A favor that may be more trouble than it's worth [Renee]

[Edward Nygma]

A woman with thick blonde hair cascading down her back ran through the front of the Gotham City Police Department. For the distress look on her features, she appeared still perfectly put together in a white dress suit and red heels. She was nothing like the woman of her high school days, constantly getting into trouble and rocking a hoodie. Instead, she had married well during college and turned her life around, but she remained in touch (an occasional letter or phone call) to those she had left behind, which included a Renee Montoya. “I’m looking for Renee Montoya. Can you tell me where she is? This is important!” the woman demanded, clutching a letter tightly in her hand. The man up front appeared to have no patience for the scene, busy with other work as the phone went off the hook. He nodded and pointed in the direction of an office as he answered the phone. The woman quickly followed the gesture and sped walk across the busy department to the direction.

She provided a brief knock before barging into the office. “Renee? I’m so sorry to barge in like this. It’s Samantha McClaire, you know, I was Samantha Harper back in the day. It’s been ages, totally my fault. Life gets the best of you, you know? I wouldn’t have come unless it’s an emergency, but my husband and son are missing. I called the GCPD earlier, but they told me they couldn’t do anything about it unless they have been gone for 48 hours. I know in my bones something is wrong,” she was rambling, practically begging. She forced her hand out with a letter. “My husband, Michael, he doesn’t simply not call. He was supposed to pick up our son. I’m concerned. I went to my husband’s office and found this. I’ve never seen it before, and it’s threatening. Is there anything you can do?” she pleaded.

It was Tuesday morning at 8:50AM. Forty minutes before every security and fire alarm system in the city would go off and forty-two minutes before almost every individual in the city would receive a text message or email with personal information and a riddle. Unbeknownst to the Gotham City Police Department, Ms. Samantha McClaire was the wife of Michael McClaire, one of Edward Nashton’s former partner at Gotham Financial Asset Management.

The day prior Mr. McClaire had received a letter with a green question mark. The letter was written in elegant script and read.

Dear Mike,

Do you know where your son is? For you to know, it would require you to have even the resemblance of forethought, which we both know you lack completely. You succeeded off the work of those around you, taking neither responsibility or risk. You blame others. You do nothing. Yet you still succeed.

This unfairness will continue no more. For the first time in your life, you will have to bear the consequence of each of your actions.

Let us start with a riddle.

Riddle me this, when I am hot, I charge after red, when I am cold, I hibernate, but no matter the temperature, I constantly change hands from the first to last bell. Who am I?

Sincerely,

E. Nygma

The Riddler


This letter had been discarded quickly on the office desk once Mike solved it, having received an anonymous text message with a picture of his son to create incentive. This same letter was now being roughly handed over to Renee, as the Samantha looked at her desperately. “Please help me find them,” she begged.

[Deleted]

Another early morning at GCPD's headquarters, Renee is still getting the hang of the place and is still trying to figure out the layout of the building - she'll have another wander around later, when she's not half asleep. She just arrived to the office an hour ago, she's already on her second cup of coffee and the bags in her eyes are still heavy - the other officers have already learned quickly to avoid bothering her this early in the morning, as she'll quickly snap at them if they dare approach her. Her partner, Krause, is in a meeting with Captain Schultz about his performance review, this leaves Montoya alone at her desk as she shuffles through her paperwork.

Next to the papers about the cases she's going through, there's a danish that Krause had provided her when she got in, they're cheap and not the best quality, but they're a good way to kick start the day. She takes a sip of her low grade coffee, letting out a short sigh, she still misses the coffee from Midtown - her colleagues are having various conversations about different topics, from sports, the latest episode of a tv show, movies, stocks, the gym - she zones in and out of these various discussions, only picking up bits here and there but not really paying attention to any of them. Just as she starts to focus on one of her cases, reaching for her danish to get another bite - the door knocks, slightly startling her. Great, another disturbance, she thinks.

As she turns to find out who it is, she lays eyes on her highschool friend - Samantha McClaire - she didn't have a lot of friends back in high school, but Sam was one of those that were there for her through the low points of her life - while they were never close, per se, she did trust her and felt she could rely on her when she couldn't most others. Montoya's lips curl into a rare smile for a brief second, but Samantha doesn't seem to be in a smiling mood. "Hey Sam. Long time no s-" Before Renee can finish, Samantha seems to ramble in a panic about her husband being missing. Most reported person cases end up being solved in a short time, it's usually just a night out drinking or the missing person crashing at a friends house with a dead phone - it's almost never something to be concerned about.

Sam persists, and Montoya is ready to try to calm her - until she pulls out the letter. The white letter with the green question mark on it - she's seen one before, it was delivered to the mail room. It hadn't been her case, but this isn't the first time she's laid eyes on one...this is starting to get serious. "Let me see that, Sam." Montoya peels open the letter, tugging out the paper inside and reading the text. Damn, it seems like this isn't a false alarm, Renee reads over every word, her eyes narrowing and her brow furrowed. Doing her best to decipher what she's reading, Montoya finishes reading, addressed by "The Riddler"...just like the one that was sent to the office. Someone is either trying a huge prank or trying to make a name for themselves, either way, Montoya has had enough.

She turns to look at her high school friend, setting the letter down on her desk, she turns her office chair around slightly to face Sam, leaning back as she crosses one leg over the other. "You need to tell me everything from before your son went missing." She pauses, looking over to the letter before back to Sam. "I don't want to alarm ya, but unless your husband is a dick enough to pull a prank like this, this is a kidnapping - it ain't my department...but if the department that do this work ain't helping ya then I will. Off the books. As a favor."

Renee turns back to the letter, listening to whatever Sam has to say while she reads over the riddle again - when I am hot, I charge after red...when I am cold, I hibernate. No matter the temperature, constantly changing hands from first to last bell. Montoya has always hated riddles and brainteasers. She has to break down this riddle to its basics to get an idea of what it means. "Right. So let's start with the obvious...charging after red, the only thing that comes to mind with that one is a bull. Then again, ya can say darts charge after red when ya throw 'em...but that's a stretch."

The tip of her index finger drifts over to the second hint as she continues to think out loud. "Hibernating in the cold, there's a few animals it could be...main one obviously comin' to mind being bears, but ya have bees, snakes and bats - this better not be about Batman, I swear...anways, it's gotta be an animal, especially if we've got bulls involved. As for the last part about changin' hands from bell to bell, that part I don't get."  Montoya grabs a bite of her danish and a sip of her coffee, glancing back over to Sam. "Sam...leave it to me, I'll find them. I'll keep ya updated, leave your cellphone on and I'll call ya when I find out more - but the first step is figurin' out this riddle. Your husband is probably safe, he's probably just lookin' for your kid - I'll find 'em both."

When Sam leaves, it takes around half an hour of reading the riddle - repeating certain parts of it aloud at times. Her danish is gone and her coffee cup is empty, but Montoya hasn't gotten a refill as she's still staring at the paper on her desk. "What the hell do bears and bulls have to do with each other? I still don't get the bell thing, either..." Montoya clenches her fists as she begins to get frustrated, but her head rises when one of her colleagues, Jack Schrader chimes in after overhearing her. "Hey Montoya, didn't know you played the stock market. Any good investments?" Montoya raises an eyebrow, shaking her head left-to-right a few times with a bemused expression on her face. "What the hell are ya talking about? I don't have time to be putting more money in the pockets of rich assholes, I don't play the stock market."

"Oh, sorry!" Jack is a little bit shaken as he blurts out. "I just thought...you know...mentioning the bears, bulls and bells - my mistake. I'll be on my way." Montoya almost lets him get away until she comes to the realization that she's getting nowhere - she quickly stands up and blocks his path, her arms firmly folding across her chest. "Stop right there." She steps forward, getting right in his face, looking at the fear in his eyes - but for once she doesn't plan on kicking someones ass. "What do ya mean? What do bears and bulls have to do with the stock market? I get the bells, I've seen Wolf of Wall Street. Tell me what ya mean. Details."

Jack clears his throat, sweat gathering on his forehead at Montoya's intimidating presence. "Well...how do I put it...you've got the bull and bear market, right? So like, think of the animals literally - a bear swipes its paws downward, right? So the trend is going down, that's the bear market. Then you've got the bulls, with their horns, thrusting into the air - that means the trend is going up, so that's the bull market. Honestly, you should really play the stocks some time, there's good money in it if you know where to invest - me and Luke head down to the Gotham Stock Exchange every week, you should join us some time! Anyway, I have to get back to work, nice chatting." Jack gives a quick nod, shuffling his feet as he brushes past her and tries to get out of range of her as quick as he can.

Montoya grabs the letter, folding it up and digging it into her pocket - she looks up at the clock, Krause seems to be going through a long meeting - she's on her own. "It's a place to start, I guess..." she mutters under her breath as she grabs her cuffs, badge and gun then leaves the office before getting into her personal car, driving on the limit as she makes her way over to the Stock Exchange - this is going to be a long day, she already knows it. Montoya pulls up outside the building that towers over her - so this is where the rich get richer. "What the hell should I even be lookin' for?" She starts to examine her surroundings - contemplating going inside, she wants to make sure she can't spot anything outside just yet. When she's sure there's nothing, she heads through the doors and is approached at the entrance by a customer service consultant, a lady with a big and blatantly forced smile. "Hello ma'am, I haven't seen you here before - and you're not really dressed for the part. How can we help today?"

Montoya holds up her GCPD badge that hangs from a chain around her neck before letting it settle back down on her chest. "Detective Montoya from Gotham City Police Department - usually homicide, but today I'm looking into a kidnapping case. Ya need to tell me if ya have any accounts under the name "E. Nygma." And no, before ya ask, I don't know what the first initial stands for. I need to find out. Where can I start lookin'?"

[Edward Nygma]

Samantha had come to Renee, determined to not leave until she took on the case. She needed help, and the threatening letter made no sense to her. The police would do nothing, so she needed Renee to at least look at it. They were old friends after all. She happily handed the letter over when Renee requested it, almost breathing a sigh of relief. She watched her read it, and quickly caught onto Renee’s shift in demeanor. She appeared far more serious than she had moments before, which suggested that Samantha had been right to suspect foul play. When Renee confirmed a kidnapping, Samantha sucked in a sharp breath, and her hands turned to fist while her eyes began to water. Panic. She was panicked earlier, but now, knowing her son was kidnapped, he was only a boy. Well by a boy, he was nearly 16 years old, but he still was a child in Samantha’s eyes.

Her breath hitched, as tears started down her face. “I saw my son, Joseph, yesterday morning before he was heading to school,” she started and then began to explain the past couple days. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Her husband had gotten into a good mood within the past week because the incident at work last year had finally been resolved. She mentioned offhandedly how her husband partly owned an Asset Management Firm that had gone under legal scrutiny, but her husband had, of course, done nothing wrong. She explained how they had plans to go away for the upcoming weekend, and how her husband was supposed to pick up their son after football practice. “I don’t know who would do this to us? Haven’t we been through enough?” she went on, frustrated over the year events, “It has all been going wrong since that damn Edward Nashton character!” She wiped her eyes, noting that it was all his fault for the business falling short and them having to cut back on finances, “I told my husband that I didn’t trust him? Does he listen to me? No!” She finally managed to calm herself, listening to Renee tackle the riddle. She felt somewhat at ease to know that finally someone was taking her seriously. “Thank you, Renee. Thank you so much,” she repeated, “I’ll be near the phone.” Samantha left, still weeping and picking up her cell to call her mother.

Michael McClaire, being well-versed in the stock market, had solved the riddle and arrived at the Gotham Stock Exchange late the prior evening. It was closed as expected, which left the man to pace about the building looking for any clues to his son. He had texted the anonymous number on the phone, informing the number that he was here and that he wanted his son. He threatened to call the police. The text message he received was a “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Do you care so little for your boy’s life to get the police involved? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.”

Edward had sent the text message from the comfort of his run-down apartment on Monday evening. He smirked to himself, legs up on his desk as he leaned back in his desk chair. He had big plans for tomorrow, and he would be well rested, while Mike would stay up all night like a chicken with his head cut off. Had Edward sent the riddle earlier than needed to Mike? Yes, he had done so purposefully because Edward planned to waste Mike’s time the way Mike had wasted his.

Michael would spend the entire night outside the stock exchange, looking for anything with a clue. He nodded off a few times, until finally the sun rose and the doors were unlocked. When he went inside, he ran about, looking for clues. It took him a moment, exhausted from the evening outdoors, but he eventually caught sight of an advertisement on a wall. It went through varying ads, including expensive shoe ware and watches, vacations, and life insurance. There also was a simple advertisement in the same color green as the letter. You, yes you! Sell! Sell! Sell! -? The question mark in the ad could be taken as a mistake, but Michael knew it to be purposeful. It made him cringe at the very idea. He had millions of dollars in stocks, and this damn Riddler was blackmailing him into selling it all. He paced back and forth, briefly debating between money and his son before frustratingly going to the desk. He provided his name and the woman smiled at him, “Mr. McCalire, I was asked to give to this to you.” The woman provided him with a handwritten note.

ENYG

As you went up, I went down. Riddle me this, what day did you betray me? Since you enjoy going up, why not do so again?

- The Riddler


Michael’s jaw locked, reading the stock exchange abbreviation for a company he had never heard of. He knew he was paying his blackmailer, and the riddle provided the answer of the blackmailer’s identity. Edward Nashton. The arrogant prick. He was the only person he knew that spoke in questions, and accused him of betrayal. “I would like to sell all of my stock and use it to buy ENYG,” he said through clenched teeth to the polite woman who successfully provided the request after he signed the appropriate form. Michael crumbled up the paper and tossed it into the trash can as he walked towards the elevator. The day suggested in the letter could be either the day he had spoken with the FBI or the day he had fired that egotistical terrible man. He went with the date of firing. August 22. He pressed the elevator to the 22nd Floor. The alarm for the building began going off, and Michael was forced to walk the rest of the way through the stairwell, fighting through the crowds that had begun to exit the building. He finally opened the door to a floor being completely remodeled. It appeared empty at first, with plastic covering rooms. He walked down the hall, and there he saw a big video image of Edward Nashton in green. “Hello Mike, welcome to my riddle!” Edward proclaimed with laughter

Montoya would have missed Michael McClaire heading to the elevator by seven minutes, literally walking almost in the same path as him as she headed to the customer service consultant. The woman at the desk looked startled by the GCPD badge. At the Gotham Stock Exchange, they had dealt with law enforcement before, but it often took place from the federal level, FBI or SEC, regarding white collar crimes, not a kidnapping. She knew immediately she would be unable to find an account without a first name, however the name sparked a chord. “I do not know of an account, but a company has an abbreviation of ENYG. It recently saw an influx of purchases, and the price shot high. It’s catching everyone’s attention,” she answered, not knowing if it was the right information to provide. However, there was not much more to say because the alarm in the entire building began to blare, and everyone working the stock market went into protocol to keep the market open even as the building shut down.

[Deleted]

Earlier on when Renee had left the station, she had retained the information that Sam had given her - she mentioned a man named "Edward Nashton", she didn't really think much of it at the time and even slightly disregarded it because Sam was in distress when she mentioned him. People close to kidnap victims tend to clutch at a lot of straws and blame a lot of people while in hysterics - so Montoya didn't really let Sam's claims affect her judgement or investigation, but she kept the name in mind just in case the lead ends up being more true than false.

The one thing on Montoya's mind since she read that riddle letter is just trying to figure out exactly what the culprit is looking to gain - it's rare for a kidnapping case not to have some kind of motive or demand - what does the kidnapper want? Taking someones kid is the easiest way to get them to pay up something, why didn't the kidnapper make any demands for something of value? Even as she stands inside the Stock Exchange, feeling like she is making some progress to getting all these questions answered - she just doesn't understand. Despite all of this, Renee is determined to get to the bottom of all this, save the kid and cuff the perp.

She listened to the customer service consultant who told her they wouldn't be able to help her find an account - but with this, she gets a lead - "ENYG", with an influx of purchases and getting high on value, surely can't be a coincidence considering the timing. "That company - I'll need to find out more about them. Who's the CEO? How long has it been on the market?" Renee gets ready to reach into her jacket for her GCPD handbook, but before things can go any further, the alarm in the building rings to a near deafening level. This causes her to hover her hand over her sidearm, ready for danger, the building locking down. "Well...looks like this place was the answer to that riddle after all...thanks Jack, owe ya a drink...but what the hell is the next step to all this?"

Montoya brushes her way past the consultant, making her way deeper into the stock exchange, she quickly looks around and spots a women's bathroom - she gives a nod of the head as she makes her way towards it, squeezing her way through the crowds of people who don't seem to be as scared as they should be - typical, they only care about money and nothing else. Montoya eventually makes it to the restroom, opening the door, entering and shutting it behind her, turning the lock to make sure it's secure - it's much quieter in here, away from all the loud alarm blaring.

She does a quick survey, checking under the gaps in each stall - all empty, good. She sighs, pulling out her cellphone and quickly dialling Samantha's number before moving it to her ear. "Hey, Sam." Montoya greets her bluntly in her monotone voice, she turns to look in the mirror while she begins to speak to her highschool friend. "So, good news and bad news - the good news is I'm on the right track, the riddle got me to the right place...the bad news is, I ain't sure where to go next. Look, I need more info, anything ya can tell me - start with telling me your theory about that Edward Nashton guy. It might get me somewhere - ya said it all seemed to start when he came around - tell me the full story. Keep it short, I feel like we might be runnin' short on time. If ya can think of anything that might relate to the stock market too - that would be helpful - the riddle lead me to the Stock Exchange."

[Edward Nygma]

Edward sat comfortably in the leather chair in Wayne Towers. His feet up on the dashboard, as he was giddy with excitement. Everything was happening as to plan. He could dance between all the security cameras of the city, watching as people received text or emails with their hidden secrets. Many in shock, dropping their phone, while others attempted to delete or solve his riddles. The citywide chaos of alarms and hidden secrets was a wonderful way to introduce himself to Gotham, but it was not the primary purpose. It was simply a distraction with the extra bonus of showing everyone the farce of the city’s elite and entitled. His main focus remained on his selfish inconsiderate idiotic partners from his former firm. Christopher was so moronic, he hadn’t gotten to the first phase yet, but Mike had arrived. Time for the real fun.

The web-camera shined his face on the wall, and his own small cameras in the area provided him a perfect view of the man. Mike appeared furious and pointed his thick finger at him, “You god damn bastard. What is this crap? Where is my fucking son?”

Edward smirked, not effecting by his poor language, “It’s a riddle. Since apparently you are smart enough to run the firm without me, this riddle should not be a challenge for you. At least, for your son’s sake, I hope not.” He swung his feet off the dashboard and pressed a button, which showed a video of his son tied to the minute hand of the large clock on top of the Gotham Stock Exchange Building. The boy’s mouth was covered, and he was screaming and struggling. “It’s quite a good thing that the clock is broken, or at least it was until I fixed it.”

“Let him go! You fucking bastard! Let him go! He didn’t do anything!”

Downstairs, the stock exchange assistant printed out the stock information for Renee. The paper provided a one page of the stock and the current exchange rate, the open rate, the current percent change, and the history of the stock price. It also provided a small background.

ENYG

Enygma Inc.

Chief Executive Officer Ben Dahir

Enygma Inc., founded in 2020, is headquartered in Gotham City and produces puzzles and games to better educate society.

Sam had obviously been crying. The sniffles and choked out words proved that she had only managed to work herself further since she last saw Renee. When Renee mentioned Edward, the tears shifted to anger and frustration. “He ruined our name, our business. He stole millions and embezzled from our clients. Even though we provided everything to the FBI, they assume our family is involved. He is terrible,” Sam continued, expressing that the man had threatened them when they forced him out of the company. She explained that he made a scene at her son’s birthday, August 22, going on about how she was so upset that Mike did not wait until the next day to give Edward the news. The crazy man had embarrassed them in front of their friends. She could have gone on forever, because keeping things short was not her thing. So she went onto explain the birthday party, and how they had to call security, etc.