Riddled

Riddled by BillA1

Disclaimer: The characters Batman, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Superman, Flash & their respective secret identities are all owned by DC Comics. This story is intended for my own pleasure and is not for profit. It has been posted to this site for others to read. Places and characters not own by DC Comics are my own creation. This story is based on characters from Batman: The Animated Series. Thanks to Merlin Missy for her beta on this story.

Riddled

Rating: (PG)

Synopsis: Batman, Robin, The Riddler, Big Trouble

It was quiet in Gotham Heights.

This was the section of Gotham where the richest of the rich owned homes, where the personal security was the best, where orange juice was never made from concentrate.

Beneath Wayne Manor, one of the many mansions in this part of town, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson were getting ready for their nightly visit to the darker side of Gotham.

"One thing before you go out for the evening, sir," Alfred said as Master Bruce pulled his cowl down over his face. Master Dick had finished fastening his utility belt around his waist and opened the passenger side door of the Batmobile.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Do you and Master Dick plan to attend Miss Vreeland's Literary Society fundraiser tomorrow?" Master Dick groaned. Sometimes it seemed that neither one wanted to fulfill their social obligations, instead preferring to socialize with the more seedy elements of Gotham. "Miss Vreeland called earlier to inquire."

Master Dick looked up and shook his head. "Bruce, I'm not interested in listening to old ladies talk about the books they've read. I'd much rather be working with Cindy on Calculus, if you know what I mean."

Master Bruce gave a wry smile. When he smiled he looked like his father, and Alfred thought to himself that Master Bruce didn't smile enough.

"Alfred, I'll send Ronnie a check, but please tell her I can't make it tomorrow."

Master Bruce got in the car. "I'll tell her, sir, but you know, Master Bruce, there are some social obligations you should not try to buy your way out of. It wouldn't hurt for you to be seen listening to a reading of Keats tomorrow or the featured author, George Chapman."

Master Bruce smirked. It was a look that said 'I heard you, but I won't change my mind.' That he got from his mother. "Thanks, Alfred. I'm still not going. See you later tonight.

Master Dick grinned at Alfred before the canopy closed and the Batmobile roared up the ramp and into the darkness of the cave.

The Gotham Museum had been closed for hours, but business hours meant nothing to someone like Edward Nygma. He and his two henchmen had been in the museum for twenty minutes.

One of Nygma's cohorts had short-circuited the alarm system, while the other thug short-circuited the lone security guard. They'd tied the guard up and left him in a janitor's closet on the first floor. The trio swiftly made their way to the Egyptian exhibit on the second floor. The display was large and contained many artifacts from ancient Egyptian history, ranging from half a dozen human mummies, a few cat mummies, sarcophagi, statues, papyrus, hieroglyphic displays, a recreated flat boat, small dolls and urns.

Nygma had noticed one of his henchmen was getting nervous. It was apparent that this thug wanted to grab something, anything, and run. But Nygma knew what he wanted; he just had to find it.

"Boss, I don't get it. What are we looking for?" one of the thugs asked. Nygma looked at him with disgust. If only I could get smarter help. What's your name, again? Oh yeah, Quest! The other one is Sean.

"A diversion, Quest," Nygma answered. If I tell him anymore than that, it will confuse his small brain.

"How about this, boss?" Sean asked. He'd picked up a jewel-encrusted golden urn and offered it to Nygma.

Nygma smiled then frowned. "No. Not that. Put that back." It's like dealing with children, but sometimes the children are smarter.

"But boss, look. It's made out of gold," protested Quest who had come over to look at the urn. Both of Nygma's cohorts looked disappointed having to leave the urn; certainly it was worth a small fortune. If they were any dumber, they'd try to take it anyway. Thankfully, they are not that stupid.

"Set it down. That's not what we came for," Nygma said. Then he saw it and a wide smile came across his face. He pointed to a small clay figurine, dressed in cloth. "That's what we want."

Quest and Sean looked at each other in dismay as Nygma picked up the small doll and put a card in its place.

"Let's go," Nygma said. The trio ran down the steps of the museum and once outside, Nygma purposely set off the alarm, then disappeared into the night.

(Second floor, Gotham Museum - an hour later)

Gordon put his hands in his trousers pockets and shook his head. Batman and Robin had joined him on the second floor of the museum minutes earlier.

"I don't get it," Robin said, looking at the gold and silver urns and artifacts in the museum.

"I don't get it either," Gordon said. "There was gold and jewelry here and he didn't take any of it."

Gordon sighed as he watched his officers take photographs and collect fingerprints and other evidence. Batman stood next to Gordon while Robin walked over to Detective Montoya and engaged her in conversation.

"What did he get, Jim?" Batman asked, his cape closed around him.

Gordon brought his hand to his face, resetting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "As best they can determine, it was a cloth doll. Wait a minute." He surveyed the area looking for Montoya. She was talking to the security guard. Robin was standing next to her.

"Montoya," Gordon said, motioning for her to join him and Batman. Robin followed. Gordon asked her, "What did the curator say the doll was called?"

Renee looked at her notes. "Seshat, Commissioner."

Batman's eyes narrowed, but said nothing other than a soft, "Hmmm."

"Let me see the card again," Batman said. Gordon handed him the card. Batman held the card so that Robin could see it. It was a small, white, index card with a string of numbers on it. The card read:

868755714703660 3

"Any idea what it means?" Gordon asked. Please tell me you know.

Batman read the numbers out loud. Robin shook his head, but Batman said, "We'll look into it and call you."

"Soon, I hope," Gordon said. "Soon."

As they drove back to the Batcave, Batman couldn't shake the feeling he'd missed something about the Riddler's clue, something simple, but something in plain sight.

"Any idea what it means?" Robin sighed, looking at the card again.

"I think I do, but it's too easy."

Robin arched any eyebrow, "Want to share?"

Batman smirked. "Remember the stolen doll's name, Seshat?" He glanced at Robin, who nodded. "She's an Egyptian goddess," Batman added.

Robin's face lit up in recognition. "I remember now. Isn't she the goddess of reading, writing and arithmetic?"

Batman nodded. "She was known as a scribe...the goddess of records."

"Records?"

"See how that last number, three, is by itself? Read the numbers in groups of three."

Robin looked at the card and then back at Batman. "So the numbers are 868, 755, 714, 703 and 660."

"Now think records. For what sport would those numbers be listed as records?"

"Baseball?" Robin smiled then quickly frowned. "No. Wait a minute. I recognize the 755, 714, 703 and 660. They're homerun records, but I don't get the 868."

Batman nodded. "868 was the number of homeruns hit by the Japanese slugger, Sadaharu Oh, who retired in 1980 with the all-time homerun record in Japanese baseball. It just so happens that the Baseball Hall of Fame traveling exhibit is at Gotham State University tonight. Part of the exhibition is the five bats these hitters used."

Robin groaned. "You're kidding. He's going to steal five baseball bats and he hopes not to be stopped by a bat-man? Oh, brother."

Batman frowned. "Told you it was too easy. Just remember, this is the Riddler."

He sighed and drove a little faster.

(The Batcave)

Batman didn't say much during the rest of the drive back to the Cave. He didn't have to and Dick didn't expect him to. Dick knew Batman felt he had the wrong answer for this riddle.

And Batman hated being wrong.

He'd been on the phone with the Commissioner for about two minutes.

"That's right, Jim," Batman said. "Gotham State University. Right. Thanks, Commissioner." He hung up the phone and slumped into the chair in front of the console.

"Still bothered, huh?" Dick asked. He already knew the answer.

Batman shook his head and pursed his lips. "Stealing the baseball bats is too obvious."

Dick shrugged his shoulders. "You know, Bruce, like Freud said, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.' Maybe, Nygma is counting on you to over complicate the solution. Maybe he's into baseball now." Dick grinned, but Batman continued to frown.

"Speaking of recreational activities, Master Bruce," Alfred interrupted. "I informed Miss Vreeland that you will be happy to be a patron again this year, but will be unable to attend the fundraiser tomorrow night."

Bruce looked up at Alfred and didn't say anything. Then a slow smile came across his face. He's got it.

Dick and Alfred looked at each other in puzzlement as Batman said, "Thanks, Alfred. Actually, I think I will go."

(The fifth floor of the Gotham Central Public Library)

Batman and the police will be running around in circles miles from here, Nygma thought. Ahhhh. Just perfect.

Nygma stood in front of a reading stand admiring the open, large, leather-bound book in front of him.

"The other guard is tied up, boss," Quest said as he joined the Riddler in front of the display.

"Good. What about the phone lines?"

"Been cut, boss," Sean added as he joined the two. "Boss, is this what we're after?"

Nygma smirked. "Yes, indeed. This book is a classic." He gently picked up the large book in his gloved hands, tracing with his fingers the stitching along the binding. "Yes, this is what we wanted."

"What is it, boss?"

A booming voice echoed in the darkness, "It's strike three for you, Nygma."

A batarang flew out of the darkness and hit Nygma in the hand. He dropped the book back on the stand and grabbed his hand in pain.

Noooo!!!! He can't be here.

"Batman!" Nygma shouted. "You should be at Gotham State."

"Your clue was too easy, Nygma. You're getting sloppy."

Nygma looked up and saw Batman and Robin swinging toward the trio. The Bat landed next to Sean and Robin landed on Nygma, driving him to the floor.

Robin jumped off Nygma, stood and suddenly dropped to his left knee, shooting his right foot straight out and behind him, catching Quest squarely on the chin. Nygma backed away, suddenly turned and ran toward one of the bookshelves behind him. He turned around in time to see Sean crash into a table. The thug groaned and didn't get up.

Meanwhile, the Bat ducked under a roundhouse swing from Quest and delivered a side kick to the goon who backed up, but didn't go down. Batman was on top of Quest quickly and delivered a one-two combination to the thug's stomach then chin. The unconscious gangster hit the floor like a bag of wet flour.

Nygma had seen enough. He ran toward the steps when the all too familiar sound of a batarang with a line attached wrapped itself around his ankles. He hit the floor with a resounding *thud.*

He turned over and looked up into the frowning face of Batman. The Bat picked him up by the collar and shoved him back toward the rest of his fallen gang. He landed next to his still unconscious gangsters, collapsing in a heap.

"How? How did you figure it out? You have to tell me," Nygma exclaimed.

Batman said nothing, just a small, tight smile.

Robin and Batman watched across the street as the police loaded the Riddler and his thugs into the paddy wagons. They could still hear the Riddler asking the police, asking anyone who would listen, "How did he figure it out?"

"Okay, Batman, share," Dick asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. "How did you know the Riddler would be at the library?"

With the sound of the police siren fading in the background, Batman stepped back from the edge of the roof and both of them climbed down the building to the Batmobile parked in an alley below. "It was Alfred that gave me the answer. Remember earlier when Alfred said I should be listening to the reading of George Chapman?"

"Yeah, I remember.

Batman smirked. "Well, George Chapman is the 16^th century author who provided the first complete English translation of the Iliad from its original Greek."

"Okay and ..."

Batman said nothing. He grinned and watched as the answer slowly dawned on Dick.

"Ohhh. I got it," Dick said tapping himself lightly in the forehead. "The Iliad was written by Homer and another name for a homerun is homer."

Batman nodded. "Of course, you know what this means, right?"

"We're going to the fundraiser tomorrow, aren't we." Dick said. It wasn't a question. He knew Bruce well enough to know they would be going.

Batman nodded and started the car. "Without them, I would have struck out for sure tonight."

"Ouch," Dick groaned, rolling his eyes, as the car peeled out of the alley and on to the main street.

It was going to be one of those nights.

END