Who: Riddler and Death When: Last weekendish Where: Gotham Library What: Clue hunting. Warnings: Dancing.
Long after the Gotham Library closed, a thin shadow crept past the science fiction/fantasy section unnoticed. Glowing purple spectacles shone around the corner as he looked down at his tablet and searched over the layout of this biblioteca. The great thing about libraries were that they were easy to sneak into after hours (really, who didn’t lock custodian door in GOTHAM?) and didn’t have much in the name of security. Or sure there were cameras, but they were easily overridden by Riddler’s technical expertise so that he could practically spend all night there without fear of getting caught. And, while the adrenaline levels of sneaking into the building weren’t very high for a person that had only a week or so ago found himself in the Batcave, Eddie was starting to feel like himself again. He could feel those riddling obsessions and worthless trivia bouncing around in his brain go to good use.
The first clue came in the form of a carrier pigeon. A carrier pigeon. Tip, tapping on his kitchen window until he let the dirty, cooing thing in. Didn’t the mysterious scavenger hunt master know that his teeth were already sunk into the Riddler’s neck? Taking it to the next level with charming deliveries of the hints were just chocolates and roses at an expensive dinner. Riddler didn’t need anymore convincing, but he would take it if it was offered. For, this sort of thing not only made him happy, but it made him feel like himself. There had been so much second guessing, so much self-loathing in the past couple of weeks that Gotham seemed keen on making him forget what made him such a special flower. He had feared, especially after Stephanie vanished, that he could never be anything but a criminal. But, if he were presented with this sort of game often enough, he suspected with time he could even get over Stephanie being gone for good.
He eyed the second floor of the library, watching the stairs for surprises before trotting up with vaudeville grace and sliding into an aisle full of musty, old books. Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone and wondered idly if this was a trap. Part of him hoped it was. It had been a long time since he had to make any sort of daring escape.
The meeting with Ra’s had left a bad taste in her mouth, and though she was usually fine with such things, she needed something to cleanse that bad taste away. Something lighter and less prone to mass genocide. She knew that she could simply go back through the door, let Iris have some time to herself, but the woman didn’t seem to be pushing especially hard for that. There had been a lot of sleeping in Iris’ time back in Las Vegas, a bit of tidying for the room that so often stood empty, and a light meal or two. It was nothing urgent and there was really nothing that required Iris’ presence, so Death stayed. Did her job while her attention wandered. A flicker of awareness through Gotham is all that it took for her to something (or someone, rather) that she thought could help her mood.
She hadn’t seen Eddie since punching him in the face, but she knew some of the things that had been going on in his own life. Knew the outlines of what had happened between him and Stephanie, and took a guess that he was at least a little out of sorts himself. She followed him through the vacant library for a bit before actually solidifying into a true form and tiptoeing silently behind him. As he searched the second floor, she was barely a step or two away, following, following, until he drew to a stop to think.
“What are we looking for?” she finally whispered with a smile, her voice only a foot or two behind his ear.
There were few things more fun than sneaking up on Riddler. He was well aware of that, but didn’t try to curb his reactions for the sake of others. His teeth raked together in a grimace as he leaked out an eeeeeek as he hopped back and held onto his coat and tablet like a strong wind just blew through the library. Body turned up in the angle of a man who seemed to subconsciously trying to climb up the bookcase to safety. “Muerte.” He whispered a scolding tone, but his dark eyes lit up behind the violet glasses, delighted and confused to see her. Two of his favorite emotions.
“I only give information like that to co-conspirators. Are you ready to take up such a title?” And, the Riddler almost asked how she got in or what she was doing here, but that teleportation thing got him every time. What he wouldn’t give to have something like that in his prime. He figured that with the plague ending, she had time to do something besides undertaking, so in a sense he was a little honored she’d bother to spend it tailing him. He smoothed his hand over a black pinstriped suit meant for meeting with Old Gotham’s mobsters and crooks, straightening his tie with a grin on his face that was boyish and dorky.
She couldn’t help the laugh that snuck out at his reaction. She had been hoping for some sort of response, but that was more than expected, and she had to admit that it pleased her a bit. The smile stayed spread across her face as he recovered his composure, and the expression in his own eyes (half hidden behind those glasses) pleased her even more. She would never want to admit it out loud, but with the strangeness this new world had brought to her, having someone that wasn’t afraid of her, and that enjoyed her being there, went a long way in smoothing over the moments that she felt a little too human. A little too vulnerable. Her one day a century to live and die was one thing, and a thing that she readily accepted, but the constant strangeness on days that shouldn’t be strange was wearing on her.
So with the grin from him and the very serious question, she simply smiled in return and nodded. “Sure, why not?”
Death wasn’t the only one in Gotham who was happy to see a friendly face. Riddler was used to forcing smirks and small signs of affection out of people like a kitten clawing at a string until it unraveled. But, now the only people who wanted to find him either wanted his hacker abilities or wanted to break him into submission. It was nice that this time Muerte wasn’t here to punch him. Well, not yet anyway. The night was still young and Eddie had such a fantastic way with words when he wanted to. “That’s what I like to hear.” He whispered mischievously, handing over a tiny little scroll of paper that had dance steps mapped to the library floor. There were a couple different pairs of feet, however and the trick was to find the right dance move.
“Do you know what the foxtrot looks like on paper?” Eddie asked, always committed to allowing people to solve a problem before he explained it. There was a time when he simply couldn’t walk someone through a puzzle or riddle, regardless if it was his or not, but Stephanie helped cure him of that. If anything, being asked to solve out these sorts of things for people actually helped him rehabilitate.
The look she threw him was all raised eyebrows and quirked smile. Did she know what the foxtrot looked like? Of course she did. She didn’t even comment, letting her look replace any words. She took the paper though and finally shifted her gaze down toward it. Her eyes moved between the map and the actual space of the library, seeing where the steps would translate on the dark floor. “A key? Or to avoid a trap?” Because those were two very different things. If the steps were needed simply to avoid setting off an alarm, they hardly pertained to her. But if they were some sort of pattern that would open something else... well, that was slightly more interesting.
Before he could answer though, she angled herself slightly away, the hand with the scroll of paper held up and slightly behind her, her eyes going sharp-dark on Eddie’s face. “I thought you were going good. ...where’s your sweetheart?” Love, desire, that was not her domain, though she knew that Stephanie wasn’t in Gotham. Wasn’t anywhere through the door at the moment.
“Good question.” He approved, looking up at the row of books and then back at her. “Unfortunately, I suspect it’s nothing so dangerously clever. Just a sign pointing me in the right direction.” And, he reached out for the scroll just as she snagged it behind her back, eyes widening with humorous shock as if she had just betrayed his trust. Where was Stephanie, indeed. If she were still in Gotham, would he be trying to find these clues with her or at all? Would he still be dancing the foxtrot alone? “I have no idea. And, even if I did, I don’t think she’d be in any mood to talk to me.” He gave her a defiantly sour look and smoothly traced steps backwards and away from her, stopped at the end of the aisle on his toes and spun down the other aisle.
“Someone left me a present while I was slowly drinking myself to death after I heard Stephanie had left.” Eddie’s voice dramatically carried through the empty library, his footsteps barely heard at all as he pushed two books off the shelf between them and looked at her with his bright, violet stare. “This is a scavenger hunt. We’re looking for a book with a figurative puzzle piece inside of it.”
“And what direction is the right direction, Eddie?” The question was quiet and serious, meant to encompass more than simply this scavenger hunt or his relationship with Stephanie. It entailed so much more than that, and she held his gaze, his own violet lenses doing nothing to lessen the impact. She let him go after those few seconds, watching him tiptoe his way along the aisle. As his voice carried, she followed him, her passing marring nothing in the room, no breeze of breath and footsteps silent when he wasn’t watching her, even though the soles of her boots were thick and heavy.
“Drinking isn’t your way to go...” Death murmured as she rolled her eyes, closer again than her progress should have logically taken her. She let the comment drop into the silence of the library, deadened by the insulation of shelves and pages. “A figurative puzzle piece,” she repeated instead, lifting her hand so that her fingers trailed over the spines of the books - bump bump bump along their backs. Her progress took her farther away from him, the motion seemingly random, thoughtless, until her fingers drew to a stop and lifted from the books. She tapped one slim finger to one of thousands of titles, then used it to hook the head of the spine and pull it out from the shelf at an angle, leaving it stuck there. With a glance back over her shoulder, she smirked at him and raised her eyebrows.
“I’m crossing my fingers for old age.” He said, though really he didn’t want to know how he died. There were very few things in this world Riddler had no interest in figuring out, but that was certainly one of them. Old age in retirement sounded nice to the little man in green. That was still assuming Stephanie was coming back, but even if she didn’t Riddler liked this new outlook on life and the challenges that came with it. Sure, he’d be lonely, he was always lonely, but at least there were still a few people in Gotham willing to play with him. Which, brought him back to her first question. He looked at her seriously, like he was competing for the foxtrot championship and stepped forward in long, silent, graceful steps, paused and zagged towards the cookbook section.
“Which direction.” He hummed with a musical lift in his voice from the song playing in his head. Old, fuzzy and brass like it was playing over the radio between shows about daring space explorers or noir detectives. “I thought Stephanie was my compass, but really she was more of a net.” Riddler smiled at the crooked book she left on the shelf, liking a little harmless mischief more than anyone else in this town. “I want to still do crosswords and wear green suits. But, I don’t want to hurt anyone in the process. Unfortunately, I have a knack for that sort of thing.” For all the dancing around the library and funny games, that last sentiment sounded serious. “You still have the scroll, tell me if I’m getting warm.”
“You still need a net,” she replied. “And a compass, if you can find it. If you really want to make this stick.” This being the change from that madman that could so easily slip toward the destruction of Gotham, simply out of boredom and a bad day. “Green is a good color on you though.” That statement was laced through with amusement, and she inched around the edge of one shelf, her voice carrying easily through the barricades of books. “But you can wear it without being malicious.”
She was suddenly around another shelf and in front of him again, steps matching his in time as he continued in his no-longer-solo foxtrot. She reached out to tuck the scroll of paper into the front pocket of his suitcoat. “Can you follow?” she smirked at him and reached out to take his right hand in her left, her other arm hooking below his with her hand resting on the back of his shoulder. He was just a bit taller than she was, which made the positioning a bit awkward, but she used her own elbow to jiggle his upward. “Your form is terrible,” she grinned, and stepped forward to lead him back, steps still in time with the tune he had been humming. “If we’re going to be a cliche here, at least have decent form, Eddie.”
“I’m not trying to be malicious.” He said, that dorky slant in his voice nearly reaching a whimper before he tried to shut it out. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t malicious before, quite the contrary, but lately the trouble he caused was just from solving problems his own way. Eddie knew she didn’t mean to suggest anything, not like Batman did, so he let it go the best he could. Besides, complementing him on his favorite color and how he wore it was the easiest way to cool his heels. He gave her a charming smile and a waggle of his eyebrows, pleased like a dog who just found a new ball.
“I haaate following.” An exasperated sigh as he took her hand and gently placed his other hand on her shoulder so his arm lined up with hers. He sulked like a child, but only for a second before lightly moving back on his heels with pure grace that couldn’t be taught at some boarding school or manners seminar. “Who needs good form when you have style?” Eddie’s voice lifted with sweet arrogance and he continued humming with soft little bah bah baahs for the trumpet and doot doots for the piano. “See, that’s the problem with you, Muerte. They should have made you take extracurriculars at undertaking school.”
“As much as you might not want to admit it, style isn’t everything,” she replied, executing a turn in time with his beat. Her steps were steady, unfaltering, like she’d danced the foxtrot a hundred times before. She smiled as she shook her head, leading them around another shelf with a soft directional pressure to the back of his shoulder. She had the plan of the steps in her mind even though the scroll of paper was still safely tucked in the front pocket of his jacket, and guided them in the right direction.
After a few more steps, another turn, she led them to a stop. His hand still in hers, she stepped back just enough to give a formal little bow, lips still tipped in a smile. “I think I’ve done well enough. Extracurriculars or not.”
Truth be told, he could appreciate perfect execution better than he let on. His exterior was a perpetual goofing, mayhem loving nerd, but that was to cover up the computer efficiency his mind was capable of. Unlike the Joker, who really did zig and zag before thinking most of the time, a lot of Riddler’s choices were plotted out far in advance with suspected results tabulated and graphed like he was some sort of scientist. But, when it came to dancing or his sporadic emotions, it was all style. “All I’m saying is you could have done well with a knitting class. A photography club.” He suggested. “Though it begs the question if someone like you even wants momentos.” Eddie didn’t know enough about Muerte to speculate whether or not she had a soft spot for the past, if she could afford one with such an endless, all knowing existence. But, she smiled while she did the foxtrot with a recovering super villain and she knew the best place in Gotham for Mexican food, so that had to mean something.
To her bow, he offered an absurd curtsy, sliding his foot behind the other so his toe tapped the ground and he held out one side of his coat jacket like the hem of a dress. He squeezed her hand before letting go, almost as a thank you for goofing off with him a little and turned to the bookcase. “It seems we’ve found ourselves in the biographies. Look for something unusual.” He started going through the books with delicate, quick accuracy. Flipping each open with a wave of pages before slamming each one shut.
“I don’t actually need momentos,” Death replied with a smile and a shake of her head. “I remember it all. ...and knitting’s not really my thing.” She returned the squeeze of her hand with one of her own, fingers warm around his before pulling away. Her attention turned to the shelves of books as his did, even though she could have pulled the correct one off the shelf with little thought or effort. This was his game, and she wasn’t going to ruin it for him. Her eyes caught one book in particular on an upper shelf, but she did her best to ignore it, sitting on the floor and working on the bottom shelf instead, copying Eddie’s actions. “I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to knit me a new pair of socks though.” The grin she tipped up toward him was cheeky.
“Don’t tempt me.” Riddler tilted his head to the side to look up at her with a smile that told her the socks would be bright green with little purple question marks all over them. What else could they be, after all? He caught the glance up, up the shelf and he followed her gaze to a book with a red piece of paper stuck to the binding. “Entirely too simple.” He said with frustration and intrigue, hopping up to try and grab the book without a foot ladder. Now, Eddie wasn’t that tall of a man. He wasn’t weirdly short like the Mad Hatter, but he didn’t tower like the Bat or have that looming, hunched height that his Joker possessed. Finally, he grabbed the book, nearly making another tumble down on her head and ripped the red piece of paper off.
“Binary code? Really. That’s the best you could do.” He held the red paper up for her to see (though showing things to an omnipresent was still a little weird) that it was covered in ones and zeroes. Riddler was unimpressed. “The first clue said I had to prove I wasn’t an imposter. But, this kind of nonsense anyone could do.” That sneaking feeling that he was being played or this was just some big insult drove him a little batty. But, he figured it had to be some sort of bigger plan. If his riddles were ever simple, it was to make Batman think things were going to be a lot easier than they actually were. “Bah. Let’s go before the librarians catch me and try to get all the overdue book money I owe.”
Death laughed, knowing exactly what the socks would look like if he went through with that threat, and the smile of that laugh lingered as she watched his progress toward the marked book. She likely could have helped him fetch it off the top shelf (even though she was no taller than he was normally), but instead she just watched the display of jumping and hopping. The piece of paper itself only received the lifted eyebrow of her regard, but then she levered herself back to her feet to stand next to him. “If you would just return them on time,” she started with another smile, but began to walk backwards up the aisle again, away from where he still stood.
“They like living under my bed. In fact, they have a book town and fight over who deserves to be sheriff. Personally, I’m pulling for The Silent World, but it refuses to get in the ring with The Sun Also Rises.” He followed after her, voice bright and pleased with itself despite the disappointing scavenger hunt. The hunt itself was actually pleasant, he reminded himself and the clue given had to be a small part to a bigger whole. Eddie caught up with her, linking his arm in hers for a moment and gave a friendly, knowing smirk. “I’m glad you got out of that plague with both of your boots still on. Don’t be a stranger, Muerte.” Which was an odd duck thing to say to Death, but Riddler was an odd duck kind of guy. And, with that he pulled away from her giving a small wave and hustling back the way he came.
Death shook her head with a smile, but allowed her arm to be linked with his for just a passing moment. “There aren’t a lot of things that are going to take my boots from me, Eddie. In fact, I can only think of one right now.” When he pulled away, she took a second to touch his cheek with a smirk of her own and was gone with a flutter of feather-sound before his voice had even died in the silence of the library.