CHAPTER 7

Later that night night, a black van pulled into an entryway of the shabby building in Crown Point, the Riddler's hideout. As its occupants exited the vehicle, commotion ensued.

"Mr. Riddler, Sir, it's finished," a shady hoodlum announced, opening the back of the armored vehicle so the Riddler could exit.

"Good job boys… things are on schedule. Soon we'll be able to start mixing the first batch of my toxin but I'll need some test subjects. Who wants to volunteer," the Riddler said with a grin, tipping his hat with amusement as they entered the building. Reclining on a beat-up couch on the far side of the room, he continued, "I'll need three strong, viable men to make sure this stuff works… I know!" Nigma proclaimed, pointing his index finger in the air with an idea, "whoever can answer a riddle gets spared."

"Aw, please Mr. Riddler, that's a bad idea, Sir," a goon called out from the pack, knowing they couldn't answer one of his ambiguous puzzles.

"Nope, it's a great idea. Riddle me this boys," he began with great enthusiasm, "What is the one fear that grips us all, yet no one can conquer?"

The men thought for a moment, looking around the old office for clues and then to each other for a possible answer. With a loud whistle, the Riddler gained their attention once again.

"Time's up boys. Anyone get it?" he waited to see if they mastered his playful conundrum.

"Uh, well boss, we ain't got it," one answered, scratching his head from flees. "Batman?" he finally replied, thinking of the first impossible thing they've come against.

"Batman? Ha!" he scoffed, standing to pace across the room in mere laughter. "That overgrown rodent just needs a good swat or two with a newspaper and he'll be set. Now…" he ceased his pacing, staring at his men, "none of you know the real answer? Hmm, well, rules are rules. I suppose I have more than just three test subjects," he laughed with irritation. "But anyway, the answer's death, you imbeciles. I should've known you nincompoops couldn't get it," he sighed, falling back on the couch.

"By the way, where's Catwoman? I need to speak with her. Catwoman!" the madman cried out for his accomplice, throwing back his head. "Catwoman," he called again as a crash was heard through a window in a back room of the refinery. The Riddler and his men exchanged perplexed glances just before rushing back to find Catwoman lying on the concrete floor, covered in bits of broken glass.

It was evident she'd been in a brawl since scratches and blood were apparently visible.

Through the shattered window stepped Batman and immediately the Riddler's men drew their guns and noisily opened fire.

Briskly evading the shots with a quick jolt to the left, then the right, he finally lunged for one of the gangsters and tackled him, pinning him to the ground. Swinging his batarang, he knocked a ready firearm from another goon who gripped his hand in pain.

Punching an unarmed goon and using him as a shield, he jumped into an open doorway, entering a massive stockroom. Swiftly shooting a grapple to a balcony overhead, he ascended to temporary safety like an avenging angel.

As the men from below continued firing, Batman ducked behind a large rusted metal crate to the right, securely out of range. Noticing that several armed goons had already utilized an old service elevator in route to the Dark Knight, he leapt off the balcony, gliding with his cape to the floor he previously ascended from. Turning to the left, he noticed even more armed thugs running towards him.

"Where are all these rejects coming from?" he garbled to himself. Spotting a door to the right, he ran for it, slamming the metal door shut behind him. A stairwell, thank God, he mused, racing to the bottom towards the exit.

Trapped inside, the door exiting the stairwell was jammed. Taking out a small plastic explosive from his utility belt, he placed it on the lock, and raced up a flight of stairs before it imploded.

Busting his way though the door, he made it outside into the moonlight, hearing the goons not far behind.

Hearing the sound of car engines roar, he moved faster. With his cape soaring behind him, an old blue Caprice began chasing him through an empty parking lot with occasional gunfire at his heels.

As the chase continued, he came upon a dead end. The car stalled, then moved slowly towards him with a goon hanging out the window. This thug was aiming directly at him with an old gangster style machine gun.

Thinking quickly, his hands crossed to his utility belt and as a smoke bomb hit the ground, a batarang flew through the rising haze and hit the armed goon in the face. A wail of pain could be heard as the goon slid back into the car.

Racing out of the corner, he dove over the Caprice's hood with great might. The instant he pressed a small button on his belt, a loud roaring hiss echoed from a nearby garage.

It was just where he left it, the Batcycle rushing to the aid of the Dark Knight. The motorbike was sleek, with all the usual refinements of Batman's arsenal. It stood five feet in length and was as black and sinister as somebody's nightmare. Hopping on, he sped out of the refinery parking lot, en route for home.

Two days later, around nine-thirty in the morning, Bruce Wayne strolled into Wayne Tower.

"Back from the dead," a voice said from behind. "Whoa Bruce, what happened?" he announced, seeing a black ring around his eye. "Thought you went to Switzerland? Not a military boot camp in Japan."

Smirking at the remark, Bruce grinned, knowing his friend was quite close to the truth. "Well, let's just the say the pine trees on the slopes aren't that friendly this year," he laughed, slapping his friend on the back, "Anyways, good morning Lucius. How are things?" Bruce offered as the men walked into his office.

"Well I could imagine why you took that vacation. I would to if my company was going to suffer a hostile takeover. Stress will do that to a man," Lucius exclaimed.

"Well, how is that going?"

"Actually Bruce, you'll never believe it. While you were gone, Wayne Enterprises sued Goth Corp for fraud and attempting to obstruct a business. Star Labs backed out. But the good news is the public got wind of this and now we've got the public behind us. Our stock just rose fifteen points," he announced proudly, straightening his pin-stripe suit and blue tie.

"Well great, I knew we'd come through."

"Yeah this was a close one. Alfred told me you had some business in Switzerland but refused to say what. Not with the company I hope?" he grinned, taking a seat.

"No, just personal, but it was truly an awakening," he replied, setting on the edge of his desk, thinking back to Alfred's sermon.

"Alright, well…" Lucius started as his beeper buzzed. Checking it, he soon dismissed himself, saying it was the wife.

Bruce gave a nod and walked him out the door as he greeted his secretary who just arrived with a fresh cup of coffee for him. Taking the cup from her petite hands, he nodded his thanks and reentered the office. Breathing deeply, he placed the coffee on his desk then continued his morning ritual by sitting down to look at the morning paper.

Finally relaxed in his brown executive chair, Bruce sighed with relief as his thoughts filtered into his scuffle with Catwoman a couple of nights earlier. Their battles had rarely been as brutal. He still had bruises from a few impressive blows she delivered, including the one on his face.

As he sat back with his arms behind his head, he wondered what tonight would bring.