VIP Shoutout: Massive thanks to Andrew Bryant and Marcus Edvardsson for joining the Inner Circle!
_______
"I heard Kaitou Kid can mimic people's voices, so I made this little gadget too."
The Riddler pulled a small, sleek voice changer out of the sack he had just removed from his head. He held it up like a trophy, turning it slowly in the dim light filtering through the container's narrow vents.
"The effect is pretty good, isn't it? Doesn't it sound flawless?"
He took a deliberate step toward Robin, stopping about a meter away — close enough to gloat, far enough to stay safe. Robin was half-sprawled on the cold metal floor, one arm trembling as he tried to push himself up. His palm slipped, and he collapsed again with a muffled grunt.
The Riddler watched with clinical interest. Even though the boy had fallen perfectly into the trap and no longer posed any real threat, Nygma remained cautious. Robin hadn't completely lost consciousness yet. There was still that dangerous spark in his eyes.
Moments earlier, when Robin had rushed forward to "rescue the hostage," the Riddler had silently depressed a hidden plunger on the underside of the chair. A tiny needle had shot out from the seat frame and buried itself in Robin's thigh — a fast-acting cocktail of hypnotic and paralytic agents. The boy hadn't even felt the prick through the adrenaline.
Now Robin's body refused to obey him. His limbs felt like lead soaked in molasses. His eyelids drooped against his will, heavy and burning.
"Damn it… I fell for it."
"The Riddler never hid the hostage here at all. That riddle was just bait… to lure someone into a trap. How despicable."
Robin forced his head up and locked eyes with the Riddler. Hatred burned in his gaze — pure, bright, and helpless.
At that moment, he had only one thought: if he could just move, he would beat Edward Nygma senseless and make him choke on every smug word. But in his current state, even curling a finger felt like lifting a car.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at that stubborn glare," the Riddler said, voice dripping with mock pity. "Let me guess. You don't happen to think I was lying to you from the very beginning, and that the answer to the riddle was never the hostage's location at all, do you?"
Noticing the way Robin's eyes narrowed further, the Riddler's smile vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine displeasure.
"I would never do something as underhanded as cheating — especially when it comes to riddles."
He crouched slightly, bringing his face closer without stepping into striking range.
"Robin, do you really think you understood my riddle? You still don't realize exactly where you went wrong, do you?"
He tilted his head, voice thick with condescension.
"What…?"
Robin was stunned.
From the Riddler's words, it was clear: he had gotten the riddle wrong from the very beginning.
The answer was not Miller Port. Not Cargo Zone 35.
Then why were fifty of the Riddler's thugs stationed here? Why had the Riddler himself been waiting inside this very container?
Was the entire setup — the damaged cameras, the suspicious crowd of "workers," the decoy container — all just an elaborate lure designed to trap whoever came looking?
And if the hostage wasn't here… what was the real answer?
Countless questions crashed through Robin's mind like static, but he no longer had the strength to voice even one. His vision blurred at the edges, thoughts fraying into chaos. All he could do was cling to consciousness with the last scraps of willpower he had left.
"Confused? You should be," the Riddler said, grin returning wider than before. "My riddles aren't as easy as the ones certain people like to make. If it were that big bat of yours, there might be a slim chance he could see through the trap. But you, little bird… you're still a long way from that."
The Riddler laughed — a sharp, triumphant bark that echoed off the steel walls.
But just as quickly, the smile faded.
"Still… you coming here has caused me quite a bit of trouble, Robin."
"This trap was originally prepared for someone else. I didn't expect that before he arrived, you would step in first and ruin the arrangement I so carefully set up."
The Riddler snorted, folding his arms.
"In that sense, you've actually impressed me. I thought you'd drag it out until the last day before cracking the riddle and making it to the port. The previous Robin would definitely have done that. It seems you're a bit smarter than him."
Someone else…
Robin understood instantly.
He's talking about Kaitou Kid.
This whole incident — the public riddle, the three-day deadline, the baited trap — had been aimed at the phantom thief from the beginning. Kid was supposed to come here at midnight. I wonder if he's been misled just like I was…
…Relying on a thief to save someone might be unrealistic, Robin thought hazily, the words blurring in his mind, but he's the only one left with a chance to rescue the hostage now. Kaitou Kid… you have to find that girl's real location…
Even in this moment, bleeding willpower second by second, what worried Robin most was not his own safety, but the innocent girl he had never even met.
At least… I've already triggered the traps here ahead of time. Even if you're fooled into coming here, you should still be able to get away safely…
As he watched Robin's body sway more violently, until he finally collapsed face-first onto the floor with a dull thud, the Riddler knew the boy's resistance had finally broken.
"This brat can really hold out. It actually took him this long to pass out."
He cautiously nudged Robin's side with the toe of his polished shoe. No reaction.
Only then did the Riddler fully relax, a slow, victorious smile spreading across his face like ink in water.
"Batman and Robin. For so many years, this duo has caused me endless suffering. Today, I can finally expose their true faces."
He rolled Robin over with surprising gentleness so the boy's face was turned upward, then reached out with his right hand toward the green domino mask.
"First, Robin. Once I learn his real identity, I can deduce who Batman is. And then comes my sweet revenge."
"Oh, and those old friends from the past… They must be dying to know Batman's background. Penguin will surely be willing to pay a high price for that information. I might even make a fortune from it."
Lost in visions of revenge and profit, the Riddler's fingers brushed the edge of the mask and began to lift it...
Bang.
At that exact moment, a loud metallic crash came from outside the container.
What was that?
Startled, the Riddler instinctively spun toward the sound.
Then he froze.
A thick, powerful arm had gripped the edge of the heavy iron door and was slowly pulling it open.
That arm was clad in black bracers, lined with several sharp, bat-shaped fins.
"No… impossible."
The Riddler's pupils dilated to pinpricks. He had seen that arm before — in nightmares, in police reports, in every scheme that had ever gone wrong. At a single glance, he knew exactly who it belonged to.
"He shouldn't be in Gotham right now. Why? Why is he here? Why didn't he show up earlier?"
A flood of panicked questions crashed through his mind.
As the iron door groaned fully open, the tall, dark figure he had already guessed — yet desperately refused to believe — stepped into the narrow rectangle of light.
"Bat… Batman."
The Riddler's voice cracked on the name.
Fear surged in his chest like ice water, but he forced himself to stay outwardly composed.
So what if Batman is here? The traps I set aren't just for decoration.
Gritting his teeth, the Riddler darted behind the chair and stomped hard on a small, concealed plate in the floor beside it.
With a sharp click, the metal sank an inch.
In the next instant, four concealed machine guns sprang out from panels in the left wall, right wall, and ceiling — barrels swiveling and locking onto Batman at the entrance with mechanical precision.
"Die, Batman."
Amid the Riddler's frantic, almost hysterical roar, the four machine guns opened fire.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
____
12 Advance chapters:
Patreon.com/serioza