Author's Note: Much of this chapter was inspired from the New 52's Zero Year storyline, specifically the part called Dark City. Some of the dialogue and the riddles were taken from that story, which I recommend if you want a good Riddler story. Enjoy.

Gotham's Blade

What would you do if you found yourself at the end of the world? Harper didn't need to imagine because it was happening all around her. The digital city was a shell of itself, though some buildings remained stubbornly standing. The sky looked so angry, and the ground was rising and heaving and cracking.

They who were still trapped here had begun to huddle up as a group. No one wanted to be alone here. Not with all this.

Harper glanced at the dimmed little panel, the one sign that they weren't going anywhere. Scowling, she looked at the horrific landscape before her and quickly turning her gaze down. In her arms, she held the trembling form of a teen girl, one who was younger than her, but terrified like the rest of them.

"It's going to be okay," Harper said aloud, though to the girl she held or to herself, she did not know. "He's going to save us."

An ear deafening boom rocked everything. More of the sky broke and exposed the coding behind it in infinite 0s and 1s. Bravery and machismo were no longer a thing as many cried out in terror.

Harper only tightened her embrace on the teen in her arms and repeated, "Batman's going to save us."

Oracle had come in. The Gotham Museum of Natural History was their destination.

"Seatbelts if you want them," Nightwing advised as he took the driver's seat and revved the engine.

"Think we can do this in less than thirty minutes?" Black Canary asked from the passenger seat.

"We'd better," Huntress stated from the back of the van. "We only got one shot."

Well said. Pulling down on the gear shift, Nightwing put the van into drive and hit the accelerator. He could hear the tires outside peeling against the pavement before they began moving. Down the street they went, building up speed. The weight of the van, of their cargo, of what they had tied down on its roof was going to weigh it all down, and as a result slow them down.

But once they got started, they'd be able to keep the pace.

"Make sure you hold on to something," the only male in the van recommended as he made the first turn. The street seemed empty, until you looked further ahead and found a mass of cars in front of the red light. Of course, it was their red light.

Figures. Rush hour.

"We don't got time for this shit," Manhunter remarked, peering through the windshield.

"This is why we got a horn," Nightwing said as he pressed harder on the accelerator.

"You feel it, don't you? The energy in the air? How monumental this has become?" Riddler chatted, as he finished setting up a small, portable stand. On top was a computer, one with direct access to the green-suited man's system as had been explained. A timer was counting down the minutes until the simulation crashed into totality.

All around, the militarized drones beamed lasers that kept Batman in place. Lenses that served as eyes made constant adjustments as they processed and watched his every move, right down to the most minute of twitches. There seemed to be no way out.

"Enough!" the vigilante demanded. "Haven't you already proven what you wanted? You have one last chance to end this, Riddler. One. Let those children—"

"One chance?" Riddler interrupted. "I'll do you one better! I'll give you twelve! Twelve chances, twelve steps, twelve months of the year! Twelve riddles for you to solve and save the day! You might want to go fast because time, she is a ticking, and I don't think those kiddos will want to stick around for the end of the world to, well, end."

Another trap, another game. That's what it was all about with this man, wasn't it? Another game to what? Inflate his own ego?

"Now do be careful. While these lasers have no cutting edge to them," the cane came dangerously close to cutting through one, "they will trigger the killswitch, and then saving the captive children will be a moot point. Though, I admit, only half of the lasers are connected to the switch."

Eyes narrowed. He didn't want to ask, but there was no other choice. "What are the other half connected to?"

"Glad you asked!" Riddler chirped, his thumb pressing down on the curved, hooked end of his cane. Overhead, a light flashed on, aimed at something on the far side of the room. Knowing what the intention was, Batman followed the path of the light, and found at its end—

Wrapped in chains and hung from the high ceiling, a single child was restrained and two -based drones were aiming large turrets at him. Gagged, the child glared with venom at his captor, while Batman widened his eyes in recognition.

Damian.

"Is it true he is your son?" Riddler asked casually. "That's his claim, made by his own moniker. Not that it matters but I am curious. Despite your dark and grim appearance, you are a man underneath it and even I won't begrudge you the needs of the flesh."

"How many more children are you going to threaten?" Batman growled through clenched teeth.

"For now, this one. That's where the other half of the lasers are connected to. Cross the wrong one, and those turrets will reduce him to a bloody pulp, with an emphasis on pulp." Another grand gesture of arms was made, the end of the Riddler's cane pointing towards the drones. "Now do you understand the rules? They're simple! Answer one riddle correctly, and one laser becomes inactive. To give you a fair shot, it'll always be the laser barring your path, in this case, the one next to your right leg. Answer all twelve correctly, and they all become inactive. Of course if you get one wrong…"

The Riddler had trailed off deliberately, wanting to amp up the suspense.

"...well, either five hundred twenty nine children are terminated or one single boy claiming a blood connection is. So, shall we?"

Snarling, "You and I both know this is rigged!" Glancing at the myriad of lasers and the steps he had to take, following the spiraling body of the snake pattern under him, "There are too many steps, too many riddles, to make it before time runs out. If you just—"

"Maybe so." The bastard sounded so cavalier with his response. A particular reddish light from the floor gave the man a devilish look. "Really, it all depends on how smart you are. So...I guess all that's left to say is…

"Rrrriddle me this, Batman!"

It was spur of the moment, impulsive, and quite frankly there was the question of what the hell she thought she could accomplish here. It was luck that it was the weekend, no need for school to interfere and all, but what was Spoiler intending to do here? Yeah, the news that Batman was back in action was a very inspiring bit of info, but what was she thinking donning her hood and mask?

Did she really think she could help in any way?

Deep down, she must have because she was on a rooftop in the daylight and trying to figure out her next move while being a bit introspective about the whole thing. Below her, everyone else was trying to go about their day like nothing was happening, even though it clearly was, and so, Spoiler was trying to figure out her next move.

SOB was somewhere, who knew where, and he hadn't sought her out so she was on her own. She had to tell herself she wasn't getting attached or anything because the little twerp had been one huge unpleasant experience the whole time and why would she be looking around as if expecting him to pop up out of nowhere?

It was just ridiculous.

Okay, so everything was still happening. Riddler was still out there doing Riddler things, Batman was doing Batman things, and everyone else was doing their thing, which meant no one was paying attention to her trying to figure out her thing. The feeling of being pumped and impulsively becoming Spoiler was shorter lasting than anyone would have anticipated.

However, she was here, so might as well do something with it. But what? The best she had been able to do so far was get enough information to suggest a possible name for who the Riddler was, but none of that revealed where he was. That was the one question everyone wanted to know and...and...huh.

Her train of thought was lost, but there was a good reason for that. Below, moving through the crowded streets was something weird. The kind of weird you didn't see every day. As she watched it moving through traffic, and in some cases crashing its way through traffic, it occurred to the young vigilante that maybe, just maybe, this might be really important.

Maybe she ought to keep an eye and follow it.

Nightwing kept his hand on the horn mainly because it saved time.

Asshole commuters thinking they owned the road.

Early morning traffic was a bitch, and that was on a normal day. It may be the weekend, so reduced congestion, but this was downtown Gotham. It was always congested unless the sun was down, but lo and behold, the sun was rising.

This meant he had to get somewhat forceful with his driving.

There were no concrete medians to worry about, so he pulled into oncoming traffic. Now horns were blaring at him, but drivers were trying to force their way out of his way. There was just enough space for him to squeeze between oncoming traffic to his left and straight ahead, and the stopped cars to his right.

Turning the wheel, he maneuvered back into the correct lane while going into the intersection, ignoring the red light. The steering wheel fought against him somewhat, but he was able to enter the next segment of street.

"Be a little more careful there, will ya?" Black Canary commented beside him, one hand holding onto the overhear handle, or as it was also known as the "oh shit" handle.

"In a rush here," he replied perhaps a little too testily. Up ahead, the light turned green. The cars sitting in front of it weren't going pedal to the metal, though.

He pulled into the left most lane, also known as the left turn lane. There was only one car in it, its blinker on, but it wasn't moving despite the light ahead giving them the green arrow.

"Fucking jackass!" he snarled as he stepped on the brake while really laying on the horn. Momentum was working against him, and there was no way to come to a complete stop. That wasn't his problem, though. There was a reason cars had bumpers after all.

So he used the van's against the not moving car. He'd slowed down as much as he could, but physics would only allow so much. The small car that had yet to make its turn and he had no choice but to shove it into the intersection. Another turn of the wheel and he forced them back into the right lane and cutting off the motorist that quickly braked to not get hit.

"Can you try not to get us killed?" someone in the back called out.

Backseat drivers, he grumbled to himself. Eyeing the lights, he saw how multiple ones up ahead were turning green, meaning Oracle must have been able to hack her way into the system again. A little late on the uptake there, but he wasn't going to complain about it now.

Speeding, he began to take advantage of the fewer and fewer cars ahead of him. As he passed through the next intersection, he paid no mind to any of the cars that were lined up, waiting to get a green light. One of the cars at the front of the line happened to belong to the GCPD, and seconds later, it began to flash its lights.

"A house without the head of head, knitted deep within the trees, a head that lies without its eyes, snitched silently to tease. What am I?"

He had been trained to escape from many situations. There had been plenty of scenarios he had devised and practiced again and again that used motion sensors. A few involved lasers. None had had the stakes that crossing one of these possessed.

Batman eyed each and every one that entrapped him on all sides. To move even a step or lean too far in one direction would mean to cross one, and doing so could end one life or hundreds. Then there were the eyes of the drones, watching his every move from every angle imaginable. Yes, they would keep those beams steady, but even that couldn't be trusted. All it would take would be for one to move of its own volition, and then a beam would be cut even against his own will.

"Come on, Batman. No cheating," Riddler chided. A purple-gloved hand stroked the keyboard of the computer set up, fingers running over the keys almost lovingly. "No feats of physical ferocity, no gizmos or gadgets, just a war of the mind. What is war, if not a battle between two strategies? Two minds in the sky above the battlefield? And this, the purest form." The eyes behind the lensless domino mask gazed at the colors lighting up the room. "More silent than usual, I might as well enjoy the sights, the entrancing lights. Makes everything appear more tropical, puts me in the mood to dance. Calypso, perhaps?"

The vigilante did his best to ignore the chatter, knowing there was no way out of this but to play this madman's games. A head without a head, lies without eyes, knitted and stitched...Calypso…

"Come now, the clock is a ticking," Riddler continued to taunt, making a show of checking his wrist for a watch he did not wear. "Time runs out for those kiddos every second that you waste. So...what am I?"

He was feeling the seconds, the stress and pressure attempting to rob him of his thoughts, but he was a master at keeping himself centered. Keeping calm under pressure. Keeping himself…

"I am…" A pause as he fitted the pieces of the riddle together one last time. "...a louse. The 'head of head' is the letter H, and also the first letter of the word house. 'Lies without its eyes' leaves you with the letter L. 'L' and 'ouse' make 'louse.' Knitted is a homonym for 'nitted,' 'nits' being louse eggs. And Calypso was a nymph. Lice emerge from eggs as nymphs fully formed."

Riddler gave a chuckle as he typed in the given answer. "You sound pretty sure. Let's plug it in and see!" With a final tap, the next instructions were given. "Go on. Take the leap!"

From behind the lens of his mask, Batman focused on the beam closest to his right leg, the same one pointed out to him earlier. That was the one to cross first, and if his answer was wrong…

There was nothing for it. He moved his right leg and crossed the laser. A multitude of robotic eyes followed his move.

The laser winked out, leaving nothing there and affording Batman slightly more space to move. The lack of gunfire told him that at the very least, that sensor was not keyed to the gun turrets aimed at Damian. Within his chest, his heart was pounding, and from beneath his mask, beads of sweat began to trickle down the exposed skin.

"Well done!" the green menace praised, grinning widely. "Though, I have to warn you…the real conundrums are ahead." Swinging his cane out, "Let's get to them, shall we?"

It was the strangest news yet.

First there was the resolution at the amusement park. The ending of a certain broadcast only confirmed that the city's Dark Knight was free from the maze he was trapped in. Then came the stories of kids taking off those VR headsets, free. That had been more than welcomed news, and Gordon would take any he could get right now.

Many of them, hundreds were free. Many told a similar story, even if certain details differed. There was an overall theme, but at the end of each, there was a certain vigilante mentioned. It was enough to convince the commissioner to retreat from dispatch to see what he could do with the other officers.

Then he had to come back because this latest report demanded that he did so. It was odd, bizarre even, and he had to have the reporting officer repeat himself.

"The vehicle is heading down Harrison Boulevard and causing some accidents. Shoving other cars, going into oncoming traffic."

Though the officer couldn't see him, Gordon was nodding his head. There had been reports of another disturbance, and at the time there had been more important matters, such as having those free kids checked out. Officers from robbery had been dispatched at the time, and now a patrolling officers were giving an unexpected update.

There was so much more to this. That he himself hadn't received any other word about it from certain sources meant there was a chance that this was something entirely unrelated.

His gut begged to differ.

There was a plan here, yes, but it didn't feel malicious. For one, even in their most demented, none of the new variety of criminal would try to steal something like this. Maybe the Joker on a slow day, but this wasn't a slow day. You couldn't argue just because they hadn't before didn't mean they wouldn't. Call this a hunch, but Gordon felt there was something else to it.

But he, they, needed more information, so there was only one thing he could say about it. He could not believe he was about to say these words, but the past sixty hours were anything but normal.

"Tell all available officers to head for Harrison Boulevard. Do not impede, do not stop, just follow. Follow that giant penny."

It was green lights for several blocks, and commuters were trying to take advantage of it as much as a van full of vigilantes with a giant penny. Two many times did a booted foot have to go for the brakes, and do so for long periods of time that may have been only seconds, but each one was crucial and wasted for it.

Nightwing's jaw was aching from how tightly he was clenching it. Changing a lane, he tried to speed up faster than the car that was blocking him to get around it. But then it was intersection, he was in the wrong lane, and had to smoothly turn to the right, cutting off the vehicle he was trying to pass. The squealing of tires that erupted behind them meant that the other driver hadn't been clear of the van's rear.

Seriously people, did you not understand there was an emergency? Sheesh.

"Nice driving." That voice had to be Huntress because she had a certain way with sarcasm that the rest didn't. "What else should we expect?"

All of them recognized the sudden siren, and knew that someone else was throwing their hat in. The cops were now choosing to get involved. Now was not a good time for that.

"Right behind us," Manhunter reported, and through the rearview mirror, he could see the vigilante peeking through the van's rear windows. "The hell they come from?"

"Evasion tactics?" Huntress asked. "Pop the tires?"

"They're moving faster than us," Manhunter pointed out, and didn't Nightwing know it. He was also seeing the lights through the rearview mirror and on the side mirrors. The cop car was shifting lanes, entering into his blind spot, and only the flashing lights against the street gave away that their pursuit was still with them. In a second, he could see the front end of the pursuing vehicle entering into the left side mirror.

In the passenger seat, Black Canary was pulling out a handful of traction spikes, small balls with, you guessed it, spikes on them. She was hesitating on whether to use them or not. "Any one notice how the other cars are moving away?" the blonde vigilante mentioned.

Of course, because when a cop turned on both siren and lights, it was a message to get away.

Passing through another intersection, two more cop cars pulled in, making their respective turns and now on their tails. So that was three now they had. This was not looking good. Too many run ins that involved guns aimed at him was putting the only male in the van further on edge.

The first cop was pulling ahead of them, and soon enough he could see that vehicle's back bumper. Canary hadn't acted, and despite all the past interactions, most of them negatives, he understood the hesitancy. They were all on the same side here, though a lot of the time it didn't feel like it.

Then, to his surprise, the first cop car continued to speed up, getting some distance on them. Suddenly, the car braked, coming to a stop in the upcoming intersection. What was strange was that the car wasn't blocking their way, but that of the intersecting street. Further down the street, more cops were merging onto the road, but also forming obstructions. Not for them, but for all the other cars.

They were blocking traffic.

"The hell?" someone in the back muttered.

This was very stumping. Really, it was. It put Nightwing in a slight stupor.

Then Black Canary suddenly pointed out, "We have a turn coming."

That's right. They needed to make a left at the next intersection.

"Put your blinker on," Canary suggested.

Without a thought, he did. The growing number of police ahead of them immediately began to respond to it. Oncoming traffic was being blocked off, and Nightwing took the opportunity to begin slowing early, turning the steering wheel slightly and gradually. Entering this latest intersection, he put what pressure he could on the resisting wheel, but then then made the turn, lights and sirens surrounding them like some kind of...escort.

"They're seriously helping us?" That was definitely Manhunter, and the wonder in her voice was one he himself shared.

His hand tightened on the wheel. "Anyone want to refuse it?" he asked aloud. When there were none speaking up, "Thought so."

"This is where things get trickier…" A hand balanced a cane in its palm, twirling a green hat on its opposite end playfully. "...more exacting. And—"

"Shut up and ask!" Batman snapped, glaring at the green-wearing monster. The playful theatrics were not tolerable, but Riddler seemed keen on pressing his luck.

"Now Batman, I can't shut up and ask, unless you mean—"

"Ask!" the Dark Knight interrupted, almost snarling.

The hat was thrown up, the cane flipped and getting dangerously close to the motion-detecting lasers. The cane was caught when it was parallel with the floor. The butt end caught the falling hat, the headwear held mockingly in front of the vigilante.

"Alright," Riddler crooned. "I have a single voice, a thousand throats, I sell my tale for peanuts, but then—"

Batman didn't wait for the end of the riddle. "I am a bee. Bees buzz with one voice, one mind, and the queen is shaped like a peanut. Put it in."

"Testy," Riddler remarked as he withdrew his cane, hat and all. Stepping to the portable computer, a hand typed in the answer.

Without waiting for permission, Batman took his next step, crossing another laser as the drones followed him. No turrets fired, and he was sure no collapsing simulations were shut down. From the corner of his eye, he noted the status of Damian, peering at the gagged boy who was not moving, and only watching the proceedings.

"Next riddle," he demanded, refocusing on Riddler. "Don't stop. Just ask it."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in a hurry," Riddler chuckled as he paced closer to the restricted vigilante, putting his hat back on his head. "But, if you insist."

Loose yet snug, that's what she felt like wearing today. With a towel around her neck, Selina emerged into the living room a refreshed woman. While it wasn't a jacuzzi, she'd take what she could get.

Alright, time to get back to what was important. How was she going to make Max squirm with those blueprints she had stolen? While tempting to cut them up and taunt him with pieces of it here and there, that would be like giving it back to the bastard, even in pieces. Get the prints analyzed by someone who knew multiple things about power plants and then blackmail him with the results? A better plan, but would it get the right amount of squirming?

A meow at her feet reminded her that someone needed attention. The cat burglar took long strides to the couch, vaguely hearing the television, but tuning it out. As Selina made to sit down, she happened to glance up and see…

Was something wrong with her eyes?

That looked like a giant penny.

What was someone doing with a penny that size?

The words "breaking news" finally reached her; this was some kind of report on something happening in the city. There was another insistent meow, though it came from a higher elevation. Without taking her eyes off the TV, Selina sat down and Isis took her spot on her lap. A hand began to stroke a small, furry head, and for one of them, all was right in the world.

As she watched, she could see numerous cop cars leading and following what was a van carrying bizarre cargo. Was this a chase? No, they'd all be behind the van. This was more of...an escort. Why?

This kind of movement from the police, it meant only one thing. Something was going down, and Selina had a feeling that she was watching what might be the final act of a long, drawn out drama.

Well, might as well watch since both her curiosity and attention were captured.

The remains of the crumbling virtual city were pulling away, massive fissures breaking the cobblestone plaza. Buildings were giving in and collapsing, and the same could be said of the angry red sky as pieces fell off and exposed more and more zeroes and ones.

Slowly, but surely, the remaining captive teens were forced onto what was becoming a digital island in a hellscape.

Harper held the girl in her arms tighter, as if that somehow made the teen safer. This was getting close, real close, and still the damn panel wasn't lighting up. What was he waiting for? The last second?

No, no, she had to remind herself that whatever was happening outside this place, everyone was doing their damnedest against a too smart for his own good asshole who really needed her foot up his—

Louder thunderous crashes boomed as some of the last remaining buildings crumbled. The portions of the city surrounding their dubious island of safety were sinking, red lighting surging upwards from below. Somehow, through all the noise, she could hear crying. More than one person crying.

She felt like doing so herself. This wasn't fair or right and still… No, don't give up hope. Not yet. Not yet.

Cullen was the better cryer. Knew how to get a really ugly cry face without trying. No way was she going to compete with that. And she was going to see it again. For sure. Definitely.

"He's coming," is all she would say, but was she talking to the girl she was holding or was it to herself?

The museum was coming up. With the GCPD taking point and preventing anyone else from getting in the way, travel was streamlined.

But how much more time did they have? How much time did fighting traffic waste? Only a few more blocks left, but were there too many blocks? Naturally, as soon as he pressed slightly down on the accelerator again, a light on the dashboard flashed on. Great, he had no idea what that light meant other than there wasn't low fuel, or not enough air in the tires. Was the engine overheating or something?

How heavy was this damn penny?

They'd have to keep at this rate of speed, at least until they reached their destination. In the meantime, endure the wait and the impatience he felt.

Too long did it take to reach the courtyard in front of the museum, an open area that he pulled onto as soon as he could. The brakes were pressed, and the vehicle slowed down with an emphasis on slow. Heavy weights were slower to come to a stop than lighter ones, and the war with momentum was real.

The van jerked forward repeatedly, no matter how hard he pressed down on the brake, but eventually, they did come to a stop. Releasing one hand from the wheel, he pressed down on the power window lowering it, while reaching with his other hand, wiggling his fingers. The clamp of a jumper cable was placed on his palm, and he tightened his grip on it while opening the door. The door was pushed open, and he slipped his legs out. Last but not least, he moved his free hand to latch under the steering wheel and above the pedals, and pulled on it.

The van's hood raised slightly, Nightwing slipping the jumper cable clamps through the opened window and moving around the door. Pulling on the cables, he maneuvered to the front of the van and fully unlatched the hood and pushing it up. The battery was in plain sight, and the appropriately colored clamps were connected on the correct sides.

All around, cop cars were screeching to a stop. Nightwing ignored it as he pulled on the length of the cable. Reaching back into the van, he pulled out the other end of the cables, grasping the clamps and looking up wearily at the penny. Probably should have clamped it first…

Too late, who knew how much time they had.

Pressing down on the clamp handles and opening the clamp jaws wide, he raised them up, figured out just how wide the penny was, then settled for going for the edges. As long as the clamps' teeth bit in and held, that was all that mattered.

"Then hell are you doing?!" a voice called out to him. It was male, so that meant one of the cops. The voice was familiar, and a glance gave away the newly arrived presence of Harvey Bullock. Oh, he remembered this guy. How could he not since he kept running into him.

One clamp on and holding. "Blocking that killswitch. We need power and this is the best we can do under the circumstances." Second clamp a bitch but it ended up holding. Hands quickly pulled back. Was it luck or were things really working out for them right now?

Now he fully looked over at the detective. He knew Bullock recognized him, knew that scowl, but what was the older man going to do about it?

Bullock looked him and the van over, not saying a word. Then, "You need more juice?"

Shrugging his shoulders, "Couldn't hurt."

And that was how another set of cables was being attached to the penny. Above three other cop cars were pulled closer, and now at least five different batteries were connected. Belatedly, he wondered why no one was asking if this was the right place, but then again, these were extraordinary times.

And they were about to get even more extraordinary. There was a whirling noise, and appearing from atop the museum was a swarm of flying orbs. Riddler drones. If there was any doubt, it was gone because this had to be the place. There were a lot of them, and gun turrets were sprouting out of the sides. They were incoming, and the first shots were only a matter of seconds away.

"It's on!" someone called from inside the van.

Progress was too slow. Much too slow. Every second was moving by too quickly, and Riddler was in no mood to hurry.

"So tense, isn't it? So much on the line, so much to lose," Riddler mused. "This normally isn't how this goes for you, is it? Normally, a fist to the face solves all the city's woes, so this must be—"

"Enough stalling and ask your damn riddle!" Batman's voice thundered throughout the expansive exhibit, the multiple robotic lenses adjusting and watching. Everything was feeling hot, and the amount of sweat leaking from his mask was way too noticeably. Riddler probably could see it as he paced before the restrained vigilante, swinging his cane as if he had no care in the world.

"Taut as a rope, since you're all tied up at the moment," the madman chuckled. "But, since you asked so nicely. My greatest of my strengths is that I know my worth. I hug myself so tightly at every birth." The tip of the cane slammed onto the floor with a sharp ring. "Well, Batman? What am I?"

He didn't answer. No immediately. He had eyes only for the madman, and nothing else. The silence only lengthened.

"What's the matter?" Riddler sneered. "Cat got your tongue?"

Batman balled his hands into fists, staying still and ramrod straight, and did not say anything.

"Ha! You don't know the answer!" Riddler exclaimed, taking a step closer to the lasers. "Come on, you can do it! Give it your best! You're failing them. The children. Your son. Gotham. You're failing them. So what's your answer?" The brim of the green hat lowered as a auburn haired head tilted, eyes peering from beneath. "What am I?"

His tongue licked his dried lips. "I…"

"Yes…?" Riddler prodded.

Batman clenched his jaw, his body tensing. His eyes peered at the gathering drones circling the room, noting their eyes, so lifeless as they watched, so still... "I...the answer...a blade."

"Interesting. Your reasoning?" Riddler pressed.

"Forget the reasoning. Just plug it in," the vigilante ordered as his own eyes flickered back to the madman.

Riddler gave a smirk as he took a step back, giving away nothing of what he was thinking. "Very well." Fingers typed in the given answer. "The moment of truth." One final tap plugged in the answer. "And you…"

A Network of vigilantes, accompanied with the growing numbers of the GCPD faced off with the swarm of orb-shaped drones whose turrets were aimed right at them. No shots had been fired but that could change any second now.

"...are…"

Trapped on a small island of cobblestone earth with a city sinking into destruction around them, the captive teenagers could only watch the horror as they slowly descended into a virtual Hell.

"WRONG!"

Riddler's voice bellowed throughout the room, not even hiding his glee. Batman stood there stoically, giving away absolutely nothing. Damian looked between the two adults, confronting an uncomfortable question that it was possible for his father to lose.

"If only you had seen the theme, Batman!" Riddler continued, his voice manic with triumph. "The overall design! The answers to all these riddles, each one was the answer to a famous, unsolvable riddle from history! 'Lice' was the answer to the riddle that killed Homer. 'Bees' was part of the answer to Samson's impossible riddle. The answer, the real answer, to the one you just guessed at was 'knot,' as in the great Gordian knot! A knot unsolvable to everyone, even Alexander the Great! You guessed a blade, and you were wrong," a finger jabbed at him, "wrong," a second jab of a finger punctuated the repeated word and was then followed up with a third jab, "wrong!"

The man did love to hear himself talk, and to brag about his own intelligence was like opening an unstoppable Pandora's box of ego. Riddler thought he had won. Knew he had won. There was only to take a single step, and seal the fate of either hundreds of captive children or his own blood child.

But Batman did not take that step. Not yet. What he did do was speak three words.

"Was I now?"

The calmness and serenity in his voice sliced through the Riddler's mirth. The man in green stopped his celebratory explanation to stare back.

Then Batman took the first step, his leg cutting through a beam.

A digital world on the brink of oblivion did not end.

A second step cut through a second.

Gun turrets aimed at the small body of a child remained silent.

As his torso moved through multiple beams, only then did Riddler emerge from his shock. "What are you doing?" he demanded, even as he began to shy away from the approaching Dark Knight.

"Like I told you, the answer to your riddle is blade," Batman stated, ignoring the Riddler's panic.

"Drones! Fire! Shoot him!" Riddler commanded, now trying to move away as quickly as he could. His robotic help did nothing, continuing to stare straight ahead with not even a single adjustment of their watchful eyes. Lucius' jammer was more powerful than the vigilante had figured, but it was both a welcome and pleasant surprise.

"They won't listen to you," Batman declared as he reached out. "I knew when they stopped tracking me." His hand grabbed the front of the madman's suit and tie, balling the fabrics within his hand and pulling his adversary close. "And about that answer. You were right. Alexander couldn't solve the riddle of the Gordian knot. So what did he do?"

His other arm raised up, his fist ready. Riddler could only watch in dawning horror.

"He pulled out his blade..."

The fist flew forth, colliding with flesh and bone.

"...and cut through the damn thing!"

The Riddler's head snapped to a side and back, his body followed suit as Batman released his grip. The man was a genius, but that came at another cost. He couldn't take a hit to save his life, and the man in green was rolling over himself as his back collided with the floor, coming to a stop up against the sphinx replica. The cane clattered nearby, ignored and forgotten.

But enough with this. Batman's attention was now on the computer. Rushing to it, the first thing he saw was the timer.

00:59.

His fingers moved rapidly on the keys, and he began his desperate search. Where was it? Where was the means to end the lockdown?

He searched the current program open due in part that it was connecting the drones around to the virtual reality simulation. If crossing one of those beams would trigger the immediate shutdown, then this program had a connection to the simulation. He needed to follow how and from there deactivate the lockdown.

00:45.

He wasn't finding it. Time was running out. Damn it, he needed more time. More time! Where was it? Where was the damn…

00:38.

He couldn't fail. Not here. Not now. Not with them. Where were you? Where was it? Where. Where.

00:24.

Wher—there!

A sharp, forceful strike of a key echoed throughout his mind. All he could do now was...wait...

This was bad. They were running out of space, digital space, and everything looked like someone's worst nightmare come to life. Harper was boring holes into the damn digital panel, willing it to light up, but it stubbornly remained dim.

She had to believe, though. She still did. She knew that he was going to save them, save the day, just like he always did. But why did Batman have to take his sweet time now? Sure, even the Bat needed to take it easy sometimes, but now should not be one of those times, right?

Keep it together. If this was going to be easy, it would have already been done, and Riddler was involved, and that asshole was going to try to make something easy way too hard. When she got out of this, she was so going to punch that bastard in the face, once at least, but she might not be able to help the second, the third, or the fourth, the fifth...the sixth…

Riddler was sooo lucky it was Batman on his tail.

There was crying from the others, every passing second stuck here bringing them that much closer to something horrible. Others were trying to put out a strong front, but even they were having difficulty. There was a lot of holding, a lot of assurances that felt and sounded so empty, and—

The digital panel lit up.

It took a second to process that, but then she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Log out! Log out now!"

Harper could have taken the risk, let herself be the last one out, but she didn't feel that heroic right now. She did note how others were blinking out of existence, and once the teenaged girl she was holding did so, Harper stabbed her fingers into the yes box, then watched how this hellish nightmare pixelated into blackness.

She was barely aware she was breathing. She was breathing, right? Everything was still black, and for a second, Harper wondered if maybe, just maybe, she had been a second too late.

Then her head started to move, small jostles really, and something pressed against her head started to pull back and—pain! There was pain! Not from something being yanked off of her but from the suddenly light entering her opened eyes and Christ, that hurt! Searching under her eyelids, and speaking of which, she closed them, a dull red burning its way through the flaps of skin.

The red dimmed, and then there was a hand on her shoulder, giving a small shake. Harper found it in herself to crack open her eyes, finding something dark blocking most of the harmful light.

Eyelids squinted to try and reduce the light hurting her eyes, and slowly her world came into focus. The dark thing above gained features from pale skin, dark hair, and eyes of its own that had a reddish tint to them. Then it sharpened, and she recognized the relieved face of her little brother.

"Harper," Cullen said, and you could hear the joy in his voice, the only warning the formerly comatose had before he came crashing down on top of her and he was heavier than she remembered. Arms did their best to wrap around her, and in response she did the same though she felt a bit more sluggish.

"Hey…" she tried to say, wincing at how raspy her voice was. How long had she been out? And were Cullen's shoulder's starting to shake? Swallowing and grimacing at how dry her throat felt, she rasped, "Are you…?"

"Onion ninjas," was all Cullen said, though he was muffled due to the fact he hadn't raised his head up.

Right. Onion ninjas. She'd let him have this one. Just like she let him have all the other times. It didn't stop a small smile from spreading her lips.

Lucius' signal blocker was preventing the Dark Knight from getting any word back that he had been successful. It didn't take long to find the program that allowed the Riddler to keep an eye on his hostages, as well as their current status. As the clock hit zero, he couldn't find any that were still in the simulation. From all appearances, it seemed like everyone had gotten out.

Speaking of, the lunatic in green remained on the floor not moving, though it was easy to see the rising of the torso due to breathing. For a second, the vigilante wanted nothing more than to...but he would never go there. Still, it was more than tempting. Anyone who threatened children made him want to forget the rules he placed on himself.

But Riddler would answer for his crimes. He would answer to Gotham, not him. In the meantime, he had one more thing he needed to do.

Lowering Damian to the floor, he began to loosen and remove the chains that bound the child. Once the linked metal restraints were loose enough, the boy took the initiative to squirm his way out of them.

There was a feeling of awkwardness Batman felt. He may have been in the presence of a child, and that normally did not make him feel such a way, but this was his son, biologically. He was unsure of how to proceed from this point. All the get-togethers with the boy and his mother could not prepare him for what to do.

Small, gloved hands wretched down the gag, and soon enough words followed. "I knew you would beat him, Father," Damian declared. Though the eyes were hidden, the rest of the face gave away the worship that must have been in them.

Batman was able to keep his composure; this was far different from how Cassandra had been, and she hadn't been capable of true speech when he had first taken her in. So he fell into an old, and more comforting, state of inquiry to proceed with. "What are you doing here?"

Damian refused to break eye contact, thought from the slight slump of the shoulders, the boy was reluctant to answer. "I wanted to save you, Father," came an uncharacteristic soft tone. "The Riddler was the only one who knew where you were, and I tracked him down so that I could force him to free you."

And in the process get himself captured. Damian was much too young for this, and in spite of his upbringing and training, he was not ready for what Gotham had to offer.

"This was too dangerous for you," Batman began to say.

"No one was doing anything!" the young boy interrupted, his voice rising almost shrilly. "I looked and lowered myself, and then I figured out that dumb riddle to come here! I figured it out! From his first broadcast! He told everyone he was here and no one figured it out but me! And you! He took you away from me, Father! We were supposed to spend time together, you and me! And he took it away from me!"

Vaguely, the vigilante recalled that there was supposed to be another get-together, one that had been scheduled while he had been trapped. Apparently his absence had served as motivation to come find him. Yet, something was so off.

The Riddler was holding Damian against his will, capturing him after the boy had discovered this location. But there was someone missing from this. Where was Talia? She would have never suffered her child to be a pawn used by someone like the Riddler.

That would have to be a question answered later. Right now, he could see how upset the boy was becoming. He did the only thing that felt like the right thing to do and placed a hand on one of those small shoulders, a shoulder that was doing its best to give the impression of strength but the trembling from the effort of holding them straight was easy to pick up on. It was as if Damian was determined to prove something, something that was important to him, and he was struggling to do so.

There were only so many words that could be said right now, but there were some that he knew might be right for the occasion. They were words he had once been told by someone who had been very important to him, and they had been said when he had been at one of his lowest points in his life.

"I'm glad you're okay." The child whose head had lowered at one point lifted up. His hand which seemed so massive on that small shoulder gave a squeeze, one meant to be comforting. Unexpectedly, Damian lunged forward, practically jumping at him. Thin arms wrapped around the vigilante's much broader shoulders, and his hands steadied the smaller body that now clung to him.

His son was...hugging him. He was being hugged not because he was in the middle of saving a life, but because a child was seeking comfort in a primal way that demanded satisfaction. Why did this feel so out of his league?

In the back of his mind, he could feel Alfred gazing at him in disapproval while prompting him to return the gesture. Return the child's affection, Master Bruce. That's what the man would have told him and with the characteristic dignity that came from the man's strict British upbringing. Hesitantly, Batman wrapped his arms around the boy's body, engaging in an act that he hadn't...at least, not since…

When had been the last time he had reciprocated a hug?

Suddenly, Damian's body stiffened. From his current position, the boy's head was over one of the vigilante's shoulders, which in hindsight gave him a view of where the Riddler had been left unconscious. "He's gone!" the boy exclaimed.

And now Batman was stiffening for a completely different reason. Pulling away, he spun around and scowled. Somehow, the madman had managed to sneak away, escaping.

No. No, this was not how this was going to end. Not after everything. It couldn't have been too long, and the Riddler was not in the kind of physical condition that the Dark Knight was.

That man was not going to escape.

It hadn't been easy, but the Riddler had taken advantage of the reunion between father and son to make good his escape. The distraction had been enough to let him get to one of the exits in the room, and from there, he had darted down a hallway. From his retrieved cane, he began activating various security measures, including barriers to block off the hallways behind him. Against someone like the Batman, it would only stall for a short amount of time, but every second counted.

He had anticipated and prepared for this kind of scenario, even if it meant admitting there was a chance that his plans could be undone. Only a fool would think there was no way he could lose. He was no fool, and had planned several methods of escape. For this one, there was an emergency exit, and from there a stash of clothing to change into. To lose himself in the city was the plan, and green tended to stand out in all the drab colors.

Oh, he was miffed at the cheating. How had that man done it this time? It was infuriating how this latest trap had been undone.

It was also exhilarating. To finally find another mind that could genuinely challenge him. That made this whole venture worthwhile. The money would serve as the proverbial cherry on top, and speaking of which…

While he had ditched his other electronics, he had a laptop or ten spread out across the city, planted in case of a need to make a quick getaway. As soon as he reached one, he could trigger his various planted viruses and in seconds become richer than God. His only regret would be that he would never get to see Mockridge's face when he put the man in the poorhouse, along with the rest of the city.

Up ahead was his exit, and only the specter of being caught propelled him forth. He was almost there, almost out of here. All of his distractions and antics may have come to nothing, but soon, very soon, his overall scheme would come to fruition.

Reaching the door, and with only the barest amount of slowing down, he pushed on the handle, opening his way out. All he could think about was what he would do next, what riddles he would devise, and—

A pair of booted feet slammed into his face. There was a crunch, perhaps his nose breaking. His head snapped back, and his body followed suit. There had been a bench placed on the wall opposite the exit, and it was there that his body collapsed onto, his head banging into the wall.

Blearily, he looked up, and found a costumed individual in purple and black and wearing a hood, standing between him and freedom. Another of the vigilantes his fading mind supplied him, bodily trauma winning over his mind.

The last thing he heard before unconsciousness took him were the words, "Escape spoiled."

News was breaking all over the city. The children held captive were freed, the man responsible in custody. Once again the day was saved, but not everything was looking so bright.

In a conference room high about the city, Daniel Mockridge waited. He was not in the best of moods, even with all the good news going about the city. He had been called here by his boss, and now he was waiting for the man to appear.

He stood in front of one of the ceiling to floor windows, gazing at the city outside. Part of his view was obstructed by a window cleaner who was slowly pulling up the mobile scaffolding to reach the next floor of windows. It was an annoyance, but little could be done about a nobody doing a job no one else wanted. Sure it made the outside of this building look pretty, but nothing in the last seventy-two hours could be called pretty.

For Mockridge, this whole thing had been a disaster. That his company was tied into it was already bad enough, but everything else that had followed. The Omnicron's publicity was anything but positive now. His very viewable and open failure to resolve the situation was on constant repeat across the various news networks. And on top of it, he knew the man responsible had been a former employee.

The twisting of that phrase had been the giveaway. "If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?" was his favorite rebuttable to use against those who thought themselves the smartest person in the room, no matter if it was true of not. A couple words switched, and thrown right back at him, it was only a matter of time until that maniac's true identity was revealed, and everything else that had happened before would be uncovered.

It had been years since the last time he had been face to face with Edward Nashton. The man was a genius, no doubt, but it had been so easy to terminate him and take the credit for all his work. Who would have thought Nashton would come back after all these years to haunt him?

His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the conference room opened. Mockridge looked away from his place next to the window, the window cleaner just pulling himself up and out of view. Entering was none other than Max Shreck himself, and thus began this impromptu meeting between C.E.O.s Or more apt, an employer and his employee.

"How're you doing, Daniel?" Shreck greeted, appearing concerned.

It must have been on his face, and Mockridge felt no need to hide from this man. "Not well. You don't need to be a genius to see where this is all going."

"Is that right?" Shreck approached him, footsteps slow and deliberate. "You look like you're...one step out of the grave."

Mockridge smiled self-deprecating. "That's one way to put it. With all this publicity, no one is going to want to buy an Omnicron. Hundreds of millions wasted. And then there's the investigation to follow."

"A tough time for everyone," Shreck agreed.

"This couldn't have come at a worse time," Mockridge bemoaned. "There's still no deal for Wayne Enterprises set, and they're not going to want to buy until all is said and done. We're not going to get a good selling price; it's going to be pennies on the dollar if we're lucky."

"Don't get so down on yourself," Shreck replied, patting the other man on the shoulder. "We'll figure something out with Wayne. Right now...I'm more concerned...about you."

Mockridge paused, trying to grasp what had just been said. Looking his employer in the eye, he said, "Me?"

"You work for me. I care about all...who work for me," Shreck gave a shrug. "You look very stressed...Daniel. This whole Riddler thing has...taken a lot out of you."

"It...it has," the mogul admitted.

"I know. I've seen that look before. On me. When times have been tough," Shreck continued to tell him. Shreck's other hand placed itself on the man's other shoulder. "And when times are tough...you tend to focus on all the bad things. It's all you can focus on. I understand."

Mockridge nodded. "I just don't see any way around this. It's been a disaster."

"But we can survive disasters," Shreck told him, squeezing his shoulders. "There have been many before...we're still here. We're still alive. This...this will be no different. Right now...there's only one thing...I want for you to do."

"What?" It felt so nice to have so much concern given his way, and by someone like Max Shreck no less. He was hanging on every word like it was his lifeline, and maybe it was.

"I want...for you to relax. Get your head straight. In fact...I think you'll be back on your A game...after you've come back from your vacation," Shreck predicted.

Vacation. Yeah, that sounded like a very good idea. Get away, hide more like, but use the time to pull himself together, be the confident businessman he was, then make a big comeback. Show everyone he was the smartest man in the room, because wealth was the clearest sign of intelligence.

"That...that sounds fantastic," he agreed.

"I thought you'd say that," Max said, giving him a warm smile. "Let me be the one to see you off."

With a wan smile, Mockridge made to take a step forward only for Shreck's arms to abruptly shove back. The mogul's back met with the window, and that should have been that. The window was made from a strong and sturdy Plexiglas, it could withstand a lot hitting it. It took Mockridge's body hitting it, and did not break.

It did, however, pop out.

A sheet of Plexiglas plummeted to the streets below, and Mockridge went with it, eyes wide in disbelief and shock. Shreck peered from the new opening, watching his employee...former employee plummet to his death.

From above, the window cleaner commented blandly, "They don't make them like they used to."

"They don't," the C.E.O. agreed. "A shame. He always had this habit of throwing himself at the windows...to show how strong and safe they were. He always liked this window. One hit too many, I suppose."

"That right," the window cleaner said, putting a power drill away in a tool box along with some screws.

Turning away, Shreck moved to the long table that held vigil in the middle of the conference room. In the middle of the table was an intercom set up, and with a finger, he pressed down on the call button.

"Diane...call up emergency services. Daniel Mockridge has just committed suicide," Shreck spoke. Taking his finger off the button, Shreck ignored the affirmative and settled his gaze on the new opening in his building. The much cooler air was flowing in, but that tended to happen when windows...stopped being there.

One way or another, Mockridge would still be helpful. Sometimes, being dead was the most helpful a person could be.

Author's note: One more chapter and this story will be wrapped up. Tune in for more information on the next story. Yes, there is going to be another story. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this chapter.