Chapter Seven

The Riddler was cold and determined as he roamed Gotham Park. Yin had called him moments earlier to warn him that Batman had tangled with Scarecrow and had lost. The Riddler had responded by covertly hacking into and looking at the images projected by certain security cameras along the paths Scarecrow might have taken through the city. Finally he had located the mysterious rider on a path leading into the park. And, determining it was time for the confrontation he had vowed to have, he had headed there with several Riddlemen in tow.

He was angry as he turned a corner. Scarecrow had attacked him, Yin, and now even Batman. They had enough problems to deal with right now, what with these experiments at Arkham and worries over Ethan and his own attempts to have at least a partially normal life by forging a friendship with Yin. Now, everything seemed to be connected.

He sneered when he saw the rider just up ahead, guiding the horse calmly down a trail. They were just approaching a mounted loudspeaker that he had already hacked into and was controlling with his cane and a remote connection.

"Riddle me this," he said darkly into the installed microphone, and the sound transmitted to the loudspeaker. The rider froze, looking about. "Why should you never anger a former criminal?"

Scarecrow started to leer. "Tell me why, Riddler."

The Riddler leaped out of the night, brandishing his cane. "Because they might still have enough darkness in them to come after you!"

The horse reared, frightened, and Scarecrow tumbled to the ground. Immediately the Riddlemen descended on him, hauling him up by both arms.

The Riddler landed in front of them and straightened, still holding his cane like a potentially dangerous weapon. "You have crossed me more than once," he said darkly. "Surely you didn't think I would just leave it at that."

"I hoped you wouldn't." Scarecrow's red eyes seemed to gleam even more in the dark night. "I attacked you not only to see your fears, but to see how you would handle being violated in that way. And to say I've crossed you multiple times, you must be referring to some of my other assaults."

"You're well aware of exactly what I mean, aren't you," the Riddler retorted. "Jonathan Crane."

Scarecrow just laughed. "I won't admit to my identity, Riddler. Not unless you can beat me in a fight."

"Oh, I was hoping you would suggest that," the Riddler sneered.

Without warning Scarecrow kicked out, startling both Riddlemen and loosening their grips on his arms. Before they could recover, he had pulled away and sprayed them both with the fear gas. "I'd rather go one-on-one with you," he said, amid the sound of the horrified cries.

The Riddler clenched his teeth, further angered by the blatant assault on his men. "By all means."

Scarecrow flung out his chain, aiming to wrap it around the Riddler's cane. Instead the Riddler leaped to the side and a tree was clipped.

The Riddler lunged, smacking Scarecrow hard in the stomach with his weapon. "So tell me, Scarecrow," he snarled. "What made you decide to do what you've been doing?"

Scarecrow fell back with a pained oof. "What made you decide to create deathtraps for people to play through?" he hissed as he straightened. "We're more alike than you might like to believe."

"I like to challenge people of intelligence," the Riddler retorted. He dived to avoid a spray of fear gas. "Or I go after people who have wronged me. I don't target random people on the street!"

Suddenly the chain was flying overhead, catching on the scythe fastened to the horse's saddle. Scarecrow gave a tug and the weapon came free, clipping several twigs on its way over to him. "Is that any different than my targeting you or Detective Yin or other specific people?" He caught the scythe and unwound it from the chain. It swung over the Riddler's head in a warning arc.

The Riddler ducked, crashing his cane against the pole of the scythe when it swung again. "In some ways, perhaps not. I wouldn't blame anyone who decided to target me for what I've done. So you shouldn't be surprised that what you're doing will result in vengeance-seekers. Not to mention crime-fighters wanting to bring you to justice."

Scarecrow cackled. "And which are you?" Their weapons clashed a second time, the sound of the connecting metal ringing down the path. "I don't believe that rehabilitation ever really works. Criminals don't change their ways or their mindsets. You may be bringing down murderers and their ilk, but you don't do it for the protection of the people in general or even just that of your clients. You do it for the mental challenge and the money. All you really care about is yourself."

For a moment the Riddler wavered. He couldn't deny that a lot of that was true about himself. But would he have actually risked his life for a mental challenge, as he had at least twice? He had told Yin he would not.

"Detective Yin doesn't believe that," he retorted. "She knows I still have my faults, but she doesn't think I'm completely, irredeemably selfish."

"What if she's only playing you, like Julie did? She wants your help, so she pretends she cares and tells you what you want to hear."

Fury filled the Riddler's heart. "NO!" He lunged, knocking Scarecrow off-balance. "She's not like that! She's one of the most sincere people I know!"

That only made Scarecrow laugh all the harder. "And how can you really know? You, who were so completely fooled by Julie?" He leaped forward, slamming the pole of the scythe across the Riddler's waist. He grunted in pain, flying backwards into the brush. Before he could get up, Scarecrow was upon him, beating him with the pole as his father had beaten him with the baseball bat years earlier.

Terror filled the Riddler's heart. He didn't need fear gas for this experience to start melding with the past. His father's voice echoed through his mind even as Scarecrow's words echoed in his ears.

"You little brat. You cheated, didn't you?! You cheated!"

He fought to grasp the present. "My death wouldn't have been one of Yin's fears if . . . if she didn't care," he yelled over the pain of the assault. He grabbed for the scythe to pull it away, but was kicked back into the trunk of a tree.

"Ah yes, there is that," Scarecrow purred. "Then perhaps one of your fears will be dying and fulfilling her fear!"

The Riddler cried out in pain as the pole clanked across his right shoulder and then his left side. He turned, struggling to grab for his fallen cane, but it was just out of his reach. The pole struck his left hand in the next moment, preventing him from even trying again to get it.

"You should have known better than to challenge me," Scarecrow grinned. "Your anger always makes you easy prey for a defeat. And you may be agile, but you're useless in combat once you're pinned down." The pole hit the Riddler on the side of his head and he went down, slumping into the brush.

Scarecrow straightened and backed up, prodding him with the bottom of the scythe. "Friday's child is full of woe," he whispered. Bending down, he sprayed the fear gas directly at the unconscious man. "Let's see if this penetrates your current state."

Moments later the Riddler was screaming, lost in a wretched dream, and Scarecrow was watching in delight. But at a movement out of the corner of his eye, he came to attention. The Riddlemen were stumbling up, out of the effects of the fear gas and furious over the assault on them and their employer.

"Till next time then," Scarecrow hissed. Tipping his hat to them, he ran for his horse and climbed aboard. It galloped away, leaving the Riddlemen to find the Riddler now sprawled and groaning in the bush.

xxxx

Alfred had come upstairs to make a small snack when a knock came at the door. Raising an eyebrow, he set the knife down and headed for the entryway. "Coming!" he called.

He opened the door and fell back, staring in shock and disbelief at the sight of the Riddler being held up by two Riddlemen. "Good evening," the Riddler rasped, weakly clutching at his left side. "I've been told you're a trained medic. Would you be willing to . . . help me?"

Alfred kept staring. It was the first time he had ever seen the Riddler in person. And Bruce had not revealed that the Riddler knew his secret. Alfred was stunned. "Who on Earth told you that?" he finally exclaimed. "My word, you should be in the hospital!"

"I'm hoping it's not that serious," the Riddler grunted. "I'd like an examination from a professional before I end up stuck in a hospital overnight. As to who told me, let's just say . . . Mr. Wayne?"

Alfred stiffened. It was the way the Riddler said it, more than the actual words he used. He knows, he exclaimed inwardly in alarm. He knows!

"Very well," he said at last. "Come in." He stepped away from the door, allowing the Riddlemen to assist their boss in limping in and going over to the couch.

The Riddler hissed in pain as he sank into the cushions. "By the way, is Mr. Wayne here?"

"Not at the moment," Alfred replied in a clipped tone.

The Riddler accepted that. Looking to his lackeys, he said, "I'll be alright. Leave us and wait in the van."

The Riddlemen looked hesitant, but nodded and slipped out the front door.

Alfred waited until he was sure they were walking away from the porch before speaking again. "How long have you known about Mr. Wayne?" he demanded. With deftness and precision, he unbuttoned the other man's shirt and began carefully feeling along his ribs.

The Riddler cringed when Alfred found the badly bruised spot. "Oh, you mean he didn't tell you?" he said, struggling to find a smirk. "I've known for the better part of the year. But I only let Wayne know for certain that I wasn't just talking through my hat when I came back from the dead. I hacked into his computer and let him know then."

Alfred's mouth fell open. "Why, the utter nerve!" he exclaimed, pressing down too hard in his shock.

"Ow!" the Riddler responded, digging his fingers into the couch cushion. "Look at it this way, Mr. Pennyworth—if you weren't told, Wayne can't be worrying about it too much."

"On the contrary," Alfred said indignantly. "He might be worrying a great deal, only he wouldn't want to tell me and start me worrying as well!"

"But you would be able to tell if something was wrong," the Riddler answered. "After raising him, and being his technical man behind the scenes, and very likely teaching him at least some of the skills he uses, you can't get me to believe that you wouldn't be able to tell if he was worried about someone revealing his identity."

Alfred had to concede to that truth. "So he apparently doesn't believe your knowledge of that vital information is going to be the end of his career," he said.

"He doesn't," the Riddler agreed. He smirked. "After all, The Batman is Gotham City's greatest riddle. It's more fun to keep him that way."

"And I suppose if you thought it would be more fun to reveal the truth, you would do that," Alfred said. He started examining the bump on his strange patient's head.

Somewhat to his surprise, the Riddler sobered. "I haven't revealed it even though I might have liked to, at least to one person." He winced. "But aren't you going to ask how I ended up like this?"

"I found our current topic more important," Alfred declared. "Nevertheless, this is a nasty bump. How did it happen, if I may ask?"

"I fought with Scarecrow. I wasn't expecting him to be this good at physical combat."

"And perhaps you weren't expecting that you would be so terrible at it," Alfred said matter-of-factly. "Why would you even think of taking on a madman like the Scarecrow, after you know what damage he's capable of causing to the mind?"

"Because I don't sit back quietly and accept being a victim," the Riddler replied. "Someone needs to see that Scarecrow is brought down. Apparently Batman wasn't able to handle that task tonight."

"Nor were you," Alfred retorted. "Now Heaven knows where he is or what havoc he's wreaking! You're lucky he didn't break you in half."

The Riddler sneered. "We're talking about the Scarecrow, not Bane."

Alfred humphed. "Well, in my opinion, you're very badly bruised and you may have a mild concussion. You should really go to the hospital and let a doctor examine you there."

"If you really think that's necessary, don't you have equipment in the . . . basement?" the Riddler said smoothly. "X-Ray machines and such?"

Alfred scowled. "Visitors are not permitted in the basement, except in very special circumstances."

"Is that why the Penguin is down there?"

Alfred froze. "Master Bruce does keep you well-informed," he said. "Yes, Oswald Cobblepot is currently one of those special circumstances. He is also currently very unconscious."

"How can you be sure, when you're up here with me?"

"The Batwave would inform me of any changes in his condition," Alfred said. "I haven't heard it go off."

"Fair enough." The Riddler clenched his teeth as he slowly pushed himself up. "Well, I won't bother you any longer."

Alfred let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, come downstairs as long as you already know about it," he said. "We'll take the lift. You certainly aren't in any condition to use the Batpole."

The Riddler smiled, having half-expected Alfred to give in. "Thank you." He reached for his cane, which one of the Riddlemen had left for him, and used it to pull himself to his feet.

Alfred stood by in case he needed further assistance. "I don't know what Master Bruce will say if he comes back and finds you there, but I suppose we'll deal with that if it happens."

"I don't think there will be any problem." The Riddler glanced over his shoulder with an entertained smirk. "But . . . Batpole? Batwave? Do you rename everything here with 'Bat' in front of it?"

Alfred did not look amused. "Only those things that Master Bruce uses for his pursuit of justice as The Batman."

The Riddler half-shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "Well, whatever works. I just find it amusing. I don't name all of my inventions after myself. And I'm supposed to be the vain one."

Alfred practically snorted, a most undignified behavior for which he would have hated himself had he actually done it. "It's a way of identifying what the inventions are to be used for," he said angrily. "See here, Mr. Edward Nygma or whatever your name is, you have a lot of gall to come in here expecting my medical expertise and insulting Master Bruce in the same breath!"

The elevator happened to open at that moment, revealing a stunned Bruce Wayne. "What's going on here?!" he demanded.

Alfred jumped a mile. "Oh, Master Bruce! This . . . man arrived on your doorstep, having come out on the losing side of a fight with that treacherous Scarecrow. He seems to think I will help him. He also doesn't care for the names you've given your . . . inventions."

"Nevermind that, Alfred," Bruce said. "Nygma, what happened?!" He frowned, glowering at the Riddler.

"Your butler summed it up quite well," was the reply. "We were just going downstairs to see how serious this possible concussion is."

Bruce stepped to the side in the elevator. "Come on then," he said, still frowning. "And I want to know more about what happened between you and Scarecrow."

"Of course," the Riddler purred as he limped inside, followed by a displeased Alfred. "Shall I give you a play-by-play of every blow landed?"

"Tell me what he said," Bruce retorted. "Did he say anything that could be a clue?"

"He was just saying more of the same things he's been saying," the Riddler said. "None of it seemed especially important. Although . . . his speech pattern was a lot like Dr. Crane's."

"Unfortunately, we can't take a speech pattern to court," Bruce frowned. "The only solution might be to try to follow or bug Crane."

"I'm surprised you haven't tried that already," the Riddler said.

"I didn't want to risk putting Ethan or any other Arkham patients in danger by planting a bug that could be found," Bruce said.

"But now you're getting so desperate, you might try it anyway," the Riddler said.

The elevator reached the Batcave and everyone stepped out. Alfred went on ahead to ready the machine and check on Penguin in person. The Riddler followed behind, moving slowly and clearly in pain.

Bruce kept pace with him. "How long ago did this happen?" he asked.

"Thirty minutes, perhaps," the Riddler said. "I'm not exactly sure."

"And why are you here?" Bruce frowned.

"Wayne Manor was closer than the hospital or Yinsey's place," the Riddler replied. "And Yinsey's on duty. Anyway, I didn't want to worry her."

"There is a very good hospital near downtown Gotham," Alfred grunted. He moved away from the very lifeless Penguin and over to the X-Ray machine.

The Riddler sighed. "Alright. I wanted to talk to you." He looked to Bruce. "I hoped you'd be . . . back."

"What did you want to talk about?" Bruce wondered.

"For one thing, if you ever plan to let anyone else know what you really do," the Riddler said.

"You mean like Yin," Bruce said instantly.

"Ah, then it has been on your mind," the Riddler smirked.

"Yes, it has. I'll admit that it would have been more convenient earlier today, if Yin had known the truth. But there's a lot of situations where it might be convenient at the time and not long-term. I don't want to make the wrong decision. This is something that can't be turned back. Once I do it, that's it."

"Detective Yin isn't just anyone," the Riddler said, a slight edge in his voice. "She's been loyal to you ever since the fiasco with Ethan Bennett being turned into Clayface. If she knew the truth, it would be good for you long-term and not just now."

"And it would be good for you," Bruce shot back. "You wouldn't have to worry about inadvertently spilling it through one of your irresistible riddles."

The Riddler looked away. "I wouldn't have to feel guilty for knowing something so important and keeping it from her," he said quietly.

Bruce softened slightly, but still said, "It's not like I told you willingly, either. If I had my way, you wouldn't know."

Alfred looked over from where he had the machine prepared. "If I may say so, Sir, Detective Yin can certainly be trusted. And even though I do not care for your current ally here, I do agree with him that Detective Yin knowing the truth would be a help and not a hindrance."

"I've thought about that, Alfred," Bruce said. "I've been thinking of telling both her and Ethan. I was going to tell Ethan right before the Joker turned him into Clayface," he added by way of explanation to the Riddler. "And while I might hold off on telling Ethan until he's away from Arkham, I'd rather tell Yin on this case, if I'm going to tell her at all."

"That sounds like a plan, Master Bruce," Alfred said, pleased.

The Riddler started to relax. "Good."

"And the machine is ready now, if you want to go through with having an X-Ray," Alfred interjected, somewhat stiffly.

The Riddler made his way in that direction. "I might as well, since we're all down here."

His mind wandered during the actual taking of X-Rays. Suppose, just suppose, the situation was reversed. What if Yin knew the truth and he didn't? Would she feel as guilty for keeping it from him as he was from her? She was coming to trust him, but would she trust him with such vital information? Could she?

"Mr. Nygma!"

He started. Alfred was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, we're done?"

"Yes. It will be a few minutes before the photographs are developed."

The Riddler slowly limped away from the machine. "Very well." He wandered over to the bed where Penguin was laying, looking down for a moment at his once-colleague in crime.

Bruce followed him. "Crane's—or whoever's—electricity really did a number on him."

"Yes," the Riddler agreed. "So I see."

Neither of them was expecting Penguin's eyes to suddenly snap open. "What's happening? Where am I?!"

Bruce and Alfred immediately ducked out of sight before they could be seen. The Riddler leaned heavily on his cane, but tried to disguise that he was doing so out of necessity. "Where are you? Why, in The Batman's mind, of course," he smirked.

"Huh?" Penguin looked over at him in bewilderment. "Riddler? Why are you here?"

"I just dropped in for a little chat," the Riddler replied. "And to see how badly you were hurt."

Penguin grunted. "Oh yeah . . . you are buddy-buddy with the Bat now, aren't you?" He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you're not gonna get me to believe that you were worried about me."

"I suppose not," the Riddler calmly agreed. "Still, even though we've had our differences, I'm not crazy about the thought of you being the Scarecrow's first fatality."

"Scarecrow?" Penguin frowned. "It was Crane that was after me. Him and that nutty woman psychiatrist."

"Dr. Portman?" Batman demanded, suddenly appearing on the scene.

Penguin started. "Yeah, her," he said. "She's a real shrew. She puts on this whole act of being interested in helping you get over whatever your problem is, but she's really not interested in that at all! It seems more like she's interested in picking you apart and seeing if you'll go back to whatever you were doing after some treatment."

"That's the same impression I had," the Riddler said. "Just like Hugo Strange."

"Who actually put the disc on your neck?" Batman inquired of Penguin.

"What disc?" Penguin retorted.

"There was a small disc on the back of your neck," Batman told him. "It electrocuted you the moment you mentioned Dr. Crane had put you in a room."

"Oh. Yeah." Penguin scowled. "I remember being shocked, but I don't remember them putting any disc on me."

"You were probably too caught up in your delusions to realize," Batman said.

"If I had to guess, I would say Portman," the Riddler offered. "Crane seems more interested in intangible things such as gas."

"Then Portman is a good guess," Batman said. "Unless there's another party involved in this too."

"I wouldn't know about that," Penguin said. "I only remember the two of them. And Crane was doing stuff to other people. I wanted to tell Bennett about that, but that's when Crane took me." He glowered at Batman. "And now you're probably gonna take me back there, aren't you?"

"Not until the danger is gone," Batman replied.

"If it's not them, it'll be someone else," Penguin insisted. "Arkham is not a happy place. It's not even much of a place for 'rehabilitation', if you believe in that kind of thing." He looked to the Riddler. "I'll bet Arkham didn't have much to do with you switching sides."

"Not much, I'll grant you," the Riddler said. "But then again, you and I aren't insane."

That is debatable! Alfred barely refrained from saying out loud.

"Arkham doesn't do much for the real nutjobs either," Penguin said.

The Riddler smirked. "The Joker, at least, is beyond help, as far as I'm concerned. He doesn't want to change; therefore, nothing can make him." He started to turn away. "And now, if that's all you can tell us, I believe I'm going to take my leave."

"That's all I really know," Penguin shrugged, "except for what Crane seemed to be doing to those other people."

"You didn't actually see what he was doing?" Batman frowned.

"I saw him take people into the same room he put me in," Penguin said, "and then later they'd come out acting weird and babbling about creepy stuff they'd seen."

"That's basically what I saw as well," the Riddler said. "But I never saw Dr. Crane." He paused. "You know, that's odd. He was there during the time I was there last."

"Maybe he didn't want you to see him yet," Batman suggested.

"That could be," the Riddler nodded. "I don't know why he would care, but I could imagine him having some twisted reason."

"He's really out there," Penguin said. "But what's so special about you specifically?"

"I used to be his student," the Riddler answered. "And now I really will take my leave. Goodnight." He looked to Batman. "I'll see you later, to continue our little discussion."

Batman nodded.

"So what's gonna happen to me?" Penguin asked. "Do I get to stay on the bed?"

"Only if I'm sure you're not going to leave it," Batman replied, and promptly handcuffed him to the metal railing.

"Wak!" Penguin cried in displeasure.

Alfred, watching from his concealed spot, had to smile in amusement.

"By the way," the Riddler said, suddenly appearing in front of him, "about those pictures."

Alfred started. "Oh. Yes." He held out the X-Rays. "There are no cracked or broken bones and no indication of damage to the brain. But I would still recommend a good rest."

The Riddler took the pictures. "And I intend to get it. Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth." He paused. "I honestly do appreciate the time you took to help me."

Somewhat surprised at the strange man's sincerity, Alfred tried to mask his feelings as he said, "Just don't make it a waste of my time, Mr. Nygma."

"You won't have to worry about that," the Riddler smirked, and turned to limp toward the elevator. "And I can find my way out. Goodnight."

Alfred watched him go. "What an odd man," he said to himself.

xxxx

Ethan was restless. Unable to sleep, he paced about his cell, wondering about Scarecrow and Penguin and Bruce and Yin and everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Was Dr. Crane Scarecrow? It didn't seem like it could be. Yet, why did he feel that what he had said about seeing Dr. Crane at nine might not be true? Had it been a different time? And either way, did it really matter? Even if Dr. Crane hadn't been around during the time Scarecrow had been active in Gotham, it did not mean they were one and the same person.

And then there was what Bruce had said about seeing Penguin somewhere outside Arkham. Could Penguin be alive? If he had escaped, why hadn't anyone sounded the alarm? What if instead they had thought he was dead and had done something horrible like throw his body in the bay, but he had come to and managed to swim away?

Ethan slammed his fist into his hand. If only he had some real answers! And if only he wasn't stuck in here, where he couldn't do anything to help anyone!

"Hey!" a familiar voice suddenly exclaimed. "This isn't the way to the head-shrinker's office. Where are we going?"

Ethan perked up, hurrying to the glass wall to look out. "Joker?" he said under his breath. He would recognize that voice anywhere. And indeed, in a moment, he caught a glimpse of a guard prodding Joker past the corridor and down another.

"Dr. Crane wants to see you," the guard replied harshly.

"Me?!" Joker shot back. "In the middle of the night?"

"Shut up and keep moving," the guard growled.

"What the heck?" Ethan said. "This is just like with Penguin—being dragged out late like this! Did Joker see something too?"

"No, Mr. Bennett, he did not."

Ethan started at the cold, businesslike voice. "Dr. Portman!" He turned to face the woman, who was standing at the glass door. "What's going on? Why does Crane want Joker right now?"

"I authorized it, Mr. Bennett." Dr. Portman's lips curled in a wicked smile. "Dr. Crane wanted a new subject and I suggested our most notorious inmate. You see, that will enable me to study you at the same time."

"How do you figure?!" Ethan demanded in disbelief.

Dr. Portman adjusted her glasses. "The Joker tormented you in the past. He turned you into Clayface and directly led to everything you did in your mad state. Now, he will be the one in torment. How will you react? Clayface would have enjoyed it, regretting only that he was not responsible for it. But what about Ethan Bennett? Will he enjoy it?"

"What? That's sick!" Ethan cried. "You're both crazy!"

"Then, Mr. Bennett, we are right where we belong," Dr. Portman declared with a mad smile.

The Joker's voice was soon echoing through the ventilation system. "Oooh, are we going to play with the same stuff that made Pengy lose it? I havta warn you, Doc, I'm not afraid of anything."

Dr. Crane's voice was calm and unruffled. "We'll soon find out."

For a while, the Joker laughed with increasing hysteria, not bothered at all.

That only made it all the more chilling when the screams started in earnest.

"Well," Dr. Portman mused, "so even the Joker has his fears."

"And I am not enjoying this," Ethan snarled. "You go to Dr. Crane and make him stop this, right now!"

Dr. Portman just smirked, folding her arms. "He will stop when he's ready. As will I."

Ethan hit the glass with both fists. This was the last straw. He had to find a way out of here now, tonight.

No one else was going to suffer at the hands of these mad scientists because of him.

Not even the Joker.

xxxx

Yin sighed tiredly as she shuffled into her apartment and shut the door. It had been a long, hard night, filled with chasing down the Scarecrow until his trail had gone cold. Right now, Yin had no idea where to look for him other than Arkham. And there wasn't any proof of what was happening at Arkham. She could only hope that Penguin would regain consciousness and provide some.

The sensation was immediate and familiar. Yin whirled, drawing her gun, but then stopped and stared at the sight of Batman in her kitchen doorway. "You couldn't use the Batwave?" she said wryly.

"This had to be done in person," Batman replied.

Yin raised an eyebrow. "It's not about Penguin or Scarecrow?"

He took a step forward. "There isn't any easy way to do this, so I'm just going to come right out with it. It's time to take our alliance to the next level."

"What are you talking about?" Yin asked. But even as she did, Batman's hand went to the cowl. She gasped as he started to pull it back. Then it was off and Batman was unmasked, standing in her living room.

Bruce Wayne was standing in her living room.

She could only keep staring, her heart increasing in speed. She had come to Gotham to learn the mystery of The Batman's identity. She had been tempted to unmask him more than once when the opportunity had been dropped in her lap, but she hadn't ever gone through with it. Then they had become partners against crime and she still hadn't known who he was.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne had partied and played across the city. Yin had tried to like him because he was Ethan's best friend, and gradually she had come to see that the party animal persona was all just an act for a deep and caring man beneath.

But this. . . . She had never once suspected this.

"You," she finally choked out. "Why?"

"I didn't want any other kids to end up without their parents," Bruce . . . Batman . . . said. "Then I didn't want anyone in Gotham to suffer because of criminals."

Yin shook her head. That made sense. "Why are you letting me know this now, after all this time?"

"It will make it easier to discuss the Scarecrow case," was the reply.

"Then isn't there someone else who should be brought in on this too?" Yin retorted.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the answer came to her.

"See you around."

That smug, egotistical, knowing smirk. . . . Those clever words. . . .

"Riddler already knows," she whispered in further disbelief.

"He figured it out himself," Batman said, pulling the cowl back up. "I didn't tell him."

"And he didn't tell me," Yin breathed.

"He didn't tell anyone," Batman said. "He could have, but he chose not to." He paused. "And Penguin's awake. He confirmed it was Crane and Portman who hurt him and who have been hurting others."

"Great," Yin said, trying to shake off her shock and get back to basics. "So what's our next move?"

"I recorded everything Penguin told me. I'm going to play the tape for the commissioner and let him decide," Batman said.

"That and the disc should be enough to get us in the door," Yin said. "Crane and Portman are going down."

Batman nodded. "By tomorrow, we might be able to get Arkham on the first step to being a genuinely good place to treat the criminally unstable." He turned to go back to the window.

Yin moved to open the door. "You could just go downstairs the normal way," she said.

"I could," Batman said. He glided to the window and climbed out, closing it behind him.

Shaking her head, Yin hauled the door open and stepped out. It was late, but she wouldn't be surprised if the Riddler was awake.

She was going to go ask him why he had kept quiet.