CHAPTER 66:
"Riddler's Mind Games"
Later, when all the guests had departed, and dealings with the police were settled, and everyone was either rescued and set free, including Alfred and the Wayne hired help—who had been locked away in the Servant's Scullery for the entire duration of the incident, spending their time baking goods; Alfred teaching them the art of cutlery as a distraction—the entire family, with friends in attendance, all gathered for a conference in the Batcave to discuss everything that took place.
Bruce wasn't too upset after he learned what went down during his sleep induced absence, and was pleased to know, if something truly tragic ever happened, that the legacy of the Batman would be safe for others to carry on without him.
Enigma and Dafoe were presently out cold and had been subjected to Tim's erasure gas, while Edward Nygma was wide awake, but tied to a chair, with his arms tied behind his back. Jake Handles body had been removed and deposed of.
Tim was amazed with Jake Handles sub-harmonic technology as he sat at the Batcomputer. It was incomplete, but everyone figured that that was for the best—its secret died with its creator. Bruce told him to save it and store it away safely. Bruce was a packrat, he never threw anything away. He figured, eventually, it may come in useful in some other form in the future and save lives.
After things had been put right, it was now time to end things. Things were talked over, and the best way to safeguard their secret identities was to gas Riddler. But Riddler had overheard, and had offered an alternative, speaking up. They were discussing it now. And the loudest protests came from both Damian and Jason. He and Roy, even Wally West, were now down in the Batcave.
"Well? Do you accept my challenge?" Nygma voiced. They all looked at him. The criminal looked pitiful in the chair. Bruce was front and centre, Dick was second closest. "Prove to me you are worthy of the privilege of erasing my memories. Otherwise, even if you do it so innately, I win—in the grand scheme of things."
"You won't remember anything, Nygma, so your threats are meaningless!" Damian rebuked.
Bruce Wayne put a hand to his chin, seemingly thinking things over.
"You know I'm right, Batman/Bruce Wayne," Nygma continued. "Much like Rodin's Thinker, you'll regret your decision, and be forever in doubt if you could ever beat me on a level playing field if you use that gas on me now. My daughter, and Jason Todd's clone, are justified, but the battle between you and I will play out endlessly in your mindset. Think about that."
"Don't father, he's trying to get into your head. You know Riddler and his mind games."
Riddler looked at Damian with a stern look.
"One final riddle to end it all," Riddler then said. "If I win, I not only get to keep my memories, but you'll also pay me half a billion dollars to keep my mouth shut. And no one comes after me. If I lose, you get to erase my memories. Cotidie ignis refit."
"Latin for: A fire made again everyday, without regrets," Bruce translated. "You won't know our secret identities, and our endless battle will continue…"
"Hell no! Blackmail?" Jason laughed short. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Nygma. You can't blackmail us."
"Jay, not your call," Dick said. "Bruce makes the final call. Although, in this instance, I agree with you. We've already gone through so much. I need a vacation. And we have a wedding to plan." Dick squeezed Barbara's hand—the engaged couple held hands. The ring back on her finger. But they agreed nothing too fancy. They wanted the wedding to be simple.
But before any other protests could be voiced, Bruce Wayne said, "Challenge accepted, Nygma."
Everyone was shocked. In brief conference again, where everyone had their say and discussed the pros and cons, Bruce explained why he made the decision and the value of it. "Riddler is right, ego-outstanding," he said. "To win by simply erasing his memory is a lost cause. Riddler has to be defeated on his terms or our battles over the years have meant nothing."
"You're taking an awful risk, Bruce," Dick said. "You don't have to do this. It could cost us everything. Everyone's future is riding on this one decision. Do you think you have the right to veto a collective concern?"
"Did you ask Damian to risk himself in bringing you back?"
"That's not the same, and you know it. Stop trying to justify this with semantics. Riddler is a psychopath. Don't do this. Your principles aren't everything. We all follow your cardinal rule, but sometimes, you have to twist the rules slightly."
"If you break the rules, sacrifice your own principles, even kill—then evil wins, and you lose, even if you come out on top," Bruce said. "I thought I taught someone that just recently…"
Jason snorted angrily, Dick observed. Obviously, he was still ticked off about Bruce beating him to within an inch of his life during the Penguin Affair.
"And when we—you and I, Dick—fought in the cave that time, you showed me that you were worthy to stand on your own two feet. And everything that I taught you over the years wasn't for nothing. A hard lesson, I know."
"And I won! So, I'm calling out my favour. Don't do this!"
Bruce remained straight-faced. Then he looked at each one of them in turn. "You are all my children, and my legacy; I couldn't have done any of this without you all," he said to the collective, gesturing around the Batcave. "Now it's time to trust my judgement as your father."
"Well, I'm not your son," Wally West said, arms crossed over his chest. "And I think this stinks."
Jon Kent, Superboy, also agreed.
"Name it, Nygma," Bruce said, arms folded, turning back. He looked serious. "I accept your challenge."
Nygma shook his head. "Oh, no…you don't seem to get it. Your son will field this challenge. If a father is anything, a teacher foremost, he must, at long last, allow his kinship to take over the mantle of stewardship. You just said it yourself. And, to make things a little more interesting, I took precautions. Technology these days can be wonderful, but it also be used for debasement. Your secret is not only with me, but I also took a brief moment to recite it to my voicemail, just in case something ever happened."
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Damian voiced.
Nygma smirked unfazed. "To get it back, or to erase it, you must defeat me in the challenge. If you win, I'll give you the access code and erase code. Your secrets are the only thing on my voicemail at the moment, so any of my secrets are secure."
"We never had a choice but to play his game," Dick remarked. "We had to accept it no matter what. You're a slimy one, Nygma."
Nygma smirked. "However, there is one more point of order to this challenge. I won't be reciting a riddle, young Damian Wayne will be. And he must be able to stump me or I won't release the codes. I'm known for my nom de guerre, so it won't be easy. And you cannot have any help from your family, Damian. I believe Aristotle said it best: There is no great genius without some touch of madness. And judging where I am at the present, the 'madness' that excludes from this place is beyond insane."
Damian clenched his fists at his side. Dick put a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder. The boy looked dumbfounded and bewildered, that now, supposedly, the entire family's future now rested on his shoulders.
Dick had felt this way quite often as Nightwing. When he lost his memories for a time, he relished the thought of losing that weight. But now, Damian had that weight thrust upon him. Nightwing Junior had that weight. And now he had an entire world on his shoulders like the Greek god Atlas. Would he crumble under the pressure?
He looked at his father, Dick observed, and received a thin smile and a nod of praise from Bruce. From Bruce, that was rare.
"One more thing…"
"Damn it, Nygma! Stop changing the rules!" Damian said angrily, turning back.
"The game hasn't yet started, so 'the rules' can be changed at any point falling in align with the original premise. To make this more interesting, I not only want a riddle but I want it the form of joke. A riddle/joke, per se. Not entirely difficult, I would say."
"That's easy for you to say."
"Oh god, if it was Dick, we'd have him," Jason said. "With the squirt, he doesn't have a humorous bone in his body."
"Shove it up your ass, Todd. Or, maybe I should let Harper do it instead?"
Roy Harper sprang into action, and grabbed Jason, the Outlaw swearing profusely. Then Jason looked at Arkells, giving him the most hateful look he had given anyone. Arkells waved his arms in the air and said he didn't tell Damian. But did say that had he let it slip to Dick Grayson. Jason frowned at Dick. Jason then swore up and down that someone was going to pay.
"My patience is wavering, gentlemen," Nygma interjected annoyed. "Now that the parameters are set, proceed, young Damian Wayne. Show me what you can come up with. Give me something that will bedazzle me, a real stumper, and worthy of my intellect."
Damian closed his eyes and sighed.
"Just relax, Damian, and don't get flustered," Dick said.
"Shut it, Grayson. I'm thinking." He took a few moments, the cave quiet except for the electronic noises of the equipment. The others hushed, giving him time to think. "Okay, Nygma. Here it is: What did the Zen Master say to the hot dog vendor?"
"Oh my god!" Jason face-palmed himself with incredulously. "What the hell is that?"
Bruce hushed Jason.
Suddenly, Nygma began to laugh, and boisterously. There was startling silence from everyone.
Then: "Brilliant, yet simple! Exactly within the set parameters," Nygma said. "You came up with that so quickly, I applaud you. If I could, I would clap. You are a credit to the name Wayne, and a worthy successor to the Cowl. From me, that is rare to say."
Damian cupped his hips. "Well? Do you have an answer?"
Nygma sneered. From laughter to distain in seconds. "Don't insult me, boy. It was good, from a person of your age. But light years away from my intelligential prowess. Of course I have an answer. However…" —he looked to Bruce Wayne— "8-5-4-3-6-4; 3-5-2-1. That is both my voicemail access and the erasure code. You have my cell phone? The password to my phone is…"
Dick had it in hand. He put in the password, then the voicemail code, went through the steps to listen to the message stated, confirmed Riddler had been telling the truth about their secret identities—all of their identities stored. And erased the message.
Suddenly, the phone fizzled out. Dick dropped it. He looked at Nygma.
Nygma smirked. "You really didn't think I would allow you to keep possession of my phone, did you? And even with your brilliant collective minds, the phone is now dead. All data, including numbers, contacts, and other related items, erased. It was a safeguard password for just such an occasion."
"Why?" Damian demanded.
"Because, young Damian Wayne, much like your simple riddle/joke, similar to a person's thoughts, memories, even relationships, you must have one with everything." Nygma looked at Dick Grayson when he gave the answer. "When Jake Handles told me what he tried to do to you, Richard, I was appalled. There are rules to every game. Call it obsessive compulsive or whatever you like. When Jake Handles revealed your secret identities to me, he broke the rules. Even I am governed by a set of rules for which I uphold through riddles and a sense of fair play with you all, if you can believe that. I am not a monster. I believe what eventually came to Handles was poetic justice, judgment by fire. I also believe a collective harmony must be maintained within the mind, body, and soul. A person can only function properly when they are whole. It is the very nature of the Zen. And besides, what would be the fun in knowing your secret identities? That would spoil my fun, my Zen. Some riddles are best to remain a mystery."
Dick gave him a nod. "Thank you, Nygma."
Tim came over with a canister of his erasure gas, leaving the Batcomputer.
"One last riddle, before I go to sleep, and forget everything that has occurred here." He cleared his throat. "I am the one who asks the question, which cannot be answered. I am the question. I am the answer to that question. Who am I?"
"One's Self," Dick answered quickly.
Nygma smiled. "Correct. Enjoy your life, Richard—a rebirth of sorts—and all its wonderful facets. I will wait to pit myself against you once again. You are a smart man. And I am glad Jake Handles failed in his plans to destroy you."
Dick nodded appreciatively. Was it out of character for Nygma to praise him? No, his praise was towards a worthy foe. Nygma may have been a member of the Rogues, but he enjoyed a good fight. And to lose a worthy rival was equal to death.
Tim then gassed Nygma, casting his entire face in green spray.
And to Nygma, Dick thought, the entire world must have gone black.
To be continued...
