Who: Riddler, Red Robin Where: A Riddler death trap in Old Gotham When: fuzzy timelines, but recently What: Riddler is taking down his death traps and Tim makes him want to kill something. Warnings: A little violence.
After Sadie’s admission about what was going on with Stephanie and Riddler, Tim was keeping a closer eye on just what the man was doing in Gotham. It seemed, near as he could tell, that the villain was closing up some of his hideouts. That sucked because it meant maybe it was possible he was turning over a new leaf, but it never hurt to take a closer look. It took a few hours for Tim to deduce which of the remaining bunkers Riddler would most likely be at and made his way there. It was nearly midnight, but there was activity as thugs carted things out of the building. The roof was the best point of entry as usual, though he didn’t find any of the usual signs of boobytrapping that Riddler was known for. Curious. Tim still tread carefully, his collapsable bo staff at the ready.
He dropped onto a catwalk, startling one of Riddler’s thugs. One well practiced blow to the man’s neck had him silenced and another to his knees had him down. Tim brought the man’s head to his knee, effectively knocking him out. The catwalk began to move though and instead of grabbing the railings like an inexperienced person might, Tim immediately vaulted for the next one, landing lightly on his feet. “Missing the usual tricks, but I see you’ve kept some of them. Why is that, I wonder?”
Riddler was feeling good. Even when he was slowly dissolving his gang and shutting down the random death traps he left for the clueless or hopelessly adventurous of Gotham to wander into. That process was painful and slow like taking down the streamers and cleaning the house after a party that threatened to destroy his good graces with his landlord. Now you’re thinking like Joker. He warned himself with a smirk, tablet out as he started to configure the different circuits it took to turn off his electricity trap. He was dressed in a very old school version of his suit. Green with a billion black question marks randomly plastered all over it with a black mask and a green bowler hat sporting one big black question mark. It was the kind of thing he wore around what was left of his now tiny, loyal gang. They were the kind of guys who didn’t ask questions because they were smart enough to keep their nose out of Riddler’s business. The kind that could hook up cameras for him, grease palms and shoot a bird’s brains out if the man green in wanted.
“Now that was unnecessary.” Riddler didn’t even look up from his tablet when he heard the bird flapping down as his other man clicked the safety off his gun. “Don’t bother.” He raised one hand in front of the barrel of the gun, lightly pulling it down with his fingers like he was plucking a flower. A long moment passed as the electric floor below them glowed and snapped threateningly. Finally, Eddie raised his head up to look at Red Robin, that Arkham fire boiling behind his eyes even though his smile seemed goofy and sweet. He didn’t care if one of the birds tried to destroy or arrest him because it would just prove to Stephanie that they didn’t trust her. And, when he found a way out of Arkham with a clean bill, they’d lose the blonde bat for good. “I’m glad you asked, bird detective. I’m actually shutting this particular facility down. There’s only one more to go.”
“Yeah and in a week someone’ll turn it into a fucking meth lab.” His thug said and Riddler shrugged with a cheesy grin, hands up like oh well. That was Gotham for you.
“No, no, Frank. I’ll make sure the property goes to indoor organic food m-” Riddler started but rattled out into a laugh with his thug. They laughed for a long time as two people who knew the grime of this city better than any winged vigilante beast. “I can’t even say that with a straight face. Ahh.” He caught his breath and went back to his tablet. “So, what are you doing here?”
There was a batarang at the ready to disarm the thug, but Riddler beat him to it. That was surprising. Tim refused to lower his defenses though because all of this could still be one big show for Stephanie. He almost wished it was, particularly when he saw that look in the villain’s eyes. That darkness was there and it was enough to make Tim worry about Steph’s safety. He knew the risks of laying a hand on Riddler though, namely losing Steph and driving her closer to the villain, so he kept his distance. For now, at least. He watched stoically as Riddler and his goon laughed over what would happen to the space. Tim knew they were right, it would get used for something else harmful to Gotham. He made a mental note to keep an eye on all the spots he knew of to make sure they weren’t used for anything unlawful. Maybe Gordon would be useful with that.
“I came to talk.” He was short, to the point, and it was clear he wasn’t entirely comfortable with even being there. “In private.” Tim threw down his staff as a sign that he wasn’t going to fight. He still had his toolbelt of course, but his staff was his main fighting tool and Riddler would get the message he was trying to send. Get rid of the goons and he’d disarm himself somewhat. He didn’t doubt that there were still a few tricks around that Riddler could use against him if he wanted.
Riddler raised his brow so high it vanished under his bowler hat. “To talk.” He gave a look at Frank, who seemed not only annoyed they hadn’t shot this guy up yet, but completely unconvinced. “I like talking.” He told Frank apologetically. Riddler ran his teeth over his bottom lip back and forth in thought looking at Frank like they were having a silent conversation and making a show out of considering the bird’s offer. Finally, he snapped his attention back at Tim and nodded. “Okay. Sure. We can talk. But, I don’t have a lot of time to kill chatting over coffee. So, come with me while I shut everything down.” Riddler glanced up at the ceiling, looking at a barbed wire cage that hung directly above the bird and he could feel his fingers itch to drop the thing and call it a day. And, he’d be justified in it, too, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t any normal man want to drop their lover’s ex into a death trap if he showed up and wanted to talk?
Riddler swallowed, regaining composure and with a couple taps of his tablet, the electricity on the floor stopped dead. He gestured for Tim to follow him down a walkway to the ground floor where there were more traps to break apart and disarm. If one was the type to be impressed by what a super villain could do in their free time, they’d certainly enjoy what Riddler had built. Everything was constructed from things Gotham threw away. Rusted saws, broken fences, old car motors, chains that were attached to broken poles. A kingdom of traps, tricks and death made out of junkyard trash. If the Joker (his clown, not this one) could brew venom out of everyday household items, the Riddler could build a playground out of what could survive an apocalypse. “Am I right to assume this is about Stephanie?” Riddler asked once they were out of earshot from Frank, turning to look at Tim with a smugness he just could not help.
Tim rolled his eyes and waited as patiently as he could, though it was already wearing thin. He just wanted to find something that would justify throwing the villain in Arkham but there was Steph to consider and that basically gave the jerk a get out of jail free card. Tim felt sick at the thought but Riddler agreed to talk and that was the end of that. He followed the villain’s gaze up above him and nearly wished Riddler would drop it on him. Then Steph would see just who she was dealing with and his injuries would be worth it. Unfortunately for both of them, Riddler didn’t pull the trigger and Tim made his way down to the floor where the villain in green was. He half expected the thug to disappear but that was, apparently, too much to hope for. The staff stayed where it was on the floor as Tim fell into step next to Riddler. Not in front, not behind. Next to. He hated every step.
“You’re right,” Tim replied, tone still a bit forced. He was tense, all too aware of just how dangerous all of Riddler’s toys were even if they were seemingly innocuous. The villain was like a cockroach, able to survive just about anything despite everyone’s best efforts. “Don’t act surprised. You’re smart enough to know this was coming.” He knew Sadie had told him, after all. “Did you really think no one would say anything to you about it?” Tim knew he had to be careful about what he said and how he phrased it so that Steph wouldn’t be pissed when she heard it second hand. “That I wouldn’t say anything?”
Riddler blinked innocently, licking his lips at just how hilarious it was to see one of these stupid little birds squirm. When the cat or the bat voiced concern it felt different. Like he was trying to impress someone’s parents. This brat, however, was just flapping his wings at something he couldn’t stop. “What do you want to say?” Riddler asked with a little sharpness in his voice like he was talking to a child. Unfortunately, sleeping with a college girl meant having to deal with her immature little friends. It occurred to him that he didn’t know the specifics of when Tim and Stephanie’s relationship ended, but he knew that she was loyal to him. Only a fool would play around with the trust of a man like Riddler and Stephanie was too good for that. Maybe he would have been concerned before the Christmas party and the night after, but remembering the way she looked at him tangled up in his bed left no room for doubt.
Before the bird could respond, Riddler cut in. “Because it seems to me there isn’t a lot to say. Besides maybe some idle threats on your part and some sweeping heartfelt speeches about how I’ve changed for the better in ways you couldn’t possibly wrap your brain around.” He swept his hand out like he was showcasing a landscape painting. Then he turned, voice turning darker than it had been all night. “And, if you came here looking for details about my affection for Stephanie, I’m afraid I don’t sing as easily as Sadie does. That’s our business.” Riddler walked towards a concrete tunnel wrapped in welded chain link fences and scrap metal. At the end of the hall was a Riddler trophy, shining with a bright green neon glow and between them were a mess of seemingly random briar patches of barbed wire and bright red buttons on the wall. “Let me borrow three of your batarangs, please.” Riddler asked politely, no humor in his voice.
Tim narrowed his eyes this time at the villain next to him. There were plenty of things he wanted to say, but flying off the handle wouldn’t end well for him. Riddler cut him off and Tim didn’t like the villain’s tone at all. If Riddler was this confident about his supposed relationship with Stephanie, that meant something serious had happened. Was it possible that more than just sex happened? Just how deep were the feelings involved? Tim would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous, but at least he could keep it more in check than Riddler was. A cool smile slid into place as he followed Riddler toward the tunnel. “Sadie’s a good person. So is Stephanie.” A slight smile accompanied that, the implication being that Riddler wasn’t. Tim would never think he was.
That slight smile turned into a smirk as Tim studied the seemingly random barbed wire and the red buttons. It took less than a minute for him to decide which buttons to press and in which order. In quick succession, three batarangs released from his hand and hit them in the appropriate order. “Of course,” Tim replied, the smirk in full force as he looked at Riddler, not even bothering to watch what the buttons did because he was so confident he was right. Take that.
Tim was right in thinking that Riddler wasn’t a good person. In fact, with his obsessive compulsions, mood swings and massive intellect, he was barely a person at all. Nothing, not drugs or a hit to the head or love could cure him of the large empty places where his compassion should be, but that didn’t make him like Joker. And, it didn’t keep Stephanie from him, which meant she saw something good in that tangled mess of puzzles and lies. Even if the rest of Gotham couldn’t.
Now, the man in green knew Batman. His Batman. And, his Batman would have done exactly what little Tim here did. A gesture of dominance that dated as far back to schoolyard antics that the Bat was too rich and comfortably popular to ever had to deal with. But, he assumed the Robins, especially this one, wouldn’t be so quick to play alpha dog. He assumed wrong. A dangerous scowl crossed his face in an expression that was very familiar to people who only knew him for being the Riddler. He felt anger thump against his skull, a maddening little dig that made him nearly break the tablet he held in his hands. This was just proof wasn’t? Proof to something Riddler knew all along. The bat family didn’t care about justice or doing the right thing or helping people. If they did, they wouldn’t poke the caged tiger. Wouldn’t test his obsessions that he was working so hard to keep in line for her.
Riddler didn’t blink. He stared at Tim with a sort of long gaze that a wild animal would give a hiker that strayed too far off the trail. “You need to leave.” His voice was burning with anger he was trying to keep under control, hand reaching into his pocket to hold onto the ring Stephanie had given him as if he might drown in his own temper without it. “Now.” There was nothing but darkness in his voice. Clenched teeth holding back a thousand different springs, cogs and gears that were designed to punish people like Tim. Humiliate him, like everyone had tried to do to Riddler his entire pathetic life.
Everything he did had a calculated risk and he knew exactly what solving Riddler’s puzzle meant. It was more akin to what Bruce would have done, but Tim was comfortable with that. Whatever it was that Riddler wanted to repress for Stephanie, it was something that made him who he was, made him the villain he was. Tim wasn’t about to let Riddler forget that it was there, no matter how much he wanted to. Maybe it was wrong of him to do so, but Tim wasn’t about to let Stephanie put herself at risk. His smirk turned into a thin line, lips pressed together tightly as the villain asked him to leave. “I’ll leave. I think I’ve made my point.”
And, in an even more calculated move, Tim turned his back on Riddler. What better way to test the man’s restraint than to provide him with the perfect opportunity. If the villain really cared about Stephanie, he’d prove it by letting him walk out of there unscathed and by not saying anything to her about it. While he wasn’t betting on the latter happening, he was willing to bet that Riddler wouldn’t do anything for fear of pushing her away. It was a delicate line to walk on, but Tim would do it because someone needed to make sure Riddler remembered who he really was. He could pretend all he wanted, but once a villain, always a villain. Tim even picked up his staff before heading for the front door. He gave Frank a little wave as he passed.
Tim was right, Riddler’s first instinct was to reach for his gun and blow the baby detective’s head off. As the boy blunder turned, his hand went for the pearled revolver hidden in his suit jacket. His long, gloved fingers brushed the handle, a migrane of anger and bottled up frustration screamed through him as he stared wide-eyed at the back of Tim’s head. Just kill him. The darkest part of him, the part that laughed when people fell to their deaths in one of these hell houses whispered it over and over until he closed his eyes. “Stop it.” Riddler said so quietly that no one could hear the funny little man in his funny little hole taking down his funny little traps.
He slowly took his hand off the gun and turned away from the departing bird, crashing his shoulder against a nearby wall. Who knew the shining examples of Gotham justice could be so cruel? What did they have to gain by keeping him in his place? By turning him back into a killing machine?
“You okay down there boss?” Frank called from the top of the platform. Riddler didn’t respond for a long time, waiting minutes after the bird left before pulling out his revolver and firing every last bullet left at the question marked trophy down the tunnel. That boiling anger sweeping through him like a car bomb until the trophy light blinked off.