia, which is protect and help people."
"Well, yeah, that's great," Olivia said. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Gordon removed his glasses and was rubbing his eyes in a dismal manner. Apparently he didn't want his daughter to follow his tracks and become a cop--not that she blamed him, for being a police officer was a rough job. "But maybe you should listen to your father for advice, Barbra. After all, he's the police commisioner, and who would know better about police work than him?"
"Yeah, but…he's a man," Barbra said, leaning forward to whisper that fact to Olivia. "I thought you could give me some advice on what's it like being a really cool female cop…since, y'know, you're already one yourself!"
Olivia had found herself at a loss for words, and was actually grateful when Detective Renee Montoya entered the squad room and interrupted their conversation. "Commissioner, you should turn on the local news right now. They're talking about the Batman."
Olivia, Gordon, Montoya and Barbra went into the SVU commander's office ('Which is now my office!' Olivia abruptly realized), and turned on the TV. When Gordon switched it over to the news, local reporter Summer Gleeson was interviewing Marguerite Pena, who was busy making the sign of the cross on her chest as she spoke: "And he had fangs, these long, bloodied fangs that hung from his mouth! Oh, I shouldn't have left Nora alone--but I thought she was running right behind me! That monster must have grabbed her and flew right out of the office with her! I just hope he doesn't hurt poor Nora!"
'Alex!' Olivia thought anxiously.
"Thank you, Ms. Pena," Gleeson said, as her image filled the TV screen. "And there we have it, Rob. An eyewitness account of how the Batman has abducted Nora Bradshaw, the Southside Angel. Why? We don't know, but we only hope she's still alive. Further updates to come as soon as we get them. This is Summer Gleeson, reporting for Gotham News."
"Gleeson, you twit," Gordon derisively muttered under his breath.
"Harvey's on the scene right now," Montoya said, "and they picked up a trio of guys that Batman left behind, all tied up. One of them is The Stylist, a noted mob hit man."
'Jesus, what happened?' Olivia frantically wondered. 'Is Alex all right?'
Olivia knew Alex was safe with the Batman. But was she hurt? Was Batman able to help her in time?
She had become so lost in thought that Olivia was shocked to feel Gordon's hand gently touch her shoulder. "No matter what happened, Olivia," he whispered, "she couldn't be in better hands right now."
Olivia nodded. That much was certainly true. "I know. Thanks."
"I was wondering if you'd do me a favor?" Gordon asked. "Take Barb up to my office? I've got some things to co-ordinate right now."
"Of course," Olivia said.
"Barb, why don't you go with Olivia and wait for me in my office?" Gordon asked. He turned to Olivia and added, "I'll let you know what I find out."
Barbra was strangely quiet on the elevator ride up to Gordon's office. Olivia thought she would have jumped at this chance to pepper her with dozens of questions about police work. When they entered Gordon's office, Barbra regarded her solemnly and said, "Is Ms. Bradshaw a friend of yours, Olivia?"
"Yes, she is," Olivia said, taken aback.
Barbra came over and squeezed her hand. "It'll be all right, Olivia. My dad's the head of a great police department. I'm sure he'll find Ms. Bradshaw safe and sound."
Olivia was amazed to hear such a mature gesture of reassurance from someone so young. 'She's not only very perceptive, but a very kind and thoughtful young woman,' Olivia thought, impressed. 'And she's all of thirteen!'
"Thank you very much, Barbra," Olivia said, touched. "I really appreciate it."
Barbra's expression changed to that of anger. "Hopefully they also be able to capture that awful Batman and put him in jail where he belongs."
"You don't like Batman?" Olivia asked, surprised.
Barbra shook her head with disgust. "Daddy says he isn't a monster, like everybody says. He's supposed to be just a regular guy, but he still has no business doing the police's job. He's a dangerous, psychotic vigilante, and should be locked away in Arkam Asylum."
Olivia stared at the girl, stunned. She wanted to blurt out that not only did the Batman save her life, but that Barbra's own father worked with the Dark Knight in a close personal relationship. Still, she held her tongue, it was not Olivia's business to create a wedge between Barbra and her father.
Her cell phone rang, and when Olivia excused herself to answer it, she heard a deep, rich voice that resonated with a British accent on the other end. "Good evening, Olivia. And how are you this fine night?"
"Alfred," Olivia said with relief. She discreetly turned away from Barbra, who sat reading a magazine at her father's desk. "I was just about to call you."
"Yes, it would be in relation to your lost kitty, I assume?" Alfred said.
'Kitty? What the hell--?' Olivia began to think, until she realized that Alfred was speaking in code. The 'Kitty' obviously referred to Alex. "Oh, uh, yeah, have you guys seen her?"
"Indeed. Master Bruce found her and brought her here."
"Is 'kitty' all right?"
"She's a bit shaken up, but perfectly fine," Alfred assured her. "You are most welcome to come see her."
"I'm tied up here at police headquarters right now," Olivia told him. "But as soon as I can get away, I'll be right over."
"Drop by at any time, no matter how late," Alfred told her. "Master Bruce is something of a night owl, so he'll be up."
Olivia couldn't help but chuckle at that last comment. "Yeah, so I've heard. I'll be over as soon as I can. Thanks again Alfred."
Just as Olivia ended the call, Gordon entered his office with Detective Montoya at that moment. "Barbra, honey, I'm sorry, but I have to deal with some stuff here tonight. Detective Montoya will drive you home, ok?"
"Ok, daddy," Barbra said with a sigh.
"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk further," Olivia told her. "It was a real pleasure to meet you, Barbra."
"Daddy says you'll be in town all weekend," Barbra said hopefully. "Maybe we could meet up sometime?"
"Olivia's attending the police convention here in town," Gordon said, "you'll probably see her there, Barb."
"Yeah, that would be great," Olivia sincerely said. She really liked this kid, and looked forward to spending some time with her.
After they bid Barbra and Montoya a good night, Gordon turned to Olivia and said, "I have to get going, as well. I'm meeting Harvey at the crime scene."
"I'm gonna head home," Olivia said. She hated lying to Gordon, but she couldn't very well tell him that she was really on her way to the home of the Batman. "If you hear anything more about Alex, please give me a call on my cell."
"Will do, but I may be calling you late," Gordon warned.
"That's ok, I'm a night owl," Olivia said.
'Just like a certain multi-millionaire playboy I know,' Olivia thought with a smile as she left the office.
B&B
"Hey, Riddler!"
Edward Nygma let out an annoyed groan as he glanced up from the computer with disgust. He glared at the fat man who stood in the doorway of his workspace. His name was Herby and he was one of Boss Thorne's favorite lackeys. Back in the day, the elderly Herby used to be a gangster of some renown in Gotham City. He took the then-up and coming Rupert Thorne under his wing, until one night a heist went wrong, and Herby wound up suffering a head injury that left him with diminished mental capacity.
When Rupert Thorne began his rise to power as the supreme mobster--the boss of bosses--in Gotham City, he brought Herby with him. Herby wasn't a confidant per se; he barely had enough mental power to remember to tie his shoe laces, much less advise Thorne on the day to day operations of his criminal empire. But he was always at Thorne's side as his major domo of sorts; getting tea and the morning paper for the crime boss, along with whatever mindless chores Thorne could think up for him to do.
'Who knew the ruthless Rupert Thorne ever had a soft spot?' Nygma thought, amused. 'It only proves the bastard has a weakness after all.'
"You know why I call you Riddler, right?" Herby said, as he entered Nygma's with an ear to ear grin.
"It's because I always speak in riddles," Nygma said wearily, repeating the oft-told answer to a question that this mental midget asked nearly every single day. "Is that why you've decided to interrupt my work, Herby? To remind me about why you call me Riddler?"
Herby's grin faded as he stared dumbfounded at Nygma for a moment. Then his face lit up as he recalled the actual reason why he came here. "Oh yeah! Boss Thorne wants to see ya, Riddler."
"Yes, I expect he would like to see me," Nygma said with a small smile, as he switched off the computer and got up from the desk. As they strode out of his office, Nygma glanced behind him and saw Herby had left the door open. "When is a door not a door, Herby?"
Herby paused and gave him another confused look. "What?"
"When it's ajar," Nygma said, pointing at the opened door. "You forgot to close my door. Please do so."
"Oh, yeah, sure, Riddler!" Herby said, as he brought the door to a close behind him. "Hey, that's exactly what I mean, y'know? You're always talking in riddles!"
"Life is but a riddle, Herby," Nygma muttered, "and it's just waiting for us to figure it out."
Herby let out a laugh. "Whatever you say, Riddler!"
'Whatever I say,' Nygma thought with a slight smile. 'If things go according to plan, then that will indeed be the case around here very soon.'
Herby led Nygma to a spacious sun room that was on the east wing of Thorne's huge mansion. Thorne himself sat in a large chair in the center of the room, looking much like the king of the underworld that he was seated on his throne. He beckoned Nygma over to him with an expensive Cuban cigar in his hand. Thorne was a large, imposing man who had a mane of silver hair and was dressed in one of the finest-tailored suits that money can buy.
Thorne held up a cup. "Herby, do me a favor and refill this, will you?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Thorne!" Herby said, as he eagerly took the cup and ran into the adjoining room with it.
Thorne glared at Nygma as though he were a bug. "Riddler, I hired you to crack the codes on the vaults at the Treasures of the Ancient World exhibit over a week ago, and I still haven't heard anything from you! You're supposed to be one of the world's best encryption and lock-breaking experts, and yet it's taking you forever to get us access into those vaults!"
Nygma groaned inwardly at the fact that, thanks to Herby, Thorne was now starting to call him by that stupid Riddler nickname as well. "Respectfully, Mr. Thorne, but I do not need to be reminded of why you hired me. However, you do appear to be needing a reminder of the fact that my work is a demanding and tasking art form and, as such, it takes time."
"Time!" Thorne roared. "At this rate, by the time you you'll finally be able to crack those vaults, the damned exhibition will be over!"
Before Nygma could reply, Rocco, one of Thorne's other goons, burst into the room. Herby followed behind him with a sheepish look on his face. "I'm sorry, Boss, but he insisted on seeing ya!"
"I'm taking a private meeting, Rocco," Thorne said, his tone sounding dangerous, "what part of that don't you understand?"
"Sorry, Boss Thorne," Rocco said apologetically. "But I've got news from our police informants that you'll wanna hear!"
"What is it?" Thorne grumbled.
"The Stylist, and two of our boys, just got pinched by the cops," Rocco said. "Actually, he got grabbed by the Batman, who turned them over to the cops."
"WHAT?" Thorne said, stunned.
"He was gunning for that Southside Angel broad," Rocco added. Then he glanced nervously at the ground. "A-And, that's not all, boss…."
"Well, spit it out, already!" Thorne demanded. "What is it?"
"They're saying that you were the one who ordered the hit on the Southside Angel," Rocco said anxiously.
Thorne's eyes were so wide with shock that they looked like they were going to fall out. "The hell they talking about? I never ordered any hit on that Southside Angel broad! She's just one of them charity do-gooders, why the hell would I want her dead!"
"The Stylist went after her, along with two of our boys as backup," Rocco said with a feeble shrug. "The Batman caught them, and--"
"The Batman!" Thorne said with disgust. "Things have never been the same in this city since that winged-freak showed up! As if dealing with that goody-two shoes Commissioner Gordon wasn't enough of a headache for me!"
"Perhaps I should leave," Nygma said gently, "for it appears you've now got bigger problems to contend with."
"Yeah, get out of here Riddler!" Thorne barked. "Get back to work, and light a fire under it, will ya!"
Nygma nodded obediently as he left the sun room. He strode down the hallway, listening to Thorne ranting and raving behind him, and a smile crept across Nygma's face. By the time he got back to his office and shut the door, the smile on his face had turned into a broad grin. The Stylist had been stopped by none other than the Batman, and Rupert Thorne has been blamed for the assassination attempt on the Southside Angel--A.K.A. Nora Bradshaw, A.K.A. Alexandra Cabot.
'Wonderful!' Nygma thought happily. 'Everything is going exactly according to my plan….'
To Be Continued...