Chapter 22 Now in I Go Like a Fool
It took seven nights for Helena to create a super hero.
The first night, she learned to prowl. She would comb the back alleys and abandoned streets of Gotham, far from the gaze of anyone significant and stopped a few muggings and drug deals. She wore an old black leotard and a ski mask until she could track down who made costumes for the underworld of the Gotham elite. It was thrilling.
By the second day, she found a name: Kittlemeier. When she paid him a visit early that evening she found he wasn't what she was expecting. Though, frankly she didn't particularly know what to expect from a man whose client list once featured both Batman and the Joker. She knew him to be about seventy years old, and he looked it. He was bent over some piece of sewing; tiny glasses perched on the end of his nose. She'd mastered the art of entering silently, but he still sensed the shift, calling out, "Who's that there?"
She decided it would be best not to toy with him and let her presence be known. "Friend of a friend." He looked her over, and for the first time since she'd turned 13, she felt uncomfortable under an appraising gaze. She shrugged it off, returning to a playful tone. "I need some evening wear, I hear you're the best."
He continued to look her over. "Who's this friend?"
She took a seat on his table, crossing her legs in a way that usually didn't make guys glare like that. "Well, there's Batwoman, Catwoman, Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Robin, Riddler, Two Face, Poison Ivy, though I'm not sure those last ones are the best to use to convince you." She saw his shocked look and smirked. "Do you want me to keep going?"
Kittlemeier sighed, resigned and convinced. "What were you thinking?"
On night three she practiced with the batarangs she managed to swipe from Kittlemeier's. He reprimanded her the next time he saw her, not just for the theft, but he could make more suitable ones for her hands.
On the fourth night, she experimented with grappling hooks and swinging on lines of cable. It was tricky (with two near misses) but exhilarating.
On the fifth night, she admired her new outfit in Kittlemeier's mirror. "You have the same measurements as Catwoman."
Helena threw back the black cape with blue inner lining to admire the black boots and purple bustier with a zipper going down the front to tiny shorts. "Makes sense, the only things I inherited from my father reside above the shoulders."
She used the sixth night to follow Cassie, familiarizing herself with the shadows. Cassie didn't notice.
But the seventh night was different.
The Riddler checked his gun again as the blathering idiot continued. "Are you certain she will come?"
Why must the world be plagued with such idiocy? He tucked his gun away and turned to explain again, with forced smile. "As I explained before, you may recall, I've sent the clue. The pieces are in place, the die is cast, the cogs are in motion…"
The other man cut him off, "That's quite enough of that."
The Riddler's grin turned genuine, "Are you sure? I've got a million of them."
The other man growled. "This is no time for games."
The Riddler's grin widened, "But I so love games."
The darker man snorted. "No wonder your predecessor had so little respect."
The Riddler darkened. "At least I had one."
A chuckle. "I have one, the greatest of them all."
With a twinkle in his eye the Riddler questioned, "The Joker?"
The other man's fury erupted at the mention of the name. "The clown? The clown! That madman was little more than the joke he claimed to be. Insanity is so easy and simple. That's all he was insane. It's hardly anything at all."
You would know. The Riddler kept that thought to himself. "Well, I think it's time for me to scamper off. I've got date with a pretty lady tonight." He walked out to the henchmen in the outside room. "Let's go muscle."
As he left the Riddler made a mental note to himself, don't partner up with the weirdoes again. He thought for a minute more and amended his rule, unless they're hot.
Ethan Grant fished for the cigarettes he'd given up in his pocket. He needed a distraction, something.
"The Bat Signal isn't needed."
Ethan didn't even flinch, he was starting to get used to her sneaking up on him. Perhaps it was just knowing the woman behind the mask more though, as much as she'd let him anyway. "I know that, but we have pretences to maintain." He walked over to the control panel and flipped off the modified fog light. "We've got another clue." He moved to hand her the clue but she avoided him. She'd always been like that anytime he tried to initiate personal contact between them. It was frustrating, especially at times like this when it really meant nothing. It meant nothing.
"I already know." She held out her hand. "I just need the clue."
He gave it to her but held it in order to pull her in closer. Her eyes flashed, but she allowed it. If he weren't so angry, he'd probably be grateful. "Where is he? You may need backup."
She glared, fire burning in her eyes. She ripped herself from him and flew off the roof. Leaving behind only the unspoken, "I don't need your help and I don't need you!"
Still, Ethan whispered his worry to the wind. "Be careful, Cass."
There was no question that she was walking into a trap. Batwoman could taste the set-up in the air. Still, she was Batwoman. She could handle whatever Riddler had to throw at her.
It didn't take long.
The first room was a labyrinth. She set discharges to cut through, and the Riddler was displeased by her "cheating."
She didn't really give a damn.
The next room had her trapped in a box with only a computer screen and keyboard. The point was to answer the questions he would flash. For every right answer, he would allow the exiting door to open a crack. For every wrong answer the hatch holding back as much water as the glass box could contain. Again, Batwoman passed over the game and used brute force to get herself out of the box and closer to her goal.
Again, the Riddler was displeased.
Luckily for Batwoman at this point the Riddler was out of tricks and with the games over, she saw henchmen loading up high tech equipment loading a truck under Riddler's supervision. When they saw her they immediately dropped what they were doing to engage her, she dispensed of them quickly keeping the escaping Riddler in the corner of her eye.
He would not escape this time. She brought down the last man and managed to cut in front of the Riddler, blocking his escape route.
Again, he appeared displeased.
"Game over." Cassie nearly cringed at the corny line; she needed to hang around Dick less.
Riddler pulled out a gun. "Enough theatrics."
Cassie was prepared for the rip that rang through her. She looked down, shocked to see her suspicions confirmed.
He shot her.
Cassie felt life's blood pouring from her. She always suspected it would end like this, but still found herself unprepared. Her body's instinct took over and she clutched at the wound desperately trying to keep the red inside rather than pouring out. She felt herself stumble from the effort and she once thought people only did that in movies.
The Riddler didn't laugh, only smiled and she felt the violence boil up inside of her. He would pay for this he would pay dearly.
Then her foot stumbled into nothing but air and she felt the rest of her falling after.
She closed her eyes, feeling the rush of the wind for the last time, but it was over too quickly. And the pain she felt on impact could not be worse.
She felt like crying.
But wouldn't give her last enemy the satisfaction.
The Riddler looked down at his former enemy. He could see the blood begin to pool.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
Riddler turned to his 'partner.' He refrained from the usual smart comeback as the henchmen were gaining consciousness again. And henchmen were not known for their loyalty, especially ones brought on by someone else. He shrugged. "Gun works as good as deathtrap." Besides complex death traps would be lost on such an average intellect as Batwoman.
The other man simply glared. "It was my duty to kill the imposter."
That was the real Batwoman, but again the Riddler held back from saying it aloud with six large men gathering behind their master—not him. "Dead is dead."
The other man stormed off in a fury, still the Riddler was glad for the loaded gun with five bullets left. The henchmen didn't move. The Riddler ignored them to check on his creation once more. He caught some of the men's lost looks and smiled evilly to himself. With a flourish he picked up his cane. "Remember what happened to the last Huntress?"
He was no longer the only one grinning evilly now. "It seems you have the reminder of the night off gentlemen." For the first time the Riddler longed for a bowler hat to tip.