Prologue

The sun was just starting to fall behind the trees. Night would come quickly and the true Gotham City would once again awaken. The yellow light began to flicker from behind the woods like a strobe as a long black limousine wound along a road up a hill in the northern outskirts.

"I apologize for bringing you out here so late, Mr. Nygma. This business of ours tends to keep odd hours. I'm sure you can relate," the man said, smiling.

"Please, you may call me the Riddler. In many ways it's my real name," the Riddler said. The Riddler looked at the man across from him trying to find a tell. A crack in his stiff and well mannered face. His hair was slicked back, he wore dark sunglasses and a dark suit, a black briefcase sat next to him. He had answered his cell phone four times now since they got in the limo, apologizing for each interruption. A very busy man of business he was indeed. He was known simply as the Broker. "You're never going to tell me who arranged this little meeting of ours, are you?"

"No," the Broker said. "Discretion is a very big part of my business. I take it very seriously. But if I had to guess, I don't think you really want me to tell you."

The Riddler smiled. The man was right. There's no fun in simply being told the answer to a riddle. Whoever was responsible for bringing him out this far out from the city sure was doing it with some class and style. Riddler had never been in the back of a stretch limo before.

"We're coming up on the house now," the Broker said.

The trees parted and the orange and pink sky opened up along the palisades. The limo came to a stop in front of a large iron gate. The Broker rolled the window down and pointed a remote control. The gate slowly pushed open, screeching and moaning. They continued on down the driveway and stopped just past a dried up grand fountain.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" the Broker said. The driver was already out of his seat and opening the door for them.

Riddler climbed out and put a black bowler hat on his head. He wore a tan trench coat. He felt underdressed compared to the Broker's suit and tie. It was humid and he could smell the sea. In front of him was an English stone mansion. It looked like it hadn't been occupied in many years.

"It's a bit of a fixer upper," the Broker said. He guestered his tand toward the overgrown lawn and bushes. "But the house is intact. Just needs a bit of cosmetic cleaning. Heck of a view though. And about eight miles down the coast is Wayne Manor."

"And you're just going to give all of this to me," the Riddler said. "This house and property. Free of any charge?"

"Well, it's my client who's doing the giving. I'm just the middle man. And the house isn't the only thing. The briefcase in the limo has a sizable sum of cash inside of it. I don't know how much. I haven't looked. And I was told to give you this letter." The Broker pulled a white envelope from his coat pocket and held it out.

The Riddler took the envelope and said, "And I take it you have no idea what this letter says, do you?"

"That's correct."

The Riddler opened the envelope.

Kill the Batman and keep the house. There is more cash where that came from when you are done.

The letter was typed and unsigned. There were no other marks or symbols.

The Riddler looked up at the house. The sun was setting further behind it and the details of the mansion's facade became lost in the growing shadows. It became a massive monolith of darkness.

"I can show you around inside," the Broker said. "If you're interested."

"When is the top of a mountain similar to a savings account?"

The Broker chuckled and thought for a moment. "I don't know."

"When one's interest is peaked," the Riddler said. "No, the tour won't be necessary. I'll figure it out for myself. I'll take it."

###

Chapter 1

"Good evening, and welcome to Gotham on Top, I'm Summer Gleeson."

"And I'm Veronica Vreeland."

"Tonight we'll take a look at the power hierarchy of Gotham's streets," Summer said . "The Mob, the police, and the Batman, and the rumored feud between alleged mafia bosses, Oswald Copbelpot and Rupert Thorne. And later we'll profile a Gotham scientist making waves in her field of cryogenics, Nora Fries, before we have her live in-studio later this week.

"But first, the social media queen herself, the gossip girl of Gotham City, Miss Veronica Vreeland! How are you tonight, Ronnie?"

"Please, Summer, call me Veronica, only my friends call me Ronnie," Veronica said. "Aaaanywho! Oh, baby, the goss is HOT tonight in Gotham, and it's gettin' real! And guess what, folks! We got a brand new Gotham Top Five, tonight!

(Fake studio applause)

"Sponsoring this month's Gotham Top Five is," Veronica said. A drumroll played. " The Veronica Vreeland First Annual Flugelheim Museum Charity Gala!"

"Wow, Veronica," Summer said. "That's quite a mouthful."

"You would know, Summer. This Friday night there will be celebrities and artists and the veritable who's-who of Gotham City all congregating at the Flugelheim Museum to dance and drink and GOSSIP! Best of all, we're giving YOU, the little people of Gotham, a very special VIP experience!

"Obviously you're not famous enough to get invited to my gala in person, but for the very reasonable price $89.99, you can stream the entire event right from your sad tiny little homes!

"My crack team of interns will be filming every corner of the party from the champagne room to the co-ed bathroom! Get up close and personal at the hottest party of the summer! This Friday night!"

"And all for a good cause, right, Veronica?" Summer said.

"Absolutely! Haven't you been paying attention, Dunce? It's a charity event. And every single bit of 15 percent of every purchase of the live party stream will go directly to charity."

"And what charity is that, exactly?" Summer asked .

"Are you serious right now, Summer? How am I even supposed to know that? That's a question for my publicist. You probably should have asked HER that question, miss 'award winning journalist.' Aaaannyywho, back to MY segment of the show, and this month's Gotham Top 5! And you won't believe this folks…for numbers four and five, we have an even tie!

(Fake studio gasps)

"Who's number five? Who's number four? Well, Gotham, we'll let you decide. Two of today's headiest honchos, Rupert Thorne, local entrepreneur, and Oswald Cobblepot – or should we say, the Penguin – owner of the hot Iceberg Lounge night club, allegedly had a big time 'business' disagreement, and when 'bosses' of this nature have a falling out, it turns very ugly very quickly. There hasn't been a gang war in nearly two decades, but since the arrival of you-know-who a few years ago, everyone is on edge, and no one's territory is safe."

"I know mine's not," Summer said.

"Number three!" Veronica continued . "The crazy Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker! It's been almost a year since you-know-who put an end to the Joker's six month spree of chaos on Gotham. Ever since, he's been quietly locked away in Arkham Asylum even though most of Gotham thinks he deserves an electric chair, but the city is buzzing with upcoming vigils for the many citizens who were lost during that reign of terror. And the Joker's small, but vocal, group of supporters want his rights upheld! Is he really just a victim of society?"

"Ugh." Summer said. "Do we really have to put a spotlight on a real life monster like the Joker? He's responsible for the deaths of almost 100 people."

"Yes, Summer, yes we do. This is why I have two hundred million followers and you have twenty-two hundred.

"Number two! Oh, it's mister You-Know-Whoself, Gotham's Dark Knight! The Caped Crusader! The Batman! Or should we say the Bat-MEN? The theory that Batman is actually multiple people is nothing new, but I've heard from some very reliable people that Batman is indeed not working alone. And even cazier, word is his partner is a little kid! Can you believe it?

"Is it really an actual kid or just a little person?" Summer asked. "I mean, it's pretty sick and messed up if it's a kid, right?"

"Aren't most people in this town sick and messed up?" Veronica said . "It seems pretty on-brand for Gotham. At least Batman is trying to stop the OTHER sickos from trying to kill us, right?"

"The lesser of two evils, I guess," Summer said.

"And Number one! Gotham On Top's hottest citizen is (another drumroll) ME! Veronica Vreeland! Because my party is gonna be so good!"

Confetti dropped down from the ceiling and horns sounded.

"Oh my god, you actually gave yourself confetti," Summer said

"The Veronica Vreeland First Annual Flugelheim Museum Charity Gala is this Friday," Veronica said . "And you can stream the whole thing live, people! You need this in your lives! Trust me!"

"I'll admit. It sounds fun," Summer said . "I can't wait to go."

"I'm sorry, Summer, what did you just say?"

"It sounds like a good time. I'll see you there, right?"

"What?" Veronica said. She made a face . "Please, no, you're not invited. Ew. Stream it with the rest of the mouth breathers."

"Veronica, talking down to your potential customers really isn't–"

"They love it, the bunch of weirdos!" Veronica said.

"Well, there you have it folks," Summer said. "Gotham on Top's Gotham Top Five. When we're back from the break, our profile on cryogenicist Nora Fries."

"Booooring!"

###

The Flugelheim Museum was more than just a home to classical and modern art from painters and sculptors and photographers from all over the world, including local Gotham artists. It's often the host of spectacular parties and banquets with its grand ballroom, fine dining kitchen, and luxury bar. And on more than one occasion the Flugelheim has seen meetings with political figure-heads and exotic world leaders inside the private conference rooms deep in the lower levels of the facility. Tonight was no exception as champagne flowed into crystal flutes and horderves were served to the Gotham social elite.

The hit of Veronica Vreelands charity gala was the make-shift casino, which took the ballroom area. Poker and craps tables, roulette wheels, and plenty of cards and dice were supplied courtesy of Oswald Cobbelpot's popular Iceberg Lounge.

"Ronnie, my dear, why must you call me that horrific nickname on your show. It wounds me! Honestly!" Oswald Cobbelpot said while puffing from his opera cigarette holder. To most people in Gotham, smoking inside a prestigious building like the Flugelheim would be off limits, party or not. But to Mister Cobblepot there is very little that is off limits to him in Gotham City. Including his seal-skin coat and felted beaver fur top hat.

"But Ozzy, it's fabulous! The Penguin!" Veronica said. She said the name as if she were reading it from a Hollywood marque. "It's hot! It's a gimmick! It makes you a somebody in this town!"

The Vreeland social media team and camera men for the party's live stream photographed and filmed the two perusing and schmoozing the event. The pair have become friendly over the years, despite him being a top mob man in the city and her being Gotham television's loudest mouth, and they have settled into a nice symbiotic relationship. Every moment Veronica was seen with an alleged mafia boss like Cobbelpot, the more social media attention she got, and in turn, Oswald being seen with the bubbly and popular Vreeland softened his public image. Not to mention he had a little crush on her.

"But I thought it was my money and influence that made me a somebody in this town," Cobbelpot said. Veronica laughed heartily at that line; so much so that it surprised Cobblepot. He didn't realize he had said anything funny. The camera-men and cellphone-men captured every moment of it, and laughed just as heartily as Veronica did (They better have! She was paying them to!) But Oswald was useless around Veronica. He melted like ice in a stiff drink when he was near her.

"Get used to it, babe! You're the Penguin now!"

The Penguin flinched when she said the name that time. She said it with such calm matter-of-fact-ness like she had been calling him that her whole life. But that's just the type of cool Veronica perjected.

Most people shook at Penguin's appearance the first time they saw him, but not Veronica. She once said he had a "very Roman nose." He didn't know what that meant – and neither did Veronica, probably – but he took it to heart. A beautiful woman had never complimented his appearance before.

Deep down, name calling had always hurt Cobblepot's feelings. He had dealt with it ever since he was a boy. His mother told him it was what children did to things they were afraid of. He made up his mind that if it was his destiny in life to be feared then he'll damn sure be respected as well. And considering the Cobblepots were one of Gotham City's five founding families, respect was entitled to him. Or so he thought, anyway.

There was a new and sudden buzz among the social media team. Veronica's personal assistant and appointed director of tonight's live feed, Marilu, started directing some cameras and phones to another location.

"Marilu, where are they going?" Veronica asked. Marilu approached Veronica and whispered something in her ear. Veronica's face lit up with a smile revealing all of her sparkling teeth. Marilu scurried off. "Excuse me, Pengy. I have to greet a guest."

"Greet a guest?" Cobblepot said. "But your guest of honor is right here with you. Who could possibly win your attention over me?"

"Bruce Wayne!" Veronica said. She scampered away in her shimmering pink-gold party gown. The cameras and cellphones followed her.

"Bruce Wayne," Cobblepot said. He said the name as if he were spitting out a bug he almost swallowed. "That complete moron?"

Cobblepot turned and saw a twenty-something year old kid with curly hair and glasses still filming him with his cellphone. He raised his umbrella at him and the kid ran away.

###

A large crowd had gathered by the entrance of the Flugelheim, and not just Veronica's stream team, but everyone . It was rare for Bruce Wayne to make a public appearance these days. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of him.

"Bruce Wayne!" Veronica said. Her voice cut through the excited chatter, and the crowd parted at the sound of her.

"Ronnie!" Bruce said. He stood in his black custom italian suit, hair slicked back, and wearing a toothy smile. He was as handsome as he was rich. Veronica trotted over to him and they exchanged la bise. The cameras caught every second of it.

"Bruce, I'm so glad to see you! I didn't know you were coming. I thought you were still vacationing in Europe. How is Europe, by the way?"

"Oh, it's so European, Ronnie, you know."

"I do, I do," Veronica said. "I wanna hear all about your trip! The people of Gotham want to hear all about it!" She waved a hand at the cameras.

"Oh, you're such a dear," Bruce said, giggling. Veronica giggled back. "Say, point me to the bar and let me get loose, then we'll catch up, 'kay?"

"Oh, Bruce! Promise me!"

"Promise. And please, take your cameras with you, I need some breathing room."

"Anything for you, Sweetie." Veronica said. She turned around to her crew and snapped a finger. They immediately disbursed. "The bar is just a head in the Breyfogle gallery," she said. "And you better not keep me waiting, Mister! You know I'm not used to that."

Bruce smiled at her and watched her walk away. She barked more orders to her camera crew. He was pleased that the 'vacationing in Europe' alibi still works. It was a fitting excuse for staying out of the public eye while he focused on the mission.

A few other party guests approached him briefly for a hello and a handshake. Bruce obliged them with a big smile. He casually strolled the party, taking in all the faces of the guests as they gazed back at him. Some of the wait staff he recognized as Penguin's men. In the corner were three of Rupert Thorne's captains in his organization.

A spot by the balcony on the upper floor cleared out. A moment later the Penguin appeared to see the elusive Bruce Wayne like everyone else.

Inside Bruce's ear, practically invisible to anyone, even from a short distance, was his custom encrypted communication single device linked directly to Alfred in the Batcave and to Robin, outside on an adjacent rooftop. Bruce spoke softly. "Anyone have eyes on Thorne?"

"No, but his men are certainly here," Robin said. "They're posted on two side exits on the west end of the building. They might have snuck Thorne in. Maybe to avoid an assasination considering Penguin is basically catering the place." He was perched on the roof of the Robinson Hotel across the street, looking through binoculars.

To Dick Grayson 'thrill' was just another aspect of everyday life. As early as he could walk he was tumbling through and balancing himself on things unfit to tumbled through or balanced on. He was truly his parent's son. But being out by Batman's side watching over the city was a completely different rush. And the last four months since Bruce agreed he was ready to join him had been incredible, but look-out duty was starting to get old.

"And Jim Gordon?" Bruce said.

"The Commissioner entered a conference room in the south west wing just a few minutes ago," Alfred Pennyworth said. He sat at the massive Batcomputer where the screen was split into a dozen security camera feeds from inside and outside the Flugelheim. "Unfortunately, there is no surveillance in the conference rooms."

###

There wasn't much that could make Jim Gordon's skin crawl anymore. Not after 30 years on the Force. Not after living in Gotham for the last 10 years. Not since he first met the Batman. But being in a room with Rupert Thorne could definitely do it. Gordon tried to take a step back to make himself closer to the door, but one of Thorne's Goons had moved in front of it. Gordon didn't think Thorne was dumb enough to try to take him out in such a public place filled with cameras; he was just putting on a show. But he moved his hand closer to his gun to make himself feel a little easier.

"Jim! Please! Sit down, have a drink!" Rupert Thorne said, as if they were best pals. The lights we turned off in the room, save for a desk lamp on a heavy oakwood table. Thorne's white hair gleaned against the light. He held a cigar between two fingers, and a gold ring was squeezed onto his fat pinky. Smoke drifted in the light in front of him. His men flanked him sporting Armani and Smith & Wesson. He slid a glass with two fingers of brandy in it toward Gordon.

Gordon reluctantly sat. He looked at the drink and reminded himself that Thorne wouldn't try anything here like spiking his drink. "Be frank with me, Thorne." he said. "How nasty is this thing between you and Cobblepot gonna get?"

"Nasty? No, no, Commissioner," Thorne said, laughing. "Me and the Penguin are going to have a little sit down real soon and smooth out our disagreements. I have a proposition for him that I think he'll be very agreeable to."

"The last time yours and Cobblepot's men got into a scrap it was right in front of a school and two kids were shot dead," Gordon said.

"And I would never condone such violence, Jim! I'm disgusted by that horrible accident!" Thorne said. "But damn it, Jim, if you would just let me pay you for some help."

"I'm not for sale, Thorne."

"Is safety for sale? Is peace of mind for sale, Jim?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim said. He had to keep his cool. Thorne wants to see Jim squirm, but Jim wont give it to him.

"I'm talking about an extra retirement fund, Jim. There's no way the city pays even your position all that well. I'm just saying, the money I'm talking about is 'send Barbara to any university she wants' kind of money."

Gordon snapped out, "You do not say my daughter's name, Thorne!" Okay, he squirmed a little.

"I'm just saying this thing with me and Penguin could have been over a long time ago if I had the cooperation of the GCPD," Thorne said. He sat back in his chair, looking ashamed at Jim. "Also your boss – and my good friend – Mayor Hill agrees with me."

"I told my men to give yours a lot of breathing room as an effort to keep some peace on the streets, but if another kid dies because of gang violence in this city, we will come after you and Cobblepot, with everything we've got."

"I completely understand, Commissioner. I just want you to think about what Gotham could look like in the next few days if the Police Department continues to refuse the generosities of a very concerned citizen."

"When are you meeting with Cobbelpot?" Gordon asked.

"In two nights" Thorne said. "And I hope I can count on your support by then. You know how to get in touch with me after you've had some time to think."

Gordon just stared at him.

Finally, Thorne stood up and buttoned his jacket. "Well, Commissioner. Let's go smile for the cameras, won't we?" he said.

###

Bruce Wayne was sure to show off his glass of champagne, even tilting it and letting the drink touch his lips, but careful not to sip. He moved from one room to the next, chuckleing with some fellow West Country Club members, and a few Wayne Tech investors. The previous night, Gordon had told the Batman that Thorne invited him to have a discussion at the Vreeland event and Batman wanted to make sure he was close by.

In the casino room across the way the crowd began to stir again. More cameras scattered in that direction. Bruce followed the crowd. He saw Penguin – who looked like he was about to be sick – looking down toward the other side of the floor. Jim Gordon and Rupert Thorne emerged from a hallway together. Thorne had his arm around Gordon's shoulder and a cat's grin on his face. This image will likely be on the front page of the Gazette in the morning.

Bruce heard Robin's voice in his ear. "I think we got something out here."

Outside, Robin fired a grapnel launcher toward the Gotham Bank across 41st street. The cable carried him up to a gargoyle for a better look at the roads. Two semi-trucks were causing one hell of a traffic jam on Moench street and 39th, right in front of the Flugelheim. Car horns were honking and drivers were shouting.

"Two trucks are cutting off traffic," Robin said. "Messuem security isn't helping. They're diverting cars away from the red carpet drop-off in the front."

Up the block, Robin heard screeching tires, and metal crashing into metal. More people were shouting now. Barreling down the road was a third semi, headed straight for the entrance of the Flugelheim, but it was moving in reverse.

"Bruce, there's another truck headed right to the front door, and they're coming in hot," Robin said. "And backwards. You're about to have party crashers. But where the hell is security going? They just left the front."

In the Batcave, Alfred accessed the outside Gotham Bank security cameras that face the street. He saw the traffic police arguing with the driver of one of the semi-trucks. "The officers directing traffic in front of the museum have left their posts to deal with the trucks blocking the street."

"Whoever they are, they're not party crashers," Bruce said. "They're being let in."

"Bruce, the truck isn't slowing down," Robin said. "There's still a crowd by the front doors! It's gonna crash right into them!"

Bruce heard the screams coming from outside just as Robin spoke, followed by the sound of glass and metal smashing. He moved toward the comotion, but got caught in a wave of party goers rushing the opposite way.

Veronica Vreeland was having a laugh with some very intoxicated admirers close by when the back of a semi-truck exploded through the entrance and came to a stop right in front of the casino ballroom. The shock and surprise of it nearly took her off her feet.

The doors of the truck trailer flew open and men and women came leaping out, dressed in poorly made costumes and masks. Rabbits, striped cats, Kings, Queens, harts, diamonds and other card suits held automatic weapons and trained them on the crowd. One security guard drew a gun and tried to halt the invaders, but he was overwhelmed by three men wearing cracked plastic rabbit masks and colorful coats with pocket watches. The guard's gun went off in the air. The party goers screeched as he was taken down and beaten.

A red Jack and a black Queen pulled out a ramp from the back of the trailer and extended it to the floor. Even more halloween-clad men and women came stomping down the ramp.

Thorne's personal security guards quickly seized their boss and directed him back to their secure conference room. "Get me the hell out of here, you morons!" Thorne shouted.

One man grabbed Commissioner Gordon's arm to do the same, but Gordon ripped his arm away. He wasn't going anywhere. Where the hell were the uniforms assigned to each room? Or at the entrance? Gordon thought. He didn't like how convientiant it was that they were all suddenly gone. He made a mental note to get their names and see if they had a damn good excuse for leaving their posts. Gordon did a double take. He swore he saw Bruce Wayne in the crowd just now, but he was gone.

On the opposite side, Cobbelpot and his men were more annoyed than they were concerned. His bodyguards surrounded him just to be safe, but Cobblepot rolled his eyes and shook his head at what was taking place.

Veronica was peeking out from the other side of a poker table. A woman wearing a King's crown and cape came toward her and grabbed her and held a pistol at her head. The King pulled at her and moved her to the center of the room. Once everyone saw Veronica at gunpoint, a few frantic cries were heard but then there was a hush over the crowd.

From inside the darkness of the trailer emerged a short pale faced man dressed in a tattered ice blue coat. He had an oversized bow tie around his neck, and an ornate black velvet tophat on his head with a bent card that read 10/6 stuck in its band. His hair and teeth were gnarled. He had the beginnings of a scratchy beard and mustache on his thin face. His eyes were wide and dilated. His name was Jervis Tetch. The Mad Hatter.

He walked slowly down the ramp and gazed at the faces around him, their mouths agape and shivering. He couldn't help but smile at everyone having so much fun. He even looked up through the ballroom's magnificent glass skylight and took a moment to appreciate what a glorious starry night in Gotham it was; for this was the moment he had dreamed of. His eyes then transfixed on Veronica Vreeland.

The Mad Hatter's fingers curled into fists. He had to remember to control himself. He badly wanted to feel her golden firy hair, taste her moist lips, and caress her soft neck. But there would be time for that later. It wouldn't be too long before more police arrived. And maybe something worse.

"What a wonderful tea party you have here," Mad Hatter said.

Veronica stood trembling and dumbfounded. The King's hand on her arm tightened. "Uh…thank you," she said.

The social media crew had all cameras pointed at her and Mad Hatter. The home audience watching via the paid stream were enthralled.

"Why didn't you invite me, Alice?" the Mad Hatter said. He moved a hand over his heart as if he were stabbed by a dagger.

Veronica looked around for a moment, before she realized he was talking to her. "Oh! I'm so sorry," she said. She laughed. "I'm not Alice. I'm Veronica. You must have me mistaken for Alice Gunthrey! She's actually right over there behind the roulette wheel."

"You bitch!" Alice Gunthrey shouted.

The Mad Hatter's face turned red and his mouth and eyes had scrunched together. "Why do you always say things like that to me, Alice!" he screamed. He hated having to be loud with Alice, but sometimes she made him do it. He took a breath and calmed himself. "Every time you lie and lie and lie and say you're not Alice! Hurah Hureye! And every time you have to die! But not this time, no."

He took a few more steps closer to Veronica. " Calu! Calay ! I will chase you every time you run away," he said. "Alice, my dear, I've come to take you home."

Veronica was still as his face got closer to hers. His nose was just barely grazing her cheek. His breath was hot and musty.

"Will you scream for me again, Alice?" he whispered into Veronica's ear. "Like all the others did."

Suddenly, the thunder of breaking glass cracked above them. The Batman crashed down from the skylight and landed on top of the trailer. Bits of glass rained down around him. The Mad Hatter's henchmen turned their weapons to the dark capped figure and opened fire. Batman did a flip off of the trailer, throwing smoke pellets as he moved into the air. The area quickly filled with a gray cloud.

"That's a lot of guys in there," Robin said to Batman. "Need some help?"

"No."

18 hostiles, including Tetch. 11 of them carrying automatic weapons. Seven of them are holding an innocent person. Through the cover of the smoke Batman began clearing the room of the larger threats first. A backfist to a purple cat holding an AR-15. It rocked him and Batman grabbed the weapon and dismantled it in one swift movement. He moved again, spinning the heel of his boot in the face of the Jack of Spades holding an elderly man by his neck. A batarang flew from his hand and into the wrist of a caterpillar brandishing a knife. Batman worked in a circle using elbows and palm thrusts, systematically disarming and debilitating the Hatter's gang. They hardly saw what was hitting him through the thick haze.

Veronica felt the King's hand on her arm come loose. The King was gone, disappeared into the fog.

The home viewers of the live stream groaned as the picture went fuzzy.

The smoke began to clear and bodies lay unconscious on the floor. The Mad Hatter was none too pleased by this. He grabbed Veronica and revealed a shard of glass from his pocket. It was covered with dry blood. He put it against Veronica's throat. Batman then appeared in front of them.

"Ah, yes, you," Mad Hatter said. "He said you would show up."

"Sir, I know you're busy," Alfred said in Batman's ear. "But there is an alarm at the Wayne Tech Cryogenics laboratory facility."

"Let her go, Tetch," Batman said.

"No, no, no, no, no-ee, no-dee, Caped Crusader. You're not done with the little teacups! No, no, no-dee, no-dah! Get up, you mustards and lemons! Pull yourselves together now!"

All at once, the henchmen that Batman just took down began to slowly rise back to their feet like zombies rising from the dead. Their body language was different though. No one was going for their gun, some of them weren't even facing Batman. It was as if they were puppets only standing because the Mad Hatter had pulled their stings back upright.

"Now you'll have to break their necks before they ever stop coming for you, Batman!" the Mad Hatter said.

Batman changed his stance from offensive to defensive. "Okay, Robin, you're up," he said quietly.

"Hell yeah!"

"We only want to detain them, not injure them, and do not let anyone see you. Let's make this quick. Penny One (Alfred's code name), kill the lights."

At the Batcomputer, Alfred had already hacked into the Flugelheim's power systems. A tap of a key shut all the lights off inside and froze the back-up generator lights. From the ceiling, Robin quietly dropped down and joined the fight. The darkness is where they worked best, especially now with the advantage of the prototype sonar lenses in their masks. Robin dubbed it 'Detective Vision.' It made seeing in the dark a whole lot easier.

The members of Veronica's social media team moved to turn on the flashlight on their devices. Lights started to flicker between the action. Brief blotches of black, red, and green bounced around the room. The home stream viewers threw up their hands with frustration at the black screen they were watching.

Robin could see certain electrical devices with the Detective Vision, so he was careful to avoid most of the cameras. A few blurry photos of him made its way onto the internet already, sparking some chatter as to who or what was working alongside the Batman. The less the public knew about his existence the better.

Just as instructed, Robin went from card suit to rabbit to cheshire cat wrapping their feet with a bola, or handcuffing them to a table. Batman did the same on his end and in less than thirty seconds Mad Hatter's men were properly stopped in their tracks.

Batman saw Robin grapple back up to the roof of the Flugelheim. "Now, Penny One," Batman said.

The lights came back on and Batman was now within an inch of Veronica. Batman snatched Mad Hatter's hand with the glass held at her neck, and squeezed it. The shard dropped and Batman felt at least two bones break through his glove. Mad Hatter howled and gave up his Alice. Veronica ran into the arms of assistant, Marilu.

Batman could hear sirens outside. No doubt the police were starting to surround the building. He reared his fist back and clobbered Mad Hatter in the mouth. It was the type of punch that made Batman feel better, especially when it's a special kind of filth like Tetch. He picked him back up for one more punch and then gift wrapped him for the police.

"When Rome's pillars," Mad Hatter said. He choked on blood running from his nose into his mouth. "When Rome's pillars fell, who cried loudest? And who cheered even louder?"

Batman registered Mad Hatter's words, and he didn't like them. He felt something inside Mad Hatter's breast pocket and pulled it out. It was a clear audio cassette tape with a single question mark drawn on the white label by a green pen.

Jim Gordon had now emerged from the crowd and approached the scene. Batman looked at the Commissioner and put the tape in a compartment of his utility belt. Then he punched Mad Hatter in the jaw one more time, sending him falling to Gordon's feet. The slime deserved it for what he's done to his victims.

Batman raised a grapnel launcher to the sky and shot a cable up to the ceiling. He disappeared through the skylight and into the night.

###

The Batmobile had recently been overhauled and upgraded from being a tank with a lot of horsepower to being a mini-batcave on wheels that was also still a tank with a lot of horsepower. The previous heavy armored muscle car look was refined to a sleeker style, designed better for maneuverability. The inside still sported controls and functions for defensive weaponry, but now ran through a custom operating system that also supported satellite communication and tracking, and also housed just a few of the more recent forensic analysis technologies from the Research and Development department of Wayne Tech.

The inside of the Batmobile was like a Christman tree, Robin thought. Red, Green, Gold and Blue glowing lights and switches dismissed the darkness that otherwise was the cockpit of the Batmobile. Stealth mode was active so the car was practically silent while running, and it boggled his mind how it was accomplished.

Robin had gotten to the Batmobile a few minutes before Batman to see if there was anything over the radio about the alarm at Wayne Tech. Nothing out of the ordinary just yet. Simple signal and response.

The cockpit hatch slid forward and Batman jumped into the driver's seat. The hatch slid back. He pulled the cassette tape out of his belt and held it up to Robin.

"Oh my, how wonderfully analog," Robin said. He took the tape from Batman. "You don't have a cassette player in here do you?"

Robin tapped a button on the center console, and a blue circle illuminated on a flat surface on the arm rest of the seat. He placed the tape in the center of the blue circle and more blue light reached up and grabbed onto the tape, forming a perfect 3D model of the object. Every scratch, crack, chip, dust speck, finger print, or any other types of greasy or oily substances was rendered into the model. All of the information was fed to the Batcave as well.

"When Rome's pillars fell, who cried the loudest? And who cheered even louder?" Batman said.

Robin picked up the tape and placed it in a plastic evidence bag. "Was this little party crash a distraction for the break-in at the Wayne Tech labs?" he said.

"Or the beginning of something bigger. A bigger riddle."

"The pillars cry loudest," Robin said.

"And the people of Rome cheer even louder."

"And let me guess, Gotham is Rome. Was Mad Hatter a distraction for the Riddler?"

Batman sat back in the seat and rested his chin on his fist. "Distraction. Messenger. Either way, this is just one piece of a puzzle." Batman switched on the communication to the Batcave. "Alfred, find anything on the tape?"

Alfred had received the digital model of the tape at the batcave where a full analysis of its physical state was complete. On the screen in front of him the skeletal outlines of the tape slowly spun around.

"Negative, Sir," Alfred said. "No foreign attachments, no unique engravings, no fingerprints or fibers. The serial number is standard for the manufacturer. Perhaps the ink for the question mark has some unique qualities?"

"Maybe," Batman said.

"I read the file you have on the Riddler," Robin said. "This guy wasn't really a big deal though, was he? Not like the other one anyway, right?

"Petty thievery at first. More of a revenge vanity scheme, partly to get my attention. Then the second time he was responsible for the murder of two people in order to get back at me. Edward Nygma is a narcissist who is hellbent on proving that he's the smartest man in Gotham."

"And, more specifically, smarter than you," Robin said.

"Correct. His inflated ego eventually got in his own way," Batman said. He thought to himself for just another moment and then sat up and put the Batmobile in drive. "I'm sure Gordon is on his way to GCPD headquarters to flash the Bat-signal. He'll want to know what Mad Hatter was up to and what I pulled off of him. We'll meet him there."

"Wait a second," Robin said. "You really don't have a tape player in here? All the expensive tech and you really have no way to listen to a simple cassette tape?"

Batman didn't answer. His boot pressed the gas pedal and they launched into the night.