Bruce Wainright has (onerule) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-03-07 13:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, door: dc comics, plot: switch, riddler |
Who: Luke!Bat & Breeze!Riddler
What: Death trap challenge.
Where: Old Gotham.
When: Reecently.
Warnings/Rating: Banter. Tiny bit of violence.
The building that held the Riddler searchlight was a two story warehouse filled to the brim of armed thugs, junkyard death traps and enough pitfalls to trip up even the most skilled superhero. Breeze didn’t love being the Riddler. She didn’t like that little switch in the back of her brain that told her to make everything a game. There was no art to her blinking lights, no affection for her own genius. It was all just the means to an end. The thing that would let her win and then...well she didn’t really know. Even if she defeated Batman, what would that get her? Gotham wasn’t charmed by her like they were charmed by Eddie Nigma. She lacked his charisma that allowed him to walk into practically any door in Gotham and get what he wanted. maybe Breeze made up for it in fishnets and legs, but to them she was still just another woman in Gotham who wanted something. But, the compulsions were still there. So, she’d play a game with the new Batman and try to enjoy it.
Through the sewers there were a series of locked, heavy doors that could be solved with a riddle. All of which were incredibly easy. Breeze wasn’t in love with the riddles enough to try and be artsy about it, so she simply left them there because her brain told her to. Because she would curl up in a corner if she didn’t riddle everything she did. Eddie knew how to handle that kind of thing a lot better than her. He even let Stephanie walk him through his own riddles to a conclusion. But, that was after decades of insanity. That was with a bat to hold his hand through all of it. Breeze was alone with this crazed and unfamiliar mind. Maybe one day she’d learn how to make it self expression instead of compulsion, but she hoped she’d be home before then.
At the entrance to the riddle house, a smudged television set sparked to life and Breeze appeared on the screen. Her eyes were wide and absolutely mad, her lips painted blood red and her outfit dark, dark black. There was no green. As long as she was Riddler, there would be no green. “Oh good, you made it.” She said, all popular girl in school who said she’d go to prom with you, but then she showed up with the soon-to-be prom king. “I thought I’d warn you. It’s really dangerous in there.” Breeze’s eyes went even wider, mouth screwing up in a deadly smile. “I should have you fill out a consent form or something so I don’t get sued later. Oh well, I’ll remember it for whatever bird shows up to pick up your dead body from the spike pit.” She shrugged innocently and just as she was about to open the door for him, it looked like her stomach lurched. Crazed gaze turning panicked for a moment, she sighed and muttered. “Riddle me this: what has a foot but no legs?”
There was a part of Luke that was pretty sure he shouldn’t have been enjoying his new role as Batman, but no amount of denial could change the truth; he was. As dangerous as everyone claimed Gotham was, he hadn’t faced any really life-threatening situations, no dramatic showdowns between himself and a villain, and he was almost disappointed by how routine everything seemed. The Joker’s guy had been pretty quiet, there was no sign at all of whoever was playing Ra’s Al Ghul over here, and the same could be said for Ivy’s girl and Thierry, who despite running Arkham hadn’t popped up as a major problem on his radar. Not yet, anyway. That left the Riddler, who he’d admittedly begun to discount until the question-mark spotlight lit up the night sky and the video started going viral. It was a clear challenge, and he had no choice but to step up and defend Batman’s honour while making it clear that no one made a fool of the Bat and got away with it. Yeah, it might be dangerous, but that was part of the thrill, something he hadn’t felt in so long, since giving up vigilantism and trying to pursue a more legal path back home.
And, after this, he might never feel it again, so he was going to make the most of it while it lasted.
The riddle at the end of the video was easy to solve, and while trudging through the sewers in the Batsuit wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Riddle after riddle popped up as obstacles, but after the first few Luke wondered if the new Riddler was even trying, or if she was just going through the motions. Or maybe having Bruce’s mind was making things easier than they would have been if he’d been on his own. Regardless, he was still pretty proud of himself when he reached the door to the building, despite knowing that this was just the beginning. Beyond the door, the real fun would start, and it was his own reckless streak that dulled the sense of caution Bruce would have normally felt. The whole ‘TV coming to life’ thing didn’t surprise him, though the appearance of the girl on the screen didn’t quite fit with the whole Riddler schtick he was used to, notably the absence of green, but hey, to each their own.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said, not bothering to keep his sarcasm subtle. Generally unimpressed by her warnings of danger and death, since he had no intention of ending up dead in a spike pit, thanks, he merely rolled his eyes at the television screen and waited. He noticed the change, the shift, and the way she said the riddle like she couldn’t not say it, but now wasn’t the time to play psychiatrist with the Riddler. “A snail,” he responded. “Can we get started now?”
Breeze felt an unusual mix of pain and satisfaction when he got the riddle right. She wanted him to get it right so they could keep playing, but each unlocked door was proof that she wasn’t smart enough. Oh, you’re smart enough. The real Nigma murmured in the back of her head, figurative finger on the button to shut her brain down if she actually did anything to put this new bat in any kind of actual mortal danger. As much as he didn’t like this Bruce, Nigma wasn’t going to be held responsible for his crazed Alter accidentally killing the kid and the bat in one swoop. He’d be in the doghouse for weeks at least. Neither Breeze or bat kid realized it, but there wasn’t any actual danger to be had here. It was just two puppies trying to play like the big dogs.
Besides that, the new Riddler had all the tools to make this devastating for the bat kid. But, if she kept treating this like homework, she’d never even get close. “Whatever you want, Dork Knight.” Breeze put her hands up in the air, eyes blinking innocently before the door slid open to reveal a metal, narrow hallway that buzzed like ten lawnmowers having an orgy. The hallway seemed innocent enough until large, rusted blades started to zip back and forth at three different levels. To get through it, the Bat had to be fast, nimble and willing to roll around on the ground a little. Breeze’s image projected down the hallway, her face stretched across walls and gleaming on the surface of spinning blades. “Watch the cape.” She told him, eyes bored and mouth smiling.
At the end of the hallway was an open room of half a dozen Blackgate veterans looking to smash the Bratman’s face open. “See what’s waiting for you at the end? Those are my interns. I literally just put flyers up around town asking who wanted a chance to beat up Batman and they flocked to me. I actually had to turn people away.” She grinned with more teeth than she ever did in Vegas. “If we’re stuck like this, are you willing to be the most hated night creature on this side of town? Is that what you signed up for?”
Real danger or not, Luke was primed and ready for whatever might be thrown his way. It was likely for the best, though, that there was no genuine intent to cause harm, like there would have been if he’d been goaded into one of the Joker’s games. Bruce wasn’t necessarily as worried as he could have been under different circumstances, but like Eddie, he was prepared to pull on the figurative leash he had on the boy in order to prevent him from getting them both killed. Luke didn’t give much thought to the real Bat, however, and focused on the task at hand instead, scowling at the grade-school insult like it personally affected him. “That’s Dark Knight to you,” he retorted, oblivious to Bruce’s inward cringe. His wounded pride was forgotten a moment later, however, when the door finally opened, and the strange buzzing elicited more curiosity than concern. He knew better than to rush in blind and half-cocked, which meant he only took a couple of steps forward, just short of crossing the threshold, as though that might trigger whatever was really waiting for him in the hallway.
There was a moment, just one, when the blades first appeared and he stared with absolutely no idea of what to do next. But not-Riddler’s voice jerked him out of his temporary stupor, and replaced uncertainty with grim determination. Beyond the flash of rusted metal, Luke could see what else awaited him, but he feared men far less than he might fear sharp metal. “Yeah, I see,” he said grimly. “Nice to know this city is still full of criminals.” He actually laughed at her question, because being hated was one thing he was used to. He knew how to be hated. That didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Ready and willing. You think I care what guys like that think of me? Please. I can handle it.” The words were an echo of his defiant younger years, but he didn’t even notice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”
The key with the blades was timing. He watched for a good minute, mapped out a route mentally, and then went for it. Strangely enough, treating it like a video game or something with no real-world repercussions worked. He reacted with speed that wasn’t entirely his own, nimbly dodging left and right and hitting the ground just in time when one of the blades came heart-stoppingly close to slicing clean through him. Each near miss was an added rush of adrenaline, though, which spurred him forward, giving him incentive to keep up and show the nw Riddler that he was a worthy opponent. By the end, there were definitely some nicks in his kevlar, and he swore he’d been able to feel the blade cutting through the air, right in front of his face, but he was alive. He was still in one piece.
Batman: 1, Riddler: 0.
Now the Blackgate brutes, they were going to be fun. It was no secret that Luke enjoyed violence a little too much, and he’d stopped feeling pain like everyone else did years ago. “Hey, boys. You’re my welcoming party, right?” His faux grim monotone was intentionally not enough to cover up the fact that he was clearly mocking them. They didn’t like that too much, but Luke was counting on that, and once one broke the line, it was an all-out brawl. He had more bulk here, and thus more power in his blows, and he relished the heavy thump of impact every time he hit his mark, or one of his marks hit the floor. “Enjoying the show, Riddler?” Because obviously she was watching, and he spared a quick grin before ducking under one of the inmate’s arms and using it to propel him over his shoulder and flat on his back.
You could practically hear the eyeroll Breeze was giving even without her voice enchanting the intercom. The Blackgate men went down hard and fast and while the real Riddler in her head wasn’t surprised, Breeze was infuriated and shocked. The swinging blades, the goons. It was all the right formula. All the right plans, construction and design. A surge of desire to just win, to race to the finish and have him beg for his miserable bat life coursed through her. “Let’s see. You proved you’re fast enough. That you’re tough enough. But, the real reason why we’re here is to see if you’re smart enough.” Her voice boomed from the intercom and the area pit he was standing in opened up to reveal a massive vertical cage built out of old fences, barbed wire and steel bars. It vaguely resembled a cage that wrestlers would have a battle for the belt in.
“Up here, hero.” She waved from the top platform. “If you can make it through the cage and up to me, I’ll give you the big old switch to turn the Riddler spotlight off. Sound fair?” But, even a glancing look at the cage made it seem abundantly clear that it was so disjointed, winding and broken that there was no actual way anyone could get up through the mess of fences and wire without meticulously cutting through. In Breeze’s sudden wealth of knowledge, power and engineering skills she could build a death trap that someone would get lost in, but it lacked that special Nigma finesse. That care and elegance that accompanied someone who saw his riddles as an expression of himself, not a burden.
True to his illness, though, there was a remarkably easy way to solve this finale of a death trap. And, it was as simple as thinking outside of the box. And, Breeze didn’t even realize it.
When the last Blackgate thug went down, Luke straightened up and rolled his shoulders back like he was barely even winded. In truth, he needed a moment or two to catch his breath, but his adrenaline was high and he was feeling pretty good about whatever might come next. The cage was, admittedly, a little unexpected, but he wasn’t going to complain. It didn’t look like anything he wanted to get too close to, but otherwise the sight didn’t exactly strike terror into his heart or anything. His gaze was drawn upward when she spoke, no longer a disembodied voice over the intercom but instead a woman pretending to be the Riddler just as much as he was pretending to be Batman. For a moment he wondered what the hell they were both doing, but it was a fleeting thought, easily shrugged off. This felt right, and it felt good. Even if it was just a couple of tests and traps, the heroes had to come out the victor in the end, and he wasn’t going to let Batman’s reputation suffer if he could help it.
“Fair enough,” he called back, but his attention was on the cage and how to get past it. Going through wasn’t viable, but he could climb, use its structure to his own benefit, or-- it came to him suddenly, the solution so obvious that he almost laughed. He couldn’t believe he’d almost missed it. Luke grinned and reached into his utility belt, casual all the while, but he didn’t bother with verbal jabs that would give away what he was planning before he made a move. It only took a couple of seconds to find his aim, and then the grapple gun fired, the hiss of the line and metallic snap as contact was made accompanying it. From there it was all too easy to clear the cage once he was airborne, and he only pushed off the side for the hell of it, because he could, and he swung around to land effortlessly on the platform new Riddler stood upon. “Hey,” he greeted, like they were two old friends. “Pretty cool, right?”
Riddler doubled back, the button in her hand bouncing from her grip towards Batman’s feet. “NO!” She screamed, hand reaching to her perfectly combed, dark hair and pulled as she sank down to her knees and tried to crawl for the button. “You cheated. You were supposed to go through- you CHEATED!” The Riddler rolled on the floor, kicking her feet in the air like a five year old having a tantrum in the middle of a supermarket, blubbering and ranting about rules and the time she put into the cage match below them. If The Batman listened closely enough, it even sounded like the apparent super genius was sobbing through her ranting. It was pathetic in an adorable panic attack sort of way.
She crossed her arms over her forehead and laid facedown on her platform, not even bothering to reach for the big button anymore. Breeze loved all the different high-tech tools that Nigma had laying around. She even loved crashing his beloved green car into a brick wall on accident. But, she was beginning to hate this tick-tocking part of her brain that saw the world as a broken board game. Breeze didn’t know how to tone it down or normalize it and laying there in the middle of a riddler trap, she just wanted to go home.
Whoa. Whatever Luke had been expecting, a full-on freakout wasn’t it. Sure, he knew the real Riddler was kind of a sore loser, but this was a little extreme. His eyebrows shot up from behind the cowl, and he nudged the button back with his boot, out of her reach, without much effort at all. As for the accusation that he’d cheated, well, he took personal offense to that. “Hey, I didn’t cheat,” he protested, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s not my fault you didn’t take grappling guns into consideration. I mean, come on, it’s a pretty popular tool.” Needless to say, witnessing a Riddler temper tantrum was kind of awkward, and somehow victory didn’t taste as sweet when his foe was rolling around on the ground wailing and kicking like a child in a toy store being told they couldn’t have what they wanted. Meanwhile, he was the clueless adult who had no idea what the hell to do.
It hadn’t actually occurred to him until that moment, as he stood and watched her panic attack run its course, that maybe this girl hadn’t had any more of a choice in being the Riddler than he had in being Batman. Maybe, back in Vegas, she was completely normal and simply hadn’t been prepared to be thrust into Gotham and the role of mentally unstable genius with a love for riddles. He frowned, because really, the plan had been quite simple. Beat the death trap, kick Riddler’s ass, and get that stupid signal out of the sky. Be the hero. But this didn’t fit with the script, and he felt a little stupid for rushing in all gung-ho and immediately typecasting new Riddler as the cardboard cutout villain. It was over, though, wasn’t it? She didn’t look like she was going to put up much of a fight, and suddenly he didn’t feel much like dragging her to Arkham, not when it was in the hands of someone he wasn’t so sure was capable of holding the psychotic Scarecrow at bay.
He stooped to pick up the discarded button, studying it for a moment before looking down at the Riddler. “Right, uh... I guess that’s it, then.” He’d turn the signal off, leave, and that was that. Except-- he felt almost bad for her, in a very non-Batman way. Unless this was just an act, a ploy to get his guard down, but he doubted it. He had the button. In a physical, one-on-one fight, she didn’t stand a chance. He took a step backwards, paused, and sighed. “Are you okay?”
Breeze’s anger was doubled in this world, her every emotion tripled and ready to snap one way or another like a livewire. Both Nigma and herself had problems with mood swings and panic attacks, but here in Gotham they seemed so much worse than they ever were in Vegas. She didn’t know how to control it and if he had thrown her in Arkham, they probably would have put her straight in a straightjacket and loaded her up on enough pills that she couldn’t even talk. That’s what Eddie said happened. He said it even used to be worse. “We should blow the Riddler signal up.” She told him, voice dying from the anger and frustration that had turned her into a wreck. Breeze rolled over on her back and looked up at him, face soaked with black streaks of mascara and smeared lipstick. “I have some C4. Let’s blow it up.” She clenched her fists and for a moment all the Riddler crazy fell away to reveal a girl that thought being a bad guy was supposed to be fun.
Breeze stumbled to her feet, a swaying broken motion with a slumped, young posture accompanied by young riot girl eyes. “I hate his brain. I’ve hated it since day one.” She told Batman, running her wrist over her nose and gave a wet, jagged sigh. “This was supposed to be-” She turned away from him, motioning towards a ladder that connected to a walkway leading to the control center. On the way, she pushed a giant lever and all the lights in the warehouse thunked on brightly. Below them, the Riddler trap with scattered Blackgate boys unconscious or wishing they were and the cage madness looked suddenly inconsequential. “Everything he knows makes me feel powerful, but I just don’t give a damn what makes a good riddle. You know?” She opened the control room door and handed him some C4 and a trigger.
“Blow it up. Sky high. I’m letting Nigma back through.” Breeze sniffed again, eyes down and left of center. She visibly forced herself to stop crying, pulling her fingers at the edges of her painted eyes until the tears were blinked gone. Breeze was normally too aloof for this kind of thing. Letting Nigma’s problems get to her was so pointless it hurt. Her dark eyes finally shot up to look at him and then she turned to leave. Believing that they’d keep this little game between the two of them.
Blowing up the Riddler signal? Now there was an idea. Bruce probably wouldn’t have gone for it, but despite the differences in how he usually was, Luke wasn’t a carbon copy, and he thought it would have a lot more of an effect than simply turning it off. Besides, stuff blew up in Gotham all the time, and as long as no one was killed in the process he didn’t see a problem. Go big or go home, right? If an explosion didn’t send the message that the Batman wasn’t to be messed with, he didn’t know what would. “Okay,” he agreed, all former animosity gone as he looked down at the girl. Not the Riddler, no. Just pretending to be, like he was pretending to be the Bat. He didn’t even know her name, he realized, but then again she didn’t know his either. “Let’s do it.” He stood back while she got to her feet, resisting the urge to offer a helping hand, and only hesitated for a moment before following her across the walkway and towards the control center. Somehow, it was oddly reassuring to know others were experiencing Gotham’s madness too, and it wasn’t as fun as one might think being a comic book character would be. “Yeah, I know. This isn’t so great either,” he admitted, gesturing down at himself. “I like feeling powerful, but I could do without the rest of it.” Like the mountain of issues, the social ignorance, and the hint of mental instability that Bruce knew how to hide better than most in order to keep on functioning in regular society.
Explosions had never really been his thing even on his worst days, but Luke took the C4 and the trigger without batting an eye and nodded. “Alright. I’ll take it from here.” While he personally didn’t care if the Blackgate guys were caught in the crossfire, Bruce wouldn’t let him kill anyone, directly or indirectly, accident or no. He felt like he should say something else, something more, but he didn’t know what, so he remained silent and watched her leave instead. Then, he got to work.
About ten minutes later, once the building was cleared of all life (unconscious and conscious alike, just in case the place didn’t hold up well under the searchlight’s destruction) and Luke was perched on a nearby rooftop to watch, he hit the trigger.
Switching it off was too simple. At least this way, the Riddler signal went out with a literal bang.