Birds Of Prey

Couldn't let this series fade away this is my tribute for the fans let's keep it alive and sign the petition if you haven't already done so!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but those that do should renew the show!!!!!!

Riddled with bullets. By Terhwa

Chapter One

"Hey Diddle Diddle."

Dinah looked blankly at the screen reflecting on how much she hated monitor duty. As part of her training, Barbara had gone into painstaking detail when showing Dinah which button did what. But Dinah, who viewed her crime-fighting role as a more on the streets kicking butt kind of gig, had paid scant attention to this merely nodding, "umming", and "aaahhhing", in what she thought were all the right places. True her telepathy had picked up small pockets of technobabble here and there but as it wasn't really knowledge she wished to accumulate it had passed through one "psychic ear" and out through the other. Much like the Gotham news bulletin that was playing on another screen close by.

"I thought a refreshment might be in order." Alfred the ever-faithful Butler was at her side tray in hand with a glass of cold tea.

"Thank you Alfred," Dinah took the glass and swallowed an appreciative mouthful, she paused and looked at Alfred meaningfully, "how is she?"

"As well as can be expected Miss Dinah." Alfred responded tightly. "All wounds heal in time."

Wade's funeral had taken place yesterday and Barbara had not been invited. However she had insisted on going to the cemetery this morning in order to say her own

goodbyes, and upon her return Barbara had gone straight to her room leaving Alfred strict instructions that she was not to be disturbed.

"In the meantime Miss Dinah," Alfred continued, "We must hold the fort."

"Alfred.Have you any idea how any of this works?"

"Miss Barbara took the precaution of running automatic surveillance." Alfred explained, "Anything unusual or noteworthy on police scanners will automatically flag."

"Great!" Said Dinah as if a huge weight had suddenly lifted; she turned to the monitor that was running a Gotham news station, "let's see if there are any good movies on cable!" Her eyes glanced around the room searching for the remote.

Suddenly the picture of a grinning semi balding man flashed up behind the news presenter, and Alfred with tray still in hand, produced the missing remote in his other.

"I think Miss Dinah you may find this item to be of interest."

And with that he turned up the volume.

".Your host Tonight on Gotham Insider," the smug looking presenter beamed. A slick looking guy in a designer suit whose name Dinah could not recall.

"QUESTION!" The presenter smugly pronounced, " How do you know when a super villain is no longer crooked? Answer when he's gone straight! At least that's what the recently released Edward Nygma had to say today at the launch of his biography "Riddle Me This?" Recently paroled, super villain Edward Nygma once terrorised New Gotham using the pseudonym "The Riddler."

The screen flashed a picture of the same grinning man wearing a garish green leotard decorated with question marks.

"Oh gross!" Dinah spluttered out a mouthful of tea.

The presenter's smarmy patter continued. "A former computer and electronics genius Nygma has a lifelong fascination with puzzles and riddles. Whilst extremely intelligent he was always considered a bit odd, It was Nygma's obsession and love for puzzles that led him to commit crimes under the guise of "The Riddler." A transformation in which he would lose all sense of reality."

"That explains the lack of dress sense!" Dinah smirked.

The program switched to an interview with Arkham Asylum's Doctor Joan Leland who began explaining Nygma's psyche.
"Edward became completely wrapped up in the evil and criminal behavior which was warping his mind. His need to be the Riddler stemmed from his desire to truly express the real Edward Nygma, in turn completely separating himself from any normalcy that he once had."

The broadcast returned to the studio where the beaming presenter continued.

"As The Riddler Nygma used a vast array of computer and electronic gizmos in his arsenal, but was best known for the lethal use of his "Question Mark" cane. That was his trademark. It is alleged that the legendary vigilante Batman ultimately foiled his plans by solving the often taxing and cryptic riddles Nygma often sent to taunt the police."

The camera cut to a pastiche of letters and notes all composed of letters cut out of magazines and glued in place. The contents of which were all Riddles.

"Riddles that held clues," the presenter resumed a beaming smile fixed firmly in place, "as to where and when, his next heist would take place. Over the years The Riddler became obsessed with outwitting and ultimately destroying the legendary Dark Knight. His hatred fuelled by the surprising intellect The Batman possessed, and in Nygma's twisted mind his sole concern became to create the ultimate unsolvable riddle related crime."

The broadcast cut to a scene outside a large bookstore where Nygma clad in a green suit peppered with question marks was smiling and waving to the press. Behind him stood a large cut out board bearing his image and the title of his book.

The presenter's spiel continued over the scene, "But all that is behind Edward Nygma now, as he seeks to carve out a new career in the media as a writer and presenter! His agent is rumoured to be in talks with various TV stations about the possibility of hosting a riddle based family game show! And his warts and all biography is tipped to be a best seller!"

The Broadcast returned to the studio. "Your watching Gotham Insider with me your host Jack Ryder in other news."

Alfred hit the mute.

"Well that was interesting," Dinah said awkwardly failing to see the point.

"Riddler has gone straight before," Alfred stated abruptly, "It barely lasted a month."

*****

Roland Cameron had been practicing law for almost ten years, throughout this time his record as a defence lawyer had been outstanding. Sure there had been a few losses, but generally speaking he could clear, acquit, or plea bargain for any offender with no previous or recent convictions. His summaries were the stuff of legend he could milk a jury for every ounce of sympathy they possessed, in short as defence

lawyers go Roland was one of the finest, if not the best New-Gotham had to offer. Generally speaking.

However in the unlikely event that Roland Cameron was to be completely honest, (he was a lawyer after all!) one area of criminal law in which he would have to admit to feeling completely inadequate to cope with was that of the super villain.

Super Villains Roland felt were most definitely not his forte. In his early days he had bravely but naively attempted to defend Edward Nygma, he had argued strongly that the case was inadmissible on the grounds that a vigilante and not a recognised officer of the law had supplied the evidence.

The prosecution however had strongly refuted this claim with DNA and forensic evidence inextricably linking Nygma to the crime in question. The issue of vigilante interference was thus rendered moot. Aside from all that, the final nail in the coffin had come from Nygma himself in the form of a series of self-incriminating clues mailed directly to the New Gotham PD!

Most criminals, with certain exceptions, sought to get away with their crimes as subtly and anonymously as possible. Super villains were altogether a different breed, all garish costumes and gimmicks, theatrical and melodramatic, mostly they sought recognition of their criminal genius, and in Roland's opinion, made them all practically un-defendable.

So in the intervening years following the Riddler fiasco, Roland had managed to steer well clear of Super Villains, busying himself with the vast array of common run of the mill gangsters, rapists, serial killers, and homicides New Gotham invariably had to offer. But recent events had changed all that; Edward Nygma had quietly served out his sentence keeping Roland's services on retainer. Roland needless to say, was far from happy with this arrangement but the money was very welcome, and besides Nygma had lost the right to any appeal making any services he required minimal at best. In fact it wasn't until Nygma's impending release that their acquaintance had been renewed, his client had sought advice on the legal implications of his forthcoming biography. And several drafts later their business was concluded. Roland had vowed never again to involve himself with a publicity-seeking criminal.

But In spite of this for some strange reason that Roland was unable to fathom he had recently taken on a second similar client for half his usual fee! The initial consultation had taken place a day or so before the said client's capture. In what turned out to be a lengthy unscheduled meeting at one long afternoon in his office, the details of which still remained fuzzy.

Needless to say Roland was feeling very uncomfortable with the arrangement. Yet he found himself inexplicably unable to voice his concerns.

What made it worse was that legal counsel had to take place at Arkham Asylum, a place that during the intervening years since Nygma's trial Roland had vowed to avoid. The place gave him the creeps!
Suppressing a shudder he looked directly at his client, (he was unable to look her in the eye direct as she was wearing a mandatory pair of dark shades). "I have to say Dr. Quinzel, that from a legal perspective things are not looking good!"

"Not looking good," she mimicked slamming the desk in frustration the cuffs around her wrists and ankles jangling in sympathy. "I did not employ your services Mr Cameron, at the exorbitant fee you charge just to listen to you tell me what I already know! I used to run this place, and now look at me!"

"I realise that Dr. Quinzel, but with someone of your Meta-human abilities, a normal prison environment is out of the question."

"Prison? Prison? I want bail!"

"Well as you are aware Dr. Quinzel bail was denied."

The former Dr. Harlene Quinzel paused for a moment then slowly and deliberately pulled down her shades revealing an icy cold glare. No sooner was this done, a high-pitched alarm began to emit from the frame around the lenses of the shades.

Harley's glare turned to one of irritation as she cringed and rolled her eyes. The door burst open and three orderlies filled the space, tasers at the ready.

"PUT THE SHADES BACK ON QUINZEL!" One of them boomed.

"Okay, Okay, I forgot!" Harley protested snapping the shades back into place. "Can we have a light on in here? If I gotta keep these things on I need to see!"

The alarm stopped.

"Er it's okay boys," Roland beamed, "It just slipped my client's mind." (Along with her sanity, he wanted to add but didn't.)

The orderlies began to file out and assume their positions behind the two- way mirrors surrounding the room.

"WHAT ABOUT A LIGHT?" Harley screamed.

"Sorry babe," one of the orderlies shrugged, "Dr Leland's orders, not enough jing in the budget!"

"NEVER WOULD'VE HAPPENED WHEN I WAS IN CHARGE!" Harley boomed.

"Anyway Dr. Quinzel," Roland resumed, "as regards to your legal position."

"Yada, yada yada!" Harley interjected, "Booorrriiinnnnggg!!! Let's go back to our original discussion!"

"Our original discussion?" Roland's face was a mask of confusion.

"Yes but of course you wouldn't remember that would you Rolly dear? But never mind your auntie Harley's here to jog your memory!" She grinned a broad one the size of a Cheshire cat, "Come on Rolly, sing along with me! I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"

Roland's eyes glazed over and suddenly he joined in, "I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"

"I know I am, I'm sure I am I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"

Harley began clapping and rattling her chains, Roland's face was now pulled back in a ghastly soulless grin.

Sensing something amiss the orderlies burst back into the room.

"What's going on?"

Roland started to giggle.

Harley turned to face the orderlies. Her face or what could be seen of it under the shades was a picture of mock innocence.

"Why nothing's going on, Roland and I were just having a little sing song before you return me to my cold and lonely cell!" She smiled sweetly.

Roland's giggle turned to laughter, loud shrieking laughter, the like of which had not been heard in Arkham since Joker was shipped upstate all those years ago.

"Bye for now Rolly!" Harley blew him a kiss, "Wish I could stay to watch all the fun but alas it's time for me to retire!" She allowed the orderlies to escort her from the room.

"Rolly" was rocking wildly and uncontrollably on his seat and as Harley was shown back to her cell, the dull thud of Roland Cameron falling backwards off his chair echoed down the corridor whilst Doctor's and Nurse's frantically tried to sedate him.

Later Roland Cameron would appear calm and collected and following a further cursory medical examination would be allowed to leave. By which time the instructions Harley had subliminally implanted in Roland at his office, using her recently acquired meta human ability for mind control, would have crept from his subconscious and firmly taken hold.

Once again the former Dr. Harlene Quinzel congratulated herself for an inspired and perfect plan. One that she had set up in case of capture, a concise set of instructions given to Roland Cameron and others, that would lie dormant in their minds, waiting for key words that would trigger and unleash certain specific psychotic action's on the unsuspecting citizens of New-Gotham. A collection of human time bombs waiting to release a wonderful, murderous, chain of events.

Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe even a few years down the line when Arkham life and the pain of separation from her dear clown faced puddin became too much to bear. Then she could call one of them and with a carefully selected code word, sometimes in a song, sometimes a rhyme, or a joke, Harley could sit back and watch the chaos unfold from the comfort of her cell. After all, they let her have her own TV!

But for right now Roland had specific instructions, instructions to trigger a specific time bomb, one of many that Harley had ordered to respond only to Roland's voice, and the timing for this one was perfect! Which according to her Puddin was everything as far as comedy and death and mayhem were concerned.

Harley continued to grin as the orderlies unlocked her cell, gently rocking herself back and forth on her heels singing in a low wistful voice;

"I know I am, I'm sure I am, I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"

*****

Edward Nygma had found writing his memoirs to be very easy indeed. Having always loved the sound of his own voice, he had whiled away the last remaining months of his sentence regaling a Dictaphone with tales of days gone by. Dr. Joan Leland had actively encouraged the pursuit as a cathartic exercise on the road back to sanity. A state to which she adamantly believed Nygma had fully embraced.

Furthermore as Nygma's closing passages or ramblings had reflected and moralised upon the wrongs of crime and how it doesn't pay, the good Dr. Leland saw no reason why Nygma should not seek to have his memoirs published. So throughout the whole creative process Nygma was glad to say that he never once suffered the age-old affliction of writers cramp.

That is until today.

Nygma had lost count of the amount of books he had signed at New Gotham's most prominent bookstore. He had smiled until his face ached, laughed tolerantly as people tried to catch him out with their own riddles, riddles he had used before most of them were even born. He had shook hands, posed for photographs, even kissed babies for crying out loud! All in the name of self-promotion! In short Edward Nygma reflected, it was the hardest day's work he could ever recall.

The limo journey from the bookstore back to his hotel had taken a while, leaving Nygma time to reflect on the many changes and alterations the city had undergone during his years of incarceration.

"Half-way up the hill, I see thee at last

Lying beneath me with thy sounds and sights --

A city in the twilight, dim and vast,

With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights."

"Did you say something Mr Nygma?" The driver enquired.

"Oh nothing Burt," Edward sighed, "just remembering Longfellow's old riddle of the past."

The literary reference meant nothing to Burt who simply shrugged as he turned the limo off Moench Row into Commerce Street, and along the east side of Grant Park to what is known to all Gothamites as The Fashion District. Turning into Manley Street the Limo finally pulled over outside The Gotham Plaza Hotel.

"Here we are Mr Nygma."

"Why thank you Burt," Edward acknowledged and handed him a generous tip before getting out of the car.

He tipped his way from doorman to bell boy, stopping in the lobby to sign yet another autograph before making it to the elevator and the final ascent to his top floor penthouse, a luxury bath, a nice cold beer, and a nice long sleep. Edward yawned in apprehension.

But no sooner had he entered the penthouse he knew that he was not alone. Another figure stood, lying in wait for him amongst the shadows cast outside on his balcony.

The slide door to the balcony was open, and Nygma knew that he had left it shut. After all, there were a lot of thieves around!

The figure on the balcony made a move, was that a cape he saw?

"Surely not," Nygma sighed, Not him! Surely he hadn't come out of his retirement, or exile or whatever the hell it was just to warn him off again! Any minute now he expected to see the cape swirl, revealing a yellow oval chest plate bearing the insignia of a Bat, and the six foot figure of old tall dark and gruesome himself glaring at him from beneath the mask growling in that deep dark scary voice of his, "I'm watching you Nygma! Sooner or later you are going to slip, and I'll be waiting!"

Or something like that, but of course it didn't happen, Batman was long gone, of that Nygma was sure, instead the figure remained patiently in the shadows.

"Who's there?" Edward called, as slowly he advanced to the balcony.

Suddenly the sound of hands clapping automatically switched on the lights, Nygma groaned how had he forgotten to do that?

He looked around the luxury apartment a large bouquet of roses was laid out on a table in the middle of the room, above which hung a large clumsy banner, which read:

"Welcome Home Uncle Edward!"

For once Edward Nygma was lost for words.

"I didn't know you got out until today, so I made it in kind of a hurry." An awkward yet distantly familiar female voice said from amongst the shadows.

A tall strikingly beautiful woman clad from head to toe in black, and wearing a long black leather coat, emerged from the shadows, and for a moment Edward thought he had seen a ghost as he stepped back in horror.

"S-Selena?"

There was an awkward pause as Edward realised his mistake, and for a moment the figure looked like the heartbroken little girl that she had been when last he saw her so long ago at her mother's funeral.

"Helena!" Edward smiled and opened out his arms "Helena Kyle!"

They hugged as warm tears streamed down their faces, "I've missed you Uncle Edward!" Helena gasped.

"Me too sweetie, me too."

*****

Peter Nashton had been happily drifting off to sleep when the knocking started. The fleapit he rented came with a grand view of the New-Gotham subway whose trains ran round the clock. So he was used to sleeping with noise. His neighbours, both above, below, across the landing, or either side, invariably came home at all hours and didn't care who knew it. And aside from this Peter rarely had visitors (unless they were paid by the hour) so it was for these reasons that he did not immediately associate the sounds as coming from his front door.

Suddenly Peter realised it was someone knocking. And no sooner did this thought flash across his mind, the knocking stopped.

"Fine," Peter thought to himself, "jerk probably got the wrong room anyway". He rolled over in order to return to slumber.

It was at this point that the front door burst open in a crash, Peter's heart almost leaped out of his mouth as he sat bolt upright and came face to face with the intruder. The man in the doorway was dressed in a very smart suit, he was grinning broadly from ear to ear and holding a fire extinguisher.

"Knock knock!" The grinning man quipped.

"W-who are you? W-what do you want with me? LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The grin faded for a moment "I have a message for you!" The intruder was now standing at the foot of the bed. The fire extinguisher was hanging awkwardly in his hands and he looked around for somewhere to put it down.

"What are you talking about who.?"

But Peter's last line was cut off as the intruder sent the fire extinguisher over his head and out through the back window. Which unfortunately happened to be shut. Peter was now showered in glass and very, very, scared.

"Oh God please, my wallets in my coat you can have it, take anything but just don't hurt me please."

The grinning man motioned for Peter to shush; ignoring the shards of broken window he sat himself on the edge of the bed, like a parent about to tell a bedtime story.

"Peter Nashton I have a very important message for you."

"Y-You do?"

The well dressed grinning man nodded.

"W-who from?"

The grinning man made a dismissive gesture with his hands, "I need you to sing it with me!" Gazing fixedly into Peter's fearful eyes he began to sing in a soft lullaby tone. "I'm H.AP.P.Y."

Peter's eyes glazed over, and all the fear left him as Harley's concise and clear instructions flooded out from his subconscious and filled his vacuous empty life with a new sense of purpose.

By the time Roland Cameron had reached the "I know I am, I'm sure I am," stanza of the verse, Peter's voice had joined him in perfect harmony. And when their duet was over and the well-dressed grinning lawyer had upped and walked out the door, Peter began to smile. But his grin was a small tight- lipped expression, conveying a deadly sense of smug conceit.

"Hey diddle diddle," he murmured, "It's time for a riddle!"

*****