City of Gods Chapter 14, a batman begins/dark knight fanfic

AN: One small step for mankind, one giant step in my battle against laziness. It's not too polished but it will just have to do.

Reviews would be appreciated. Maybe even treasured.

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Batman peered through his batnoculars at the drop-off point. Any minute now, Odermann's son would arrive with a suitcase full of money. The Riddler was bound to try something, but what that could be was uncertain. The answer to the last riddle was lie, which could mean just about anything. He had checked up on Mr. Odermann and was certain there was nothing dubious about the man, or the fact that it was indeed him the Riddler had kidnapped.

Below, the son stepped out of a car into the rain. He walked into the currently vacant construction site and sat down on a bench. He glanced at his watch and peered around. Five minutes passed and nothing happened.

Of course it could very well be that this was just a distraction, but Batman couldn't think of any likely target so this was his safest bet.

Another ten minutes passed and something interesting came over the police radio. Odermann had been set free in front of the MCU. Policemen rushed over to the son and escorted him away.

Shortly afterward, Batman vacated the area. He was certain he would find out what Riddler had done sooner or later. He set off for a thorough tour of possible targets, which were around a hundred.

Jonathan Crane surveyed his new abode with a pleased expression. It was an old manor that had been changed into a haunted house and moved into an amusement park. The park had been bankrupted a few years earlier and the owner of the lot was now under psychiatric care, courtesy of the master of fear. It was the perfect place to conduct his experiments, the house was in the middle of the park so no-one would hear any suspicious noises and it had plenty of room for storing test subjects.

He motioned for his hired help to carry the latest cargo into the building. He'd keep a few goons on the premises for safety purposes, but the rest would stay at the old place to run the extortion ring. They needed him for the chemicals so the funding would keep flowing in and he payed a few of them more than the others, to keep at least a few of them loyal if any notion of a hostile takeover passed through the empty space that passed for their brains.

He just needed to update the security system, add some personal touches here and there and it would be the perfect safe-house. The future looked bright indeed.

The doorbell rang at Wayne Manor, the loud sound echoing through the otherwise quiet rooms. Alfred made his way to the door, an old shotgun held behind his back in case trouble arose. After all, who on earth would ring the doorbell at such an ungodly hour?

His question was answered when he opened the door. It was a young woman, a model by the looks of it. One of Bruce Wayne's…escorts.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"You can raise your hands in the air, grandpa", a gruff voice replied as three brutes came out of hiding and rushed at him. He raised the gun and got one shot off before he was tackled roughly to the ground. Judging by the shrill scream, he had not missed.

In a matter of moments he had been handcuffed and raised to his feet. A man in a green suit walked in, delicately stepping over another man who was lying on the ground with a bullet in his thigh.

"Splendid. Now tie him to the chair and then you can take Cristopher to get some help."

"Where should we take him, boss? We can't go to the hospital!"

"I'm sure you'll think of something. Now scram!"

A short while later they were alone. The Riddler poured himself a cup of tea and sat down opposite Alfred.

"So. Where's the entrance?", he asked with a smile.

"Pardon?"

"You're right, absolutely right. With a name like the Riddler, I really should be able to solve that little puzzle shouldn't I? Let me guess, the piano?"

He stepped over to it and pressed every key first, then hammered in random sequences.

"Maybe there's a book I pull and a door will pop out somewhere. No, they look completely normal. I'll just try to find the entrance itself."

He peered into the fireplace, then tried moving all the bookshelves and all large mirrors in the room. Then he noticed the grandfather clock.

"Of course."

He tried moving it but it did not budge. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

"It may be a crude way to gain entrance, but I don't really have time to be classy about this. Hope you aren't emotionally attached to this thing."

He was halfway through attaching the explosives when Alfred told him how to access the cave. He would have found out anyway and that clock was the only family heirloom that hadn't been in the old manor at the time of the fire. Having it blown to smithereens simply would not do. Master Wayne was bound to return soon anyway, and there was only one way out of the cave for Riddler. Unless he stole one of the cars and knew his way around the cave, which was doubtful.

Batman had found the Riddler's real target, puzzling as it was. He had poisoned the medical supply of a small pharmacy. Thirty dead, thirteen people in critical condition. Most of the victims were elderly. The riddle had been written on the mirror in the pharmacy's restroom.

If you look at my face

You won't find the number 13 anyplace

He couldn't understand it. The Riddler's crime spree had been fairly low on casualties thus far, and now he suddenly decided to massacre people? The riddles didn't point to anything either. The Riddler's plot had been to kidnap Odermann to distract the authorities while he carried out his real plan, which was to kill old people? He couldn't say the Riddler had made much sense before but this was insane.

This could also mean Riddler was behind the Daggett murders. But there had been no riddle left there. Someone was trying to frame Riddler and failing miserably. That didn't change the fact that he had no idea how it had been done.

All the female employees that had been working today at the pharmacy were missing and the male employees said they couldn't remember the last 24 hours. Who profited from the murders? Absolutely no-one. This was most likely not the work of someone who knew the victims. It was a random killing, apparently for no reason. Most likely the perpetrator wanted fame. That or this was a act of terrorism, but it still didn't seem to fit.

The cameras and the tapes had all been destroyed, no-one in the neighborhood had seen anything suspicious. His only chance of catching this person or people was to wait for their next move. He set off to place his own cameras in dozens of pharmacies all over town.

Harvey Bullock sat in his car, reading about a rash of kidnappings, increased quantity of weapons being smuggled into the city(how weapon smuggling could actually increase in a burg like Gotham, Bullock would never know), the mysterious Daggett case and the kidnapping of Odermann. This city was many things, but dull was not one of them.

A man left the club across the street and Bullock stepped out of his car. The other man staggered into an alleyway and was leaning against a wall when Bullock rounded the corner.

"Hey Piotr, I need ta speak with ya."

The other man looked up and opened his mouth to speak but words were not what came out. Bullock took a step back and waited for the man to finish.

"About what?"

"About the night we found you and your buddies tied to the ceiling."

"I already told you, we was just celebrating. Dynamo Kiev just won an important game and we were just chilling when that creep attacked us for no reason!"

"You were celebrating in a warehouse, yeah I heard your story and I don't care. I want you to tell me about the guys who attacked you."

"A warehouse is as good a place as any. It's an old Russian custom!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what happened."

"Some guy calls me, when I'm outside with my good pal Rodion, says some stupid riddle and then boom! I'm falling into the sewer and all goes black. Then I wake up and have to listen to your frankly ridiculous accusations."

"So you didn't see a mo…a big guy with pale skin that's all, uh, scaly?"

"Err…no? I think you need to lay off of them donuts, my friend. Or at least scale down on the acid you dunk 'em in. You should be careful with the stuff you buy in Gotham. Remember when Scarecrow tried his hand at the business a while back? You never know what the hell you're getting."

"Thanks for the advice, "friend". I'll be seeing you."

He watched as the lowlife staggered away and lit a cigar. He dropped it almost immediately as some of the trash lying on the ground beside him stood up and revealed itself to be a wide-eyed bum.

"I seen it. I seen the monster."

"The monster?"

"It tries to hide, tries to look like one of us, but it ain't. No fancy trench-coat and hat is going to hide what it is. An alligator without a tail, walking on two legs."

"Where did you see it?"

"Two blocks down. I was just mindin' my own business when one of the manholes is pushed aside. Up comes a suitcase, then a hat, then the beast. It's prolly one of those things that gets flushed down the toilet while its little, then gets into the radiation down there and learns to talk."

"It talked?"

"Yessir. It looked at me and said "Good evening". I ain't lying! No-one believes me 'cept Murphy 'cause he seen it too, but I ain't lying!"

"Where can I find Murphy?"

"Everywhere and nowhere, depending on the days. If he has money he'll be at Cossacks in the soviet part of town."

"Little Odessa?"

"Yeah. Soviet territory."

He handed the bum a buck and went searching for Murphy. From behind him he could hear the bum yelling after him.

"I'll tell ya 'bout the green alien chick that's taken over the park for two dollars!"

Ivy walked through the temporary opening in the growth and entered her lair. She had been looking around to see how well her scheme had worked out. Turns out it worked perfectly. The news stations were all showing a special news broadcast, covering the pharmacy killings, perpetrated by that horrible Riddler character.

She let out a throaty laugh. Who would have thought that Harley's silly little idea would actually work? Speaking of the devil, there she was, hunched over a plant and furiously scribbling something with a crayon.

Ivy peered over Harley's shoulder. She was planning how to bust the Joker out. So far she had drawn a big building labeled "Arkham", a stick figure with a jesters cap and a bazooka and on one wall of the building was a big splotch of color along with the words "Kablooey". Looking at her face she saw Harley was pouting.

"It'll all work out in the end, petal. Today was the first of many triumphs, you should be pleased with yourself."

"I guess."

Her plants lowered a few bottles of red wine to the floor.

"We should celebrate our victory, don't you think?"

"Sure, Red. We can do that. Maybe it'll clear my head."

Scarecrow stepped outside for a walk after a long night of successful re-decorating and experimenting. He had proved his theory, if people were already scared when they were dosed with the toxin the effect was that much stronger.

He was also certain that he could create phobias. He currently had six people in three test groups and the first results were very positive. One group was starting to show nervousness without the effect of the toxin at the mere mention of jellybeans, another was similarly unnerved by the pictures of wildlife he had put up on the walls of their respective cells, and both subjects in the last group started hyperventilating when he offered them milk. There was no limit to what he could do.

Halfway through his stroll he noticed someone had broken into his amusement park. Someone was sitting in one of the devices, a machine with over-sized teacups for seats. He supposed some sort of spinning was included in the machine's function, but he had never really cared for carnivals.

As he came closer he saw that the device was themed after Alice in Wonderland. It had countless tasteless paintings of various characters from the story. The man was short, wearing a blue coat and a top hat. An eerie smile was fixed on his face even before he noticed Scarecrow. It was unnaturally wide.

"This is private property. You shouldn't be here."

The smile did not diminish as the man turned to look at him.

"Oh, dear. Wrong story. But you'll have to do. Please, sit. Have some tea."

He sat down opposite the man in the huge teacup.

"No tea, thank you. Now tell me, how exactly did you get here?"

Suddenly, all his goons stood up from the floor behind another teacup. They stared blankly forward, some sort of cards fixed to their heads.

"'The time has come', the Walrus said, 'To talk of many things'", the man said. Scarecrow reasoned that it was not going to be easy to rid himself of this little pest. Best to simply wait and let him grow bored of staying.

"Just lock up when you're gone then, will you?"

"Actually, I would like to rent a room.", he said and put a suitcase on the small table between them. He opened it, revealing that it held nothing but cash. Not that he really needed the cash, but Scarecrow was not going to say no to a million dollars.

"Alright. You can stay anywhere in this park, apart from the haunted house. But I need my guards lucid."

"They can function perfectly, if not better, this way. I'm sure you don't mind. They were very rude."

The goons set off in different directions, each heading for their posts. The lunatic could stay, it didn't matter. Scarecrow would simply kill him sometime in his sleep. Until that day he would just have to put up with some company. And not having to listen to the henchmen was actually quite nice.

He took the suitcase and set off for the haunted house. Looking back he saw the madman was still smiling at him.

AN: Sorry about the Bat-noculars, I just couldn't resist.

I think Little Odessa is actually a part of town in the comics. Dynamo Kiev is a football team.

I am not quite sure if Ivy is physically able to get drunk but let's just say she can.

The madman in the last scene is based off of his look from BTAS. When he says Scarecrow is from the wrong story it's a reference to The Wizard of Oz.