In downtown Gotham, many fans of the Gotham State University football team were gathered for at the stadium for a home game. Enough of the team’s supporters came early enough for a fun event before the game that showcased the players and the coaches. Some fans wore the classic black and white jerseys or t-shirts, while others wore the more modern and appropriate black and gold. Many players were out to greet their fans and shake hands, but no one gathered as much attention as returning star quarterback Duke Patterson.
Duke was in his senior year and in his prime. Smiling with his massive pearly chompers as his long brown hair graced his shoulder pads, the giant signed autographs for the kids and eyed the college beauties in the crowd with winks. Even if he did have the funny nickname of “Duke the Douche” assigned to him behind his back (although Duke was well aware of the insult), his reigning reputation for being an entitled jerk didn’t seem to deter his adoring fanbase too badly. The crowd loved him, and he loved the attention. Duke could feel some of his teammates rolling their eyes at him, and it only made him smile wider.
Besides, with the autumn season just getting started and three wins under their belt, Duke and his fellow team players were determined to go undefeated for the rest of the semester. Perhaps it was a little early to decide whether that possibility would come to fruition, but Duke’s ego never allowed him to see the negatives. Besides, they only lost two games last year, and one the year before that. Before Duke entered the pros (and who knew why they weren’t calling him yet?), the star quarterback planned to leave the team with a bang.
Suddenly, rudely pushing a number of screaming groupies, parents and kids out of the way was an interesting looking female with striking red hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore a GSU black and white T that outlined her torso perfectly, not revealing too much but showing off her impressively slender physique and ample bosom. She looked at Duke with a sensual smirk on her green lipstick covered smoochers, and the quarterback smiled with intrigue in response.
The woman raised a finger up to the quarterback’s lips. Curiously, her fingernails were painted in purple and green. “You’re playing Keystone City tonight.”
Duke chuckled. “Sure are. And we’re gonna cream em, too. You gonna be sittin’ front row, doll? Would love to watch you while I’m dominating the field.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ll have an intimate seat, up close and personal. Just so I can watch you handle the rock.”
“And I handle it, baby. But not as good as I’d handle you.”
“Well, then. Play ball.” The spiky red head leaned in and kissed Duke square on his lips. The kiss was planted firmly, yet the lips were so soft. Duke tried to open his lips and force a tongue, but the woman was too fast for him. A flirt? A tease? “More to come after the game. Me and my girlfriends will be waiting.”
“Your... girlfriends?” Duke was hazy eyed, grinning with embarrassingly blushed cheeks. Hot dog, that Duke Patterson charm did it again.
The woman wiped away the visible green imprint from the quarterback’s lips. “That makeup doesn’t come off easily. A part of me will still remain with you on that field, Duke.”
Duke rubbed his hot left cheek. “Now that you mention it... that kiss you gave me does tingle a little.”
“That’s me, babe.”
“Wait! Can’t you give me a number or somethin’ to call, after the game?”
But the woman had already started to walk away by the time Duke had responded. She turned for a moment to blow him a kiss before disappearing in the crowd.
Just a temporary goodbye, Duke thought with excitement. She’s gonna be watching me. Me! With her other girls... I wonder if, after the game-
“Hey, Duke, man!” one of the players shouted, obviously annoyed. “We gotta get ready for the game!”
“Already?” Duke was annoyed to be awoken from his daydream, and when he turned back to see the woman, she was already gone. Moving away from his adoring fans, Duke joined the other players and headed for the locker room.
The first quarter was still going. Keystone had gotten a seven points, which was a bit annoying to Duke. He was sweating, and feeling a bit heated. Was the girl watching him in the crowd? He really wanted her to see him when Gotham scored, now that they had the ball, and take the game in the end. She seemed a little older than him, possibly in her late twenties, thirties at the most, and it excited him that such an older babe would take an interest in him.
But who wouldn’t? He was Duke Patterson.
Gotham’s ball, second down. Duke was getting ready to catch the ball, hearing the player in front of him count off. But what was that weird ticking sound? And it was getting louder...
Hike! The ball was thrown to Duke, and the ball was ticking...
SPIFF! A huge volume of lilac gas filled the field, emanating from the ball. The gas moved quickly. Duke went down fast and so did his fellow players. The crowd went wild, thinking the strange purple clouds were just a part of the show. They didn’t have their conscious awareness and capacities for long in order to realize that it wasn’t. From strategically placed footballs placed under many a bleacher in the stadium, more purple gases ignited, putting every single person in the stadium to a deep sleep. The voices of announcers faded from the television sets, camera men becoming lazy as they slumped into slumber, some taking their cameras with them as they fell to the ground.
From the Keystone team to the Gotham team, from the supporting fans to the news teams and sportscasters, everyone in the Gotham State stadium was sleeping. Almost everyone, with the exception of Duke Patterson. He was dead.
And somewhere, in Riddler’s latest hideout, Batgirl was on the edge of her very life in a tight, body crushing suit specially designed by the scoundrel of conundrums himself.
The Riddler Steals Home
By Quizz AKA Aghori Shaivite
Batgirl had tried not to struggle too much in her prison. She felt the machine crushing her, slowly becoming fatal as she took shallow breaths, but she had to think of a way out of the predicament.
Somewhere in Gotham, The Riddler had taken Puzzelina, his goons, and the defensive brainwashed molls on a villainous outing. Whatever his plans were, Batgirl knew it would mean trouble for many Gothamites, and she had to break out of his trap in order to stop him.
Don’t be frantic, Batgirl thought. Perhaps there is a way to break out of this seemingly impossible trap after all.
And seemingly impossible the trap did seem! Completely restrained, visionless due to the mask clamped over her face, and knowing that each motion only made the restrictive costume tighter made Batgirl far more cautious in her approach and movements in the confounded contraption.
She noticed something, however- whenever she calmly told herself to relax, to stay calm, the costume did seem to loosen a bit. Not much, but a little. She also noticed, in the small moments she would really get frantic, Batgirl would see faint, flashing lights. At first, she thought this was just a result of the panicking, her mind playing tricks on her, but now she was convinced that this effect stemmed from the mask.
The mask- yes! The suit was somehow connected to the mask.
Batgirl wanted to shake her head at Riddler’s obvious mockery but feared triggering the constraining powers of the suit. The Riddler was a thinking criminal. Even in physical peril, he wanted the failings of a person’s mind to be the reason behind their downfall. If Batgirl was going to be crushed to death by a suit, The Riddler wanted it to be because she was far too simple to see how easy it would be to get out of.
But Batgirl wasn’t simple. She was Gotham’s greatest female detective.
Batgirl wanted the mask to work in an elementary fashion. If she could just stay calm and feel the costume open up for her, the task to break out would be quite easy. Batgirl realized this case would not be such a cinch to break out of. Sure, not panicking stopped the suit from pressing against her so hard, and it did loosen a bit, but the suit didn’t fully give way to her not panicking. Batgirl began to wonder if the mask was more complicated than just a tool to feed off anxiety. Knowing The Riddler, the mask probably had an entire puzzle behind it, like a rubix cube, and Batgirl would have to investigate its mentally and emotionally triggered algorithms, just to break out of it.
The caped dynamo was thinking deeply. “Hmmmm...” Batgirl’s lips started to say against its restrictive bonds, making the sound more like a mmmm....
As Batgirl’s lips hummed calmly against the concealing mouthpiece, she suddenly, to her surprise, felt the suit become even more loose. Some lights, this time yellow and a bit stronger, started to flash from the inside of the mask.
In a simple sound made to reflect her deep thinking, Batgirl realized she was at the foundation of solving the puzzle.
“Can ya imagine the looks on the folks that were watching the game at home?”
Puzzelina and Riddler’s goons laughed hysterically as Riddler’s newest molls, the three athletic gals, stared zombified in space. They were wearing their new uniforms, white softball outfits that were opened by three or four buttons in the front to reveal their green, riddle littered bras. Their last names and a huge question mark was sprawled on the back of their softball shirts.
Riddler did notice, however, that one of the goons was not laughing. In the comfort of yet another one of his many hideouts, standing in one of his many Riddler offices on the outskirts of downtown, everyone was laughing and having a good time except for one person. What was that one goon doing? Why, the big lug was just standing there with the most befuddled look on his face, and though The Riddler loved to see people looking confused in his all knowing presence, he was annoyed at no end that his gag failed to humor one of his hired hands. “What’s the matter, Mugsy? You don’t think I can hack a funny prank like The Joker or something?”
Mugsy looked to The Riddler with a saddened face. “Oh no, Mr. Riddler. It’s not that.”
“Then why aren’t you laughing? Wasn’t it brilliant how I just gassed an entire stadium with sleeping gas?”
“And I delivered the extra component that’s completely ended the football career of that cocky quarterback brat,” Puzzelina reminded the crew proudly.
“Before it even got started,” Riddler added with a mischievous smile and a chuckle.
“Fair enough, Riddler,” Mugsy stated. “But I just don’t get what we gain from doin’ that? I mean, tons of people in that stadium, we didn’t rob no body, didn’t take no jewels-”
Puzzelina slapped the goon hard in the face and hissed boldly like a venomous diamondback. “You fool! Do you think The Riddler’s wit and schemes are reserved for mere robbery?”
The goon rubbed his slapped cheek as tears started to peek from his eyes. “Aw, now what did ya have to do that for, miss? I’m sorry, Riddler, I ain’t mean to question-”
“Ahem, ahem.” Riddler stood up and dismissively waved his hand. “No need for dramatics, ladies and gentlemen. I forgive you, Mugsy.”
“Ya do?”
“Yes. I understand that your measly intellect cannot understand the scope of my crimes, and that’s fine. I pay you for muscle, not for brains. But you need not worry about how I get my funds, Mugsy, especially from a bunch of sports fans in a pathetic stadium. Your payment for your services will not change.”
“Of course, Riddler, of course,” Mugsy said with a bowed, humiliated head.
“Now, as to why I have humiliated Gotham with a gassed and sleepy stadium. Quite simply, the answer is because I can, but it was also to send a message out to Gothamites, sports fans, and law enforcement officials everywhere. I can strike at any time, and do anything that I want, even ruin a young man’s prospects and hopes in becoming the next Joe Montana. That sleeping gas will do more to wake up Gotham and let them know who really runs this city.
“And my girls,” Riddler said as he stood from his chair and walked up to his zombified sports dames, standing at attention in their softball uniforms. “My lovely girls who have been relegated to sports that the average Gothamite could give two flying cares about will finally find their value and self worth on the first official Riddler sports team, the Riddle City Punsters!”
“The Riddle City Punsters?” Mugsy questioned with a softly sour look on his mug.
“Yes, Mugsy. Riddle City. Exactly what I plan to name Gotham City after I take it over, and after my team makes its mark.” Riddler did his best to ignore the goon as he patted Alexis Johnson’s right cheek. “What do you think, Alexis? Serving me on my own team. That will be enough to pay of your father’s gambling debt. And you, Porsha-” Joker said, moving on to the next Punster softball girl, “ I think it’ll make up for your mother accidentally rear ending my getaway vehicle a few years ago. That fiasco had me spending time in Arkham for far too long.”
“Should help clear off how Lisa’s dad refused to sell you that successful nightclub he owns downtown, too.”
“Sins of the parents,” Riddler said with the shake of his head. “They’ll thank me for taking care of the girls’ college funds later.”
“But, Riddler-” Mugsy said with a disbelieving expression, trying to preach reason, “The Riddle City Punsters? Riddle City? Ya gotta be kiddin’ me if ya think you can take over the whole city, just like that.”
The goons turned to Mugsy with guns drawn. Puzzelina brandished a taser in front of Mugsy’s face. The goon gulped.
“There are two sides to every riddle, Mugsy. And you’re either on my side or the other. Now which is it going to be?”
“Y... yer side?” The goon offered an awkward grin.
“That a boy.” Riddler reached into a drawer and started to toss around masks. “Now, you fellows get ready for our next caper. We have to get the girls to their next location?”
“Where’s that gonna be, boss?” another goon asked.
“Why, Arkham, of course. We can’t just have a female softball team with three ladies, can we?”
Batgirl had struggled for nearly half an hour, but she had been getting it. A few triggered moans here, a few muffled sounds there, and the suit was slowly feeding back the commands fed through the binding mouthpiece.
The mask registered every command, let her know when she was closer and closer to solving the sonic, auditory based puzzles linked to not only thought and emotion, but sound. Sometimes, she had to backtrack, feeling the suit start to clench up again, but it had gotten more lose, slowly but surely.
This has taken a long time, Batgirl thought, but I can’t think about that. I have to think about stopping Riddler. Even if he’s had enough time to commit a lot of damage, that doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to stop him. Eventually, I’ll get out of this thing, eventually-
After another long series of moaning issued from Batgirl’s mouth, the suit was triggered in a way it hadn’t before. The trap loosened very quickly, and Batgirl found herself moving, her arms and legs reaching out of the suit.
The caped crusader stumbled to the floor. Her mouthpiece shattered after it fell from her lips. The mask that had encased her face was soon lifted by her hands, and she threw it like a batarang against the wall. It shattered instantly.
Batgirl wasn’t surprised to see the motif of the suit she was in. Of course- decked out in green, covered with question marks more gaudy than leopard print and zebra stripes- how could The Riddler be any more humble than to not leave his trademark design on anything he was involved in.
I’m free, Riddler, Batgirl thought as she slammed a fist into her other hand, and I’m coming for you.
But where would she go?
A series of vans arrived at the Arkham Asylum. The female guard at the gate eyed the vans suspiciously, wondering why so many had come unsuspected.
“New arrivals for Arkham,” the driver in the first vehicle shouted to the guard. He was wearing the usual funny farm suit, a white uniform with a matching cap.
The guard shook her head. “Gee... I know Gotham has all sorts of nuts, but I would think I would have gotten word we were getting so many new patients today. They always give me the word on who’s coming.”
“Oh?” The front driver looked a bit amused. “Well, try this word.” The driver leaned out the way as his fellow passenger leaned forward, holding a straw and shooting a dart straight at the guard’s neck. The guard, looking shocked, reached for her neck and soon stumbled as a powerful anesthetic chemical overtook her. She slumped onto the ground, not even conscious enough to recognize the luring face of the Riddler taking pride in his slumbering victim.
“Riddler,” the fiend stated matter of factly. “Riddler is the word.”
Batgirl honed in on her batradio. She had finally gotten a clue on where the Riddler had been. Less than an hour ago, an entire baseball stadium had been gassed with a sleeping agent. No robberies were committed, no one was kidnapped. There was a confirmed death, however, that was a very big deal.
Even quarterbacks aren’t safe from this raving maniac, Batgirl thought. She would really have to slow down The Riddler’s tracks, and soon.
Riddler figured out the gate codes well enough; there was no system safe from his cracking skills. In less than a minute, The Riddler had gained access to the Arkham entrances, and his white vans were moving into the premises.
Soon, Riddler goons were rushing into the place, armed with guns. Guards were too slow to grab their weapons, and soon, many of them were crouched on the ground, their hands behind their heads as nurses and even doctors screamed, begging for mercy.
Riddler waltzed happily into the doors of Arkham as a number of other goons walked behind, holding portable mind controlling devices. The manic grin of The Riddler seemed to grow wider as his softball stars accompanied him from behind. “Now, who wants to join a softball team?”
Batgirl traced every inch of town. She cursed herself for not placing a bat-tracker on Riddler or his moll, but who was she kidding? Riddler was big league. A bat-tracker was small time stuff to him. Still, even his ego helped him miss the smallest details, and it could have helped.
Batgirl had already gone to the stadium, even though she knew Riddler was long gone from there. She had talked to the commissioner, but the police were still frantically combing the city for the maniac.
The Riddler’s snatching up athletes, Batgirl reminded herself, trying to think more thoroughly about where the villain could have gone. Various female athletes from sports that really aren’t as popular as other sports here in Gotham. But why? What could he be trying to do with athletes?
Creating his own team, Batgirl reasoned. Of course. He wants to make his own team. But for what?
The batcycle wiped through town. Batgirl was getting tired of not getting any hints.
I’ve been at the school. He hasn’t been there again, or at any of their gyms. He’s moved on from capturing athletes. But he still needs a team. If he’s run his gamut on the schoolgirls he wants on his team, who would be crazy enough to join a team ran by The Riddler...
Crazy....
Batgirl’s next destination was a big shot in the park, but she didn’t have any other ideas.
Batgirl stepped into the asylum cautiously, looking around with careful eyes. She didn’t know what to expect, but seeing the many white vans outside really heightened her suspicions. Even Arkham didn’t have so many personnel driving about. It was common to see maybe five vans on any given day, but twenty or thirty was highly excessive.
After Batgirl had warily wandered a few of the Arkham hallways, she entered the dining hall. The place seemed so barren and quiet before she felt a ball smack her on the back of her head. “Ow!”
“Strike one, Batgirl!”
The voice from the intercom was unmistakable. The first ball that had been thrown was a regular softball, but the next one Batgirl had narrowly escaped by sliding to the left was a metal ball with spikes.
“Strike two!”
Batgirl looked around to see many women entering the dining hall from the many hallways and exits. They were all wearing the same softball uniforms. Batgirl remembered the face of Alexis Johnson from the newspaper, and she remembered some nurses and female doctors she had seen in Arkham before, but she was even more shocked to see that The Siren, Catwoman, and many other Arkham foes had joined Riddler’s team. With their zombified faces, Batgirl doubted the ladies had joined out of free will.
All of the women wore special gloves, which obviously protected their hands from the many curious, sharp and jagged ‘balls’ they held in their hands.
“Hate to tell you this, Batgirl,” Riddler’s voice sounded from the intercom, “but there will be a strike three, and when there is... you’ll be out. Permanently.”
Holy smokes!
The Riddler’s no joke!
Molls with balls??
How much worse can it get?
Stay tuned, same bat time, same bat channel!!