A/N: Okay, this chapter may be choppier than most because I've kind of lost my train of thought in this story. Damn natural disasters have a way of messing up the creative process. Fair warning, I don't do riddles, so I apologize in advance for its terribleness.

Chapter 10 Call Me a Sinner, Call Me a Saint

Seven months. Seven months and nothing to show for it. Finding Helena's birth-parents should not be this hard. Everything Barbara came across led to a dead end. Someone had definitely covered this up, and that someone did a damn good job to Barbara's frustration. She was meeting the girl tomorrow and she had nothing.

Barbara took an aspirin. She had a firm rule that when it starts to hurt, it's time to change subjects. So she gave up on the confusing paper trial that was the adoption process to focus on something much less frustrating: a Riddler clue.

Made famous by a sinking Hollywood and Vine

The object of the word tawdry you can find me behind

Barbara rubbed her head. She was going to need another aspirin.

The Riddler twirled his cane as he strolled around in the jewelry story, like he was taking a leisurely walk rather than breaking several laws. While he preferred stealing high-tech equipment to simple thefts of money and jewelry, he had bills to pay just like everyone else. Also, he did rather enjoy it when no mindless muscle was required. He could take the time to enjoy himself this way. He looked into a display case, he couldn't take anything else tonight as he'd already sent the clue, but there was never any harm in looking. He caught a reflection of himself in the glass.

The Riddler thought it was ridiculous that anyone could actually believe he was the first Riddler's son. He looked nothing like him, other than the cane and green color scheme. He was much taller and thinner, wore black and white make-up rather than a domino mask, and had long black hair rather than short red tucked under a bowler cap. While he'd been a fan of the original Riddler, he always thought the problem was respect. No one feared the Riddler. Granted, the reason he took to him so much originally was his lack of mindless killing or mindless anything, but it wouldn't have killed the man to learn a karate move or two. This Riddler was not about to make the same mistakes. He was new and improved.

He moved on, shaking away thoughts about the Riddler name and legacy. It was time to collect his prize: the Heart of the Ocean, the real diamond necklace of the movie Titanic. In less than a minute he held it in his hand. He turned almost giddy enough to skip out when he saw that too black shadow.

"I finally got you."

The Riddler straightened up. He'd been waiting for this moment. He inched his hand up to the question mark handle of his cane, ready to grandstand on the level of rogue legends. "I don't think it counts until I'm in Arkham. Took you long enough to figure out one of my riddles, I've been trying to make the easier for you."

Most would have taken her silent response as her being through talking; but the Riddler figured it was something else. He began laughing. "You didn't figure it out, did you?" He stopped laughing and wagged his finger. "Tsk. Tsk. Batwoman. So disappointing to find you're all brawn and no brain. Certainly not living up to our predecessor are we?"

She noticed his hands, one fiddling with his cane and the other with the necklace. "Said the Goth nightmare posing as Riddler."

He gave a devilish grin, moving to a defensive position. "The problem with the old Riddler is that he was all brain and no brawn, which did poorly against a foe that had both. Though I now see you have no brain, I over-compensated preparing for the old and learned both as well."

Suddenly Batwoman attacked, pulling a bow staff from somewhere hidden beneath her cape. The Riddler was quick to defend himself, pushing a button turning his cane to a staff and blocking the hit.

They began to dance. She swung around her staff and he ducked. She threw out a fist and he dodged. It didn't take him long to figure out that she was a much better fighter than him. He wasn't worried. He'd still walk away from this fight and escape into the night.

She attacked with her staff again and he blocked again. Bring her face closer and pushing against his staff to show her superior strength, he gave her another grin. He quickly turned his head and pushed another button. A small puff of smoke emitted from the top of his weapon, and Batwoman began coughing.

With her grip weakened, the Riddler swung his staff around like a bat; bring it down on her head. She fell to the ground. He stood above his defeated foe. "I assure you, this time around the name Riddler will be feared in the streets of Gotham." He pushed his staff back into a cane, and walked out of the store.

Cassie tore down the lane leading to the cave. She could feel the throbbing from the point on her head where the Riddler hit it, not to mention the hangover from whatever chemical he'd blasted her with. Ethan had to wake her up with smelling salts when he arrived. It was beyond embarrassing. She'd run out of there, fleeing from her damaged pride. Nothing like that had ever happened to Batman. How had the Riddler gotten the drop on her in the first place? It was the riddle. He knew she hadn't figured it. Oracle did. He didn't know that of course, but those comments about measuring up to Batman got to her. His stupid comments weren't supposed to get her; she was better than that.

By the time she'd made it to the cave she'd worked herself into such a froth over the whole thing, that Bruce was probably the last person she should have been seeing. Her insecurities and wounds were too fresh. Not only was he waiting for her, but he had an interrogation and subsequent lecture ready too.

She'd opened the hatch and stepped out when he started. "What went wrong?"

She ignored him, going to the vault to remove the cowl and cape, but Bruce Wayne was not a man to be ignored. He badgered the whole story out of her, word by word. "You didn't figure out the riddle for yourself? You can't do that Cassie. You can't pawn all the detective work off on Barbara and myself."

Cassie had been sitting at the computer, minus cape and cowl but still in uniform. She'd looked like a scolded schoolgirl before, but looked up with a fire in her eyes. "I can barely read his riddles, Bruce! How am I supposed to figure them out?"

"It's not all about fighting Cassie. It's detective work. Figuring out the truth."

Cassie had had enough of this. "I'm not you Bruce. We can't all be the World's Greatest Detective! Maybe you would have been better off cloning yourself!"

Bruce glared. "Fine. Let's talk about fighting. He bested you there too."

"He didn't fight fair."

"Because villains are known for fighting fair."

She threw her hands up frustrated. "He blasted me with some chemical. How was I supposed to fight that?" She turned back on him. "I seem to remember you falling victim to a lot of chemicals in your day."

He crossed his arms, taking the accusation in stride. "I also found antidotes to almost all of them."

Cassie sat in her chair again. She spun around to face the computer screen. "Get out of my cave, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Your cave?"

"I'm Batwoman, aren't I?"

"It's my house."

"I live here too."

Bruce deepened his voice to what used be known as a Batgrowl. "I'm Batman, Cassie."

He evened his voice again. "And don't you forget it."

He turned to walk away, and Cassie shouted after him. "No one will let me!" She held her head in her half opened hands, trying to hold back tears she rarely had, and whispering to herself, "I can't escape it."