Conundrums
Author's Note: Time for another colourful villain to make an appearance in the world of Jason Todd's Robin. Other chapters will follow this, perhaps before the end of the week. Enjoy.
I can't stand crossword puzzles. The clues are just stupid and pretty far out of a normal guy's knowledge circle, so I avoid them. Brain teasers and conundrums are the same. So you can imagine I really get irritated when a weirdo with a serious 'thing' for riddles swans onto the scene and starts playing games. Yeah, Eddie Nigma is back at large, somebody throw a ticker tape parade. He's normally just a really camp clown, a guy who talks a big game and wimps out at the death. Bruce and I have taken him down five times in the past and apparently Dick just stopped counting. Eddie's not only a habitual criminal; he's also a perpetual disappointment. Yeah sure the green-clad goon's got an IQ that makes Mensa blush, but he's still no match for Bruce's intellect. Doesn't matter how hard the puzzle is, how convoluted the solution may be or even how obscure the source material turns out to be; the big guy ALWAYS figures it out. Me, I just stand back and hit the thugs dumb enough to run. That system works for us, with me as the muscle and him as the brains. Fortunately this time, Nigma is a little more serious about the whole thing; he's already killed three people with victim-operated death-traps inside a month. Camp turns lethal awful quick in this city. Bruce is pissed.
He hasn't slept for three days running now. Somehow the case always comes first, despite the fact that GCPD do this gig for a living and even they sleep when chasing murderers. I sleep too, because I'm not obsessed with the puzzle either. When it comes down to it, Bruce and Eddie aren't all that different; their compulsions just pop up in different ways. And, even though the big guy preaches about justice and morality night and day, we all know this is a competition to prove who the smartest man in Gotham is. Bruce has an ego that's just as superhumanly large as the rest of him, although he'd never admit it, and WANTS that title. He can have it.
Somewhere out there, Eddie's hasn't slept for days too. He's probably mired in hypotheses and scenarios, trying to determine how fast Bruce can solve the riddle he left him yesterday. Even though the man is arrogant and considers himself superior to every person in this city, including the big guy, Eddie can't help himself. I know because I see it with Bruce. Eddie needs the wheels in his head to turn, constantly. Without continuous challenges to his intellect, Nigma wouldn't be able to function as effectively as he does. He'd stop trying and just give up. As much as he says otherwise, Bruce NEEDS people like Eddie to keep him in it too. Without costumed freaks threatening to raze his city to the ground, Bruce would have given up on this life already. This is the price of obsession. I want no part of it, not now, not ever.
I get woken up at something ridiculous like four in the morning by Bruce. He's in my room, hunched over my bed, shaking my shoulders. Just when I think this dream can't get any weirder, he starts whispering.
"I've got it. I know the location." You have got to be kidding me. Is this guy for real? You want me to get up a four in the morning to go find something potentially lethal to play with? Don't think I'm playing this game, rich boy.
"If you survive, bring back pizza. Extra cheese, no pepperoni." I instruct him before turning away from him and closing my eyes.
"Please, Jason I need you."
"Yeah? Well my bed needs me and I can't be in two places at once here."
"A girl may die within an hour if we don't leave right now."
"Well, seeing as I'm butt-naked and we have to leave RIGHT now, I don't think I'm going to make it." He jerks the covers off me in one swift motion and growls his next words.
"Get up, now." I sigh lethargically before reluctantly hauling my ass off the mattress.
"It was a joke, alright? I'm up."
"Put some pants on and meet me in the cave. Five minutes."
As soon as I get down to the cave, he doesn't even need to tell me to put on my costume; I'm stripping already. He's sat in the car, cowl and caped up to the absolute limit, a look of grim determination carved into his face as I reluctantly join him in the passenger seat whilst fixing my cape. Apparently there's NO time to even put on my seatbelt before he fires up the engine and the car just thunders off into the darkness. I'd glare at him, but he's too jacked up to notice anything but the goal ahead of him. So I just sit back and keep my mouth shut. After a few minutes of deathly silence, the kind that even a cemetery would think too quiet, Bruce finally fills me in on what the hell is going on right now.
"Riddler's puzzle was a simple one if you were to look at it in terms of the big picture as opposed to the individual components. I discovered that the majority of the code was simple repetition, meant to keep me looking for some deeper meaning to explain their inclusion, to distract me. Once I realized I had to ignore the number of repetitions of the message, I focused on what else I had actually uncovered. The hostage's age, sex and location were outlined in that repeated message using a unique encryption sequence. Once I broke it, everything fell into place." It took you three DAYS to uncover THREE pieces of information? That is what I would definitely call a piss-poor effort, Mr World's Greatest Detective. Did you try breaking it with your eyes shut or what? I just nod to show him I follow what's been said. He's lucky I don't fall asleep with how dry and dull his explanation was; the guy's all brains, no soul. Does he even enjoy this crap anymore? Still, a girl is supposedly in trouble right now so I'm really focused for this one. I just really hope I haven't experienced my last sex dream ever because it ended way too soon for me to snuff it tonight. I'll fill you in on the details later. It was a pretty sweet setup. Okay, so there were three of them naked in the pool and…
"Jason?"
"Yes?"
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"Uh, warehouse on Gotham Docks, lot number two-four-nine, you enter through the front and I take the rear. The green goon's probably used an electric current in the trap design so make sure I've got rubber-soled boots on." Yeah, Bruce taught me to split my concentration and the art of total recall before I could even execute a cartwheel.
"Good." So, anyway, back to this dream of mine; and then one of them produces a can of whipped cream…
"We're here." I hope I don't forget this dream before I get to the best part. We'll see in a while, after saving yet another person's life from being destroyed by a lycra-clad maniac. We both jump out the car without another word spoken and head to our respective entry points on the building.
The warehouse in question looks like a new build, the kind criminals have started budgeting to make our jobs harder. Instead of the classical corrugated iron structure that's about as effective as a chocolate fireguard at keeping out trouble, they've got a superhero's nightmare; lead-lined brick. It's highly expensive stuff and very sought after in a little place called Metropolis although I can't imagine why. Like blue boy's x-ray vision, our thermal imaging equipment and motion sensors can't penetrate through lead laden material. Nigma knows this. It's a custom job all over; there's no windows, roof access point or back door for that matter. I think really hard about whether or not to just use gelatine explosive to make my own entrance, deciding that it might trigger something inside. I double-back to the big guy.
"Boss, I can't find a way in."
"I know." Bruce gestures to a blank wall where designers should've probably put a door in. I frown.
"There's no other way in. So, what's the answer: holographic projection or something else?" The big man shakes his head.
"It's simpler than that." He walks forward and taps the wall with his knuckles until we both hear a hollow sound. Bruce takes one step back and then drives his elbow through the brick. It's not lead-lined stuff, just a brick-covered piece of wood screen. Another strike and the whole thing tumbles down to reveal a narrow corridor with a heavy door at the end. I have to roll my eyes when I see this lunatic has taken the time to paint question marks all over the inside. Clearly he fancies himself an interior decorator; something I think is pretty funny for a murderer.
"You think it's booby-trapped, big man?" I ask gesturing to the corridor. Bruce shakes his head.
"No. The real trap is inside the building. It would make little sense trying to kill us before we see the way it works. Let's go." So we just waltz up to the door like a couple of amateurs and give a brief listen to the other side before deciding it's a good idea to turn the handle and walk inside.