Chapter 53 - Busillis
Title: Scilicet... (That Is To Say...)
Pairing(s)/Character(s): "Batman", Superman. Eventually "Batman"/Superman
Rating Currently PG-13(ish?) Will probably get up to NC-17 (eventually)
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Gender Flip
Spoilers: Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, Justice League (TV), Justice League Unlimited, Batman The Animated Series... and several sorta random "ish" for various comics (mostly Batman).
Summery:
There are an infinite number of parallel Earths. For every decision we make, somewhere there is an Earth where we have already made the opposite choice. But it is not only our decisions which are affected by this, but all the "decisions" made by nature... here is a world where you're poor. One where your rich. One where no fish was brave enough to crawl up on land. One where the world ended in nuclear war...
Here is a world where Thomas and Martha Wayne didn't die. Here is one where Bruce died with them... and here, here is a parallel Earth where Thomas and Martha Wayne died, but Rachel Wayne survived.
Master Chapter List
Chapter 53 - Busillis
Busillis = Pseudo-Latin for “Baffling Puzzle” or “Difficult Point”
As it turns out it is laughably easy for Lucius Fox to get Matches Malone an invitation to Mockridge’s little VIP party… mostly because there aren’t any physical invitations, so all Lucius has do is access the Google Doc which serves as the guest list. A few keystrokes and “Charlotte Malone” is on that list and Rachel is heading towards the auxiliary cave to trade her “mourning Billionaire” outfit for something more in line with Matches’ personality. Although most of those outfits are kept back at Wayne Manor, or more specifically in the “main” cave, Rachel does store several outfits in the auxiliary cave in downtown Gotham and in the various safe-houses which are scattered throughout Gotham and it’s suburbs, alongside clothing for herself and Dick… just in case.
For tonight’s excursion Rachel picks out a jet black dress which, like pretty much all of Matches’ dresses, clings to her every curve and ends far above her knees. This particular dress has a low scooped neck and long sleeves which, like the shirt she’d worn to her meeting with Lucius and Mockridge, go down over her knuckles. The sleeves are cut in such a way that they are only connected to the body of the dress underneath Rachel’s arms, leaving her shoulders bare save for the thin straps holding the dress up.
After pulling on the dress and ensuring that it won’t be moving any more then she wants it to through the use of fashion tape, Rachel quickly brushes out her hair before braiding it on one side, so that from a distance or at a quick glance it looks like Matches has cut her hair short on the right side of her head and left her hair long on the left. When she finishes this it takes only a few minutes for Rachel to put on the various small prosthetics which allow her to become Matches and cover up her scars which either aren’t covered by her dress or which may be uncovered once she starts moving. This is followed by the bold makeup which Matches prefers and the jewelry she’s picked out- a necklace with small spikes hanging off of two chains and a set of earrings one is a silver spike, while the other is a series of spikes on a chain which runs up from the earring itself to an ear cuff.
Rachel has finished all her preparations and is going over the Wasteland’s floor plans, or at least the floor plans that she was able to find and which are most likely three or four years out of date when the Tumbler roars into the auxiliary cave with Robin sitting behind the wheel.
“We’re heading straight out… and I’m driving.” Rachel calls out over her shoulder as she stands up from the auxiliary cave’s computer and steps into a pair of black heels before checking the contents of a small black clutch purse- a fake ID that would stand up to the FBI’s scrutiny, a credit card under the same name, a tube of lipstick and, in a hidden pocket, a batarang and communicator, just in case she has to ditch the Justice League communicator which she wears pretty much 24/7 due to how hard it is to spot or detect.
“Okay.” Dick yawns, scrambling over to the passenger seat of the Tumbler as the roof of the powerful vehicle slides back as Rachel grabs a case containing one of her Batsuits. “Do you really think whoever sent that text is gonna show?”
“I don’t know.” Rachel admits, swinging the case up and handing it off to her son before heading around to the driver’s side. “But I’d rather go and have nothing happen then miss something happening.”
“That makes sense, but why go in as Matches?” Dick asks as he maneuvers the case into the backseat. “Why not go in as Batwoman?”
“Well setting aside the fact that while the club is open I can’t actually ‘go in’ as Batwoman, I think that the text came from Edward Nigma.” Rachel explains as she climbs up into the Tumbler, making it look easy despite the fact that she’s clad in a short dress and heels. “And he’s not exactly the type to physically assault Mockridge… or at least he’s not the type to do much damage if he physically assaults Mockridge.”
“Wait… isn’t Nigma the guy who created Riddle of the Minotaur?” Robin asks, a frown on his face as they head off towards the Wasteland. “I guess that makes sense- so where do you want me? Up on the roof?”
“No, you can wait in the Tumbler. Alfred’s hacking into the club’s security system… they’ve got surprisingly decent coverage for a place not owned by the mob.”
“I believe that can be ascribed to paranoia on Mr. Mockrdige’s part.” Alfred comments over the two’s communicators. “Though seeing as someone does appear to be out to get the man, perhaps paranoia isn’t the right word… in any case, within the past few weeks the man has had a significant number of security cameras installed at his two residences and business ventures.”
“So this isn’t the first threat he’s gotten… I mean if you can call a weird riddle a threat.” Robin muses, leaning back in his seat and resting his feet on the dashboard.
“I believe you are correct, but I have been unable to find any concrete evidence.” Alfred replies as Rachel leans over to push her son’s feet down, only for Dick to pull them back before she can and rest them instead on the edge of his seat.
The Wasteland sits in between Robinson Park from Gotham University, a little closer to the park then the college and surrounded by other businesses which are focused on taking what little cash students have left over after they pay tuition and buy their textbooks. Like a lot of the other clubs in this area it’s obvious that, at some point in the past, the Wasteland had been a warehouse or maybe some sort of small manufacturing plant, before the expansion of Gotham University and the creation of Robinson Park had moved manufacturing in Gotham either south to Tricorner, north to Otisburg or across the river to Sommerset.
After parking the Tumbler in an alley near Mockridge’s club that is large enough to easily accommodate the tank like car but dark enough so that it won’t be noticed very quickly, Rachel leaves Dick behind and heads for the club’s entrance… where it turns out that it wasn’t actually necessary for Lucius Fox to hack the guest list, because one of the two bouncers used to work at My Alibi, a club in Crime Alley that Matches had frequented before it got shut down after being hit by both the police and the health inspector on the same night. The moment that the bouncer sees Matches he greets her loudly but politely and, ignores the line that’s starting to form behind him, waves her in while explaining to his coworker in a rather loud whisper that the woman in front of them has a standing invitation to both sides of the Iceberg Lounge and the Penguin’s personal table.
The interior of the Wasteland has a sort of industrial theme, perhaps a holdover from it’s pre-club days, perhaps not. The walls are plain brick with the only decorations being large cogs and mechanical parts which have been mounted on said walls. The bar and the clubs tables, chairs booths and even the stage are patterned after these metal decorations-all weathered metal and wood that looks like it has been out in the elements for several years. Behind the stage a large rusted metal fan slowly turns behind an equally rusted grate, with several lights positioned so that as the fan moves it creates a sort of strobe effect, adding to the effect of the lights which are positioned to illuminate the dance floor.
The Wasteland is not exactly full, but it’s a great deal more populated then Rachel would have thought it would be and given the line outside which she’d been able to bypass due to her connections to Gotham’s more seedy clubs, the club should be all but packed fairly soon. As she glances around, taking note of the various guests and staff members Matches finds herself recognizing quite a few faces- mostly among the staff. It seems that Mockridge had capitalized on the sudden closing of My Alibi by snatching up most of that club’s employees… aside from the bouncer outside Matches recognizes two waitresses and Steven Vestri, who had been a bartender at My Alibi.
Like many of the men and women who worked in the sort of clubs and bars which matches frequents, Steven Vestri thought that Matches Malone patronized the seedier side of Gotham’s nightlife in order to practice her flirting and generally amuse herself. Like most of the bartenders that Matches encountered, he can be counted upon to know that when Matches orders a rum and coke she actually wants a glass of ice and soda with the smallest possible splash of rum… so when he catches sight of Matches Malone in all her finery making her way towards his second of the Wasteland’s bar, he immediately starts mixing said drink.
“I guess My Alibi isn’t reopening anytime soon?” Matches asks as Steven sets the “rum and coke” in front of her with a flourish.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Steven sighs. “Luckily this place was hiring- new boss hired all the guys and most of the girls.”
“Most?” Matches asks, raising one eyebrow as she picks up her drink and absentmindedly swirls the liquid around.
“Mary and Lulu wouldn’t exactly fit in with this place’s image.” Steven replies, gesturing at one of the waitress- who is young, almost painfully thin and… well pretty much the exact opposite of Mary and Lulu. “But I heard they got work as like half-bouncers, half-‘special’ act at a place in the Bowery.”
“Good for them.” Matches smirks, making a mental note to check up on the two the next time that her patrols take her past the Bowery.
“You know, I didn’t expect to see you here Matches.” Steven notes as he starts glancing around the club. “Well, at least not alone... is your guy running late or something?’”
“He got an invite, but he’s too busy to come.” Matches replies with a long suffering sigh. “So I thought I’d amuse myself and maybe find someone who isn’t so busy all the time.”
“Well it’s certainly the right night for that.” Steven remarks as he glances around the club. “At least it will be if the VIPs Mockridge-that’s the owner- invited actually show up.”
“I’ve heard some… interesting things about the guy. Is it true he’s selling out to Wayne?”
“Not this place. Mockridge’s the CEO of some tech company and he’s apparently gonna make a fortune selling it to Wayne. I think he got this place because he wants to play the role of a big shot club owner-like Penguin but without the backroom. Who knows, maybe it’ll even work.”
“Is he here?” Matches asks, glancing around the club, which is slowly starting to fill up but is still far from crowded.
“I think so… why, you gonna make him pay for your tab tonight?” Steven smirks.
“If I do then fee free to add something for yourself on there.” Matches laughs as she runs a finger around the rim of her glass. “In the meantime, I’ll sit here till your new boss shows… and you can overcharge the idiots who buy me drinks.”
Steven laughs, tilting forward so he doesn’t thrown his head back, before he moves over to serve a group of trust fun brats to Matches’ left. As the bartender leaves Matches rolls her shoulders, tilts her had to one side and then essentially places herself on display- she turns to one side, rests her left elbow on the bar and acts as if all her attention is focused on the drink in her hand.
It doesn’t take long for the free drinks to start pouring in, usually with commentary from Steven along the lines of “the wanna-be pimp over there, wanted me to give you some stupid fru-fru drink with a joke of a name” or “the hipster on your right, told me he’d give me five bucks if I used cheap rum but said it was top shelf.” Occasionally the drinks are accompanied by a note scrawled on a napkin or by the man buying the drinks… Matches is halfway through turning down a business man desperately trying to fact that he’s going bald in his late twenties by emulating Donald Trump when she is cut off by a hand landing on Matches’ right shoulder. Despite the fact that Rachel is firmly entranced in her Matches persona she almost gives in to the desire to send the hand’s owner flying just as she’d done to Superman in that club in Metropolis… but then the hand’s owner speaks and she realizes just who has decided to step in between her and wanna-be Donald Trump.
“Is this man bothering you gorgeous?” Daniel Mockridge asks, sounding as if he’s already had a few drinks, but not as many as Rachel would have expected him to have given how he’d acted during his meeting with her and Lucius. As the former owner of Competitron Software speaks he leans forward, the motion causing his hand to slide across Matches’ shoulders and down her arm, leaving her all but pressed up against the man.
“Not really.” Matches replies, suppressing the urge to shudder in disgust as Mockridge looks down at her… or rather tries to look down Matches’ dress. “He’s just boring me.”
“Well, then why don’t you come over to my private table?”
“Sounds like a plan... Mister?” Rachel trails off as she slips off her bar stool.
“Mockridge.” The man replies, wrapping an arm around Matches’ shoulders once again. “Daniel Mock-”
The two haven’t even taken three steps away from the bar when Mockridge suddenly cuts himself off with a noise that sounds like a cross between a cough and a dog choking. As Rachel turns to glace at the man in confusion he steps away from her as if she’s a hot surface and he’s just been burned… and reaches into his pocket with trembling hands, pulling out his phone.
“Mockridge just received a text message- it’s from the same burner phone as the last one.” Alfred informs her over the communicator as she watches Mockridge fumble his way through unlocking his phone and accessing the message he’s just received. “Another riddle for you - what is always on it’s way, never arrives and won’t be seen by you?”
“Tomorrow!” Robin realizes and Rachel is willing to bet he’d bounced in the Tumbler’s passenger seat upon coming up with the answer. It’s always coming, but when it arrives it’s today. ”
“Daniel?” Matches pouts, leaning against the man as if she actually wants his attention. “What, is your girlfriend calling?”
“Uh no, it’s just some… some business.” Mockridge stammers, clearly even more unnerved then he had been when the first message. “Business I have to deal with… unfortunately.”
“And here I thought I was going to have a good time tonight.” Matches sighs dramatically as she turns back towards the bar.
“I do apologize-” Mockridge stammers awkwardly, clearly just realizing that he doesn’t actually know her name. Luckily Steven is there to help his new boss out by coughing and “discretely” hissing out her name. “Miss Malone, I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you.”
“Well that depends, what do you plan to do?”
“You have whatever you want for the rest of the night, and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow… at whatever restaurant you want.”
“I like the sound of that plan.” Matches smirks, snagging a napkin from under the drink the Donald Trump look-a-like had abandoned and accepting the pen which Steven offers her before she even needs to ask. “Call me when your business is done… maybe we can have breakfast tomorrow, instead of dinner.”
“I look forward to it.” Mockridge replies as he takes the napkin from Matches, managing to look suave for a few seconds before he looks down, sees his phone and goes pale once again before rushing off.
“So what number did you give him?” Steven asks as the two of them watch Mockridge make his way across the club to a door which must lead to an office of some kind.
“Rejection hotline some disk jockeys in Metorpolis put together, apparently they play the ‘best’ voice mail messages on air.” Matches replies with a smirk, smoothing down her dress as she stands up. “Get yourself something expensive on Mockridge… I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”
“See you around Matches.” Steven smirks as he pretends to tip his hat to Matches as she heads towards the club’s exit.
“What’s Mockridge doing?” Rachel asks as she makes her way around a group of Gotham University students whom she is willing to bet got in with fake IDs.
“It appears that he is looking into hiring bodyguards… and contemplating buying a gun.” Alfred replies.
“Great.” Robin sighs. “How long till the club closes?”
“Clubs around here usually close around 2 am.” Rachel replies as she passes through the main doors of the club and, after smiling at the bouncers, turns to head towards the alley where the Tumbler is parked. “HQ, keep an eye on Mockridge while Robin and I patrol.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While Batwoman and Robin make their way through the streets and allies around Gotham University, taking down would be muggers and worse, Daniel Mockridge gets one more riddle via text message- well it’s more like an equation, albeit a very complex one, which gives a time for Mockridge’s meeting with the man (or woman) behind the text message. After putting that equation into google to come up with an answer the former CEO of Competition Software spends the next few hours working his way through his rolodex of criminal and semi-criminal contacts in order to purchase himself some hired muscle.
By the time that the Wasteland has closed it’s doors and sent both patrons and employees away, Mockridge has hired six low level crooks, who Batwoman doesn’t recognize and whose faces aren’t recognized by the Cave’s computer but who look like the sort of men who occasionally work for Penguin or Bane, but usually work for Gotham’s various mob bosses or other “lesser” criminal organizations. As the time specified in the latest text message approaches Daniel Mockridge occupies himself by pacing back and forth across the back office of his club while his new bodyguards spread out around the room and Batwoman and Robin position themselves so that they can look in via a skylight over what appears to be Mockridge’s desk.
“I don’t get it, why didn’t Mockridge just leave?” Robin asks in a whisper. “Why stick around to confront the guy sending you creepy text messages?”
“Maybe he thinks he- or rather his new bodyguards- can get the better of Nigama.” Batwoman suggests
“I can sorta get that, I mean the guy is pretty scrawny.” Robin sighs. “But still, you’d think that he’d at least be a little afraid that Nigma would hire some goons or-”
The young vigilante cuts himself off as the light in the office below suddenly go out, leaving the Wasteland’s office dark save for the minimal light coming in through the skylight which Batwoman and Robin are peering in through.
“What the hell?!” Mockridge cries out, sounding like a scared child.
“Tell me Mockridge, did you decode my messages all by yourself? Or did you have help?”
Even with the assistance of the night vision which is built into Batwoman’s cowl and Robin’s domino mask the only people visible in the room below them are Mockridge and his six bodyguards, all of whom are peering around the room. Mockridge is already trembling slightly while the bodyguards have their guns drawn but aren’t moving any closer to Mockridge.
“You’re trespassing Nigma!” Mockridge growls as he backs into and almost trips over a chair. “Get out!”
There’s no response from Nigma, no sound of footsteps or any sort of indication if Nigma is obeying Mockridge’s demands or moving closer. After a moment Daniel Mockridge awkwardly steps away from the chair which he almost tripped over and squares his shoulders before speaking again.
“You can’t kill the deal Nigma! I sold Competition to Wayne, there’s nothing you can do to stop it!”
“I’m not trying to stop the deal Mockridge…” With a snap that seems to echo through the room a single light comes on, illuminating Mockridge’s desk where Edward Nigma is now sitting. “I’m here because I have a proposition for you to consider.”
The creator of Riddle of the Minotaur is a tall, thin man with short brown hair which looks like he’s just run his hands through it several times. He’s wearing a dark green pinstriped suit with a light purple collared shirt and a brown tie, which he briefly straightens before resting his elbows on the desk in front of him and steepling his fingers.
“Proposition?” Mockridge practically stammers as he steps away from Nigma, who seems strangely unconcerned about the fact that six guns are now pointed at him. “What, you’ve come up with a new game? Why the hell would I be interested in that? Your last game almost bankrupted my company!”
“If you weren’t such an idiot then your company would have made millions from my genius- but I don’t want money Mockridge.” Edward Nigma smirks, flashing his teeth as he leans back in his chair. “What I want now… is you.”
Nigma makes a gesture as if he is lazily flagging down a waiter at a posh restaurant and part of the reason behind Nigma’s lack of concern over the six armed thugs around the room becomes apparent… they’re apparently not working for the former CEO of Competition Software but creator of Riddle of the Minotaur. Following Nigma’s gesture the two men closest to Mockridge turn towards him, with guns drawn… only to become quickly and painfully acquainted with the floor as Batwoman and Robin come crashing through the skylight, each one landing on top of one of the goons and knocking them out cold. While the remaining four thugs and Edward Nigma are momentarily shocked by the sudden arrival of the Dark Knight and her squire the two send batarangs flying, knocking two more guns out of hands and skittering away into the darkness of the room.
“Well well… don’t you know what happens to gate crashers?” Edward Nigma mutters as he slowly stands up, resting his hands on the desk as he leans forward. “They have to match wits with the Riddler.”
“Really Nigma?” Robin sighs. “A joke on your name is the best you could come up with?”
“I guess it was too much to hope that you’d have a brain to go with her pointy cowl.” Edward Nigma sighs, starting to move around the desk as he gestures to his hired thugs. “I guess you just make do with brawn.”
Those thugs who have managed to hold on to their guns fire as Batwoman dodges one way as Robin goes the other way, throwing two more batarangs and sending the last of the guns in the room sliding across the floor into the darkness. As Nigma continues to make his way around the desk and towards Mockridge- who had gotten knocked to the floor at some point and is staring in shock at the event unfolding around him- the four crooks who are still conscious demonstrate that “the Riddler” must be paying them very well by moving to fight Batwoman and Robin… despite the fact there were only six of them to begin with, two had already been taken down in a matter of seconds and all had been rapidly disarmed.
As the Dark Knight and her squire move to deal with Nigma’s remaining four henchmen, the man who thinks it’s a good idea to call himself “the Ridler” pulls what looks like a TV remote which had been stepped on and then cobbled back together with duct tape and wires which couldn’t be cut for some reason out of his pocket.
“Well done Batwoman.” Nigma smirks as he presses one of the buttons. Something overhead crackles before sending sparks flying, sparks which turn into flames and quickly start to spread.
Part of an overhead beam comes crashing down, forcing the vigilantes apart from Nigma’s goons. The sprinklers don’t turn on, making it clear that either Mockridge is more shifty then Batwoman had through and/or that Edward Nigma had been determined to ruin Mockridge when he set up his device. What seems like only a few seconds after the fire starts a large flaming piece of what looks like a beam or joist comes crashing to the ground not three inches in front of Robin. As the young vigilante shields himself from the flying sparks and splinters with his cape Batwoman moves towards the two goons they knocked unconscious and the remaining goons head towards Nigma, who has somehow manage to handcuff Mockridge.
“Batwoman! You gotta help me!” Mockridge screams, struggling against the goons who have grabbed him and are dragging him towards the exit, with Nigma leading the little group. “I can pay you! Anything you want!”
Burdened with the unconscious men and becoming increasingly at risk of being trapped in the burning club, Batwoman has no choice but to head towards the nearest exit… which happens to be the window behind Mockridge’s desk. Robin darts in front of her, breaking the window before turning to help his adoptive mother set down one of the unconscious men so that she can go out the window with the other. As soon as that man is on the ground in the alley below the Dark Knight grapples back up, both for the other unconscious man and for her squire, who is holding the flames at bay with a small fire extinguisher from his utility belt.
“Did you get a tracker on him?” Robin asks as the sound of fire sirens cuts through the night.
“I tried but I think I threw it too close to the flames.” Batwoman replies. “HQ, traffic cameras?”
“It appears Mr. Nigma is one step ahead of you.” Alfred Pennyworth replies over the com link. “Gotham’s traffic camera system went down shortly after Mr. Nigma entered his getaway vehicle. I am attempting to track ‘the Riddler’ via ATMs, security cameras and such, but that will take-”
The Wayne Family Butler abruptly cuts himself off as every light around Batwoman and Robin- from the flickering streetlights, to the neon lights of nearby clubs and businesses and even the lights inside the nearby buildings go out all at once.
“What?” Robin sputters, turning so that he is back to back with Batwoman as batarangs appear in the two hero’s hands. For a moment everything remains dark and the only sound is that of the Gotham Fire Department’s approach… then all of the lights that had just gone out turn back on… along with all of the lights which had been out in the first place. This pattern repeats, with lights flashing on and off… occasionally staying on only a shot time, but sometimes staying on for longer.
“Wait… is that morse code?” Robin asks, turning towards his adoptive mother who nods as she holds up a hand indicating that Robin should wake as she watches the lights flash on and off, tapping out the message on her thigh.
.-- .... . -. .. ... - .... . -- .. -. --- - .- ..- .-. ... --- .-- -. . .-. .- ... .... .. --. .... .- ... .- -. . .-.. . .--. .... .- -. - ... . -.-- . ··--··
Chapter 54 - Cepe Indicum
Author’s Note: This chapter continues my adaption of the Batman the Animated Series episode “If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich?”
You can see Matche's outfit from this chapter here.
In this fic the role of the Riddler will be played by David Tennant because of this fanart. Also because I am a huge Doctor Who fangirl, although I actually pictured Tennant as Killgrave in Jessica Jones while writing his scenes. The morse code message at the end of the chapter was generated using this website.
This chapter is dedicated to sanityisboringlivealittlecrazy who left me a wonderful comment over on AO3 which brightened up my day and made me make such a silly happy face that my mother thought I’d gotten a text from a boyfriend or girlfriend. (Despite the fact that I have neither right now.)
Pairing(s)/Character(s): "Batman", Superman. Eventually "Batman"/Superman
Rating Currently PG-13(ish?) Will probably get up to NC-17 (eventually)
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Gender Flip
Spoilers: Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, Justice League (TV), Justice League Unlimited, Batman The Animated Series... and several sorta random "ish" for various comics (mostly Batman).
Summery:
There are an infinite number of parallel Earths. For every decision we make, somewhere there is an Earth where we have already made the opposite choice. But it is not only our decisions which are affected by this, but all the "decisions" made by nature... here is a world where you're poor. One where your rich. One where no fish was brave enough to crawl up on land. One where the world ended in nuclear war...
Here is a world where Thomas and Martha Wayne didn't die. Here is one where Bruce died with them... and here, here is a parallel Earth where Thomas and Martha Wayne died, but Rachel Wayne survived.
Master Chapter List
Chapter 53 - Busillis
Busillis = Pseudo-Latin for “Baffling Puzzle” or “Difficult Point”
As it turns out it is laughably easy for Lucius Fox to get Matches Malone an invitation to Mockridge’s little VIP party… mostly because there aren’t any physical invitations, so all Lucius has do is access the Google Doc which serves as the guest list. A few keystrokes and “Charlotte Malone” is on that list and Rachel is heading towards the auxiliary cave to trade her “mourning Billionaire” outfit for something more in line with Matches’ personality. Although most of those outfits are kept back at Wayne Manor, or more specifically in the “main” cave, Rachel does store several outfits in the auxiliary cave in downtown Gotham and in the various safe-houses which are scattered throughout Gotham and it’s suburbs, alongside clothing for herself and Dick… just in case.
For tonight’s excursion Rachel picks out a jet black dress which, like pretty much all of Matches’ dresses, clings to her every curve and ends far above her knees. This particular dress has a low scooped neck and long sleeves which, like the shirt she’d worn to her meeting with Lucius and Mockridge, go down over her knuckles. The sleeves are cut in such a way that they are only connected to the body of the dress underneath Rachel’s arms, leaving her shoulders bare save for the thin straps holding the dress up.
After pulling on the dress and ensuring that it won’t be moving any more then she wants it to through the use of fashion tape, Rachel quickly brushes out her hair before braiding it on one side, so that from a distance or at a quick glance it looks like Matches has cut her hair short on the right side of her head and left her hair long on the left. When she finishes this it takes only a few minutes for Rachel to put on the various small prosthetics which allow her to become Matches and cover up her scars which either aren’t covered by her dress or which may be uncovered once she starts moving. This is followed by the bold makeup which Matches prefers and the jewelry she’s picked out- a necklace with small spikes hanging off of two chains and a set of earrings one is a silver spike, while the other is a series of spikes on a chain which runs up from the earring itself to an ear cuff.
Rachel has finished all her preparations and is going over the Wasteland’s floor plans, or at least the floor plans that she was able to find and which are most likely three or four years out of date when the Tumbler roars into the auxiliary cave with Robin sitting behind the wheel.
“We’re heading straight out… and I’m driving.” Rachel calls out over her shoulder as she stands up from the auxiliary cave’s computer and steps into a pair of black heels before checking the contents of a small black clutch purse- a fake ID that would stand up to the FBI’s scrutiny, a credit card under the same name, a tube of lipstick and, in a hidden pocket, a batarang and communicator, just in case she has to ditch the Justice League communicator which she wears pretty much 24/7 due to how hard it is to spot or detect.
“Okay.” Dick yawns, scrambling over to the passenger seat of the Tumbler as the roof of the powerful vehicle slides back as Rachel grabs a case containing one of her Batsuits. “Do you really think whoever sent that text is gonna show?”
“I don’t know.” Rachel admits, swinging the case up and handing it off to her son before heading around to the driver’s side. “But I’d rather go and have nothing happen then miss something happening.”
“That makes sense, but why go in as Matches?” Dick asks as he maneuvers the case into the backseat. “Why not go in as Batwoman?”
“Well setting aside the fact that while the club is open I can’t actually ‘go in’ as Batwoman, I think that the text came from Edward Nigma.” Rachel explains as she climbs up into the Tumbler, making it look easy despite the fact that she’s clad in a short dress and heels. “And he’s not exactly the type to physically assault Mockridge… or at least he’s not the type to do much damage if he physically assaults Mockridge.”
“Wait… isn’t Nigma the guy who created Riddle of the Minotaur?” Robin asks, a frown on his face as they head off towards the Wasteland. “I guess that makes sense- so where do you want me? Up on the roof?”
“No, you can wait in the Tumbler. Alfred’s hacking into the club’s security system… they’ve got surprisingly decent coverage for a place not owned by the mob.”
“I believe that can be ascribed to paranoia on Mr. Mockrdige’s part.” Alfred comments over the two’s communicators. “Though seeing as someone does appear to be out to get the man, perhaps paranoia isn’t the right word… in any case, within the past few weeks the man has had a significant number of security cameras installed at his two residences and business ventures.”
“So this isn’t the first threat he’s gotten… I mean if you can call a weird riddle a threat.” Robin muses, leaning back in his seat and resting his feet on the dashboard.
“I believe you are correct, but I have been unable to find any concrete evidence.” Alfred replies as Rachel leans over to push her son’s feet down, only for Dick to pull them back before she can and rest them instead on the edge of his seat.
The Wasteland sits in between Robinson Park from Gotham University, a little closer to the park then the college and surrounded by other businesses which are focused on taking what little cash students have left over after they pay tuition and buy their textbooks. Like a lot of the other clubs in this area it’s obvious that, at some point in the past, the Wasteland had been a warehouse or maybe some sort of small manufacturing plant, before the expansion of Gotham University and the creation of Robinson Park had moved manufacturing in Gotham either south to Tricorner, north to Otisburg or across the river to Sommerset.
After parking the Tumbler in an alley near Mockridge’s club that is large enough to easily accommodate the tank like car but dark enough so that it won’t be noticed very quickly, Rachel leaves Dick behind and heads for the club’s entrance… where it turns out that it wasn’t actually necessary for Lucius Fox to hack the guest list, because one of the two bouncers used to work at My Alibi, a club in Crime Alley that Matches had frequented before it got shut down after being hit by both the police and the health inspector on the same night. The moment that the bouncer sees Matches he greets her loudly but politely and, ignores the line that’s starting to form behind him, waves her in while explaining to his coworker in a rather loud whisper that the woman in front of them has a standing invitation to both sides of the Iceberg Lounge and the Penguin’s personal table.
The interior of the Wasteland has a sort of industrial theme, perhaps a holdover from it’s pre-club days, perhaps not. The walls are plain brick with the only decorations being large cogs and mechanical parts which have been mounted on said walls. The bar and the clubs tables, chairs booths and even the stage are patterned after these metal decorations-all weathered metal and wood that looks like it has been out in the elements for several years. Behind the stage a large rusted metal fan slowly turns behind an equally rusted grate, with several lights positioned so that as the fan moves it creates a sort of strobe effect, adding to the effect of the lights which are positioned to illuminate the dance floor.
The Wasteland is not exactly full, but it’s a great deal more populated then Rachel would have thought it would be and given the line outside which she’d been able to bypass due to her connections to Gotham’s more seedy clubs, the club should be all but packed fairly soon. As she glances around, taking note of the various guests and staff members Matches finds herself recognizing quite a few faces- mostly among the staff. It seems that Mockridge had capitalized on the sudden closing of My Alibi by snatching up most of that club’s employees… aside from the bouncer outside Matches recognizes two waitresses and Steven Vestri, who had been a bartender at My Alibi.
Like many of the men and women who worked in the sort of clubs and bars which matches frequents, Steven Vestri thought that Matches Malone patronized the seedier side of Gotham’s nightlife in order to practice her flirting and generally amuse herself. Like most of the bartenders that Matches encountered, he can be counted upon to know that when Matches orders a rum and coke she actually wants a glass of ice and soda with the smallest possible splash of rum… so when he catches sight of Matches Malone in all her finery making her way towards his second of the Wasteland’s bar, he immediately starts mixing said drink.
“I guess My Alibi isn’t reopening anytime soon?” Matches asks as Steven sets the “rum and coke” in front of her with a flourish.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Steven sighs. “Luckily this place was hiring- new boss hired all the guys and most of the girls.”
“Most?” Matches asks, raising one eyebrow as she picks up her drink and absentmindedly swirls the liquid around.
“Mary and Lulu wouldn’t exactly fit in with this place’s image.” Steven replies, gesturing at one of the waitress- who is young, almost painfully thin and… well pretty much the exact opposite of Mary and Lulu. “But I heard they got work as like half-bouncers, half-‘special’ act at a place in the Bowery.”
“Good for them.” Matches smirks, making a mental note to check up on the two the next time that her patrols take her past the Bowery.
“You know, I didn’t expect to see you here Matches.” Steven notes as he starts glancing around the club. “Well, at least not alone... is your guy running late or something?’”
“He got an invite, but he’s too busy to come.” Matches replies with a long suffering sigh. “So I thought I’d amuse myself and maybe find someone who isn’t so busy all the time.”
“Well it’s certainly the right night for that.” Steven remarks as he glances around the club. “At least it will be if the VIPs Mockridge-that’s the owner- invited actually show up.”
“I’ve heard some… interesting things about the guy. Is it true he’s selling out to Wayne?”
“Not this place. Mockridge’s the CEO of some tech company and he’s apparently gonna make a fortune selling it to Wayne. I think he got this place because he wants to play the role of a big shot club owner-like Penguin but without the backroom. Who knows, maybe it’ll even work.”
“Is he here?” Matches asks, glancing around the club, which is slowly starting to fill up but is still far from crowded.
“I think so… why, you gonna make him pay for your tab tonight?” Steven smirks.
“If I do then fee free to add something for yourself on there.” Matches laughs as she runs a finger around the rim of her glass. “In the meantime, I’ll sit here till your new boss shows… and you can overcharge the idiots who buy me drinks.”
Steven laughs, tilting forward so he doesn’t thrown his head back, before he moves over to serve a group of trust fun brats to Matches’ left. As the bartender leaves Matches rolls her shoulders, tilts her had to one side and then essentially places herself on display- she turns to one side, rests her left elbow on the bar and acts as if all her attention is focused on the drink in her hand.
It doesn’t take long for the free drinks to start pouring in, usually with commentary from Steven along the lines of “the wanna-be pimp over there, wanted me to give you some stupid fru-fru drink with a joke of a name” or “the hipster on your right, told me he’d give me five bucks if I used cheap rum but said it was top shelf.” Occasionally the drinks are accompanied by a note scrawled on a napkin or by the man buying the drinks… Matches is halfway through turning down a business man desperately trying to fact that he’s going bald in his late twenties by emulating Donald Trump when she is cut off by a hand landing on Matches’ right shoulder. Despite the fact that Rachel is firmly entranced in her Matches persona she almost gives in to the desire to send the hand’s owner flying just as she’d done to Superman in that club in Metropolis… but then the hand’s owner speaks and she realizes just who has decided to step in between her and wanna-be Donald Trump.
“Is this man bothering you gorgeous?” Daniel Mockridge asks, sounding as if he’s already had a few drinks, but not as many as Rachel would have expected him to have given how he’d acted during his meeting with her and Lucius. As the former owner of Competitron Software speaks he leans forward, the motion causing his hand to slide across Matches’ shoulders and down her arm, leaving her all but pressed up against the man.
“Not really.” Matches replies, suppressing the urge to shudder in disgust as Mockridge looks down at her… or rather tries to look down Matches’ dress. “He’s just boring me.”
“Well, then why don’t you come over to my private table?”
“Sounds like a plan... Mister?” Rachel trails off as she slips off her bar stool.
“Mockridge.” The man replies, wrapping an arm around Matches’ shoulders once again. “Daniel Mock-”
The two haven’t even taken three steps away from the bar when Mockridge suddenly cuts himself off with a noise that sounds like a cross between a cough and a dog choking. As Rachel turns to glace at the man in confusion he steps away from her as if she’s a hot surface and he’s just been burned… and reaches into his pocket with trembling hands, pulling out his phone.
“Mockridge just received a text message- it’s from the same burner phone as the last one.” Alfred informs her over the communicator as she watches Mockridge fumble his way through unlocking his phone and accessing the message he’s just received. “Another riddle for you - what is always on it’s way, never arrives and won’t be seen by you?”
“Tomorrow!” Robin realizes and Rachel is willing to bet he’d bounced in the Tumbler’s passenger seat upon coming up with the answer. It’s always coming, but when it arrives it’s today. ”
“Daniel?” Matches pouts, leaning against the man as if she actually wants his attention. “What, is your girlfriend calling?”
“Uh no, it’s just some… some business.” Mockridge stammers, clearly even more unnerved then he had been when the first message. “Business I have to deal with… unfortunately.”
“And here I thought I was going to have a good time tonight.” Matches sighs dramatically as she turns back towards the bar.
“I do apologize-” Mockridge stammers awkwardly, clearly just realizing that he doesn’t actually know her name. Luckily Steven is there to help his new boss out by coughing and “discretely” hissing out her name. “Miss Malone, I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you.”
“Well that depends, what do you plan to do?”
“You have whatever you want for the rest of the night, and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow… at whatever restaurant you want.”
“I like the sound of that plan.” Matches smirks, snagging a napkin from under the drink the Donald Trump look-a-like had abandoned and accepting the pen which Steven offers her before she even needs to ask. “Call me when your business is done… maybe we can have breakfast tomorrow, instead of dinner.”
“I look forward to it.” Mockridge replies as he takes the napkin from Matches, managing to look suave for a few seconds before he looks down, sees his phone and goes pale once again before rushing off.
“So what number did you give him?” Steven asks as the two of them watch Mockridge make his way across the club to a door which must lead to an office of some kind.
“Rejection hotline some disk jockeys in Metorpolis put together, apparently they play the ‘best’ voice mail messages on air.” Matches replies with a smirk, smoothing down her dress as she stands up. “Get yourself something expensive on Mockridge… I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”
“See you around Matches.” Steven smirks as he pretends to tip his hat to Matches as she heads towards the club’s exit.
“What’s Mockridge doing?” Rachel asks as she makes her way around a group of Gotham University students whom she is willing to bet got in with fake IDs.
“It appears that he is looking into hiring bodyguards… and contemplating buying a gun.” Alfred replies.
“Great.” Robin sighs. “How long till the club closes?”
“Clubs around here usually close around 2 am.” Rachel replies as she passes through the main doors of the club and, after smiling at the bouncers, turns to head towards the alley where the Tumbler is parked. “HQ, keep an eye on Mockridge while Robin and I patrol.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While Batwoman and Robin make their way through the streets and allies around Gotham University, taking down would be muggers and worse, Daniel Mockridge gets one more riddle via text message- well it’s more like an equation, albeit a very complex one, which gives a time for Mockridge’s meeting with the man (or woman) behind the text message. After putting that equation into google to come up with an answer the former CEO of Competition Software spends the next few hours working his way through his rolodex of criminal and semi-criminal contacts in order to purchase himself some hired muscle.
By the time that the Wasteland has closed it’s doors and sent both patrons and employees away, Mockridge has hired six low level crooks, who Batwoman doesn’t recognize and whose faces aren’t recognized by the Cave’s computer but who look like the sort of men who occasionally work for Penguin or Bane, but usually work for Gotham’s various mob bosses or other “lesser” criminal organizations. As the time specified in the latest text message approaches Daniel Mockridge occupies himself by pacing back and forth across the back office of his club while his new bodyguards spread out around the room and Batwoman and Robin position themselves so that they can look in via a skylight over what appears to be Mockridge’s desk.
“I don’t get it, why didn’t Mockridge just leave?” Robin asks in a whisper. “Why stick around to confront the guy sending you creepy text messages?”
“Maybe he thinks he- or rather his new bodyguards- can get the better of Nigama.” Batwoman suggests
“I can sorta get that, I mean the guy is pretty scrawny.” Robin sighs. “But still, you’d think that he’d at least be a little afraid that Nigma would hire some goons or-”
The young vigilante cuts himself off as the light in the office below suddenly go out, leaving the Wasteland’s office dark save for the minimal light coming in through the skylight which Batwoman and Robin are peering in through.
“What the hell?!” Mockridge cries out, sounding like a scared child.
“Tell me Mockridge, did you decode my messages all by yourself? Or did you have help?”
Even with the assistance of the night vision which is built into Batwoman’s cowl and Robin’s domino mask the only people visible in the room below them are Mockridge and his six bodyguards, all of whom are peering around the room. Mockridge is already trembling slightly while the bodyguards have their guns drawn but aren’t moving any closer to Mockridge.
“You’re trespassing Nigma!” Mockridge growls as he backs into and almost trips over a chair. “Get out!”
There’s no response from Nigma, no sound of footsteps or any sort of indication if Nigma is obeying Mockridge’s demands or moving closer. After a moment Daniel Mockridge awkwardly steps away from the chair which he almost tripped over and squares his shoulders before speaking again.
“You can’t kill the deal Nigma! I sold Competition to Wayne, there’s nothing you can do to stop it!”
“I’m not trying to stop the deal Mockridge…” With a snap that seems to echo through the room a single light comes on, illuminating Mockridge’s desk where Edward Nigma is now sitting. “I’m here because I have a proposition for you to consider.”
The creator of Riddle of the Minotaur is a tall, thin man with short brown hair which looks like he’s just run his hands through it several times. He’s wearing a dark green pinstriped suit with a light purple collared shirt and a brown tie, which he briefly straightens before resting his elbows on the desk in front of him and steepling his fingers.
“Proposition?” Mockridge practically stammers as he steps away from Nigma, who seems strangely unconcerned about the fact that six guns are now pointed at him. “What, you’ve come up with a new game? Why the hell would I be interested in that? Your last game almost bankrupted my company!”
“If you weren’t such an idiot then your company would have made millions from my genius- but I don’t want money Mockridge.” Edward Nigma smirks, flashing his teeth as he leans back in his chair. “What I want now… is you.”
Nigma makes a gesture as if he is lazily flagging down a waiter at a posh restaurant and part of the reason behind Nigma’s lack of concern over the six armed thugs around the room becomes apparent… they’re apparently not working for the former CEO of Competition Software but creator of Riddle of the Minotaur. Following Nigma’s gesture the two men closest to Mockridge turn towards him, with guns drawn… only to become quickly and painfully acquainted with the floor as Batwoman and Robin come crashing through the skylight, each one landing on top of one of the goons and knocking them out cold. While the remaining four thugs and Edward Nigma are momentarily shocked by the sudden arrival of the Dark Knight and her squire the two send batarangs flying, knocking two more guns out of hands and skittering away into the darkness of the room.
“Well well… don’t you know what happens to gate crashers?” Edward Nigma mutters as he slowly stands up, resting his hands on the desk as he leans forward. “They have to match wits with the Riddler.”
“Really Nigma?” Robin sighs. “A joke on your name is the best you could come up with?”
“I guess it was too much to hope that you’d have a brain to go with her pointy cowl.” Edward Nigma sighs, starting to move around the desk as he gestures to his hired thugs. “I guess you just make do with brawn.”
Those thugs who have managed to hold on to their guns fire as Batwoman dodges one way as Robin goes the other way, throwing two more batarangs and sending the last of the guns in the room sliding across the floor into the darkness. As Nigma continues to make his way around the desk and towards Mockridge- who had gotten knocked to the floor at some point and is staring in shock at the event unfolding around him- the four crooks who are still conscious demonstrate that “the Riddler” must be paying them very well by moving to fight Batwoman and Robin… despite the fact there were only six of them to begin with, two had already been taken down in a matter of seconds and all had been rapidly disarmed.
As the Dark Knight and her squire move to deal with Nigma’s remaining four henchmen, the man who thinks it’s a good idea to call himself “the Ridler” pulls what looks like a TV remote which had been stepped on and then cobbled back together with duct tape and wires which couldn’t be cut for some reason out of his pocket.
“Well done Batwoman.” Nigma smirks as he presses one of the buttons. Something overhead crackles before sending sparks flying, sparks which turn into flames and quickly start to spread.
Part of an overhead beam comes crashing down, forcing the vigilantes apart from Nigma’s goons. The sprinklers don’t turn on, making it clear that either Mockridge is more shifty then Batwoman had through and/or that Edward Nigma had been determined to ruin Mockridge when he set up his device. What seems like only a few seconds after the fire starts a large flaming piece of what looks like a beam or joist comes crashing to the ground not three inches in front of Robin. As the young vigilante shields himself from the flying sparks and splinters with his cape Batwoman moves towards the two goons they knocked unconscious and the remaining goons head towards Nigma, who has somehow manage to handcuff Mockridge.
“Batwoman! You gotta help me!” Mockridge screams, struggling against the goons who have grabbed him and are dragging him towards the exit, with Nigma leading the little group. “I can pay you! Anything you want!”
Burdened with the unconscious men and becoming increasingly at risk of being trapped in the burning club, Batwoman has no choice but to head towards the nearest exit… which happens to be the window behind Mockridge’s desk. Robin darts in front of her, breaking the window before turning to help his adoptive mother set down one of the unconscious men so that she can go out the window with the other. As soon as that man is on the ground in the alley below the Dark Knight grapples back up, both for the other unconscious man and for her squire, who is holding the flames at bay with a small fire extinguisher from his utility belt.
“Did you get a tracker on him?” Robin asks as the sound of fire sirens cuts through the night.
“I tried but I think I threw it too close to the flames.” Batwoman replies. “HQ, traffic cameras?”
“It appears Mr. Nigma is one step ahead of you.” Alfred Pennyworth replies over the com link. “Gotham’s traffic camera system went down shortly after Mr. Nigma entered his getaway vehicle. I am attempting to track ‘the Riddler’ via ATMs, security cameras and such, but that will take-”
The Wayne Family Butler abruptly cuts himself off as every light around Batwoman and Robin- from the flickering streetlights, to the neon lights of nearby clubs and businesses and even the lights inside the nearby buildings go out all at once.
“What?” Robin sputters, turning so that he is back to back with Batwoman as batarangs appear in the two hero’s hands. For a moment everything remains dark and the only sound is that of the Gotham Fire Department’s approach… then all of the lights that had just gone out turn back on… along with all of the lights which had been out in the first place. This pattern repeats, with lights flashing on and off… occasionally staying on only a shot time, but sometimes staying on for longer.
“Wait… is that morse code?” Robin asks, turning towards his adoptive mother who nods as she holds up a hand indicating that Robin should wake as she watches the lights flash on and off, tapping out the message on her thigh.
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Chapter 54 - Cepe Indicum
Author’s Note: This chapter continues my adaption of the Batman the Animated Series episode “If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich?”
You can see Matche's outfit from this chapter here.
In this fic the role of the Riddler will be played by David Tennant because of this fanart. Also because I am a huge Doctor Who fangirl, although I actually pictured Tennant as Killgrave in Jessica Jones while writing his scenes. The morse code message at the end of the chapter was generated using this website.
This chapter is dedicated to sanityisboringlivealittlecrazy who left me a wonderful comment over on AO3 which brightened up my day and made me make such a silly happy face that my mother thought I’d gotten a text from a boyfriend or girlfriend. (Despite the fact that I have neither right now.)