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Chapter 24: It's Actually Quite Simple
In the classroom, Tim Drake sat with his chin in his hands, staring blankly ahead, looking utterly exhausted.
"Yo, Master Drake. Thinking about a girl?"
A teasing voice broke his trance. Tim didn't need to look to know who it was.
"I'm thinking about where to punch you, Darren."
"I worry about your mental health, and you threaten violence. Gotham really is going downhill," Darren sighed, shaking his head.
Tim chuckled dryly. Then, realizing something, he looked at Darren with surprise. "Wait, you're early today? Since when does the chronic late-sleeper arrive before the bell?"
Darren looked at him like he was an idiot. "You're the one who's still asleep. Check the time."
Tim grabbed his phone. Less than three minutes to the first bell.
"What? Two hours... gone?" Tim stared at the screen in disbelief. He thought he had just arrived, but he had zoned out for nearly two hours.
"What were you thinking about? Your dad's company going bankrupt?" Darren whispered.
"No. Stop guessing." Tim rubbed his forehead. Suddenly, he turned to Darren with intense, burning eyes.
"Hey! Personal space!" Darren recoiled.
"Darren, your magic skills are high level, right?" Tim asked, ignoring the protest.
"They're decent."
"How decent? Compared to... Phantom Thief Kid?"
Darren narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Kid uses magic tricks to steal. As a 'righteous' magician, how would you rate him? Can you debunk his tricks?" Tim asked eagerly.
Darren stared at him in silence. "Tim, you seem unusually interested in Kid lately."
Tim's pupils constricted. Crap. Was I too eager? He quickly backpedaled. "Just curiosity! Everyone is talking about him. He's the biggest news in Gotham."
"Curiosity is fine," Darren said, patting Tim's shoulder gravely. "Just don't get any ideas. Magic is for bringing smiles, not crime. Even if your dad goes broke, don't become a copycat criminal."
Tim exhaled, relieved his cover was safe. "Get lost."
Recess.
"So, you were stunned by his heist and just want to know how he did it? You should have said so," Darren said. "Honestly, Kid's tricks are so wild they might as well be real magic."
"So," Tim pressed, "can they be done with stage magic?"
Darren closed his eyes, pretending to think. "I can't say for sure if he uses real magic. But the things you described—swapping bodies in the dark, vanishing into pigeons—those can be achieved with magic tricks."
"Really? How?"
"It's actually quite simple. You just have to..."
GCPD Headquarters.
"Still nothing?" Gordon asked.
"No, sir. No sign of the Vanaver Necklace," the officer reported.
Gordon sat at his desk, frowning. "Last time, Kid returned the Goddess's Tear in less than a week. It's been ten days. Did I misjudge him?"
Gordon worried that the return of the first gem was a long-con—a psychological ploy to lower their guard so Kid could keep the real prize, the Emerald Necklace.
"Commissioner! Bad news!"
An officer burst in, looking panicked.
Gordon stood up. "Is it Kid? Is he leaving town?"
"No, sir. It's the Riddler!" the officer gasped. "We just got a call from Arkham. He's escaped!"
Chapter 25: Gotham Can Only Have One Riddler!
Wee-woo-wee-woo—
GCPD cruisers screeched into Arkham Asylum. Gordon led the charge.
At a glance, the situation was stable. No fires, no riots. Riddler had escaped alone.
Kenneth, the Captain of the Guard, led Gordon to the empty cell. On the wall, scrawled in green paint, was a message:
[GOTHAM WILL ALWAYS HAVE ONLY ONE RIDDLER]
"The cell is intact. How did he get out?" Gordon demanded.
"He... he bribed a guard. Somehow. The guard let him out. We have the traitor in custody," Kenneth admitted, looking ashamed.
"I ordered patrols of no less than three men! No gaps longer than fifteen minutes! No talking to the inmates!" Gordon roared.
"The asylum has been quiet for a year... people got complacent," Kenneth murmured.
"Complacent?" Gordon's eyes were cold. "Kenneth, your predecessor had his throat bitten out the day after he declared the killer 'reformed.' You have no idea what monsters you are living with."
Gordon stormed out to issue the warrant. Unlike Kid, the Riddler was a threat to public safety. He was ready to light the Bat-Signal if necessary.
In the car, Gordon pondered the message. One Riddler.
When did Gotham get a second one?
He remembered Zach, the museum curator, mistaking Kid's first heist note for a riddle. He remembered visiting Nygma, who was furious at the comparison.
Is he out to kill Kid?
But how would Nygma find him?
The answer arrived the next day. A courier delivered a trophy shaped like a green question mark to Gordon's desk.
Gordon called the Bomb Squad and Hazmat. They cleared the trophy in the training yard. No explosives, no gas. Just a USB drive in a hidden compartment.
Gordon plugged it into a laptop. A video played.
The Riddler's face filled the screen.
"Greetings, Gotham. And the GCPD. It's been a while."
"I am the Riddler. The only Riddler." Nygma beamed with arrogance.
"But I hear there is a new thief in town who likes to leave puzzles. A thief using riddles to announce his crimes? It lacks logic. It lacks class."
"He is a copycat. A crass imitation!" Riddler spat. "I cannot tolerate this infringement on my intellectual property. So I have returned to show you all what a true riddle looks like."
He stepped aside to reveal a chair behind him.
A young girl was tied to it.
And hanging around her neck was the missing Vanaver Emerald Necklace.
"You're watching, aren't you, Kid? I don't know why you threw this bauble into the river for this poor girl to find, but she is here because of you."
Riddler leaned into the camera.
"Her fate is your fault, Kid. Don't you think you should make amends?"
"I will give you a riddle. You, the police, even the Bat. Solve it, and you find her."
"But you only have three days. After that... boom."
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