When The Music's Over
This place was like a nightmare that never ended.
Catwoman had passed through god knows how many of the same corridor. She missed the company of any living thing, maybe that was just the desperation hitting her. Maybe she should have stayed behind with Holly, no that wasn't fair.
Bruce Wayne had saved her and Holly from death and worse, she owed him her help at the very least for everything. Her throat was still sore from the screaming and the choking.
She could taste vomit on her lips still and could smell it on her breath. It felt like a miracle that she was even still standing. Catwoman wanted to stop relying on the walls, she could feel how cold and damp in places they were against her skin, sometimes being lucky enough just to graze her palms against chirped paint and cobwebs.
The hallway had never stopped going, just when she thought it would end, it only continued to extend around corners. How the hell did Riddler make all of this? It wasn't going to be the first thing she asked when she found him. Once he was dealt with, this could be over. She could fall asleep somewhere and rest.
Her mind was all over the place, whatever was ahead of her was becoming a blur at the edge of her short vision. Her breathing was still an erratic, heavy wheeze. Part of her wanted to just close her eyes and curl up, let the pain fade into whatever sleep she could obtain.
But that was what he wanted, Riddler would win if she gave up, meaning he couldn't do that. The only thing Riddler would see her do was cutting into him with her claws, that's all she knew so far of her plan
She kept leaning on the walls as she went, turning that corner to find a new length of floorboard to walk. This hallway was illuminated more than just a few light bulbs, several veins of LED lights were stapled to the walls, other more intense lights hung from the ceiling.
Each gave off its own intensity, red, blue, green, and white. Then, they began to blink, each bulb switched color, at first starting slow but soon evolving into a twitching assault of light.
It became impossible to keep her eyes open, it was like the light was stabbing behind her eyes now. It made tears automatically gush from them as she tried not to let her eyelids twitch from the pain. Instinctively, her eyes clenched shut, feeling a headache rush across her temple as she almost completely lost her balance, having to lean against the wall by her shoulder, unable to stop herself sliding down it gradually.
"Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it?" Riddler's voice called from above, somewhere among all the colors. "That's what it means to be a slave."
Catwoman placed her face into her hands, the sudden boom of his voice made her jump. Her heart skipped a beat and she almost felt herself lean too forward, the weight of her own upper body might make her collapse. She found that feeling in the pit of her hollow gut rising her body, exiting every bleeding nerve until she jerked her head forward, gagging. If she hadn't already emptied her stomach earlier, she would have now.
It proved too much effort and she found herself crashing into the floorboards ahead of her, a new wave of tears streaking her face as her chin took the brunt of the impact. Catwoman rolled onto her side in agony. She drew her arms and legs in close to herself to feel some sense of protection. She needed to feel something, anything at this moment.
"Shut up!" Catwoman declared out, hoarseness grating her throat. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
"Is that any way to talk to me? Riddler asked, anger emerging from his tone. "You forget who put you on this path…I'm the one who made you."
No one made her. Some people tried. People like Stan, Riddler…so many others who thought she would just go down without a second thought. The fact that she had evaded Riddler's attempt to murder her gave a pang of hope.
If she could defy him, then what real meaning did every word Riddler just say even mean to her. Keeping quiet felt like the only option to survive. Catwoman kept her head pressed against her knees, she only managed to succeed in blocking out the lights, but not that voice. She remained curled up now as she tried to outlast this. She just couldn't shut her eyes.
If she shut her eyes, then it would be easier to give in to the exhaustion. She just had to resist. Selina Kyle hadn't survived all those years in the East End to die at this man's hands…..
"Do you ever imagine what your mother would be like if she were alive?" Riddler spoke to her again. "I imagine, had she known what you became, then she would have got into that bathtub and drug that little blade across her wrists much earlier. Or, in the hypothetical scenario that she enjoyed your father's hush money, she would have just spread her legs even further."
It was impossible not to think about her mother, that cold blank stare peering out from within the bathtub, the blood that tainted the ice-cold bath she occupied, dressed in her nicest clothes. She never why she did it. Catwoman chalked it up to years living under her father and when he finally went to prison. But, what they had won they had lost. They lost a source of income and that must have been one of many factors why Maggie Kyle had decided to end things before they got any worse.
She wondered if her mother had ever thought about what would happen to the daughter she left behind. Her father was spending years behind bars, the one who she had come to know like that. It was almost a sick relief to know she wasn't tied to him by another other than a lie. Her real father, that was a greater abyss she found herself on the edge of.
It was another problem for another time. That was what she had told herself. Riddler was trying to break her down. These lights. These sudden mentions of her family. No, it wasn't going to work on her. Catwoman uncurled her body, feeling new aches brewing. She kept her head down, able to roughly guide herself towards the wall by how the assault of colors lit the room in the briefest of moments.
Her bare hand pressed against the dirty wall and then her other hand joined it, together they supported her weight as she pulled herself upright. Her forehead pressed hard into the wall as he tried to steady herself up.
Squinting barely ahead of her, Catwoman began trying to move forward. She limped along the wall as she heard a piercing sound come from the speakers next. Catwoman clamped her free hand over one ear, feeling that shrill sound dampen a little. Everything now felt like some kind of sensory overload. If she let go of the wall now to cover the other ear, then she knew she would fall over and be stuck from where she had just escaped from.
"You'll have to open your eyes soon, Miss Falcone. It's no coincidence why your skull must be hurting so badly. The lights have been programmed in a specific pattern, the kind that is so often used to induce epileptic seizures. All it takes is that one second of light to hit your retina and boom….you don't even know what you're doing. I suppose choking on your tongue would be far worse than slitting your wrists in a bathtub. I've certainly seen….cleaner deaths."
Catwoman pushed on, soon finding her hand snagging on lights that hung against the wall, trying to resist that mass of pain swelling in her temple. It was hurting now, trying to keep her eyes shut. She then moved her hand and cupped her hand over her eyes. She was able to glance at the floor in front of her, while brief lights tried to pierce through her fingers.
"You can't keep me out…" Riddler chided a burst of laughter echoing through the speakers. "Perhaps we should talk about your days on the streets, before that costume…."
"What about you, huh? Why don't you ever talk about yourself for once?"
His talking was just adding to the mountain of pains she was going through. Riddler's particular and irritating voice now at the top of her problems. She just needed him to talk about anything but her, hell she didn't even care if he started talking about his big bad plans for Gotham again.
She must have been getting closer to an exit soon. She had to be. The lights were still flashing, her guiding hand on the wall still brushing over those lights. Catwoman was afraid to lift that hand from her eyes, out of fear that the full force of the lights would make it impossible.
"Because I don't matter, Selina. The person behind this mask died long ago, his very soul having been taken by the powers that be." There was a chuckle before Riddler paused, taking the time to find his words.
Now, she could focus. Catwoman tried not to think of all those bright lights as she moved. After so much movement, she had to be nearing the end of this hallway. She had to be.
"Had I known you would survive the attack on the museum, I would have prepared better for you," Riddler spoke up then, breaking the momentary silence with a chuckle. "Had I not hired you to assist with the City Hall operation, I believe that rage would have remained dormant, docile….the wasted potential that could have been even greater if your feeble mind understood the scope of my vision. But alas…you're nothing more than a pawn like the rest of them."
The light became less violent. She reached out and felt a solid surface ahead of her. Opening her eyes, she found herself in front of a door, lights from behind her still splashing across the wood ahead. She leaned on the door frame as she pulled open the door just enough for her to move through, Catwoman didn't have enough strength to do any more than that, simply leaving it open as she left that light show behind her.
"I'm everywhere, Miss Falcone. You cannot simply walk away from me." Another speaker simply echoed.
There really was no escaping that piece of shit. At least the hallway ahead of her was devoid of any lights, save for one singular bulb. How she was going to keep this up, she didn't know. Whatever was fueling her still was beginning to wear off. She figured that when she felt her knee buckle, it was enough to make her collapse again. Putting her hands out stopped her head from hitting the floor, but couldn't stop her lower half from colliding with it. Wincing through the pain, Catwoman pulled her head up and found herself staring down the length of the hallway.
How much longer until whatever end Riddler had in mind. Maybe she was going to die here, it would be impossible to keep up this optimism if she had to keep on walking.
"Wake up, Selina…." A familiar voice echoed somewhere ahead of her, was it Holly? No, she was still lying on that gurney in Batman's cave, being attended to by Alfred. This was some kind of trick, it had to be…..Catwoman rubbed her eyes hard, yet there were no imaginary people nearby.
"You're not here. I'm just going insane." Catwoman muttered to herself as she shifted her hands across the floor and pushed herself up. "So just leave me alone."
Had there been doors ahead of her before? What the hell had he spiked her with? That had to be the reason she was seeing shit. Or…maybe it was the exhaustion making her feel all this. Was she supposed to take one of these doors? Catwoman leaned on it and found a silver bolt chain preventing the door from opening all the way. She could hear sobbing, then the faint sound of water splashing. There was water spilling beneath the door.
"Selina…." She could hear mother whisper. That water turning red. Vivid, just like she was back home again. A different time in a different life. Catwoman shut her eyes and pushed away from the door. It wasn't real. She could hear voices, crackling whispers.
"You must be exhausted, Miss Falcone. Is it possible that Batman taught you about enduring pain? Being driven to the point of near-death must make the mind like putty. Did your life flash before your eyes? Was it a dull experience, full of nothing but dissatisfaction and regret?
She had to block it out. All those hallucinations and all of Riddler's talking. It was just another distraction from reaching him. Eyes shut, remember? Catwoman continued down the hallway, trying not to think about anything. Naturally, things didn't go the way she wanted them to.
"Selina…." A crackling voice sent goosebumps up her neck. Carmine Falcone? Now she really was sure she was imagining things. The personification of her illegitimate father saying her name. Great. She suppressed the thought, it wasn't true. It couldn't be. This was just some trick Riddler was using.
"You're. A. Failure. Selina. Waste. Of. Money."
Her hurting ears made it hard to tell it's authenticity. What difference did that make? He was behind some jail cell bars and that was it. Falcone wasn't there when she was a kid, just like Rex Calabrese wasn't. She kept telling herself that and yet, it didn't change anything. But somewhere inside of her, she felt a pain, the feeling of knowing everything about herself being replaced by the last thing she needed, doubt.
"Catwoman. Nothing. But. A. Pointless. Effort. Maggie. Should. Have. Got. Rid. Of. You."
"This isn't going to work, Riddler! I'm not afraid of this. I'm not afraid of you and I'm not afraid of him either!"
"What if I told you I am hiding beyond this last door? Riddler asked with a cool and collected tone. "I know you better than anyone else, Selina. You really want to find me. Come and see…."
That made her laugh bitterly. As if that was going to bait her into moving any faster. Instead, she kept quiet as she hobbled toward the door, trying the handle and finding it wouldn't move. "Alright, I'm here. Open the up then!"
"Look down, Miss Falcone. I suggest you hold on tight."
Catwoman moved too late to see the outline of the trap door beneath her as it flapped open. She felt herself become weightless as she plummeted. Something broke her fall. She tried to move and heard the sound of rattling.
How far had she fallen….whatever she had fallen on hadn't hurt her too badly. She felt her bare hand press down on what she assumed was some kind of fabric.
Pushing forward, she felt herself tumble off a small slope that rattled just the same. She felt her foot snag on something, she then tripped and landed on a wooden floor at the bottom of whatever pile she had fallen onto.
Now she could smell something. A putrid rotting..no. Catwoman pulled herself up and looked around. Pitch black. She felt out across the floor to find her way. Part of her was afraid of what she might reach out and find.
Dust was brushing against her palm as she tapped out blindly, hand falling onto more fabric. This time, something hard was beneath it. She grabbed it and tried to hold it up, almost letting go as she heard a sudden bang falling from it. Catwoman glanced down, she patted blindly and paled as she found herself grasping something smooth and cold…a bone.
She dropped the shirt and scuffled back. Where could she go in this darkness? Carefully, she pulled herself up and kept still.
"You get to see how free they are. Isn't it wonderful? Such peace…" Riddler whispered from a speaker behind her, hidden somewhere she couldn't see. "I wonder if you can find the way out of purgatory?"
"Is that some kind of fucking challenge?!" Catwoman screamed out. Deciding to follow the direction of the sound, she made it several steps before she felt vibrations from the floor ahead of her.
"It is. I'm counting on you being smart enough. You already have some experience with climbing out of dumpsters, don't you?"
She winced as the sound boomed from just in front of her. She blindly reached out and found herself across the speaker's surface. There had to be a cable somewhere. Crouching and reaching around the speaker, Catwoman found a handful of cables protruding from the back of it. Following it along, she used it as a guide.
Wherever it led, that had to be a way out. She shuffled awkwardly along to follow the cables, having to crouch low to keep up. It must have led along a wall. She was sure, as she felt the cable lightly hit something solid as she grabbed.
Eventually, she reached an end. Tugging it up created resistance…this went under somewhere. Catwoman reached out across the wall and ran her hand as far as she could go until she found the rough outline of a door handle. She tried it and heard it click, feeling the wood again, she quickly gathered the impression that it was weak enough….
Backing up, she clenched her teeth and raised her boot, kicking hard at the side of the door. The wood cracked as the light began to leak through the damage. She threw her hands up to stop herself from falling. Now taking her undamaged shoulder, she slammed it into the door. The wood cracked and swung open for her now.
Revealed to her a stairwell, Catwoman didn't hesitate to move for it. Every step shrieked from, presumably, a lack of care. She got atop the first flight of stairs and found herself having to move up another three. As she reached the top of the last flight of stairs, she found a door to her left.
That was the way out.
Catwoman fumbled through the door, another hallway. She was going in circles now, wasn't she? As she stepped down the hall, the sole light bulb cut out, and instead, dimmer UV lights flickered on. Decorating the walls around her with question marks and arrow marks, which all pointed towards the end of the hallway. All of it had the look of being drawn by a mad man. Go figure.
"So, you found your way. You can see how close I am. I know you want me, Selina. But what would he think? I don't mean whatever criminal birthed you, I'm talking about the Batman."
"You think I care about what he thinks? If I find you first, I don't think he'll give a shit what state you're in when he gets his hands on him."
"Oh, Miss Falcone. You really do not know him as I do….but you will see him soon. The real him."
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Catwoman assumed he wanted to make Batman see something evil, something that was purely evil, something that would drive him insane in some sort of effort to make him exactly like Riddler. She had seen him face things that Riddler could never. He was kind to her and Holly. Part of her doubted he could ever stoop to the kind of cruelty Riddler thrived on.
"Oh, I bet." Catwoman sarcastically retorted, approaching the door finally and leaning on it as she grabbed the handle. "You better be behind this door."
"Oh, come and see, Miss Falcone…come and see."
How much longer?
That had been a question looping around Jim Gordon's head. Hunger was beginning to set in, a distracting thought given the circumstances. Gordon needed all his focus on the corridor ahead, they had been going for so long since the last trap, he was sure they would have to encounter another living soul inside this place somehow.
Hell, it would be awkward but he had been hoping to encounter Batman somewhere by now. The thought of the vigilante already being dead hadn't come to mind. He still had faith Batman would end things here tonight if they couldn't do it.
Bullock still carried his shotgun beside him, alert as ever, with the barrel facing the upcoming door. Gordon tried the handle and pulled it open. Despite that 'advice; regarding the rooms, not the doors that were rigged with traps, they took extra caution on the last couple of doors. The shotgun made certain nothing was waiting for them on the other side.
"Another weird room, Jimbo," Bullock announced as he lowered his gun and moved forward. "It stinks…like gas."
Gordon followed him and looked around the room. Used steel lined the walls and the faint smell of gasoline stuck his nose as he stepped inside, eyeing the metal rig attached to the inside of the door. Once he stepped in, the door slammed shut and Gordon resisted the urge to flinch, he shouldn't have been getting used to all of this. Two pipes protruded from the walls, one on each side of the next door ahead.
"What is it this time?" Gordon called out, looking for the speaker, wherever it was located in the room. "What's the riddle?"
"You're rather eager, Riddler's voice announced. "Do you wish to reach me soon?"
"Just give us the damn riddle." Gordon could feel the anger swelling in him. He was beyond tired of this, this whole sick game. The corridors they had passed through held a rotting smell, no visible evidence, but he knew the smell. The thought of having to rip this place apart to figure out if Riddler had any bodies placed there. He was afraid of what kind of vile things they might find beyond this room.
"You don't wish to know the dangers?" Riddler then asked, a chuckle breaking out through the intercom. "I feel it's only fair to give my favorite piggies a warning…If you fail to guess my riddle, then the room will begin to fill with gasoline from those two tubes by that door. Guess right and I'll let you continue. You enter a dark room. In the room, there is a gas stove, a kerosene lamp, and a candle. You have a matchbox in your pocket, what will you light first?"
Another trick riddle. It had to be something he wasn't expecting. Stove. Lamp. Candle. Matchbox….It had to be a matchbox, how else would you be able to light any of the others? Gordon was about to open his mouth to speak but heard Bullock answer.
"It's gotta be a candle, how else are you supposed to see shit?"
Riddler answered with the sound of pipes clanging, gasoline beginning to dribble out of the pipes now.
"I'm sick and tired of this, Jim. Take your tie off, I got an idea…" Bullock muttered, already pulling his own creased and mustard stained one-off and balling it up, approaching and then carefully shoving the tie into the pipe and backing up. He wiped his hands thoroughly with his coat, emptying it of everything valuable and throwing that beneath the now clogged pipe.
Gordon got the message and undid his tie, carefully approaching the pipe and forcing the handful of red fabric into the opening, stepping back as it clogged similarly. He tried not to gag at the smell and took his coat off too, discarding it once he had used it to dry his hands off. The last thing he needed was the gasoline on his hands igniting when Bullock finished his plan.
"What's the plan now?"
Bullock pulled his pistol from his holster now and grinned toward Gordon, prompting him to move as far back as he could. Bullock did the same before firing. A brief hit licked them, a deafening explosion made his ears ring as that smoke slowly dissipated, revealing the massive hole blasted through the wall where the door had been. It wasn't what he expected, but it did the trick.
Over damaged speakers, Riddler's voice crackled now, hard to hide any emotion now as he screamed. "H-H-HOW-HOW DARE YOU?! CHEATER, YOU'RE A CHEATER!"
There was a clear exit ahead of them now. They didn't waste any time moving through the low flames and into the next hallway, finding it still holding it together thankfully. They moved through and heard speakers crackling still. Riddler likely wouldn't be happy they had bypassed his trap.
"You were supposed to die. That's how the rules work, Detectives!" He sounded like an upset child now. It would have been amusing if it wasn't a serial killer he was hearing yell in such childish anger. Instead, they might have just made things worse if there were still traps to go. For now, they had to escape this trap and keep moving forward.
"You never played fair. Why should we, asshole!" Bullock yelled back.
Gordon wanted to rein him in. Yelling back was like kicking the hornet's nest, especially worse since they were still inside this particular nest. He began to think about how far away reinforcements were. They would have to try and enter the building sometime soon. He had to hope they would try sometime soon. I
n times like these, he wished he had the full unit here. There was a safety in numbers, last time Gordon had to deal with something like this, he was searching through an abandoned warehouse down in the East End.
He remembered the tension of turning every corner, hoping they'd find the kidnapped girl. That day had been one he wanted to forget all about. The scenery around him however gave him an unnerving sense of deja vu.
"Then, I guess I should dispose of you. I have a legion of men on their way. You think this pathetic little cheating is going to go unnoticed?" Riddler's voice echoed as they moved up, towards an intersection of corridors. They paused in the middle of it, three possible routes. Each ended in a closed door. Three places they could get ambushed for. The silence was broken by the slow creak of the door straight ahead. Gordon turned and kept his gun trained on the door.
This was it. One moment to act and decide how things would go. Bullock turned left and right, shotgun aimed towards the other two doors in a sweeping motion. Any second now and those other doors would swing open. The first door creaked wide open, he tensed as he saw two men shuffle through. The sight of their raised hands disarmed the tension that Gordon felt.
"Slowly. Against the wall over there!" Gordon ordered them, gesturing to the wall to their left with his pistol. "Hands up against it!"
The two masked men complied, awkwardly following his orders with a bumbling limp in their step. No weapons either. He didn't like it. Once they were against the wall with his hands visible, Gordon moved forward, pistol trained on them as one hand reached for the handcuffs on his belt. The first man didn't move, the second made a move for it, swinging out with a knife that flashed under the corridor light. Gordon drew his gun arm back, evading the blade and throwing himself back.
Before the man could thrust forward, he was struck in the face by the back end of the shotgun, falling flat on his ass. Bullock let out a heavy pant as he lowered the makeshift bat he had turned the shotgun into. "That's enough exercise for me, Jim."
Bullock grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back over to the wall. Grabbing his own handcuffs, he slapped them on the man's wrist and turned and extended his hand out to take Gordon's cuffs and do the same for the other man.
"Where's Riddler?" Gordon began immediately, getting to the point. "Now."
"He's in the next room, okay?" The thug replied, nervousness exploding from a surprisingly youthful voice. "Look, we don't want to be apart of this anymore…the guy is fucking insane!"
"Anyone else?"
"No! No! They've been sent after The Bat….we're the last two left, I swear!"
There was a truth in that fear. Gordon doubted they would have surrendered and then lied, even if one of them tried to stab him. He could see the bruising over one's face. Batman had been through here, he had to guess. Gordon glanced toward his partner, Bullock dropped the man and aimed his shotgun for the door now. If the man known as The Riddler was really behind that door, then it would make this a hell of a lot easier. Then again, he wasn't going to go down early. He could tell that already.
They moved for the doorway now, those two henchmen weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Once this was done, they would come back and lead them out. As they grew closer, that tension in his hands turned into an agonizing ache.
Pushing the door aside with one hand, the goosebumps spiked across the back of his neck as he found himself staring into darkness. Lights out. They had a choice to make. Move now and strike fast or let him have a single second of advantage. Gordon didn't know what to expect.
Beyond the door, there was only a faint light as he moved slowly forward. He made the light out to be from a computer screen, half-obscured by the shape of an office chair and someone's head peering over the top of it. He didn't like this one bit.
Walking into this low visibility would be a life or death decision. He couldn't be afraid here. He had to have his partner's back too. Gordon glanced back and saw Bullock slowly follow beside him. That brought him some small level of reassurance.
They crept in slow, Gordon's palms damp against the grip of his pistol. There was still no movement from the chair. It couldn't be a trap, could it? Trying to think about all the ways he could make this into an ambush that would be too long and too distracting right now.
They just needed to teach the chair…As they got close now, they could make out a set up of monitors and computers, cannibalized together atop a desk. A seated man was before them, the top of the man's head visible from over the back of an office chair. The featureless top of the man's head had to be from a mask. It had to be Riddler.
"Hands up! You're surrounded Riddler!" Gordon announced.
It was hard not to think of this as a win. They had him at gunpoint…but he didn't move. The ache was transferring to that uneasy pressure in his gut. Bullock spoke up next. "You heard us. Turn around slowly, fucker!"
He didn't budge. Fuck, it could have been a fake….that, or he was waiting for them to move. Something clicked, the chair spun fast and for a brief moment, he was face to face with The Riddler, now visible from all those intense screen lights. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Gordon saw something on the man's wrist pop forward with a metallic clang. Gordon threw himself to the right and hit the ground with a grunt. The gun fired where they had been, Gordon turned over and aimed for the chair, noticing the silver tape that kept Riddler's other arm bound to the chair.
"It's a fucking trap!"
Before he could push himself up, another bang rang out and Gordon felt his leg give out as a sharp pain spiked up his leg. He'd been shot. He found his leg numb and rolled over, trying to aim for the person responsible. He couldn't make out any shape in the dark.
"Jim!"
Gordon glanced to his left and saw Bullock pulling himself up, an angry snarl on the other detective's face. He tried to do the same, trying to push off with just his hands. But as he sat up, a pain burst through his thigh and he couldn't stop himself from losing his balance and collapsing back to the floor.
Bullock got up, scrambling for his shotgun. Another shot made him pause and duck. Gordon could see The Riddler emerge from the darkness, a faint smell of body odor hit his nose as he saw him. How long had he been waiting in the dark for them?
Dressed in an old and tattered green suit, Riddler walked forward with glee in his step, swinging a long golden cane in his grip as if he was giddy with excitement. Before Bullock could think to react, Riddler rushed forward, cane striking him directly in the gut, a gasp of pain erupting as he lurched over.
There was another fast swing to his back that sent him to the floor. The man let out of grunt of pain as he tried to get back up, only to find that cane's end pressing hard into his back.
Despite that, Bullock was able to at least get up to his feet, forgetting the gun and bringing up his bulky fists. Gordon tried to aim for Riddler again. His aim was too shaky in the dark to get a clear shot, only made further impossible as the man moved around Bullock, blocking his line of sight with his partner's body.
The criminal moved with surprising speed. Being the mastermind of mercenaries and criminals, Gordon had admittedly expected less of a physical confrontation. Instead, he was nimble enough to move on Bullock, not that they were exactly world-class fighters themselves.
"Detectives….detectives. This is what happens when you CHEAT!" Riddler screamed at them from beneath that mask.
Bullock put up a fight, clenched fist swinging back and missing drunkenly. Those first two hits had dazed him enough to think he could take on someone who was still armed with a gun. Riddler, however, wasn't using it, instead, he shoved it into his pocket and swung out with his cane. T
he next hit cracked across the man's jaw. Bullock went down after that, his body landing atop of his and pinning the hand Gordon had his gun held in. Before he could pull his hand free, he felt that cane press against his throat, forcing him to look up at Riddler and his pistol as the barrel blocked out the light.
"I cannot stand cheaters, Detective. I used to play games as a child. Do you know what cheaters got? They got made an example of, I cannot stand them. You lost and you should be disappointed in your partner."
Riddler was rambling….Gordon still had his grip on his gun….he could pull it out in one go and fire. It'd have to be accurate as hell. One-shot. That was all he had. He didn't draw on him then, who knew what would have happened. Gordon could feel his trousers dampen around his wound. Maybe it had nicked something important. That was the last thing he needed right now.
Gordon reaffirmed his grip on his gun, then he pulled it as hard as he could. His arm slipped free and he swung his gun arm towards Riddler, freezing as he saw Riddler's gun aimed straight at Bullock, his blackened glasses staring straight into his soul.
"Put the gun down and push it towards me. Slowly." Riddler commanded.
There was no other option than to comply. Gordon reached forward and put his gun down onto the floor. Letting go of the gun made him briefly angry. Without it, well, there was no chance. But he knew he couldn't risk Bullock's life over this. Gordon pushed it towards Riddler, watching the weapon slide across the old floorboard wood. Riddler reached down and picked it up, examining it for a moment before aiming his gun at him.
"You know why I never lose these games, Detective. They're always rigged from the start." Riddler moved towards him but instead approached the fake Riddler taped to the chair. Taking off those blacked-out glasses and then ripping off the mask to reveal the half-burned face of Mayor Hill, a strip of silver duct tape over his mouth. He was unable to do anything but shake his head and squirm in his seat.
"Remember what I told you, Hamilton? No moving about. Tsk, tsk. You were doing so well…" The criminal pressed the gun against the temple of the man's head, digging into the skin with the barrel.
Gordon could hear muffled sobbing now, he was surprised Riddler had even kept Hill alive this long. But maybe he wanted to torture him by using him as his puppet. If only he could get up or had his gun, this would have been the distraction he needed to move.
"-But you're not worth it. I don't want your dirty soul. So, you get to stay here with the rest of these shells."
Gordon felt a wave of relief there. If Batman could get here soon, then he could save Hill. Hill would be allowed to be tried for his crimes….if Batman got here in time. The gun was taken away from the man's sobbing continued. Gordon looked back, towards where they had entered the room. Any minute now he would be here. He had to be. Gordon found himself drawn back towards Riddler, he had to be able to do something. Bullock was out for the count and Hill wasn't exactly going to be of any use.
Riddler noticed him there and let out an airy laugh from beneath his mask, crouching low enough that Gordon got a strong hint of his stink. He couldn't push himself back, unfortunately.
"Do you think I'm trapped here, Detective?" Riddler moved away from him thankfully, beginning to pace the ground between him and Bullock. "We're in my fortress. My paradise. I wanted this to happen so I could lure in all those stupid souls who would be dumb enough to follow me. I figure if you'll fall for that, then you deserve the mercy I can offer you."
Gordon found himself glancing towards the fainting light bleeding in from the door. Any second now.
The next thing he heard, without warning, was the sound of his gun going off.
Riddler truly had made a labyrinth, Batman thought to himself as he moved deeper into the Mystery Mile.
Batman moved down the corridor, this one just like the last one. He pushed on through it and through the next door he found himself staring down a finally unique corridor. This one was divided off in an intersection. Wherever he went next mattered once again. One wrong guess and he would be wondering endlessly. The only problem would be if he even knew he went the wrong way.
As he moved into the center of it, he tried either door to the left and right. They both opened the same, revealing corridors that went who knew where. This left the last door to be his only way forward. It refused to budge as he tried the handle. Why was this door locked and the others weren't? It was the only door secured, that had to mean it led to Riddler. Batman tried barging his shoulder against it. Too dense to move.
He tried again and again. No result.
A creaking sound to his right prompted him to turn, fists clenching as he turned to face the door as it fully opened. He relaxed as he saw it was Selina. The first thing he noticed was her bare hands, red with chills. Her face, as he looked at her, was pale with sickness. It hadn't been that long since he had last seen her, the interior of the place made it impossible to tell how much time had passed. But that look in her eyes said more than enough.
She leaned heavily on the door frame as she took a heavy breath of air. Batman moved forward to offer out an arm to lean on. "What happened?"
"I had to walk a tight rope, then they put in some trash bag," Catwoman muttered, a weakness in her words. "Riddler tried to give me a damn seizure…that was before he tried to make me freeze to death."
Batman moved when she tried to step forward, the limp in her step notable. His hand reached out to offer her further support and naturally, she leaned into him. Hearing all of that and seeing the effects of all these traps on her made him further infuriated with Riddler, something he didn't believe was possible.
"Are you okay?" Batman asked, his voice coming out a dry whisper. "Riddler showed me things, he was trying to break me too, by showing me what he's done to people."
"You look better than I feel." Catwoman managed to mutter. "How long until we find him? I'm so tired, Bruce."
"We're close, I know it." They were both hurting. Batman found her hand grip his shoulder to steady herself. Look up at him now, emerald eyes bore into his own. There was an unspoken understanding exchanged. Her other hand grazed his chin now. Batman could tell she wanted to look at him with no masks on. She wanted to see him.
His lips raised into a soft smile, it felt wrong almost. To feel this kind of warmth. He had sworn himself to his mission. Why didn't he ever think he would be conflicted by someone like her? Everything that Bruce Wayne did was an act. A simple facade was only done out of pure necessity. This felt like the first real thing in a while.
"I am now." Her breath struck his lips. Before he knew it, they were interlocked by the lips, the taste of blood and dryness to the lips made them aware of her reality regardless. It lasted for maybe a few seconds when really the moment was processed far slower by Batman. Unfortunately, the seriousness of the world around them flooding back in. He could feel the skin of his face warming up as they pulled away.
"I needed that," Batman admitted. It was a nice moment, in its own way it had been something Batman needed, the intimacy of small comfort. But now they needed to end this all. He felt her hands slide off of him and return to her sides.
"We can talk about it after we stop Riddler," Selina smirked as she glanced back towards the door behind them. "Which way?"
Batman composed himself and gestured to the locked door beside them. "This one, but it's locked. I think it leads to Riddler."
Catwoman moved over to the handle and tried it again, this time the handle moved and the door opened for her. She glanced back with an amused small laugh. She lost it as she heard an overhead speaker crackle.
"I'm so glad you both are here. Step through this door and you'll get one step closer."
The door led into another corridor, just like one Batman had seen before. Mounted across the walls were old television screens. As they moved carefully down the corridor, each screen began to feel with the static before creating images of City Hall. The low quality depicted a view from within the crowd, the cameraman was zooming in on Hill now.
"You two are very persistent. You're just like those detectives, they're as big fans of me as they are of you, Batman." Riddler sneered.
"Let them go, Riddler. You only want me here."
"And yet you flocked to me, like lambs to the slaughter. Come to think of it, I don't think I want you anymore."
His phrasing was strange, he didn't understand Riddler's reasoning in the slightest. Why bring him into all of this if he didn't want him there? Maybe them surviving his traps had made things uninteresting to him. Batman ignored the screens now, he didn't understand Riddler's reasonings in the slightest. Why bring him into all of this if he didn't want him there. Maybe them surviving his traps had made things uninteresting to him.
Batman ignored the screens now. He didn't need Riddler's words in his head right now. There was nothing he needed or say to him. Nothing that would change anything.
"You're going to ignore me just like that?" Riddler laughed over the speakers. "You are so pathetic. I don't want your soul because you're not like them. I see your soul without having to cut inside. Your soul is corrosive, it's burning throughout you and it's ugly."
They finally reached the end of his corridor and Batman tried the door, able to open it and he winced slightly at the brightness of the next room. In contrast to the dim green bulbs that illuminated the previous corridors, this one was a sterile white and far more vast than the last he had seen. The floor had been painted to resemble a black and white chessboard. Overhead, Batman made note of the large mechanism built into the ceiling above, its purpose wasn't clear at first glance, he made sure to acknowledge it.
Across from him, he saw Riddler. The man was now wearing a green two-piece suit, that thermal mask still encased his head. Either side of him slumped over were two bodies. He couldn't make out who they were from this far away. Innocent lives were held hostage regardless.
"Batman….I'm so happy you could make it." Riddler called across to him. "You must be wondering who my guests here are. They're unfortunate detectives who thought they could stop me with just their guns."
Every word was infuriating. He was tired, so tired of Riddler and his games. There are people out there he could have saved or could still save, but yet Riddler was still here. Even now, Riddler was holding lives at stake now. He was nothing more than a coward. "Let them go, Riddler. Now."
Batman took a step forward, Riddler held out a hand and waggled his finger as if that would be enough to stop him. "No, no. You don't get to cheat, Batman. You have to know the rules. The board is set and you have to cross it. I think even you may struggle with this one."
"This ends now. You let them go and I might not break you."
"And what will you do about it, Batman? Can you cross this board in the time it takes for them to bleed out from a gunshot wound to the head?" Riddler casually announced to him, now gesturing with his arms widely to come closer. "You'll play the game and if you make it across in one piece, then maybe I'll be kind enough to let you have at least one."
He had no idea what stepping further would do. What kinds of traps had he rigged to this whole board? There was only one way to know for sure. It was exhausting, sure, but he could this if he pushed himself, one last final change of energy. All that mattered was crossing the board and making sure Riddler could never getaway, then he could finally get back to the car and the cave and be safe.
Batman rushed forward. As soon as his foot connected with a white tile, he felt it buzzed beneath his foot, he kept moving fast enough to evade the rusted spike that burst through painted wood. The edge of his cape snagged for a moment as he felt jerked back by it. He turned hard enough to rip the fabric free. Moving forward again, Batman felt his heart skip a beat as the next black tile beneath his boot suddenly cracked under his pressure.
He slammed his hands down quick enough and flexed his leg inward, he could smell the pot of acid that had been placed beneath devour the shards of wood. Close call. Batman moved his foot out of the hole and continued to move forward. That ache was making him want to stop but he couldn't. He stopped now then it was all for nothing. If he had stopped now, then it was all for nothing.
He didn't see the mechanical rig as it descended from the ceiling. Only when it swept in a fast arc and struck him so hard in the side, he felt himself leave the ground. Now he had to pray wherever he landed wasn't rigged with anything. For a moment, he was weightless. Then it all returned to him in a sudden impact with the floor that sent him rolling along. He could already envision the massive bruise that he would find after this. As he pulled himself up, he watched the tile where his head had just been opening.
Batman got himself up to his feet and turned to see what had just emerged from the tile. A nail gun attached to its own makeshift rig emerged and found itself turning towards the vigilante now. Batman was already too far away to prevent it from firing one shot, feeling pain through his thigh as a nail pierced it. He managed to dive forward. Driving that buried nail further into his leg, but put him close enough to grab hold of its neck and forced upward, severing the wheels connected to the trigger before it could get a shot off.
Discarding the broken homemade weapon, Batman pulled himself up and attempted to continue. He felt the wound and saw the blood on his gloved fingertips, it was impossible not to want to scream in agony from the foreign object lodged into his thigh. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have hit anything important judging by the amount of blood on his hand.
He would live. He needed to suppress all that pain for just a bit longer. He was almost across the chessboard now. Watching that arm swing back around, Batman managed to crouch low enough to evade another swing of the mechanical arm. He braced himself as he felt the metal swoosh through the air right above him. Once it passed, he pushed off his crouched knee and ignore that nail as the movement shifted the nail's place in the wound.
He didn't have time to waste. Moving forward, he found a tile give way under his foot, slowing him again, but Batman grabbed the floor and pulled the leg free before several blades fused to a metal panel thrust upward. Riddler was close now, his hands now working some kind of controller in his hands.
No doubt the reason was to have the arm pursue him. Batman moved forward again, no time yet to remove that nail. He resisted the pain and made it across several more tiles. He could feel his legs burning with fatigue, one false step and he would fall and likely never get back up. If that happened, he would lose his chance to get him.
It wasn't far now. A few more feet now, he kept telling himself. None of the tiles he had passed so far had given way or triggered anything since the last one. In his fast-moving mind, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He just kept pushing himself forward, simply counting down how many tiles there was until he was in reach of Riddler.
Batman tensed up when his foot hit a tile and it sunk under his weight. An explosion threw him back off his feet, pain spiked up his back on impact. As he looked up, he could see that arm moving overhead. It came crashing down a moment before he rolled himself to the right, evading the metal fist smashing through the floorboards beside him.
As he put his hand to push himself up, the tile gave way. Something fast and silver burst through, a spike grazing the side of his forearm and piercing through the costume. Batman winched and managed to pull his arm away, feeling the warm blood trickle down his arm. He told himself it wasn't deep enough to stop him. The next tile he pressed his hand down thankfully didn't give away, allowing him to pick himself back up and continue forward. He could see Riddler already retreating backward. He wasn't expecting him to get this far. He really was afraid now. Good.
Batman reached the two men and crouched between them, immediately realizing one of them to be Jim Gordon. There was a pool of blood beneath his bound legs, a damp patch around a bullet hole in the man's lower leg was confirmed to be the source.
He pulled the binds apart with haste before checking his pulse with two fingers against his neck. There was a pulse, relief sinking into the vigilante's mind, knowing that Gordon would live.
Taking the remains of the rope, he began encircling the detective's wound and a moment later, he pulled it tight. That would stem the bleeding. He owed Gordon this much help. As he looked over the detective again, he realized there was something green taped to the man's chest.
Batman pulled it off and found himself staring at an envelope, which had 'TO THE BATMAN" scribbled across the front of it. Rip; ping it open, within was a simple card with the design of a cartoonish skeleton on it.
Opening it up revealed the original message had been overlapped with cut out words. He saw glimpses of the images that the words were cut from. Faces. Blood. Crime scenes….he had cut these out of photos that he had taken of his victims. They were snapshots of crime, memories of murder. The resulting images combined to form the words'
Mirror Mirror, on the wall.
The Batman could not save them all.
Batman felt his grip on the card intensify as he realized this. Tearing the piece of card in his grip before moving on, he needed a level head somehow, he needed to focus on freeing the other officer and then following Riddler without exhausting himself trying to reach him. Turning back towards the other officer, Batman recognized this man as Detective Bullock and undid the rope around his wrist.
There were no visible injuries beyond a large bruise on the man's stubble laced chin. He looked to Selina now from the other side of the chessboard, steadying his breath.
"Help these detectives find a way back out of here!" Batman called across to her before looking back to the doorway Riddler had run through, muttering to himself now. "This ends now."
It was hard not to feel a rush as Batman pushed through that doorway and down a grim hallway. He caught a glimpse of the man as a dead-end shifted lift, replaced by several feet of hallway section. He reached the end of it and turned back, glancing at him briefly as the section bean to shift back.
He was aiming to block him off. Batman felt himself panting now as he pushed himself harder, crossing the section as it was already half close to slipping back into the wall. He practically threw himself through that tightening gap before it slammed shut, back into place behind him.
The chase continued, Riddler turned a corner left as Batman pulled himself up to his feet again. He couldn't let him put any more distance between them. Riddler turned down another corner and Batman forced himself to follow around, finding him waiting at the end of another dead end.
Before he could reach the man, the walls around Riddler began to rotate now, another way to escape him. He managed to reach the rotating passageway before it shut completely. He felt resistance as he held it from fully turning, his boots grinding into the floor as he realized he couldn't hold it in place for as long as he wanted.
Cold metal struck him as he tried to push himself into the small section of the rotating hallway. Riddler was thrusting out wildly with it. The cane hit him in the throat and Batman let out a wheeze, feeling his grip falter as his opportunity to slip through the gap was closing on him.
Batman pushed himself into it sideways, Riddler's cane caught him across the face, a numbness bursting across his skull. He was sloppy enough to allow this. It was infuriating. He staggered and found his balance further disrupted by the floor beneath him still shifting.
It allowed for another strike from Riddler's cane to reach him. He brought his arm up and felt the gauntlet absorb the impact. The jolt of the floor locked into place as it stopped spinning, Riddler pulled the cane back and tried again, this time aiming lower and striking his hip.
The exhaustion made him collapse with the force of the strike, slamming sideways into the wall with a grunt, opening up Riddler's escape. As Riddler bolted past, Batman failed to turn and lunge out for him, fingers failing to grasp him.
Batman lifted his head to see Riddler disappearing into a reflecting redness. As his vision stabilized, he realized ahead of him was a mirrored hallway. He could make out a shape moving down the corridor. Batman thought of who he was fighting for, all the victims named or otherwise. Every innocent person Riddler had killed in the name of some kind of sick delusion he believed would set them free.
Hands planted against the brittle floor beneath him. He pushed at it was an audible creak, feeling the wood strain as he lifted himself. His hands found the smooth surface of a mirror-clad wall. His gloves squeaked against the polished surface. Batman ran after him and found himself descending into a reflective hell of blood red.
For a moment, it seemed like an entirely normal corridor until he turned left and saw his reflection in the mirror covered walls. Another part of Riddler's game, how many had survived this far? How many had been made to watch their own reflection on the verge of exhaustion and death?
As he reached a junction, he was faced with two pathways. Glancing both ways, he caught sight of something moving down the right mirror corridor. That was enough for him. It had to be Riddler, the vigilante broke into a stunted spirit after the shape. Whether it was real or not he didn't care, it had to be Riddler.
It needed to be.
The mirrors made it feel like this last forever. The light blurred his reflection on either side of him. As he came up to a corner, he caught the flash of metal before it swung out and crashed into his face, knocking him down onto his ass and looking up at his own reflection in the ceiling.
His jaw tensed as he let a hiss of air escaped between his bloody teeth. He was here. He was close. Batman stumbled up and only saw himself reflected in a mirrored dead end in the corridor, just catching a glimpse of a pair of sliding disguised as part of the mirrored wall sliding shut.
Batman caught his fingers in that gap. His fingers felt as if they might break if he strained them any longer. He felt his arms burn as he forced them to open up, revealing the next corridor of mirrors.
Once he had an opening, he pushed through, wincing as he caught himself in the light of a projector. Cheap speakers boomed from above him, distorted screams, crying and pleading….laughing even.
The walls were now directed by an old film. He made the content of that aged footage out to be another macabre record of a victim. He was taunting him. A fist shattered the glass. The projected image now played across a web of cracks, then he moved on, trying to block out the audio. That pain of broken glass cut into his barely covered knuckles distracted him from the corridor ahead.
Batman kept his eyes peeled for the mirrors ahead. He was lurking somewhere that he couldn't see. The Riddler was waiting for him to let his guard down. Limping forward slowly, Batman's eyes scanned the reflections…..he'd have to appear somewhere soon.
He caught a flash of green to his left and ducked. The mirror to his left rained down on him in shattered glass shards. Batman struck out with a punch that connected with his gut, a wheeze burst from beneath Riddler's mask.
He tried to bring the cane in a swing towards him, but Batman brought his arm up and blocked it, even if the pain made him grunt. His right arm struck out, the first hit knocked him into the opposite mirror, the next bounced his head back and the third snapped his glasses in two.
The cane came down slower this time, easy to duck beneath, and then backhand out of his grip. His fist knocked Riddler's head into the mirror, an audible crunch of glass signifying the impact of his head against the mirror.
Shards of broken mirror crashed to the floorboards behind them. The jagged edges of one shard found it's way into his arm as Riddler managed to grab a handful and push it in. It was enough to get Batman to stumble back from him.
"Why won't you die?!"
"Because you don't get to win, Riddler. All your destruction, all your chaos. It all fails."
"You're delusional!"
Batman graced himself as he removed the glass, it was something Riddler could grab hold of and use against him. He couldn't allow that. The glass was removed and shattered as he cast it aside. Pushing forward, Batman reached out for him, aiming to pin the man to the wall. He was too slow and Riddler evaded his lunge, watching as he crashed into the mirror face first.
"You're sloppy. You're so desperate that you're going to kill yourself trying to stop me!" A sick delight in his tone as he realized this. "You're going to give me your soul, free of charge!"
Batman slumped against the mirror, trying to push himself back up. He pushed himself along to evade another fast swing of Riddler's cane, shielding his face as glass exploded on impact. His attempt to grab the cane earned him a strike to the throat. He wheezed and felt his balance collapse beneath him again.
He felt the end of that cane's cold surface brush his numb chin now. Batman looked up to see Riddler leering over him. "It's over. How about one final riddle, one final way to play the game?"
"I'm done playing your games!" Batman managed to pick himself up, the feeling of agony as he felt his head so light that he could imagine the next hit might be enough to knock him down for good. Riddler swung for him again, fatigue in his action too. Batman caught the cane and pulled back with it, feeling his ankles ache so much so that his leg might have given out with too much of a pull.
Riddler was jerked forward, right into one of Batman's sluggish fists. Exhaustion aside, he still packed more of a punch that rocked Riddler backward. He tried to catch the smooth wall for support but continued falling back. The cane remained in Batman's grip.
He threw it aside and lunged for him. It became a primal mess, Riddler's hands flailed out with his own strikes, uneducated and undedicated. Batman braced it and forced him down with a hard palm. His whole body moved easily under the force. His hand swung up but Batman's was faster, deflecting the swing and driving his fist into Riddler's face.
An audible crunch of plastic came from the blow, Batman felt himself nearly fall flat on his face, under the speed of his own punches momentum. He managed to keep himself upright. Cocking his arm back, he managed another punch, this one whipped Riddler's head aside. Batman leaned back, the only sound now being his heavy gasping. The movement beneath him happened too quick for him to stop Riddler from wriggling free, stumbling up, and trying to escape.
Limping over to him, Batman grabbed Riddler by the shoulders and swerved to the right as hard as he could, the killer slumped against it on impact. His left hand moved to grasp the back of his head and pushed into the wall by that.
The mirror cracked from the impact, his grip was faltering enough for Riddler to push back, pulling away to expose more damage to the mirror. "Riddle me this!"
Riddler tried to gain a foothold, he was silent by the slam of his head against the mirror. Too much strength had been exerted. The man managed to twist in his grip, the metal click of a revolver he pulled from his hip made Batman freeze in his place.
"Look at you…." Riddler's mask was torn, exposing half of his bloody mouth, the beginnings of a grin twisting his thin lips. "What's wrong? Afraid of a gun? Now, riddle me this. If you are justice, please do not lie…what is the price for your blind eye."
He could see only the alleyway now. The cold chill of that night and the trash can stench. The trembling fear of the boy who had survived. "Nothing."
"No! No, you don't! That's wrong, you have a price. Everything has a price!" Riddler screamed, aiming the gun at his chest and firing.
The impact blew the air out of him, his chest felt as if it had been struck by one of The Beast of Russia's fists. He hit the ground and before he could pull himself up, he found Riddler moving atop of him. His free hand grabbed at his mask, it prompted him to lash out one last time.
Riddler was easy to move, Batman pulled his arm close and over his shoulder, flipping the man over him with an audible crash. He twisted the man's arm with a snap. The gun crashed into the ground next, Riddler was squirming in his grip. The vigilante grabbed the serial killer and moved fast, smashing him into the mirror.
This time he went through the thin material and into a dark corridor of the interior framework. As he got up, he turned. Batman chased with a fast that blew him right back into another wall in the darkness. Batman found him and his fist cracked across the jaw again.
The wood broke beneath him, the light of a new room flooded his vision as both he and Riddler tumbled onto the familiar chessboard floor.
They were back in the other room, Batman didn't pay much attention as his fall was broken by Riddler, who absorbed that knee to the chest. He let out a gasp of breath. In light of the other room, he could see his pale skin through the mask's tears.
Riddler tried to grab at him, but Batman crunched his nose under his fist, a feeling of warm blood splattering his knuckles as he continued the fast jabs. Once he couldn't move anymore, Batman relented, sucking in an exhausting breath. He grabbed the man's mask and ripped it away with a satisfying tear, exposing the blotched and bloody face of The Riddler.
"It's…It's not…f-fair…." The serial killer managed through a bust lip and cracked bloody teeth. Riddler was a pale-faced man, with a crop of matted and foul-smelling mousy hair. Atop his head laced with uncut, dead hair atop it. Even dirt had accumulated beneath his cold, dark eyes.
Batman managed a few more heavy breaths before grabbing his neck. He could do it, snap his neck like a twig and it would be all over. Except that was what The Riddler wanted. He wanted to break him and join his 'souls' in whatever twisted heaven he was fascinated with. His grip went tense before he jerked his head up. A scream rendered his throat hoarse.
"I beat you!" A catharsis like no other erupted from him. It was quickly subsided by a feeling of normalcy. Nothing had changed after he screamed those words, a hollow victory burrowing its way through him. "You have lost."
He looked up and saw Gordon and Bullock in the midst of recovering. Batman grabbed Riddler by the fabric around his neck and dragged him along the board, no more traps were triggered during the time it took the criminal in front of them. "Riddler won't be on your database. If he's as smart as he says he'll have wiped himself off of any public record."
"His name is Edward Nashton, that's what Hill managed to say to your female companion," Gordon muttered, his hands bloody as he held the knot around his wound. "I never said thank you, for saving our lives."
Batman sucked in a breath, composing himself enough to answer him. He remembered Bruce Wayne, the boy sat on that step in crime alley, numb and shivering, then the coat of a young and idealistic GCPD lieutenant reminded him there was some kindness in Gotham.
"And you'll never have to." He managed a small smile before looking to Catwoman beside him, she just finished across the board and looked near exhaustion. "Can you walk, Captain Gordon?"
"We'll manage. SWAT will be storming in soon. Best you get a head start." Bullock interjected, the dazed detective getting to his feet as he moved to Gordon. "I don't like it, but we owe you for the save today…Batman."
Batman nodded and looked to Catwoman, his fellow costumed companion looking around, spying the door Riddler fled through, a bare nail sinking into his forehead.
"Which way leads out of here?"
"Through that door…to your right. There's a dead end, but it leads to a ladder…" Riddler winced, squirming easy as her nail drew blood.
Catwoman retracted it and smirked at Batman, her hand swung back and her fist knocked the serial killer out, that same fist grabbed his hand and lead him along into Bullock's custody. They were both exhausted, Batman pushed hard to keep up the pace alongside her.
Knees crumbling with ache. So much so he found himself brought back down to the ground. Grabbing Riddler's discarded cane and using it for support now.
They were getting closer to freedom. He braced every sharp turn until they found that dead end. They both kicked it hard to shatter the illusion, revealing a ladder that really was the spine of the building. He let her go first and forced himself up against it second.
Selina Kyle burst open the rooftop door hatch first, the cold air trickled down, inviting him to reach the limit of the ladder. She had to pull him up now to experience the cold early morning of Gotham City.
"You did it…" Selina muttered, leaning into him again as she kicked the hatch shut. "It's over, all of it is."
"No, we did." Batman succumbed to her again, another eager rush of flesh saw them kiss. He broke away when he saw what was likely a news helicopter approaching on the horizon. "We need to move, the car shouldn't be too far from here."
It felt strangely normal. He had defeated Riddler and yet he felt as if it meant as much as defeating a few muggers or bank robbers on a nightly patrol. Maybe the newspaper or news headlines would ease his soul. He had done everything to ensure that Riddler ended up in GCPD custody and hopefully had a sentence deserving of his immoral actions.
"Alfred, we need the car at our location." Batman felt his voice grow weary, only anger and pain had kept him awake. His victory was sapping away at that negative energy that he needed.
"Right away, sir. It seems that you have secured victory." Alfred assured in a gleefully smug tone, even as he spoke with a certain English rigidness. "I do hope you're okay, Master Bruce."
"I'm fine….' Batman insisted.
They landed on another rooftop, he could already hear the faint roar of the car approaching their location. He felt his eyes shut for a moment too long. Selina had her arm around him now, holding him up long enough to see the car screech to a halt in the alleyway right below him.
Batman managed to retain consciousness, traversing down those fire escapes and he managed to strap himself in before closing his eyes. For once in the past few moments, he could be secure without the fear of failure.
They had won.
Author's Note:
Countless rewrites and revisions of this scene rang so particularly strong amidst the holiday season that we found ourselves in a state of delay over the penultimate chapter of Shadows Of Gotham.
We would have to say ultimately that we are very proud of the content that has been put forth and we hope you enjoy the read. The story, like most pieces of prose, could not have been done without the inspiration and countless feats of willpower and determination from those closest to us.
With this chapter up, it means that there is one more chapter in the story to go. We hope you have enjoyed the content of the story thus far!
-SVRFAN and CobaltComet
