Riddle me this [Open]

[Edward Nygma]

A letter arrived in the mail room at the Gotham City Police Department with only a green question mark on the envelope. Analysis of the green ink would point to custom made ink at boutique in London, one of a kind. The letter inside the envelope was on fancy stationary that a person could find in any wealthy businessman’s office. The letter was handwritten with the same ink in clear beautiful cursive.

Dear Gotham City Police Department,

Your inept ability is clear to even the least intelligent child, and the city grows tired. Lies and ignorance have given the weak and incompetent control whilst the gifted are dulled and forgotten. We will have no more. The truth will be laid bare for all, and the city will finally see the failures to those who claim to rule it.

Riddle me this, I see and hear all, I travel over the world instantaneously, but I never leave my home, who am I?

Sincerely,


E. Nygma

The Riddler


The day after the letter’s arrival, Edward stood in front of Wayne Tower with a bright green suit, custom tailored, a white Armani dress shirt, a purple tie properly straightened, a purple belt, and purple shoes and gloves. His head topped with a green bowler hat, and his glasses framed on his nose. He had a full grin on his features, ignoring the occasional odd glance in his direction. It was a new day! He had coffee in his hand, the sun had risen. He had a full breakfast, and he knew it would all go to plan. After months of computer coding, creating algorithm, data mining, and hacking, he had everything he needed to set the city back on course. A city that would never forget his name after today. He walked into Wayne Towers, greeted the security guards, as he put his coffee down on the small table next to the security scanner. They commented on his outfit, and Edward said he felt different today, leaving it at that. He took the coffee and continued to the elevator. He took it to the twentieth floor and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He took another gulp of his coffee before opening the cup and dumping the rest out. He pulled out a plastic bag that had a small gun inside that could fit into the palm of his hand. He connected it to the strap on his wrist under his suit jacket. He threw away the coffee cup. With a bounce in his step and a whistle, he went to the stall and the toilet, pulling open the back to pull out a plastic bag filled with what almost looked like toys. Rubik cubes, tiny question marks, puzzles. He made a face as water dripped off the bag, but even toilet water could not ruin his mood. He brought it to the sink and put each item in his pockets and threw it away. He properly dried his gloved hands and then continued out of the bathroom.

Again, fellow Wayne Corp employees seemed genuinely confused by his attire with most ignoring it and the few who commented were provided a smile and the same explanation. He went to the security elevator, and pulled out a card that was not his own, swiping it with confidence. It opened, and Edward walked in. He gently pulled off his glove to reveal another type of glove: a black thin layer with plastic. He pulled off the plastic and then pressed his hand to the hand sensitive security screen. It flashed green, and Edward pressed the button. He took off the black glove and replaced it with the original purple one on his hand. He whistled a cheerful tune as the elevator clicked higher and higher up. It opened to the hub of Wayne Tower security, and a few guards startled by his presence. Before they could even ask what he was doing there, Edward threw question marks at each one, which stuck to their person. Within a second, an electric current shot through their bodies and hearts, knocking each to the ground or slump in the chair. The cameras visible in the room appeared to already be flickering and having issues caused by a virus Edward had applied a few days ago.

He walked to the main chair and pushed the limp body out of it. His hand brushed the chair off to make certain it was clean, and then he sat proudly upon it. He pulled out his cell phone and a thumb drive, placing both on the security desk. He smirked to himself, pleased with how easy everything had gone so far. He then stretched his arms in the air, cracking his neck to prepare for the next step. Once settled, he got to work. The cell phone was hooked up to the security system and the thumb drive deposited into the receiver. The sound of typing rattled off, and windows popped open and closed with each click of enter. Security cameras and street cameras across Gotham came into view, as he brought them up. He laughed to himself as he watched people obliviously going about there day. Oh what poor fools.

Gotham would be in for a rude awakening this peaceful Tuesday morning. The weather was pleasant, sun shining, not too cool or too warm. The daytime was not known for as much crime as the evening. If anything, the morning offered a new chance at a peaceful day with coffee and breakfast. However, at 9:30AM, every security and fire alarm system secured through Wayne Corp. technology would go off with a loud blaring noise, including the alarm system in Wayne Tower, instructing people to leave. The police and fire department would receive alarms from all over the city, commercial buildings and residents. At 9:32AM, everyone that had Wayne Corp technology in their phones, computers, television, Alexa knock-offs, and more in where they provided a phone number or email address would receive either a text, email, or both.

It read –

Does the world know your secret?

It would provide photo, video, or voice recording evidence of the person’s deepest embarrassment or illegal activity that had occurred within the range of a phone, the internet, a security camera, a computer camera, phone camera, or voice recording. A voice recording of a man screaming his mistresses name, a video of a judge taking a bribe from a thug, a politician participating in sex trafficking.

If you can answer my riddle, it remains your secret. If not, the world will know.

Riddle me this…(and a riddle that truly was unsolvable)

A clock ticked down from ten minutes.


Sincerely,

The Riddler


Admittedly, Edward had not scanned through each piece of incriminating evidence for each individual of Gotham, that was the benefit of artificial intelligent technology, data mining, and algorithm. He could provide his created AI technology with boundaries to look for, such as sex, drugs, porn, prostitute, and more, and then let the AI scan through all the data and connect it to the individual. It had taken months to create, and month longer to get access to the data he needed, but he had done it. Gotham City would learn the truth, and those that had wronged him, his former Partners would face the biggest riddles of the day.



[You can provide any piece of incriminating evidence you wish to have used. It can either be very sensitive, dramatic, personal, or it can be nothing at all. Because AI is not perfect, some people (lets say 15 percent) will likely get some random photo of them baking cookies or something not embarrassing at all. The more dramatic though, the more fun it will likely be. Also to note, Edward did not plan far enough to purposefully exclude people he didn't want to piss off. So he is likely to piss off some people that he has no issues with or cares anything about. If you want a personal riddle with your text, pm and I'll do my best to come up with one.]

[Deleted]

(In a dingy apartment somewhere Uptown)

Scarface sat a top of a stack of dusty college text books in front of a computer screen while drinking a bottle of bourbon.  Scarface had spent the past thirty minutes maneuvering a computer mouse through the local news outlets, and information on cancelled Saturday morning cartoons.  Using the internet web browser 'Wayne-Scape,' Scareface slowly made his way over to their sock puppet email account, 'Scareface&[e-mail]'  Scarface (with help), clicked an email from a random user called the Riddler.  

Up popped a video of the Ventriloquist pacing around the apartment while holding up a cell phone with Facetime video.  In the video, Scarface is screaming at the top of his lungs at three mooks who were hired for a job last week.

"NOW DON"T YE G'OOGS FORGET!  DA EMERALD CITY G'ANK DOESN'T OPEN UNTIL 8:30AM!  LAST CREW I USED FORGETS TO SET THEIR CLOCKS 'GACK AN HOUR FOR DAY LIGHT SAVINGS. OUY VEI!  G'RING G'ULLETS, NOT PAINT'GALLS, AND MAKE SURE YE HAVE 'GALLS IN CASE DA POLICE SHOWS UP!!  FOLLOW DA INSTRUCTIONS AND DA HOOCH WILL G'E OURS! HAHAHAHAHAHA."   

Upon seeing the video, Scareface spits the bourbon out of his mouth all over the computer screen.  

The Ventriloquist merely says, "Oh my."  

"DON'T JUST SIT THERE WITH YER JAW JACKED OPEN.  WIPE MY MOUTH UP." 

Wesker nodded eagerly and promptly replies "Yes Sir Mr. Scarface.   Right away." 

Arnold gets a hanker-chief and wipes up the bourbon from the mannequin's mouth.  Then wipes up the computer screen.

"OH $&@^!  YE GOTTA G'E KIDDING ME A RIDDLE.  ARE YE GOOD AT DEM DUMMY?"  Scarface turned to look at his partner in crime.  

"N----n---no sir.  I usually look up the answers at the back of the book." 

The Ventriloquist brought up Scarface's arm so the mannequin facepalmed Itself.  "SUFFERIN SUCCOTASH.  DA ANSWER IS USUALLY AN ELEPHANT.   GOTTA G'E AN ELEPHANT."  

The pair viewed the riddle together.  Both of their eyes widened in horror.  Asking the pair to answer the riddle was like asking a 6 year old to explain the Kreb's Cycle or explain Cellular Respiration.  "I don't think the answer is an elephant sir."

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"  Needless to say, Scarface 'rage-quitted' the rest of the morning.  

"What are we going to do about the email Mister Scarface?"  

The Ventriloquist asked the simple question over lunch, which was a big old plate of spaghetti and meatballs.   Scarface dropped his fork, clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

"NOW DAT'S AN ANSWER TO AN EASY QUESTION.  YOU AND I ARE GONNA FIND DIS RIDDLER AND FILL HIM UP WITH 800 G'ULLETS!" 

  

[Oswald Cobblepot]

At 9:32 Oswald was at the docks having a meeting with a couple of his men. The air stank of fish and the seagulls were plentiful as a fishing boat was unloading its catch along with a few smuggled drugs for the Penguin. He'd actually abandoned his top hat and tuxedo for a suit, trench coat and flat cap, the monocle and umbrella remained but the smell of fish would cling to things relentlessly and he wasn't about to waste his best clothes on fishermen. Ferris the Pike, a middle aged wiry man of strength from cargo hauling was Ozzy's man on the dock, running things, keeping the smugglers happy and the products safe. While Rupert, a skinhead tattoo'd thug of muscle more commonly known as Tek for some reason was distributor to the drug dealers on the east side. They'd worked together for years under Oswald and the meeting had already achieved it's purpose so it had now devolved in to Tek showing Pike some pictures of his newborn daughter on his phone. Oswald allowed it, he'd gotten what he wanted and while he didn't care for children people say all sorts of things when they're relaxed that can be used against them later.

The notification of the email popped up on the phone, partially obscuring the twelfth picture of the baby lying there drooling. Does the world know your secret? "What the hell was tha'?" Pike asks, tap the phone himself before Tek had the time to panic, think of any secrets he had and try to hide it. The email opened to a highly inappropriate video of the inside of Tek's house from the perspective of his TV which had a thing he'd attached to do video calls. The video played automatically showing Tek had company "What the hell?!?!!" Tek quickly jabbed at the phone to make it stop and froze when he saw the riddle "......What the HELL man?!?!?!" Pike stared at Tek..."Was that Kristi?" Tek looked like a very embarrassed deer in the headlights "Er...yeah" there was a pause before Pike offered a fist bump and an approving nod of respect.

Oswald was paying attention to the bigger picture. While he was listening to Tek he had not failed to notice that all around the docks people were getting similar messages. Some were hiding them quickly, some were panicking with their coworkers, others were laughing it off because there was nothing bad about the message it sent them.

Oswald cautiously checked his phone and...nothing. Wayne's insistence on plastering his name on practically everything that stupid company made and Oswald's hatred of the man meant he didn't use Wayne tech. If he couldn't make it himself and there was a rival company that sold something similar he'd go for the rival. He also didn't have anything voice activated at home because that's what butlers were for and in their absence yelling at the men did the job just as well. He didn't even use the cheap stuff Wayne Tech didn't put their name on because Oswald knew the subsidiary companies and he'd never buy cheap items when he could get the expensive ones.

The absence of a message puzzled him as much as everyone else getting one though he wasn't angry about it until Pike was checking out the text message he'd had and it played a voice recording of some conversation they'd had weeks ago about a drug shipment due in. Oswald could hear himself in it and his temper flared. First question, was this evidence that could be used against him? The lawyers were bound to be able to deny that was him and dismiss it. Next question, WHO DARES THREATEN HIM?!

Oswald grabbed Pike by the front of his shirt, snatched the phone and pulled Pike down to his level "Why is there a recording of this?!" Oswald questioned with an ugly snarl. Pike looked scared, Tek was not helping "I-I don't know boss! I didn't do it! I swear I didn't!...Tha's me talkin' on there too, I-I'd be in jail too. I swear it wasn't me" Oswald sneered and didn't let go of the shirt but was inclined to believe him. Oswald looked at the phone and the puzzle. The Riddler. Never heard of him but clearly he knew how to piss someone off.

How though? He briefly thought on the riddle but quickly dismissed it as wasting of his time when he didn't know the answer right away. He wanted to know what would happen after the ten minutes were but he wasn't just going to sit and watch the clock. He approached the puzzle from a different angle. This was not targeted. Most of the dock workers got a message and the attached recordings or pictures varied in content wildly. He let Pike go and took Tek's phone as well, comparing the two before he marched off towards the dock workers, snatching phones and looking at the secrets while Pike ran interference and kept the dock workers from trying to get the phones back. Pictures and videos came from cameras in the room or while holding phones, there wasn't someone peeping through windows. It was technology not people being used to spy on everyone.

He had an idea. He kept up with things, he knew about voice activated technology and it listening in. He didn't know how wide spread this stuff had become, he had it turned off on his phone for a reason but he'd never thought on it long enough to make everyone else turn it off. He dumped the dozen phones he's collected on a shipping crate and "...Ok google" his face contorted in rage as many of them lit up, listening for instructions "Hey, Siri" got several more before he slammed his fist down on the crate and turned to face the little crowd of gathering dock workers "YOU IDIOTS!"

"Turn that shit off!" he roared as he paced away, trying to think without shooting anyone. He removed his hat to rub his head as he kept pacing, trying to keep thinking through the anger but then suddenly...a thought. A brilliant thought that made the anger disappear as Oswald realised someone had figured out how to take all this technology and use it to find people secrets. All that information was out there. If he could get that, if he could find out what was sent to the right people he could use it.

Oswald started to grin. He snapped his fingers at Tek "Get your boys stealing phones. I'll get you a list I want" yes, many of them would be locked if their owners had any sense at all but it was worth a shot while he worked on the other side of the problem "I need some tech people" Oswald looked determined as he headed for his car to arrange other business. He wanted that information, he wanted to know how it was done and he wanted to know everything about this Riddler that he could.



That night three IT staff from a tech company rival to Wayne Tech but still based in Gotham didn't come home. Apparently all of them voluntarily wiped their work computers and got in to a car when they went out to lunch together then disappeared. The following day some conglomerate company based in Belgium suddenly bought out IT Management Solutions, a small tech company in Gotham with the most generic of names. It made none of the newspapers and no one cared but for Oswald it was a start in to something new.

[Edward Nygma]

Everything was going to plan. Edward controlled his former partners like puppets with strings. He guided and moved each of their decision to the direction he desired until both were trapped in his riddle like unexpecting flies in a web. He would get his revenge on these two fools. Michael McClaire and Harold Johnson. Both would be punished for doubting his ability and for taking everything he had rightfully earned. Each had their own riddle, and through Wayne technology, he was able to balance both of them, and all the riddles he had set forth on the city. His screens showed Mike entering his riddle, another showed Harry heading into a basement prepared for him. He spoke to both of them, and taunted each, neither knowing what the other was going through. It would all go to plan. No one would ruin this for him.

The ten minutes was up for Gotham. For those who actually solved the riddle, they were given another and another and another and another and another. Only a person who could solve over 500 riddles in ten minutes would keep his secret, which was likely no one in Gotham, all too incompetent for such a task.

The clock clicked to zero, and Edward grinned wildly. After today, everyone would know his name. His fingers typed quickly, providing code after code, and then clicked enter. All the incriminating information was released online to a website labeled “The Truth”. He adjusted his purple tie with a question mark and straightened his suit. He pressed another button and grinned into the camera. “Good morning, Gotham! As suspected, you have failed, but do not fear, the Riddler is here!” he said with a laugh, holding his arms in the air, as if presenting himself to the world. His voice and face would appear across televisions around the city. There was a green tint with a question mark across the camera, somewhat hiding his exact features, but for those who had known Edward Nashton in the past, they would likely see a slight resemblance, though they may not initially think it was him. “I have given you the truth and removed the chains that those have put upon you. No longer will the those with less intelligence create and enforce the rules. You are free!” he proclaimed. He smiled darkly, knowing that many judges, politicians, and cops might lose their jobs by the end of the day and the likely riot that may start with so much information coming to the surface. Gotham would be in chaos, and it was how the Riddler had planned it. He clicked off, leaving only a Question Mark on the screen. He had a more important things to focus on now. His former partners had a riddle to solve.

[Roman Sionis]

"Is that a Wayne Corp product?!" Roman Sionis growled at his girlfriend. Roman stood in the main room of their private luxury apartment which was in reality the former Public Relations Department of Janus Cosmetics. With the Sionis family mansion razed to the ground, Roman was forced to find a new haven. One of his first orders as the new president of Janus Cosmetics was to move the PR department to the basement of the building and build this shrine for Circe and himself.

"Yes it is baby," Circe, the red-headed model responded, "Wayne Corp makes the best cell phones, laptops, computers, and well...pretty much everything else." Circe was sporting the EXTREME FACE PAINT makeup which consisted of a neon color design of yellow, green, and pink. Sionis and Circe were attempting to make the animal look popular. Circe and Roman had just returned from a photo-shoot, featuring Circe sporting zebra stripes in those neon colors.

The photographer was condecesnding through the photo session, making snide comments here and there about the 'silliness' of the makeup line. Roman resolved the situation by throwing five hunderd dollars at the photographer just to shut him up. Although, Roman did like the photographer being forward and 'honest.' No mask.

"WELL GET RID OF IT! Bruce Wayne is no where the business man I am! He's lucky that I'm not in the technology market, otherwise his products would be considered ancient relics. Wayne, what a douche bag. @#!$ gold out of his backside. !#!@ that." Roman was now seething. It didn't help that he was doing a copious amount of drugs at the present time, elevating his mood and bringing his emotions to a boil. The illegal substance in question was called 'Fever.' The drug operated like a stimulant and word on the street was that it felt like 'fire being poured over you, except it feels good!'

Roman was becoming addicted to it. The blue and white pill form. He popped another one which elevated his energy levels and testosterone even more. "Put the phone down and get the @#!@ over here." He motioned for Circe to join him on the couch.

Circe shrugged. She was about to put the telephone down when the text from the Riddler beamed onto her phone. The text was followed by a video of Circe and Roman participating in sexual intimacy. For some reason, Roman had asked her to record the session. Men and their ways. The video showed the tail end of their love making. The conclusion of which showed Roman struggling to climax and a bored Circe on the bottom.

"HoooooWoooooo!" Roman screamed in the video.

Circe bit her lip and tried to hide a smile. Roman looked over after hearing his own voice. "What the @#!# was that?" Roman stalked over to her and snatched the phone out of Circe's hand. The dull eyes of Roman Sionis failed to move, but his teeth began to grind against each other and a gloved fist began to clench. Scanning the text, it was signed by a name, the Riddler.

Roman Sionis threw the cell phone against the wall, shattering it to pieces. Circe jumped back in fright.  Roman stormed over to a plain wooden dresser and opened the top drawer.  With two hands he reached in and brought out a mask.  A red faced mask of oriental design with two sharp black horns and black eyes.  A large human snout was the gateway for two piercing tusk like teeth which pointed down vertically.  The mask depicted a Japanese oni or ogre demon.  A mythical monsterous humanoid that terrorized those who came across it.  Roman Sionis slid the mask onto his face.  It fit well.

"Oh Mr or Mrs. Riddler.  You messed with the wrong man.  Never heard of 'ye. Don't know who ye are. Don't know what ye look like. Don't know WHERE ye live. But I'll find out. I'll find out for sure.  And when I do, it will be time for scalpels, shears, the power drill, pliers, blowtorch, the WORKS!  Out come yer teeth one by one, then your tongue, then yer eyes, and then the nose.  It'll all be very painful.  Trust me.  How could I resist?  Moving up from plants aren't ye Roman? Heh."

[Victor Fries]

Carefully hidden in some unknown corner of Gotham, Victor was working tirelessly in his lab. He hadn't slept in days, but he'd found that ever since the accident his need for sleep had greatly lessened and he expected to work another few days more before he'd rest. Given that kind of a schedule, he didn't even necessarily notice that it was morning - that was simply unimportant.

Though some awareness of the world outside of his research came to him when a distant sound reached his ears - the sound of alarms in the distance. There weren't any alarms nearby because, though his lab had a security system and safety systems, it would be foolish for him to entrust Wayne Corp or anyone else to manage that for him - besides, putting up cameras and such and managing them himself was an absolute trifle to him.

Still, the noise attracted his attention enough for him to shift his attention away from his research and to his custom-made security system - just so he could check the cameras focused outside. Given his appearance, that was much safer than looking out a window, after all. What he saw was people rushing about in a confused fashion, but no sign of a fire or other emergency that would prompt such an alarm.

While he was still pondering this, he received an email message with an attached audio recording of him speaking to his men, planning a heist that they'd already done the week before. Unfortunately for the data mining algorithm, Victor simply didn't use a lot of the technology it was designed to exploit. He was an engineer, familiar with a lot of technology but not necessarily an expert in it - he'd been gradually incorporating more computer systems into his gear where it was more valuable, especially his Cryo-Suit, but certainly not to the degree that he'd connected it to the internet. In fact, this incident may later make him decide that would be a foolish idea in any event, even if it might be convenient. But beyond that, he didn't watch TV, and he also hadn't bothered with hardly any 'smart' devices. He did have a computer - more than one, actually, but none were set up with a microphone or camera outside of the security cameras, which were focused outside. The AI had to grasp at straws to come up with anything on him in the first place.

And he didn't find the recording immediately threatening because it was about a heist that had already occurred - that was no secret now, it was in the news. He did note the name, however - not one that he'd heard of, but this was unusual enough to grab at least a bit of his attention. Though as he frowned at the countdown clock, wondering what it would do exactly, he heard the footsteps of his men coming into the laboratory. That was unusual too - they knew he was working, didn't like to be disturbed, and that he didn't need anything from them today, and since his preferred environment was unpleasant to them, he'd expected that they would prefer to stay in the normal-temperature rooms he provided for them.

"What?"

"Uh, sorry boss, but we all suddenly got these messages... looks important..."

Fortunately for Victor, he preferred and intentionally recruited rather smart and loyal men, and many had worked with him long enough to know that their boss wouldn't care about their various non-work-related escapades. And the number who had been more concerned about alerting their boss to the problem than they were about keeping their secret exceeded the number who weren't to such a degree that all of them had opted to come. Their boss punished disloyalty severely, after all, and not showing up when everyone else did would definitely look like disloyalty.

Soon Victor found himself reviewing each secret in turn. A lot of them had nothing to do with his operations, and those didn't bother him in the slightest. So what if one of them would probably be divorced soon? Those that did have something to do with his operations though... He was still looking them over when the timer ran out and it was indicated that it was all published online - by this point he suspected it would be something like that.

He dismissed the men whose secrets he didn't care about and sent a message to those of his men who weren't present - since it was a day off for them and some of the men had families or other errands they'd wanted to take care of, all of the absences weren't necessarily signs of disloyalty, but he'd need to check their messages too. Those whose 'secret' indicated in some way that they worked for him he gave a choice: They could either cut off whatever outside ties they had and keep themselves in hiding just as much as he did so that they couldn't be picked up and questioned by the authorities about the secret revealed on the website, or they were fired. Some of the men made one choice, some made the other.

The other thing he realized that he had to do was to move. He'd already been planning on a move - he found it safer to limit how long he hid in one particular location - but he would need to speed up his timetable because now hints about this location were out there on the internet. He was under no delusion that it would need to be immediate - as a matter of regular security, he made sure that his men knew to keep his name off of their lips when they were talking to anyone outside of their circle. So it wasn't as if the police would know who to look up if they were trying to track him down - the secret was actually still safe until someone stumbled upon the right person. In a city of many millions, that could take some time. So he could safely assume that he had at least a few days - probably longer, but he wasn't one to take risks.

So in the end this 'Riddler' hadn't managed to cause him any grievous injury with this stunt. But they did cause him quite a bit of inconvenience - losing a few good men, who were hard to find and he detested the idea of having to replace them, and forcing him to move sooner than he'd wanted. Should he meet this person in the future, he would remember this.

[James Gordon]

The day the letter came was a day like any other, the letter wasn't addressed to anyone particular so it entered into Gotham City Police Plaza mail room purgatory. There were mailroom employees that weren't actually cops that went through everything, made sure the letters got to the correct people. Letters that were simply addressed to the department itself were opened and read in order to gauge the subject material. If they were concerning a certain officer or issue then the letter was passed to someone part of that unit or someone that could maybe do something about the concern. This was a rare occurrence though, mail was certainly on its way out because of the modern age. However, the GCPD mailroom still got its fair share of letters. The mailroom clerk that got his hand on this particular letter wasn't too impressed. A letter with a question mark, written in green ink. The letter called the GCPD inept, the news media did that almost every day but this time some joker decided to write a letter. Could it be the joker? It's possible but the mail clerk who was viewing the letter shrugged after he was finished reading it. "A riddle? What is this some sort of joke? Does some idiot think we actually have time to solve riddles?" The mailroom clerk was a man by the name Harry Pagini, a former cop of thirty years that retired some time ago now worked in the mailroom in his spare time.

"Hey Kid, come check this out." He'd call over Jake, a young man whose uncle was a Captain in the GCPD."Whaddya make of this? Some riddle or something" Harry had a very thick east coast accent, he handed the letter over to Jake and let him take a look. "I see and hear all, I travel over the world instantaneously, but I never leave my home, who am I?... No idea, Harry. Maybe we should take this to my uncle?" Jake seemed to take it more seriously than the older Harry, who laughed at the idea of passing it up to a Captain. "All due respect kid, this is a waste of his time. He's a busy man, your uncle. He don't have time for pranks and garbage like this." Jake a deep breath. "I'm having dinner with him tonight actually, what can be the harm of showing it to him?" Harry shrugged again, turning his back to Jake and returning to work. "Do whatever ya want kid, it was going in the trash anyway so keep it if ya feel that strongly about it."

---

Five hours later

Jake Peralta and his uncle Robert Peralta had just finished eating dinner, they were in the car now, preparing to head back home. "Thanks for dinner Uncle Bob." Jake would say, adjusting himself in his seat. "No problem, didn't you say you had something to show me?" Captain Peralta waited to start the car, he shifted his body so he was facing Jake. Jake would nod in approval, taking the letter from his pocket. "Harry and I got this letter today, thought maybe you should see it." Captain Peralta raised his eyebrows as he took the letter. "Let's see here..." He read over it pretty quickly. "You were right to bring me this, Jake... But there's nothing we can do it about it now. It's most likely an empty threat... I'm not sure what this riddle means but how about I hold onto this for now. Be sure you and Harry look for similar letters, but as of right now I don't think it warrants any worry." Jake would nod his head, seemingly pleased with the outcome. "Sure uncle Bob, I'll keep an eye out." The letter was put away, and not mentioned again for the rest of the car ride.

[Pamela Isley]

There was a certain type of socialite who wanted to date Bruce Wayne. It was almost exclusively the type of empty-headed, superficial woman who thought that there was something elegant about being with a billionaire instead of one of those lowly millionaire. To the man's credit, when it became known to the public that he was actually seriously dating someone it was usually someone more sophisticated than that, but Pamela had no desire to be even one of those. The type of woman who either flocked around him during parties, vying for his attention, every time he was single, however... those she felt nothing but contempt for. But she'd seen enough of them in action to know how to pretend to be one.

Cringing at herself for what she was doing and reminding herself why she was doing it, she took out the one small piece of pink paper she was sure that she would ever buy and wrote:

Dear Bruce,

We've known each other for a while, haven't we? We're always ending up at the same parties and have had wonderful little chats, but we've never really had the chance to talk properly and get to know each other. And you must know that I have admired you from afar for the longest time, but I haven't been brave enough to tell you - you always have so many people around you and I'm too shy to say such things in a crowd.

Perhaps we can fix that? Nothing too formal - I thought that maybe we could have breakfast? I happen to be available next Tuesday, sometime around 9:15...

Eagerly awaiting your reply,
Pamela Isley

She kissed the paper next to her signature then gagged to herself. Well, that should do the trick - if he was interested, he would certainly reply with a proper invitation. And to make sure that he was interested, rather than spritzing it with perfume she doctored the paper with pheromones - not too much, but enough to ensure that he'd forget about whatever other woman he may have his eye on for long enough to ask her out. The letter was tucked into an envelope and sent. Then she just had to wait.

As she expected, the next Tuesday at 9:15, she and Bruce were arriving at the restaurant, where she immediately urged him into getting a corner booth for them, saying that she didn't want everyone staring at them. The real reason was that at any other kind of table, it would be awkward to slowly cozy herself up to him. Because within fifteen minutes, that's what she'd done - they were cuddled up like young lovers instead of a couple out on their first date, talking about hardly anything because she really didn't know what to talk to him about, really. Not that he likely noticed that - her pheromones were keeping him far too lost in her eyes.

At 9:30 some alarms could be heard going off, but she distracted him by saying, "It's fine darling - some child playing with the fire alarm, I'm sure. They'll turn it off in a minute. Let's not let it interrupt our breakfast? Please? Tell me more about your trip to... where was it? Switzerland?" Though it was only two minutes later when everyone's phones started pinging. But the moment that Bruce made a move to check his, she immediately scolded him by saying, "Really, Bruce? We're on a date!" She gave him a certain pouty frown of disappointment known to make even the most stubborn man cave. She'd promised to keep him distracted, and so she was giving it her best.

[Deleted]

Bruce was sitting down for breakfast when Alfred brought the mail in. As always, Alfred personally sorted out the mail himself. Bruce did his best to keep his address private, but typically anything addressed to Wayne Manor would make it their way eventually. And there was always a lot of people sending him letters and emails, a majority begging for money, which Alfred could always tell which were the more sincere cases. Then there were media requests or invitations to this ball or that. generally Alfred would sort out what he thought would suit best around his schedule, and then come to Bruce for final commitments.

Honestly, if not for Alfred, Bruce was certain he would have screwed up majorly already. Being Batman and Bruce Wayne was only possible because of Alfred.

So as he was finishing off his breakfast, some sausages, eggs, and bacon with a nice glass of OJ, and then setting back down his newspaper, he saw Alfred coming in with the tray of mail and leaned back into his seat. This was their morning routine. On mornings he was home, anyway. Reaching for another slice of toast, he waited until Alfred was close enough and then spoke up. "Is there much mail this morning, Alfred?"

Alfred made a show of setting down the tray close enough for Bruce to reach it, before starting on his usual explanations. "A few, Sir. Dr. Hamilton would like you to come in for a check-up." "Two weeks time, isn't it, Alfred?" "Very good, Sir. There is also a letter from Mr. Flaherty about the orphanage. I believe they want to name it in your honor, after your rather large donation last year." Bruce shook his head as he took a bite of his toast. He tried to fund the orphanage without drawing too much attention to it. naming it after him would be the opposite of that. On the other hand, if he was publicly linked to the orphanage, it might draw in other big donors to help out just trying to associate themselves with him. "I'll consider it."

Alfred nodded as he set aside the orphanage letter an then picked up the next few, rifling through them slowly. "There are some invitations. A Metropolitan Gala requesting you be a participant.......Their re-opening City Hall after the remodelling......Both Miss Vale and Miss Lane have requested interviews......oh. And then there's this." Bruce looked up as Alfred slipped one envelope out of the bunch, handing it to Bruce with a small smile. As Bruce took it, a sweet scent filled his nostrils and Bruce paused, raising the envelope to his nostrils and inhaling once more. "A very sweet scent. Perfume?" "Indeed, Sir. it's a letter from Miss Isley."

Hearing the name sent a tingle to the back of his neck, as if he needed to remember something about that name, but instead of focusing upon the tingle, Bruce found himself opening the letter and reading through its contents. When he had finished reading it, he looked at Alfred with a slight smile curving his lips up. "Am I free next Tuesday, Alfred?" "I believe so, Sir. Nothing that can't be rescheduled anyway." "Alright. Then please send Miss Isley a response accepting her invitation." Alfred gave a small nod and Bruce took another sniff of the letter before setting it to the side. He had business to attend to that day, but over the next few days he would occasionally remember the letter and it seemed to make him smile. Never for long though, after all, he couldn't allow himself to be too distracted while out on patrol. But he was definitely looking forward to seeing the lovely Miss Isley again.....

****

At 9:15 on the dot, Bruce stepped out of his Lincoln, glancing around and easily spotting Pamela. Greeting her with a friendly but quick hug, and a soft kiss to her cheek, he found himself rivetted by her very presence, and easily agreed to her suggestion for a corner booth. Breakfast didn't seem to be on the menu but as each minute passed it seemed less important to him. With each moment in her presence, she seemed more and more alluring, drawing him into discussions of his holidays and small talk about the philanthropic causes he had been funding around the city. Of course when sirens started going off, it caught his attention and he stared out at the city. He heard her next words, turning back to face her again, but this time he wasn't as drawn in.

He looked back at Pamela with a smile, her words making a weird sort of sense to him and he shook his head before smiling at her. "It was...uhhh....Finland actually. B--Better slopes." Bruce looked back out at the street where the sirens were still going, and then heard his phone buzz on his hip. Reaching for his phone, he heard Pamela's objection, indignant enough to make him hesitate, but then his instincts kicked in. It wasn't his regular phone, it was his special phone. The phone only Lucius and Alfred could contact him on. Something was up. Letting out a playful laugh, he shook his head and gave her an apologetic smile. "Oh I know. It's the height of rudeness. I am so sorry, Pamela. This will just take a moment." Bruce shifted back a little, checking his phone to read the message from Lucius, and fighting the urge to show his anger or worry on his face. Mentally running through what he needed to do, he turned back to Pamela with a sad look and a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"I must apologise, Miss Isley. It appears there's some problems at Wayne Enterprises that need my immediate attention. Rain check?" Bruce barely waiting for her answer before giving her another kiss on the cheek and then dashing off. Making sure to stop by the Maitre De and sort out paying for the breakfast, and then stepping outside where Alfred was waiting. Slipping into his car, he waited until they had stopped driving before looking back at the restaurant and then back to Alfred. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, there was something about Pamela that worried him. He would need to look into her later. "Wayne Enterprises, Alfred. And step on it." Bruce knew his day had only just begun, and yet he fancied it was going to be a long one. Whoever this Riddler was, he was going to have to stop him. And he couldn't do it in his suit either. It had to be as Bruce Wayne.

This was going to be tough.

[Jonathan Crane]

The doctor stared at the picture that was delivered to him. How this "Riddler" got ahold of this at all was a mystery, but not one he intended to look into. It didn't matter how he'd gotten it, or why it existed at all. What mattered was how he was threatening to use it. The outline of a familiar gun was plain for him to see, an obvious threat from the holder. It was Gordon's weapon, his adoptive caretaker. The very same weapon that he'd used to release two teenagers from their mortal shells that one fateful night. He had shown them the truth and it had only set the course for what he would continue to show to others. The truth.

If this was exposed it would ruin everything. He would obviously be tied back to their murder, even if it was in the end Gordon's weapon. They would not suspicion him and Dr. Crane had a motive. Although no information was directly given about who had beaten him into a coma that night, he knew that Gordon knew. Recalling the night had him drift into a long stare at the weapon. If he could get ahold of it, it wouldn't be a problem anymore. Obviously, he didn't hide it adequately the first time. Not that is mattered now.

He opened his cellphone and moved down his contacts to the information that was provided to him. The riddle had been read, but he had little desire to solve it. Instead there were other things on his mind. The Riddler wasn't just going to give his position for a solved riddle. Without the gun physically present, he had no reason to follow through. He sent a message to him quickly, where to meet him and when while the doctor got up and began to prepare himself. This time he was going to bring everything he had. He moved to the fridge and grabbed 4 prepped syringes. Making sure they were in his proper places in his coat he moved to his room to collect the rest of his things. In his closet he pulled his mask down from the top shelf. A prototype, the fans didn't even fully work inside, but it would work for intimidations sake. There was still so much work that needed to be done.

With all of his equipment he moved to the door and left to meet this "Riddler."

He would need to show him what the truth how his questions were.