When we last saw Batman, the Riddler had just left him to slowly descend into a pool of man-eating piranhas. Try as he might, Batman was still not able to find a way out. Even more worrisome, what is to become of Dick in all of this?
Read on to see if our Dynamic Duo will pull through!
On Wings of Steel
Chapter 9 – Win or Lose
Batman stared down at the pool below him, his eyes going around the perimeter of it, searching for something, anything that might be of help to him. That was when it hit him – the answer to the Riddler's latest question! 'What has a middle, but no end and no beginning?' A circle! Just like the shape of the pool spread out before him. It wasn't an entirely difficult answer to come up with, but Batman didn't think it prudent to use what may be his last minute of life to worry about a riddle. Indeed, a circle didn't really help him to come up with a way out. It must have something to do with where Dick was being held, but Batman would have to worry about that later.
Batman began twisting his body around in different ways, trying to see the side of the room that was behind him. Any of the aches that had plagued him before now seemed to be long gone. He was suddenly running on pure adrenalin, and his mind couldn't be bogged down with insignificant things like pain right now.
Batman didn't spot anything in the room that he thought could possibly help him. With his hands tied the way they were, he didn't have much hope of actually getting or using anything anyway. Not even his utility belt would be of help if he couldn't reach it. That was when he realized that he would have to use his feet. They were his only other option.
At first, Batman wasn't sure how he was going to use them, but there had to be something! He was drawing ever closer to that pool down below. In fact, he was close enough that he could clearly make out the outlines of the piranhas swimming around inside. He could imagine them going into a frenzy as soon as he hit the water, their razor sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his costume with ease.
Batman shivered, and then it occurred to him just how much he had set his rope swinging back and forth with his minute movement. He was moving from side to side almost like a pendulum. That was it! He just had to keep moving, start pumping his legs back and forth like he was on a swing, and maybe, just maybe, he could miss that pool when he finally reached it.
By the look of things, it wouldn't be very long now, so Batman got his legs moving. He brought his knees up, almost to his chest, before swinging them backwards, arching his back as far as it would possibly go. He was certainly going to feel this in the morning, especially with everything else he had already been through tonight, but that was the least of his concerns.
He kept repeating this movement until he was swinging back and forth by several feet in each direction. Keeping his eyes pinned on the tank below him, he waited for that moment when he could put his swinging to good use.
Dropping down lower and lower, the toes of Batman's boots skimmed the water with his next forward swing. Holding his breath, Batman brought his knees almost up to his chest again so he wouldn't dip into the water again. And then came his chance. He swung out past the edge of the tank at which point he straightened out his legs again.
He shut his eyes tightly when he began to swing backwards, hoping against hope that it had worked. That was when his feet struck the edge of the tank. The impact was a little harsher than Batman had been intending, knocking the air out of him a bit and sending another shock of pain through his spine. Gritting his teeth, however, Batman struggled to keep his body as straight as an arrow.
The rope kept lowering, but his heels were safely secured over the outer rim of the pool. For now. As the pulley dropped him lower and lower, Batman's back slowly started moving horizontally, closer and closer to the water as time went on. He was in probably the most awkward and uncomfortable position in his life. His ankles were bent uncomfortably, keeping his boots locked over the edge of the pool, while the rope dropped his arms lower and lower, his back drifting ever closer towards the water. In fact, his cape was already partly submerged in the water, but Batman tried not to think about what the piranha might already be doing to it. What they might be doing to him shortly.
Gritting his teeth, Batman bent his knees, trying to pull himself closer to the safe edge of the pool. It worked, but still his back was getting dangerously close to the piranha-infested water. If he wasn't careful, he would soon be dumped right into the tank, the weight of his body pulling his struggling legs in after him.
With the last bit of strength he could muster, he turned his hands at the wrists to grip the rope. Then he relaxed slightly, letting himself fall with the rope, drawing ever closer to the surface of the water. When he was sure his back was about to get wet, he hoisted himself forward as hard as he could, almost like he was getting up from a lying position.
He almost managed to get himself up into a sitting position, his abdomen almost perpendicular to his thighs. But then for a very precarious moment, he felt himself drifting slightly backwards again. Batman tipped his head forward and pulled on the rope, hoping that that would give him the last bit of momentum he would need.
It worked. Slowly but surely, he tipped even further forward, using his lower legs to pull himself to the edge. Finally, his rear end met with the rim of the pool and he was able to fully sit up. He straightened out his legs, using their weight to pull himself even further forward. At long last, he threw himself headfirst one last time, and he slipped off the rim of the pool onto the floor.
Immediately falling to his knees from the amount of strain his body had just been under, he doubled over, his head meeting the ground. He gasped in breath after breath, not realizing how much he had probably been holding it over the last minute or so. Then Batman realized that his arms had almost been deprived of circulation. He now felt the blood rushing back into them, causing them to throb like most everything else in his body.
His head hurt from where one of the Riddler's gang had clubbed him. His shoulders were aching horribly from the strain of being hung by his arms for so long. As the blood slowly worked its way back into his arms, he realized that just about every muscle in them had probably been pulled in some way they were not meant to be. Last but not least, his legs were burning from the effort they had just exerted by almost single-handedly pulling him back over the edge of the pool.
A part of his cape had landed near his face, and he saw it out of the corner of his eye. The fabric was soaking wet, and there were large teeth marks where the piranhas had bitten through the material in places. A staunch reminder of what had almost become of him.
But now was not the time to think about those things. Pain was inconsequential, Batman reminded himself, as was the state of his cape. He had much more pressing matters to contend with, such as getting out of here, finding Dick, and putting a stop to the Riddler's riddles once and for all.
Batman used his arms to push himself up from the floor, sitting back on the heels of his boots. He pulled at the rope with all his might, utterly ready to get out of this deathtrap. The rope gave a bit more, and then he reached for his utility belt, retrieving his Bat-laser. He quickly used it to cut through the ropes and free his hands.
Throwing the rope down at the floor, Batman leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. He allowed himself a few more moments to catch his breath, finding it somehow surreal that he was able to escape yet another of the Riddler's attempts to end his crime fighting once and for all. If the Riddler had ever wanted definitive proof that Batman was the smarter one, there it was.
But this was far from over. Batman still had another life to rescue, and his name was Dick. As much as Batman would have wanted to return home to his bed and sleep for a week until he felt stronger, he knew he couldn't. He would rest when Dick was safe, but until then, he had to keep going. There was no other option.
"I'm coming, Dick," Batman got out as he climbed to his feet and ran for the Batmobile.
When Batman roared back into the Batcave, he was almost relieved to see that Alfred was still there, currently dusting the Batcomputer. There was nothing quite like seeing a familiar and friendly face when he just been in such dire circumstances, even if it was in the middle of the night.
Even so, Batman felt compelled to admonish him just a little bit. "Alfred," Batman said, stepping out of the Batmobile and closing the door behind him. You shouldn't still be up. It's late. Or early. I'm not sure which."
Alfred paused, his feather duster momentarily forgotten in his hand. His eyes went to the Batmobile, its emptiness telling him everything he needed to know. "I couldn't possibly sleep not knowing where Master Dick is. Would you be able to sleep right now?"
Batman opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it. He stared down at the floor of the Batcave and simply shook his head. "No. No, of course not."
"Or you," Alfred added quietly. "I've been waiting for a message to come over the Batcomputer in case you needed my assistance." He paused for a very long time before he finally forced himself to ask, "Any word at all on the whereabouts of Master Dick?"
"I'm afraid not," Batman sighed, taking a few steps across the Batcave. He was tapping the tips of his gloved fingers together thoughtfully. "The Natural History Museum only proved to be a trap for me, one that I barely managed to escape from. There was absolutely no sign of Dick, and I'm afraid I don't even know where to begin to find him. But I must. And I know the Riddler wants me to. I just can't figure out how he intends for me to do that."
Batman broke off, continuing to pace the Batcave. "A riddle a day…keeps the Riddler away," he said slowly, carefully.
"Sir?"
Batman didn't reply at first, still too lost in his own thoughts to even register Alfred's question. But then, Batman eventually said, "The Riddler told me that, just before he left me for dead – 'a riddle a day keeps the Riddler away.' It's very interesting, don't you think? Even when he doesn't really intend to, he can't help but spill all sorts of ideas about how his mind works." Holding up an index finger to emphasize his points, Batman went on, "As long as he is still giving out riddles, then his capers aren't over yet. When the riddles stop, it's because he doesn't have anything else planned. That's when we really need to worry, because it means he's going for his showstopper. I assume Dick is a part of that final plan, and as long the riddles still are coming, then he isn't quite there yet. He told me as much last night – that Dick was a part of the second phase of his scheme, but it wasn't time for that yet. As long as that remains the case, then Dick is safe. At least for the time being. Until the riddles run out, because that will be when he puts his final plans with Dick into action. Until then, he must keep Dick alive, or else all of his carefully crafted plans crash down around him."
Alfred didn't say anything and he didn't need to. They both knew that the circumstances could change any minute, especially with someone as unpredictable as the Riddler.
Batman let out a heavy breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. "Only years of battling with the Riddler has taught me so much about the way he thinks. His mind is always working, always coming up with riddles, even when he doesn't have a reason to. It's the way he is, the way he functions on a daily basis. And his mind must be an awfully busy and all-consuming place as a result. He's almost powerless to them – the riddles – and sometimes they come out even when he doesn't intend for them to. Even when he doesn't realize they have."
"To your advantage," Alfred added.
In the end, Batman retrieved his Bat-blackboard from the storage closest and meticulously wrote every single one of the Riddler's clues out on it. According to the Riddler, Batman should have enough information by now to solve this case, but they were very clearly missing something. There was nothing else to do but go through everything again with a fine-toothed comb.
By this time, it was edging on towards dawn, and neither Batman nor Alfred had gotten any sleep. Despite Batman's arguments to the contrary, Alfred insisted that there would be no resting in Wayne Manor (except for Aunt Harriet, of course) until Dick had been safely returned. It was a testament to just how loyal Alfred was to them, and how much he loved both Bruce and Dick like family. He wouldn't rest until Dick was safe, nor would he let Bruce go through this alone.
"What could it all mean, sir?" Alfred asked, speaking the question that was on both of their minds.
Batman walked back and forth in front of the blackboard, shaking his head at it. "I wish I knew. Obviously, it's one of these early clues," Batman said, gesturing at the top of the blackboard, "that we don't have quite right. All of his references about 'going back to the beginning' and his final circle riddle prove that. He's telling me to go full circle back to the beginning, but…" Batman trailed off, rubbing his gloved hands harshly over his face. When he looked back up at the blackboard, he asked, "What am I missing?"
Alfred stared at the blackboard helplessly, shaking his head. After a moment, he hung his head and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm just worried about Master Dick."
"As am I, Alfred," Batman agreed, but then he seemed to grow entranced by the clues on the blackboard once again. "If only I could put these pieces together. The answer is here somewhere. I know it is." He began pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard.
After a long moment of silence, both of them poring over the clues, Alfred asked, "Didn't the Riddler mention something about Dick being in another location, sir?"
Batman nodded sullenly. "Yes. About how I'd come to the wrong place. He was so positively gleeful about that. It was sickening. But obviously Dick wasn't at the museum. I didn't need the Riddler to tell me that much."
"But, sir," Alfred said, pointing up at the blackboard. "What other clue do we have, one that came early on, that referred to a location?"
Batman considered this. "Well, the modus operandi was the first one. Again, Dick thought it referred to the old abandoned steelworks, but obviously that was wrong, because it was still abandoned."
"But what if it wasn't wrong?" Alfred asked. "What if you had simply arrived there too early? Since Dick is a part of the second phase of his plan, the Riddler could be planning on going back there to put it into motion. He might be counting on the fact that you've already been there to throw you off the trail. You've already searched it for clues. What purpose could there possibly be to you going back there?"
Batman's eyes widened underneath his cowl as the truth dawned on him. "Alfred," Batman breathed. All of a sudden, everything seemed to hit him. It was almost overwhelming, and he felt like he couldn't quite breathe right for a moment. After several deep breaths, Batman slowly said, "The stamp clue." He sounded lost in thought, but then all at once, he seemed to snap back to reality. "Stamping is a metalworking term! How could I have missed that?!"
"Not only stamping," Alfred said, shaking his head. "Metal has been a common thread elsewhere."
Blinking, Batman considered this. "The Iron Crown on Lombardy!" Batman smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. When he spoke again, he had taken his hand away only to clench it into a fist in frustration. "He wasn't planning on stealing it, it was simply another clue pointing me back to the steelworks. Crowns just don't come into existence, they have to be made first. That's what he was trying to tell me with his final riddle. To go full circle back to the beginning, it would have to be where a crown would originate from – the metal factory where the material was made." Batman sighed, a sound that seemed to release everything, every pent up emotion that had been forming for the last several days. "Why didn't I see that before?"
"It's worrisome not knowing what's happened to Master Dick," Alfred pointed out. "I think it's more than understandable that you weren't quite up to the task of figuring all of this out at once. Besides, you know where to go now, don't you?"
Batman pressed his lips together and nodded. "And I'm not coming back alone this time, Alfred."
Alfred stared up at his employer, the man he had come to see as a son, his eyes and his facial expression saying much more than words ever could. Batman momentarily laid a hand on Alfred's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before he sprinted back to the Batmobile.
When he left the Batcave, he saw that the sun had begun to rise over Gotham City. The horizon was burning with bright orange and magenta hues, fading to still deepest blue the higher Batman's eyes went. He only hoped that this would be the day that he brought Dick home. That the next time the sun set over Wayne manor, that Dick would be safe and sound in his bed where he belonged.
It then occurred to Batman that Dick had only been missing for barely fifteen hours. It had seemed so very much longer than that, akin to a personal hell of sorts. When Bruce had taken Dick into his custody, he had promised to do everything in his power to keep the boy safe. And this was where things had ended up – Dick kidnapped with Bruce having absolutely no idea where he was or what had happened to him. This wasn't exactly what Bruce – or indeed, the courts – had had in mind when he had been awarded custody.
As certain as Bruce was that Dick's life wasn't quite in danger just yet, that still didn't mean he was safe. Dick was in the clutches of one of the most dangerous and most unhinged villains Batman had ever faced. If Batman had a hard time handling the RIddler, he could scarcely imagine what Dick might be going through at the moment. Bruce knew Dick was brave, but he had never encountered someone like the Riddler before. Bruce couldn't envision how scared Dick must be. How badly he simply wanted to return home.
Was Dick waiting for Batman to come and rescue him? Was he waiting for his guardian to come bursting into that building and take him home? With every minute that passed, was Dick losing hope that Batman would ever come? Was Dick giving up on the thought that Bruce would be his savior? Was Dick beginning to entertain the idea of death? That he would die while being held against his will in the Riddler's hideout while Batman was nowhere to be seen? Would he be disappointed in Bruce at all that he hadn't come through when Dick had needed him the most?
Now that Dick knew that Bruce was Batman, Dick probably had this inflated sense that his guardian could do no wrong. That Bruce would never let him down, because he was Batman after all. If Batman of all people couldn't save him from something like this, then who could? As fallible as Bruce was, Batman couldn't be that way, could he? It didn't make sense. Not that Batman was perfect, but he was the one who always came through when no one else could. If Batman couldn't even save Dick, then what hope was there for Dick?
Feeling more and more pressure to get Dick out of this mess once and for all, Batman pressed the gas pedal of the Batmobile down even further. Even when time was of the essence, Batman still didn't like to drive too fast or too recklessly; it wouldn't do to injure someone in a moment of carelessness when he was on the way to save someone else. When Dick's life was on the line, however, Batman knew he was prone to be impetuous. At least now it was still very early in the morning, so mostly everyone in Gotham City would still be asleep, and there wouldn't be very much traffic.
The steelworks was about sixteen miles from the Batcave. It normally took about a half an hour to get there under normal driving conditions. With the speed Batman was currently going, it shouldn't take very long at all. However, this car ride seemed to go on forever. It might have very well been the longest car trip Batman had ever taken in his life.
He was simply consumed with the thought of seeing Dick again. Of bursting in and saving his young ward from the madman that called himself the Riddler. When one was waiting and hoping for an event to occur, the time preceding it always seemed to last an eternity, didn't it?
At long last, the steelworks finally came into view. Batman slowed the Batmobile when he was still some distance away, not wanting to alert the Riddler and his gang of his presence. The Riddler might even be under the assumption that Batman was dead, that he had met his end in the ghastly deathtrap of piranhas. If that was the case, then Batman would go on letting the Riddler believe that, at least for a little while longer.
Batman crept the car slowly along the last few hundred feet to the steelworks. When he reached the edge of the parking lot, he decided to stop there and walk the rest of the way to the building. There was a line of trees surrounding the parking lot, which would hopefully keep the Batmobile hidden from view from those inside.
Getting out of the Batmobile, Batman quietly closed the door. He looked up at the building that sprawled out before him, thinking about the best way possible to get inside. In the end, he decided to stay out of the large and wide open parking lot. There was absolutely nothing to hide behind, and he would be much too conspicuous simply walking across it.
Batman decided to stay behind the tree line, skirting the outer rim of the parking lot around to the rear of the building. He still didn't know where the Riddler and his gang were – they might not even be here, after all – but Batman decided that this would be his safest option.
Around the back of the building, Batman found what seemed to be a large set of unsecured double doors. This appeared to be the part of the plant where deliveries would come and go with a large parking space for delivery trucks nearby.
Batman didn't always like to sneak into criminals' hideouts using the Batrope. Sometimes a more direct approach would be more of a surprise, especially after last night when Batman had stormed the museum using a second floor window. The Riddler might be expecting that yet again, if he was even anticipating Batman's arrival at all. Hopefully, he was still under the delusional assumption that Batman was dead.
As carefully and quietly as he could, Batman stepped up to one side of these large double doors. He gripped one of the doorknobs in both hands and slowly turned it, then he pulled just a bit. He waited for any large clicking or clanking noise that one would expect from such a heavy steel door opening, but all was quiet. Pulling it open just enough to get his head inside, he peered around the extensive room that met his eyes.
Indeed, it appeared to be a receiving area of some sort, just as he'd suspected. There was an old and dusty forklift in one corner with mounds of wooden crates taking up much of the available concrete floor space. The stone walls rose up high above him, with only one window on the very far side of the room. As a result, it was very dark inside, but Batman could just manage to make out the details with the growing square of sunlight beginning to permeate the room.
Batman let himself inside, allowing the door to click shut behind him. He waited again, listening for any sign that his presence might have been detected. The rest of the building was completely silent. Not even the rustle of a rat or perhaps a bug of some sort.
Batman began taking slow and calculated steps across the room. There was a lot of garbage and debris littered across the floor, and it certainly wouldn't do to make a stupid mistake, such as tripping over a crate. He stepped around the boxes and scraps of discarded steel and crumpled up paper, carefully making his way to a door that he saw on the side of the room across from the window.
When he arrived at this next door, Batman stopped again, waiting and listening before he dared open it. He was getting possibly so close to Dick, he could almost feel it. The excitement was causing his insides to tingle, but he reminded himself to keep his wits about him. It wouldn't do Dick any favors if he was careless now.
Gradually opening the door before him, Batman paused to take everything in. This room was considerably darker than the previous one, and Batman allowed his eyes a few moments to adjust to the lack of light.
"Batman?" came Dick's shaky and frightened voice out of the darkness.
"Dick?" Batman knew exactly who he was talking to. He would have recognized Dick's voice anywhere, but the question came more out of surprise and his own sense of dwindling hope that he'd ever hear this boy call his name again. Or Batman's name.
That was when Batman realized that the window in the previous room was directly behind him, the growing sunlight beating down on and warming his caped back. This cast his shadow perfectly across his young ward.
Batman stood frozen, staring transfixed at this image. He could just make out Dick's brown eyes, locked on his own. Dick's face was scared but still hopeful at the same time, now that Batman was there. The shadow of Batman's silhouette across the boy's body seemed to bring comfort to the both of them. That was how Batman would like to keep him forever – safely in his protective shadow.
Batman stepped further into the room, momently taking leave of the fact that he was supposed to be being careful. He saw Dick now and that was all that mattered. He simply wanted to take Dick out of here and forget that this whole horrible ordeal had ever even happened. The Riddler wasn't even crossing Batman's mind at that moment, which Batman would come to realize was a very, very bad thing.
"Don't come any closer," Dick suddenly said, instantly pulling Batman back to his senses, almost like a magnet.
Batman stopped again, and it was only then that he saw the full extent of the truly horrendous conditions that Dick was being kept under. Dick was lying flat on his back, tied with ropes in a spread-eagled position to a large metal table. Just above him, looking like it was ready to plunge down on his at any second, was a large and heavy metal box of some sort.
The bottom of this box, which would smash Dick flat if it fell, had a large metal question mark shape etched into it. It was a stamping machine, Batman realized, which would permanently brand Dick's mangled body with the Riddle's trademark symbol.
The Riddler was truly a sad, sick individual.
"This room is filled with electric eyes and they're all wired to the stamping machine," Dick explained, nodding upwards towards the large metal box above him. "It's set to drop if one of them is tripped. I'll be crushed before you get to me," Dick whispered, a single tear of desperation escaping the corner of his eye.
"Dick," Batman breathed. This was horrid. He wanted nothing more than to run to Dick, to take him safely in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't do that. Seeing Dick like this, in such a precarious situation, and still not being able to do anything about it was driving Batman mad. He had come so close to find Dick, yet he was still so far from being able to do anything about it.
Dick's chest was heaving up and down with each breath and his eyes were boring into Batman. Dick's expression was almost pleading somehow. Pleading with Batman – with Bruce – not to let him die. It was heartbreaking and something Bruce had hoped he would never see on his young ward's face.
"I'm not going to let you die," Batman said firmly, not even needing to hear Dick say the words he was thinking. It seemed they had gotten to that point. The point that Bruce and Alfred had arrived at decades ago – where they could read each other's facial expressions in a moment, no words required.
"I know," Dick said. His voice had been reduced to little more than a whimper, consumed by everything that was currently going on around him. "But, Batman…"
"Shh," Batman hushed him. Again, he was past the point of needing to hear Dick's words. He knew exactly everything that was going through that boy's mind and more. They were nearly the same things going through Bruce's own mind.
"I'm going to get you out of this," Batman insisted.
Batman began looking around the room, taking in every single piece of discarded rubbish, every single piece of equipment that stood in front of him. Anything that could possibly help him with what he had to do. He could do this. He was going to do this and nothing was going to stop him.
Dick was simply staring at him now. He still seemed scared, but no longer in the absolutely terrified deer-in-headlights sort of way that had consumed him just a few moments ago. That glimmer of hope that had sparked in his features when Batman had entered the room had now grown, seeming to overshadow his fear just a bit. Dick was relying on him. Dick was taking comfort in the fact that Bruce was simply there now and Bruce wasn't going to let him down.
Truth be told, however, Batman couldn't remember ever being so scared in all his life.
Will Batman be able to save Dick before his time is cut short?
Will the Riddler let him?
What else does the Prince of Puzzlers have planned for the Caped Crusader and his young ward?
For the smashing answers to these questions,
Tune in next time…
Same fan site…
Same fan channel.
Until then, don't lose yourself in the weightiness of the situation!
