BATMAN: CRIME, CRIME EVERYWHERE
By Bruce Wayne
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
CHAPTER 1 - IT STARTS
A mild summer evening in Gotham City. Earlier, the citizens of this vast metropolis on the East Coast of the United States had enjoyed a rather relaxing and peaceful day. Cooler temperatures were now prevailing over a recent heat spell.
Most people had returned home from a busy day at work, but a small contingent of Gotham's well-to-do citizens were at Madame Soleil's Wax Museum, located in the city's Uptown section. Phil Friedman, the world renown curator of the museum, was explaining to some benefactors the latest acquisition of material that was to be used in the production of wax figures.
"We really should thank the French government," Freidman said, "for allowing us to purchase this very special wax." He pointed to the large package that laid before him on the table. "With this Universal Wax Solvent we will be able to mix it with a regular wax formula and our new creations will look even more lifelike!"
The patrons in the room applauded. Friedman smiled, nodded in acknowledgement and held up his hands for silence. "Yes, friends, within the next three months, you will be able to tell all your frien ..."
At the entrance of the large room, four oddly dressed men walked in. One of the the men, the smaller one, wore a garish green suit with black question marks all over it. A black shirt, a green tie that was the same color as the suit, and a black derby on top of his head completed the ensemble.
The man was the infamous master criminal known as the Riddler. His real name, according to police records, was Edward Nigma. For many years, the Riddler had time and time again butted heads and tried to outwit the Caped Crusader, Batman. The Riddler, for the most part, was a victim of his own undoing. Batman had been able to foil the Riddler's plots because Nigma had one vice while committing his crimes -- he always had a compulsion to leave clues in the form of riddles.
Not knowing that the criminals had entered the room, Friedman continued explaining what the Universal Wax Solvent meant to the museum. "... and the French government has always restricted the export of this material because if it were ever to fall into the ..."
All of sudden a maniacal laugh was heard. The people in the room all turned to see who was finding humor in a humorless subject. The Riddler and his men quickly moved to the table and to the side of the curator.
The Riddler called to his men, "Grab the Universal Wax Solvent!"
Friedman protested, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
"Riddle me this!" the man in green said. "Why is an artist like me?"
The curator looked at the Riddler dumbfounded.
"Answer: because he steals the scene!" He laughed at Friedman. The Riddler continued, "When you see Batman, tell him this riddle -- What does the Gotham State Building, a yellow bird on television, and a seven-foot tall man have in common?" The inhuman laugh was heard again.
The Riddler was still laughing, seemingly in hysterics, when he threw a plastic capsule onto the floor. Green smoke billowed out -- it was a very effective smoke screen to cover the escape of the criminals.
The people in the room started to cough. When most of the smoke dissipated, someone yelled, "CALL THE POLICE!"
***
Twenty minutes later in the office of Police Commissioner James W. Gordon, the top brass of the Gotham City Police Department had assembled after hearing the Riddler had committed another crime.
Gordon, the long-time leader of the department, was talking on the telephone. "Yes, yes, we're working on it. What was that riddle again?" He wrote down the riddle on a scratch pad of paper. "... Uh-huh, okay, thank you, Mister Friedman. ... Yes, we'll do everything we can. Yes, thank you ... We will, thank you."
Chief of the Department Clancy O'Hara looked at Gordon. "The curator seemed upset, Commissioner."
"He has reason to be, Chief. The Riddler has stolen something that is called Universal Wax Solvent from the wax museum. The curator said that the solvent could be very dangerous in the wrong hands."
The face of Chief O'Hara indicated that he couldn't quite understand the significance of what the Riddler had taken. "Of what use could the Riddler have with a universal wax solvent, Commissioner?"
"I don't know, Chief," Gordon replied. "That infernal Prince of Puzzlers has outwitted us a dozen times."
The Commissioner looked to his senior officers. "What about it, men? O'Hara? Inspector Bash? Any of you think you can handle him?"
All the senior brass of the Gotham City Police Department looked to the floor or shook their heads. Gordon turned and all eyes followed to a bright red phone that was under a glass cover on a small table to the side.
The police officials walked slowly to the phone. Gordon took the cover off, and picked up the receiver, his finger was poised over the single black button on the phone. The Commissioner spoke slowly, "I don't know who he is behind that mask of his but I know when we need him ... and we need him now."
Gordon pushed the button and the telephone glowed a bright red.
***
At stately Wayne Manor, home of billionaire Bruce Wayne, a cocktail party was taking place. Many of Gotham City's elite had come to Wayne's home for a small charity event honoring a local children's orphanage. Being an orphan himself, the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises had always championed the cause to assist orphans.
Bruce Wayne's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, was passing by the open doors of Wayne's private study, when he suddenly heard the distinctive beeping of the Bat-Phone. Alfred entered the room, closed the door behind him, and walked to the table where the phone was. The Bat-Phone was glowing on-and- off with each beep.
The butler picked up the receiver, held it about six inches away from his mouth, and with just a slight trace of his English accent noticeable, said, "I'll call him, sir."
Alfred put down the receiver and went over to one of the many shelves of books in Wayne's private study. He picked out a red book and placed it on a silver serving tray. He then left the study to inform Bruce Wayne.
Meanwhile, in the mansion's main living room, Dick Grayson had just arrived from the nearby town of Bludhaven for the event. Dick gently slapped Tim Drake on the shoulder.
"Bro, how's it goin?" Drake asked. Though they were not related, the two had something very much in common. Both had either been and were currently the masked vigilante assistant to Batman, known as Robin, the Boy Wonder.
"Hi, Tim, just got in," Dick replied.
Bruce Wayne walked by and shook hands with Dick.
"Hi, Bruce," Dick said as he looked around the room. "Where's Selina?"
Bruce Wayne's eyes hardened and he said to his former ward sharply, "What do I look like? Her keeper?"
Bruce Walked away.
"Ooooookay," Dick muttered under his breath to Tim. "Let me guess? The two of them had another fight."
Tim tried not to smile and just nodded.
Dick just shook his head. "The two of them are nuts, you know that, don't you?"
Tim tried not to smile and just nodded.
Alfred entered the room and walked to the side of Bruce Wayne. Dick and Tim saw the red book on the tray and knew what it meant. For the benefit of anyone else in the room that might had been listening, Alfred said in a stage whisper, "Sir, I forgot to mention earlier today that this book arrived via parcel service. I thought that you might like to see it."
Bruce Wayne picked up the red book and read its title: "Recidivism. It's History And Causes."
Bruce looked at Alfred and said, "Yes, Alfred, I've been expecting this for a while. Thank you." He looked up and saw his secret partners. "Dick, I think we should go to the study and compare this edition of the book I just received with the old edition. Tim, I think you would be interested in this as well."
"Okay, Bruce," Drake answered.
When Bruce, Dick and Tim cleared the living room, they broke into a trot toward the study. They burst into the room. Bruce picked up the red telephone receiver and asked, "Yes, Commissioner?"
On the other end of the line, Gordon simply said, "It's the Riddler."
"We'll be right there," Wayne replied. Bruce hung up the Bat-Phone. He looked to Dick and Tim and told them, "It's the Riddler."
Tim jokingly slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Holy ..."
"Don't you even start!" Dick quickly interrupted and pointed at him.
Bruce knew that not only was he going to have his hands full with the Riddler, he was going to have to keep his two junior partners under control during the mission.
Wayne placed his hands on the bust of Shakespere that was next to the Bat- Phone. Out of habit, Dick turned the knob on the revealed switch once to the right and then back again. Suddenly, a grandfather clock in the room swung open revealing the secret entrance to the Batcave.
Bruce said, "Let's go!"
To be continued ...
By Bruce Wayne
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
CHAPTER 1 - IT STARTS
A mild summer evening in Gotham City. Earlier, the citizens of this vast metropolis on the East Coast of the United States had enjoyed a rather relaxing and peaceful day. Cooler temperatures were now prevailing over a recent heat spell.
Most people had returned home from a busy day at work, but a small contingent of Gotham's well-to-do citizens were at Madame Soleil's Wax Museum, located in the city's Uptown section. Phil Friedman, the world renown curator of the museum, was explaining to some benefactors the latest acquisition of material that was to be used in the production of wax figures.
"We really should thank the French government," Freidman said, "for allowing us to purchase this very special wax." He pointed to the large package that laid before him on the table. "With this Universal Wax Solvent we will be able to mix it with a regular wax formula and our new creations will look even more lifelike!"
The patrons in the room applauded. Friedman smiled, nodded in acknowledgement and held up his hands for silence. "Yes, friends, within the next three months, you will be able to tell all your frien ..."
At the entrance of the large room, four oddly dressed men walked in. One of the the men, the smaller one, wore a garish green suit with black question marks all over it. A black shirt, a green tie that was the same color as the suit, and a black derby on top of his head completed the ensemble.
The man was the infamous master criminal known as the Riddler. His real name, according to police records, was Edward Nigma. For many years, the Riddler had time and time again butted heads and tried to outwit the Caped Crusader, Batman. The Riddler, for the most part, was a victim of his own undoing. Batman had been able to foil the Riddler's plots because Nigma had one vice while committing his crimes -- he always had a compulsion to leave clues in the form of riddles.
Not knowing that the criminals had entered the room, Friedman continued explaining what the Universal Wax Solvent meant to the museum. "... and the French government has always restricted the export of this material because if it were ever to fall into the ..."
All of sudden a maniacal laugh was heard. The people in the room all turned to see who was finding humor in a humorless subject. The Riddler and his men quickly moved to the table and to the side of the curator.
The Riddler called to his men, "Grab the Universal Wax Solvent!"
Friedman protested, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
"Riddle me this!" the man in green said. "Why is an artist like me?"
The curator looked at the Riddler dumbfounded.
"Answer: because he steals the scene!" He laughed at Friedman. The Riddler continued, "When you see Batman, tell him this riddle -- What does the Gotham State Building, a yellow bird on television, and a seven-foot tall man have in common?" The inhuman laugh was heard again.
The Riddler was still laughing, seemingly in hysterics, when he threw a plastic capsule onto the floor. Green smoke billowed out -- it was a very effective smoke screen to cover the escape of the criminals.
The people in the room started to cough. When most of the smoke dissipated, someone yelled, "CALL THE POLICE!"
***
Twenty minutes later in the office of Police Commissioner James W. Gordon, the top brass of the Gotham City Police Department had assembled after hearing the Riddler had committed another crime.
Gordon, the long-time leader of the department, was talking on the telephone. "Yes, yes, we're working on it. What was that riddle again?" He wrote down the riddle on a scratch pad of paper. "... Uh-huh, okay, thank you, Mister Friedman. ... Yes, we'll do everything we can. Yes, thank you ... We will, thank you."
Chief of the Department Clancy O'Hara looked at Gordon. "The curator seemed upset, Commissioner."
"He has reason to be, Chief. The Riddler has stolen something that is called Universal Wax Solvent from the wax museum. The curator said that the solvent could be very dangerous in the wrong hands."
The face of Chief O'Hara indicated that he couldn't quite understand the significance of what the Riddler had taken. "Of what use could the Riddler have with a universal wax solvent, Commissioner?"
"I don't know, Chief," Gordon replied. "That infernal Prince of Puzzlers has outwitted us a dozen times."
The Commissioner looked to his senior officers. "What about it, men? O'Hara? Inspector Bash? Any of you think you can handle him?"
All the senior brass of the Gotham City Police Department looked to the floor or shook their heads. Gordon turned and all eyes followed to a bright red phone that was under a glass cover on a small table to the side.
The police officials walked slowly to the phone. Gordon took the cover off, and picked up the receiver, his finger was poised over the single black button on the phone. The Commissioner spoke slowly, "I don't know who he is behind that mask of his but I know when we need him ... and we need him now."
Gordon pushed the button and the telephone glowed a bright red.
***
At stately Wayne Manor, home of billionaire Bruce Wayne, a cocktail party was taking place. Many of Gotham City's elite had come to Wayne's home for a small charity event honoring a local children's orphanage. Being an orphan himself, the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises had always championed the cause to assist orphans.
Bruce Wayne's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, was passing by the open doors of Wayne's private study, when he suddenly heard the distinctive beeping of the Bat-Phone. Alfred entered the room, closed the door behind him, and walked to the table where the phone was. The Bat-Phone was glowing on-and- off with each beep.
The butler picked up the receiver, held it about six inches away from his mouth, and with just a slight trace of his English accent noticeable, said, "I'll call him, sir."
Alfred put down the receiver and went over to one of the many shelves of books in Wayne's private study. He picked out a red book and placed it on a silver serving tray. He then left the study to inform Bruce Wayne.
Meanwhile, in the mansion's main living room, Dick Grayson had just arrived from the nearby town of Bludhaven for the event. Dick gently slapped Tim Drake on the shoulder.
"Bro, how's it goin?" Drake asked. Though they were not related, the two had something very much in common. Both had either been and were currently the masked vigilante assistant to Batman, known as Robin, the Boy Wonder.
"Hi, Tim, just got in," Dick replied.
Bruce Wayne walked by and shook hands with Dick.
"Hi, Bruce," Dick said as he looked around the room. "Where's Selina?"
Bruce Wayne's eyes hardened and he said to his former ward sharply, "What do I look like? Her keeper?"
Bruce Walked away.
"Ooooookay," Dick muttered under his breath to Tim. "Let me guess? The two of them had another fight."
Tim tried not to smile and just nodded.
Dick just shook his head. "The two of them are nuts, you know that, don't you?"
Tim tried not to smile and just nodded.
Alfred entered the room and walked to the side of Bruce Wayne. Dick and Tim saw the red book on the tray and knew what it meant. For the benefit of anyone else in the room that might had been listening, Alfred said in a stage whisper, "Sir, I forgot to mention earlier today that this book arrived via parcel service. I thought that you might like to see it."
Bruce Wayne picked up the red book and read its title: "Recidivism. It's History And Causes."
Bruce looked at Alfred and said, "Yes, Alfred, I've been expecting this for a while. Thank you." He looked up and saw his secret partners. "Dick, I think we should go to the study and compare this edition of the book I just received with the old edition. Tim, I think you would be interested in this as well."
"Okay, Bruce," Drake answered.
When Bruce, Dick and Tim cleared the living room, they broke into a trot toward the study. They burst into the room. Bruce picked up the red telephone receiver and asked, "Yes, Commissioner?"
On the other end of the line, Gordon simply said, "It's the Riddler."
"We'll be right there," Wayne replied. Bruce hung up the Bat-Phone. He looked to Dick and Tim and told them, "It's the Riddler."
Tim jokingly slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Holy ..."
"Don't you even start!" Dick quickly interrupted and pointed at him.
Bruce knew that not only was he going to have his hands full with the Riddler, he was going to have to keep his two junior partners under control during the mission.
Wayne placed his hands on the bust of Shakespere that was next to the Bat- Phone. Out of habit, Dick turned the knob on the revealed switch once to the right and then back again. Suddenly, a grandfather clock in the room swung open revealing the secret entrance to the Batcave.
Bruce said, "Let's go!"
To be continued ...