Chapter 2

The next night, a black limousine rolled up alongside a shabby building in Crown Point, a smaller inner-district just inside the Gotham Bowery. Out of the car came Charles Vanelli, son of deceased gangster Caesar Vanelli. As he and two members of his entourage approached the entrance, each of them scowled at the conditions of the place and the surrounding neighborhood. As they entered the building, each man checked their coats to see if they remembered their armaments. Sure enough, they were strapped.

Suddenly, once the doors were closed behind them, Charles Vanelli cried out in a demanding tone, "Nigma, Nigma! Show yourself. We got business to discuss."

Out of a dark corner of the room stepped a black-haired lanky man clad in a green bodysuit, with what appeared to be question marks stitched all over the suit. It was none other than Edward Nigma, one of Gotham's most notorious super criminals, otherwise known as the Riddler.

Once a corporate slave to Gotham's business world, Edward Nigma spent many years at Goth-Corp as an unaccredited inventor of children's toys. He eventually grew tired of not getting any recognition and turned to a life of crime, believing himself to be of higher intelligence than all of his contemporaries. He inevitably went insane, becoming obsessed with conundrums, so much so that his crimes were always left with a clue that foiled even the most seasoned of detectives.

"Hello boys. How goes it?" exclaimed the green-clad lunatic.

"How ya' doin' Eddie?" started Charles, smoothing back his black hair with a hand glittering with diamond rings. "Listen, my boys have been out looking for Mayor Hill for three days; he's nowhere to be found. So, I'm implementing a few new rules to our little agreement. Now, the deal is that you give us the Joker and we'll continue to help you find Hill. However, if you wanna make things difficult…" the gangster demandingly informed, cracking his knuckles as a well-built man from behind him took a few menacing steps forward.

"Oh Charlie, you come here to my hideout making demands. "Tisk tisk," he laughed, his lanky arms resting on his slim hips. "You want revenge on the Joker for standing idly by while Two-Face snuffed out your old man. I understand that but the fact is, you still haven't found the mayor for me yet and I grow tired of waiting. Besides, quite honestly, I don't even know where Joker is," he yawned, budding on the brink of boredom with the conversation. "In fact, I don't really need you anymore. You've taken out nearly all of the city council for me. So it won't be you who breaks our ties Charlie boy. Now, piss off, I'm done with you… for now," countered the Riddler in a long breath.

Shocked and affronted, the three men hastily drew their guns, aiming at the gangly green trickster.

"Nobody double crosses the Vanelli crime family," stated Charles heatedly. "The only reason we don't go after Dent is because he's locked up, protected in that damn asylum. The Joker is the next best thing. Every criminal in this godforsaken town has ties with that clown. We did your work Nigma, now we'll get what we deserve, come hell or high water."

"Oh, you'll get what you deserve," the Riddler cackled as he skipped across the room to a nearby table, the gun nozzles following him along the way. Pulling out what appeared to be a large gas mask from the table drawer, he placed it over his head. Quickly revealing an elaborate remote control, he nonchalantly pushed a few buttons. "You see Charlie, this place used to be a chemical refinery. Notice above you the air ducts. In minutes you will all be poisoned by a new formula I developed at Arkham."

"Poisoned? Like hell we will!" yelled Charles, firing his submachine gun at the trickster.

"As you wish," laughed the Riddler, his voice echoing in the building, nowhere to be seen as a haze began to cover the inside of the warehouse.

"Gas – smoke -," one of Vanelli's cronies coughed, "Mr. Vanelli, we have to go!" Vanelli finally agreed with a snarl and a cough, leading the way as the three men scrambled for the door.

Watching from behind a crate, the Riddler grinned to himself, able to escape harms way through another door adjacent to the entrance of the old structure.

Angry and wreaking of the gas, the gangsters ran from the old refinery and hurriedly crowded in the limousine. As the car quickly took off, the Riddler watched by now on the second floor, still inside. As the toxic air dissipated, Edward Nigma tossed aside his gasmask, lounging on an old couch in the former office. Quickly picking up a nearby phone, he put in a call to the Operator, then Stonegate Penitentiary.

After a few short rings, the other line was answered. "Stonegate, this is Chris with the answering service. How may I help you?" a dimwitted security guard answered.

"Yes, good evening old chap, I'd like to schedule a visitation to see Miss. Selena Kyle."

"Kyle? All right, are you any relation to the inmate Sir?" the guard continued.

"I haven't seen the sweet child in years. I'm her uncle," the Riddler lied, his grin widening on his pale face as the guard fell for his every word.

"Sir, visits are daily, from one to one-thirty in the afternoon. You'll have to sign in and come by then."

"Excellent," the Riddler replied hanging up on the guard with giddiness.

The next morning, Bruce Wayne slouched in his executive chair in his office at Wayne Tower. He looked out the window to get a quick view of the city. Abruptly his secretary entered, handing Bruce the latest edition of The Gotham Chronicle.

"Here is your paper Sir and another cup of coffee," she said, leaving the office as quickly as she entered.

"Thanks," Bruce replied, taking a sip of the expensive Columbian brew. Inhaling deeply, he opened the paper as the headline caught his eyes, distressing his already dampened mood. "Last Councilman Shot Dead… Police Baffled" he read aloud, scouring the paper for details.

Taking a highlighter and marking a few precise lines and words, his intercom beeped with his secretary's soft voice reaching through from the other end.

"Sir, Mr. Fox is here. He says it's important."

"Alright, send him in," Bruce replied.

Seconds passed as Bruce heard a knock at the door and Lucius Fox, his trusted advisor, proudly strutted in.

"Mornin' Bruce," he said cheerfully, closing the massive door behind him.

"Hi Lucius, what do ya' got for me?" Bruce inquired, offering his friend a seat.

"Well Bruce, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Now, I want to keep this quiet. Only a hand full of lawyers and I know about this. Goth-Corp and Star Labs have found a way to institute a hostile takeover of our company."

"Lucius, that's impossible. Don't be ridiculous, we have more money, more notoriety and more power as a corporate entity. What's going on here?"

"It's complicated. Both companies have found a loophole in the system and well it's more or less a legal ransom. They have agreed to merge Star Labs, Goth Corp and Wayne Enterprises under one banner. All we have to do is agree. And it looks like someone already has. We are fighting this I assure you. We've got Fredericks and our best lawyers on it. It appears they have documents that prove that Wayne Enterprises has agreed to the deal."

"Ah, they wanna play hardball with my company, so they fabricate signatures and such and by next week we will be one giant corporation. No, Lucius with all do respect, you tell those men that not only Gotham and Metropolis, but the world benefits with these three companies segregated."

"It's like they are holding us at bay with a legal ransom. Now, you know I'm only on the business side of things Bruce, but it looks like they would have us pinned. With the right signatures and the right publicity, we could lose everything. Your father is probably rolling over in his grave. But there is good news too. Our men know that they need one more signature to close the deal and that deals with you and a bank account merger. I think that since Wayne Enterprises is the cornerstone of Gotham it will all come down to politics and public opinion," Lucius stated very heatedly.

"Can you fix it? Do I have anything to worry about?"

"It shouldn't be a big problem, but it is an immediate setback. Don't worry; our lawyers will sue them for obstruction and fraud so fast they won't know what hit them. It's like you said, we have more money and the public trust us," his advisor informed.

"Keep me posted on this matter. If you'll excuse me Lucius, I'm gonna get outta here for a while. Get some fresh air, take a walk in the park or something," Bruce responded standing up from the desk.

"Well, whatever that fresh air will do for ya, I'm sure it'll be productive," Lucius laughed, shaking his hand goodbye.

"You know it. See ya' later Lucius," Bruce exclaimed as the two men exited the office.

As Bruce entered the elevator, he thought of what Alfred would be doing at the moment. Probably reading the paper and drinking his English tea, Bruce chuckled to himself. He trusted his advisors and knew that if worse came to worse on this takeover issue, they would handle it. Once the elevator reached the ground floor, Bruce stepped out and left the building. Reaching his red Mercedes, he was ready to head home.