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BATMAN: SOUTHERN KNIGHT
A GREATER EVIL, PART FOUR: “FINAL JUDGMENT”
Based on the DC Comics Characters created by Bob Kane

Batman didn’t anticipate too many “aquatic adventures”, but did make his utility belt and its contents waterproof.  He was thankful for this act of caution as he threw a fully functional flash bomb at the Riddler just before his adversary pressed the button his cane that would electrify the Mall of Gotham fountain and make Batman extra crispy.
Meanwhile, Catwoman, who was sent falling to her death by Bane from the glass portion of the mall’s roof, managed to catch herself on the second story railing.  However, he was slipping fast.  In the end, Batman managed to fight past the Riddler’s henchmen and catch her just before she hit the concrete floor.  In a daze, she looked up at him and formed half a smile.
“I’ve never found you completely reliable, Bruce,” she whispered so that no one around could hear.  “But you’ve always been there when I really needed you.”  Batman’s eyes widened at this… but then he found himself vainly trying to come up with an explanation.
“Selina,” he said just as quietly.  “I…I… don’t know wh…”  Suddenly, Bane grabbed and lifted him up like an abusive child handling a puppy.  Apparently, Christopher Maxwell’s mutated muscleman had made his own swift trip from the roof to the floor.
“First, I finish you, amigo,” said Bane.  “And then I end the rest of that kitty’s nine lives.”
“Let him go, Bane,” said Maxwell.  “He saved my nephew’s life.  I at least owe him this much.”  Bane growled as he dropped Batman.
“Thanks,” said Batman.  “I guess Maxwell was pretty desperate to hire a South American prison lab experiment.”
“What?” asked Bane, gritting his teeth.
“Yes, I know all about you from a blood sample I obtained at the lab.  I know about you and the Venom that gives you strength.”  Bane was ready to ignore Maxwell’s orders when Commissioner Gordon and his boys and girls in blue burst in with guns blazing.  Gordon looked around at the unique cast of characters and shook his head.
“Looks like the gang’s all here,” he said.
“Still sooo much to do,” said the Riddler.  “But no time to leave my riddles now.”  He then went to his trusty cane once again.  “A quick escape plan is in order.”  He pressed a button, and the entire mall filled up with green smoke, which was stored in canisters inside the ventilation system during the Riddler’s “redecoration.”  Once the smoke cleared, the only ones present were Maxwell, his nephew Timothy, Bane, and the police.  Bane found himself surrounded by multiple officers and multiple firearms.
“Sorry, amigos,” smiled Bane.  “But I am with Mr. Maxwell.”  Gordon looked over at the wealthy mogul.
“Never saw this psychopath before in my life,” said Maxwell.  “Get him out of my mall.”  In a rage of being betrayed, Bane fought off several officers before Gordon’s back-up shot him with enough tranquilizer darts to put a small herd of cattle to sleep.  Maxwell then smiled at Timothy and patted him on the back.
“C’mon, my boy,” he said.  “You look like you could use some dinner.”  His nephew then ran to the nearest trashcan and orally rid himself of what he consumed at the houseboat party.

It seemed as if every time Batman attempted to solve one of Nygma’s riddles, he had something else on his mind.  This time around, it was Selina calling him Bruce in the mall.  At least he now knew how she discovered his identity, thanks to the little incident Alfred spoke of.  When he brought her back to Wayne Plantation, she played possum until she was able to eavesdrop on Bruce and Alfred’s conversation.  Batman knew from the moment he was at WayneLabs that it would be a big risk bringing her there… but he cared too much for Selina to leave her to suffer… or worse.”
“Feeling better?” he asked Alfred as his butler walked into the room.
“Much, sir, thanks to you,” answered Alfred.  “I must say that Ms. Kyle certainly has a strong taste in fragrances.”
“It’s a doozy, alright.”
“Any clues on Mr. Nygma’s next move?”
“I think it’s safe to just call him the Riddler now, Alfred.  And I’m still trying to decipher this whole ‘Fifth Horseman’ business.”
“Well, if he’s making a biblical reference, sir, you have the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I believe them to be War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death.”
“War… Famine… Pestilence…”  Batman then had one of his infamous sudden realizations.  “Of course, the Riddler’s been using the Four Horsemen theme as a pattern for his crimes!  He made a declaration of War at the mall opening.  The tampered food at Maxwell’s restaurant represents Famine.  The disease-carrying mosquitoes represent Pestilence, and his attempted murder last night is Death.  However… this Fifth Horseman?”
“I haven’t attended Sunday School in quite some time, sir, bit isn’t there something in there about the Fourth Horseman being followed.”  Another shot of realization.
“Of course, Alfred.  Hell followed with him… Hell or final judgment.  The Fifth Horseman signifies what the Riddler is plotting as his grand finale.”
“Any idea as to what that might be, sir?”
“Not yet, but from what I’ve learned about Nygma’s encompassing alter-ego, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Our game is almost at an end, my friends,” said the Riddler to his henchmen.  They were now back in Nygma’s old store.  “It has been fun, but it must conclude… and will do so in the most spectacular fashion.  Fellows, in a little over twenty-four hours, this town will once again belong to us… and those who have sinned against us will be cast into eternal torment!”
“So are we gonna blow up a few of those fancy houses around the lake?” asked one of his boys.
“Or better yet, finally tear down that stinkin’ mall?” asked another.
“Gentlemen, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” laughed the Riddler.  “But physical destruction only goes so far.”  He then removed a compact disc from his jacket.  “We don’t want to just wipe out these people’s material possessions.  We want to wipe out everything!”
“What’s happened to you, Nygma?” asked the voice of Catwoman, who had hid herself near the store entrance during the Riddler’s rant.  “You know, Batman told me I wasn’t a killer, and he was right.  I tried to convince myself that you weren’t either.  I thought our goal was to take down Maxwell, but you want to put dozens of people and their families out of the street.  You’ve become the very thing you hated to begin with.”
“You no longer wish to be my partner, dear lady?” shrugged the Riddler.  “Well, there’s the door.”
“Don’t go through with this, Nygma.  You’ll destroy much more than you realize.”  Catwoman then backed up into Bane, who grabbed and squeezed her arms until she lost all feeling in them.
“Oh, how forgetful of me,” said the Riddler.  “Catwoman, meet my new business partner.  Mr. Bane and myself cut a little deal after some of my men helped him escape from jail.  And unlike Christopher Maxwell, I intend to go through with it.”
“Trust me, amigo,” said Bane.  “When I get my hands on Maxwell, the only thing he will go through is that little white light.”

“You mean that pumped-up maniac’s loose again?” asked Gordon when he received the news of Bane’s escape.  The Commissioner was already under enough stress running about police headquarters as he tried to find any lead on the Riddler or Catwoman.
“The guys who helped him escape matched the description of Nygma’s men,” said the officer who delivered the news.  “And unfortunately, several good men were critically injured.”
“Damn it!” shouted Gordon.  “Now the Riddler and that monster are working together?  What in Heaven’s name is next?”  No sooner had he asked that than the department’s computers began to flicker and flash.  Once they cleared up, the Riddler’s face appeared.
“I know quite a few of good citizens are very confused right now,” he said.  “As my face is on every active computer screen in Gotham.  So I will explain.  During my antics the past little while, I have been secretly using my technological knowledge to construct a highly infective computer virus, one that I will spread into the files and records of every wealthy and well-to-do wart on the face of descent society.  The results; mass identity theft, complete drainage of bank accounts, financial and business records ceased of their existence… need I go on?  At this point, you all must be thinking, ‘Now what does the Riddler want to prevent this economic travesty from occurring?’  And the answer to that little riddle is… nothing.  What I want you cannot give.  However, since this has been such an exhilarating game so far, I will give your favorite mystery man a final chance to trump me in it.  Are you listening, Batman?  After all the humiliation I’ve put you through, I’m giving you an opportunity to shine!”
Batman was listening, as the Riddler’s hack had managed to reach his computer system as well.
“I’ve set up three power stations throughout Gotham Hill,” continued the Riddler.  “Solve these riddles and you may just have time to find them and shut my little cyber-plaque down:  The first is near a show where only the fat man taps, the second where the horses gallop but do not move, and the third… well, let’s just say that you have less than two hours before the dead man tells you that time’s up!  So, better get to it, my boy!  For now, as my new friend Mr. Bane would say, ‘Adios, amigo’!”
As the computers returned to normal, at least for the moment, Batman crossed his arms in thought.
“Sounds like he’s given you quite the final challenge, sir,” said Alfred.
“Indeed,” said Batman.  “Only it’s not the riddles, it’s the time limit.  A show where only the fat man taps?  Chubby’s Roadhouse, where only Chubby taps the beer while up and coming musicians try to get their big break on stage.  A place where the horses gallop, but do not move?  The Cecille Art Gallery, home of the famous painting ‘Freed Stallions’.”
“But who is this deceased fellow who will tell you when time is up?” inquired Alfred.
“It’s not a dead man, but rather a clock named after a dead man… my father.”
“Of course, sir.  The Thomas Wayne Memorial Clock in Historic Gotham Park!”
“Now to figure out how to shut down all three power stations at once.  They’re too far apart for one man to do it alone.  I can take one, and I can call on Gordon to take another one out.”
“If you need me, sir.”  Alfred rose and stood with pride.  “Then I shall take out the third.”
“It’s too risky, Alfred,” said another voice in the Batcave.  Alfred’s eyes widened, but Batman seemed hardly affected once he saw who it was.
“Hello, Selina,” he said.
“Ms. Kyle?” gulped Alfred.
“Sorry about the Cat Nap thing,” she winked.  “No hard feelings?”
“I supposed not,” sighed Alfred.  Catwoman then approached Batman.
“Before I escaped the Riddler’s clutches, I overheard that he was setting up traps for you and anyone else who tries to shut down those power stations,” she informed him.  “I know Alfred is loyal to you, but this is no task for him.”  She then drew closer to him, as close as the night at Maxwell’s mansion.  “Let me help you.”
“And why should I trust you?”  Batman turned his back to her.  “You’ve already violated the secret of my true identity, and the sanctity of the Batcave.”
“You can trust me because you were right about me not being a killer.  I prey on inferior pests like Christopher Maxwell, but like you, I cannot stand back and watch innocents truly suffer.  That’s where we’re alike, Bruce.  No matter what it takes, we stand up for what we feel is right.”  She then placed her hand on Batman’s shoulder, prompting him to turn back around.  “That, and I have no intention of telling anyone who you are.”  Batman gazed into her eyes once more… then nodded.
“We need to hurry.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” scoffed Maxwell to two of his bodyguards outside the Cecille Art Gallery.  “Mr. Cecille calls me all the way down here to look at some new paintings, and this place looks like it hasn’t been open for hours.”
“Yes, amigo,” said the voice of Bane, who stepped up behind him.  Maxwell’s security approached him, but didn’t last long.  “The gallery is closed to the public, but exceptions have been made for… special guests.”  Before Maxwell could react, Bane grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him inside.

The large, green, question-marked power station was practically inside the Chubby’s Roadhouse parking lot.  The folks inside the roadhouse seemed too occupied to notice it or the arrival of Commissioner Gordon and his officers.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” said Gordon.  “Things look pretty quiet here, but approach the station with caution.”  With firearms in hand, the officers crept toward it, and almost reached it when Riddler’s now infamous green smoke rose from hidden nozzles in the grass.  Then, from the nearby woods, Riddler’s henchmen emerged with automatic rifles and surrounded them.
“Drop your pop-guns, cops,” said one of the goons.  “Or we’ll show ya how real guns work.”  Gordon and the others complied, but as they raised their hands above their heads, another squad of officers ran out of Chubby’s Roadhouse with automatics of their own.  Their arrival distracted the henchmen long enough for Gordon and the officers around him to pick up their guns.
“I think it will be we who teach you the lesson, gentlemen,” said the Commissioner.  The criminals then dropped their weapons as Gordon deactivated the station.

In Historic Gotham Park, the Riddler watched with little concern as the station’s shutdown was announced on his laptop.
“One down, two to go,” he said to the pair of large thugs behind him.  His computer then revealed a map with a blip signaling the Batmobile’s approach.  “Our masked friend is on his way.  Let’s prepare his reception, shall we?”

“I swear, Bane,” gasped Maxwell as the monster had him by the throat and pinned against the wall.  “I was going to get you out of jail.  I just needed time to turn down the heat.”
“Stupid little man,” growled Bane.  “My departed papi once told me… one lie does not erase another.”
“I’ll give you anything you want.”  Maxwell’s face was almost purple and he could barely speak.
“I no longer have the patience to wait to be given, amigo.  Now, I only desire to take what I want… starting with your life.”  Maxwell then pointed to a nearby window.
“Bane… look.”  Bane turned to see Catwoman on the verge of shutting down the station outside.
“Gracias, Mr. Maxwell,” he said.
Catwoman grabbed her whip as Maxwell’s body was launched through the window.  Bane then stepped out and briefly admired his handiwork.
“Why so grouchy, kitty?” he asked.  “I thought you would be happy to see this coward get what’s coming to him.”
“Men like you and Nygma are just as evil as he is…” said Catwoman.  “And just as much a threat to this town.  Time to short circuit your scheme.”  She then returned her focus to the station, prompting Bane to charge her.  She shook her head in annoyance, leapt over him, and ripped through his back with her claws in the process.  The blood and Venom flowed out of him, rapidly draining his artificial strength.  Catwoman then kicked him into the station, putting both him and it out of commission.  Maxwell then staggered to his feet, only to be kicked down as well.
“I might have saved your life, Maxwell,” said Catwoman.  “But that hardly means I like you.”

The Riddler’s reception consisted of mini-mines, green smoke screens, and crossfire from his two remaining cronies.  Thankfully, the Batmobile had blast armor, exterior fans, and bulletproof glass.  As the park drew near, the Riddler decided to make an appearance inside the vehicle.
“With all your roadster’s toys, I assumed you had a mobile computer… and I was right,” he said.  “The clock is ticking and the game is coming to an end, but I think there is time for a bonus question: Look away from me, there’s but one of you, but turn back around and then there’s two.  What am I?”
“A mirror,” said Batman, who’s eyes then widened as he approached a wickedly grinning Riddler.  “A mirror!”  The Batmobile came to a screeching halt.  Batman then operated the car’s sonic beam, which shattered the glass baring the Riddler’s image and revealed the concrete wall of one of Historic Gotham Hill’s recently abandoned buildings.  Batman emerged from the Batmobile’, and swiftly dispatched the two henchmen with his Bat-a-rang.  He then saw the Riddler fleeing towards the station and gave chase.
“Time’s almost up, Batman,” yelled his crazed foe.  “Only seconds left to go, and the filthy rich become the dirty poor.”  Batman quickly removed a magnetic grenade from his utility belt and threw it at the station.  With two seconds remaining, the device exploded, not only thwarting the Riddler’s plan, but forcing the evil genius to the ground as well.  The Riddler went for his cane, but Batman arrived to kick it away.
“Why’d you do it?”  The Riddler’s saddened voice began to sound more like the Edward Nygma that Batman once knew.  “Why did you help all those rich swine?  Why are they allowed to go on living their spoiled and pampered lives?”
“It’s because I stand for all citizens in this town,” answered Batman.  “No matter their race, gender, or economic status.  The difference between you and I, Nygma, is that I am still trying not to fall to the greater evil that spawned me.”
“Bruce Wayne!” said the Riddler.
“What?”  Batman’s voice had a hint of nervousness.  How did the Riddler know…?
“Bruce Wayne was always a good friend, who stood up for people like me.  Could you tell him that I never intended to ruin him?”
“I’ll give him the message.”  Batman’s voice now had a hint of relief.

When the police arrived to take the Riddler away, the Catwoman was with them… in handcuffs.
“I turned myself in,” she told Batman.  “I figured it was the most honest way to get my revenge against Maxwell.”
“When Catwoman broke into Maxwell’s safe, she found enough shady contracts and under-handed business deals to put him away for a long time,” said Commissioner Gordon.
“What about the Mall of Gotham?” asked Batman.
“It and everything legally owned by Maxwell Corporate Properties is up for sale,” said Catwoman, who then winked at Batman.  “Do you know of anyone’s who is interested in buying it, and using it to serve the community?”
“I might know of someone,” said Batman.
“May we have a moment alone?” Catwoman asked the Commissioner.
“Sure,” said Gordon.  “And don’t worry.  What you’ve done for this town tonight has already earned you a great deal of time off for good behavior.”
“So what about Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne?” asked Catwoman as Gordon walked away.  “I guess all this has dampened that relationship.”
“When you get out of prison,” said Batman.  “You may be surprised to find Bruce Wayne standing there with wine and roses.  Until then, may I escort you to your ride?”

Later that night, Batman stood across from the Mall of Gotham, a building that Bruce Wayne would soon use to serve a greater good instead of a greater evil.  As with Oswald Cobblepot, he only felt a miniscule amount of accomplishment in the arrest (and potential rehabilitation) of the Riddler, Catwoman, Bane, and Christopher Maxwell.  He would feel the same way when he caught future members of their breed.  The day Batman would be satisfied and more than willing to hang up his mask and cape, was the day he stopped the greater evil itself, and prevented it from corrupting others (and himself)… forever.

Description
BATMAN: SOUTHERN KNIGHT
A GREATER EVIL, PART FOUR: “FINAL JUDGMENT”
Based on the DC Comics Characters created by Bob Kane

Batman didn’t anticipate too many “aquatic adventures”, but did make his utility belt and its contents waterproof.  He was thankful for this act of caution as he threw a fully functional flash bomb at the Riddler just before his adversary pressed the button his cane that would electrify the Mall of Gotham fountain and make Batman extra crispy.
Meanwhile, Catwoman, who was sent falling to her death by Bane from the glass portion of the mall’s roof, managed to catch herself on the second story railing.  However, he was slipping fast.  In the end, Batman managed to fight past the Riddler’s henchmen and catch her just before she hit the concrete floor.  In a daze, she looked up at him and formed half a smile.
“I’ve never found you completely reliable, Bruce,” she whispered so that no one around could hear.  “But you’ve always been there when I really needed you.”  Batman’s eyes widened at this… but then he found himself vainly trying to come up with an explanation.
“Selina,” he said just as quietly.  “I…I… don’t know wh…”  Suddenly, Bane grabbed and lifted him up like an abusive child handling a puppy.  Apparently, Christopher Maxwell’s mutated muscleman had made his own swift trip from the roof to the floor.
“First, I finish you, amigo,” said Bane.  “And then I end the rest of that kitty’s nine lives.”
“Let him go, Bane,” said Maxwell.  “He saved my nephew’s life.  I at least owe him this much.”  Bane growled as he dropped Batman.
“Thanks,” said Batman.  “I guess Maxwell was pretty desperate to hire a South American prison lab experiment.”
“What?” asked Bane, gritting his teeth.
“Yes, I know all about you from a blood sample I obtained at the lab.  I know about you and the Venom that gives you strength.”  Bane was ready to ignore Maxwell’s orders when Commissioner Gordon and his boys and girls in blue burst in with guns blazing.  Gordon looked around at the unique cast of characters and shook his head.
“Looks like the gang’s all here,” he said.
“Still sooo much to do,” said the Riddler.  “But no time to leave my riddles now.”  He then went to his trusty cane once again.  “A quick escape plan is in order.”  He pressed a button, and the entire mall filled up with green smoke, which was stored in canisters inside the ventilation system during the Riddler’s “redecoration.”  Once the smoke cleared, the only ones present were Maxwell, his nephew Timothy, Bane, and the police.  Bane found himself surrounded by multiple officers and multiple firearms.
“Sorry, amigos,” smiled Bane.  “But I am with Mr. Maxwell.”  Gordon looked over at the wealthy mogul.
“Never saw this psychopath before in my life,” said Maxwell.  “Get him out of my mall.”  In a rage of being betrayed, Bane fought off several officers before Gordon’s back-up shot him with enough tranquilizer darts to put a small herd of cattle to sleep.  Maxwell then smiled at Timothy and patted him on the back.
“C’mon, my boy,” he said.  “You look like you could use some dinner.”  His nephew then ran to the nearest trashcan and orally rid himself of what he consumed at the houseboat party.

It seemed as if every time Batman attempted to solve one of Nygma’s riddles, he had something else on his mind.  This time around, it was Selina calling him Bruce in the mall.  At least he now knew how she discovered his identity, thanks to the little incident Alfred spoke of.  When he brought her back to Wayne Plantation, she played possum until she was able to eavesdrop on Bruce and Alfred’s conversation.  Batman knew from the moment he was at WayneLabs that it would be a big risk bringing her there… but he cared too much for Selina to leave her to suffer… or worse.”
“Feeling better?” he asked Alfred as his butler walked into the room.
“Much, sir, thanks to you,” answered Alfred.  “I must say that Ms. Kyle certainly has a strong taste in fragrances.”
“It’s a doozy, alright.”
“Any clues on Mr. Nygma’s next move?”
“I think it’s safe to just call him the Riddler now, Alfred.  And I’m still trying to decipher this whole ‘Fifth Horseman’ business.”
“Well, if he’s making a biblical reference, sir, you have the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I believe them to be War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death.”
“War… Famine… Pestilence…”  Batman then had one of his infamous sudden realizations.  “Of course, the Riddler’s been using the Four Horsemen theme as a pattern for his crimes!  He made a declaration of War at the mall opening.  The tampered food at Maxwell’s restaurant represents Famine.  The disease-carrying mosquitoes represent Pestilence, and his attempted murder last night is Death.  However… this Fifth Horseman?”
“I haven’t attended Sunday School in quite some time, sir, bit isn’t there something in there about the Fourth Horseman being followed.”  Another shot of realization.
“Of course, Alfred.  Hell followed with him… Hell or final judgment.  The Fifth Horseman signifies what the Riddler is plotting as his grand finale.”
“Any idea as to what that might be, sir?”
“Not yet, but from what I’ve learned about Nygma’s encompassing alter-ego, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Our game is almost at an end, my friends,” said the Riddler to his henchmen.  They were now back in Nygma’s old store.  “It has been fun, but it must conclude… and will do so in the most spectacular fashion.  Fellows, in a little over twenty-four hours, this town will once again belong to us… and those who have sinned against us will be cast into eternal torment!”
“So are we gonna blow up a few of those fancy houses around the lake?” asked one of his boys.
“Or better yet, finally tear down that stinkin’ mall?” asked another.
“Gentlemen, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” laughed the Riddler.  “But physical destruction only goes so far.”  He then removed a compact disc from his jacket.  “We don’t want to just wipe out these people’s material possessions.  We want to wipe out everything!”
“What’s happened to you, Nygma?” asked the voice of Catwoman, who had hid herself near the store entrance during the Riddler’s rant.  “You know, Batman told me I wasn’t a killer, and he was right.  I tried to convince myself that you weren’t either.  I thought our goal was to take down Maxwell, but you want to put dozens of people and their families out of the street.  You’ve become the very thing you hated to begin with.”
“You no longer wish to be my partner, dear lady?” shrugged the Riddler.  “Well, there’s the door.”
“Don’t go through with this, Nygma.  You’ll destroy much more than you realize.”  Catwoman then backed up into Bane, who grabbed and squeezed her arms until she lost all feeling in them.
“Oh, how forgetful of me,” said the Riddler.  “Catwoman, meet my new business partner.  Mr. Bane and myself cut a little deal after some of my men helped him escape from jail.  And unlike Christopher Maxwell, I intend to go through with it.”
“Trust me, amigo,” said Bane.  “When I get my hands on Maxwell, the only thing he will go through is that little white light.”

“You mean that pumped-up maniac’s loose again?” asked Gordon when he received the news of Bane’s escape.  The Commissioner was already under enough stress running about police headquarters as he tried to find any lead on the Riddler or Catwoman.
“The guys who helped him escape matched the description of Nygma’s men,” said the officer who delivered the news.  “And unfortunately, several good men were critically injured.”
“Damn it!” shouted Gordon.  “Now the Riddler and that monster are working together?  What in Heaven’s name is next?”  No sooner had he asked that than the department’s computers began to flicker and flash.  Once they cleared up, the Riddler’s face appeared.
“I know quite a few of good citizens are very confused right now,” he said.  “As my face is on every active computer screen in Gotham.  So I will explain.  During my antics the past little while, I have been secretly using my technological knowledge to construct a highly infective computer virus, one that I will spread into the files and records of every wealthy and well-to-do wart on the face of descent society.  The results; mass identity theft, complete drainage of bank accounts, financial and business records ceased of their existence… need I go on?  At this point, you all must be thinking, ‘Now what does the Riddler want to prevent this economic travesty from occurring?’  And the answer to that little riddle is… nothing.  What I want you cannot give.  However, since this has been such an exhilarating game so far, I will give your favorite mystery man a final chance to trump me in it.  Are you listening, Batman?  After all the humiliation I’ve put you through, I’m giving you an opportunity to shine!”
Batman was listening, as the Riddler’s hack had managed to reach his computer system as well.
“I’ve set up three power stations throughout Gotham Hill,” continued the Riddler.  “Solve these riddles and you may just have time to find them and shut my little cyber-plaque down:  The first is near a show where only the fat man taps, the second where the horses gallop but do not move, and the third… well, let’s just say that you have less than two hours before the dead man tells you that time’s up!  So, better get to it, my boy!  For now, as my new friend Mr. Bane would say, ‘Adios, amigo’!”
As the computers returned to normal, at least for the moment, Batman crossed his arms in thought.
“Sounds like he’s given you quite the final challenge, sir,” said Alfred.
“Indeed,” said Batman.  “Only it’s not the riddles, it’s the time limit.  A show where only the fat man taps?  Chubby’s Roadhouse, where only Chubby taps the beer while up and coming musicians try to get their big break on stage.  A place where the horses gallop, but do not move?  The Cecille Art Gallery, home of the famous painting ‘Freed Stallions’.”
“But who is this deceased fellow who will tell you when time is up?” inquired Alfred.
“It’s not a dead man, but rather a clock named after a dead man… my father.”
“Of course, sir.  The Thomas Wayne Memorial Clock in Historic Gotham Park!”
“Now to figure out how to shut down all three power stations at once.  They’re too far apart for one man to do it alone.  I can take one, and I can call on Gordon to take another one out.”
“If you need me, sir.”  Alfred rose and stood with pride.  “Then I shall take out the third.”
“It’s too risky, Alfred,” said another voice in the Batcave.  Alfred’s eyes widened, but Batman seemed hardly affected once he saw who it was.
“Hello, Selina,” he said.
“Ms. Kyle?” gulped Alfred.
“Sorry about the Cat Nap thing,” she winked.  “No hard feelings?”
“I supposed not,” sighed Alfred.  Catwoman then approached Batman.
“Before I escaped the Riddler’s clutches, I overheard that he was setting up traps for you and anyone else who tries to shut down those power stations,” she informed him.  “I know Alfred is loyal to you, but this is no task for him.”  She then drew closer to him, as close as the night at Maxwell’s mansion.  “Let me help you.”
“And why should I trust you?”  Batman turned his back to her.  “You’ve already violated the secret of my true identity, and the sanctity of the Batcave.”
“You can trust me because you were right about me not being a killer.  I prey on inferior pests like Christopher Maxwell, but like you, I cannot stand back and watch innocents truly suffer.  That’s where we’re alike, Bruce.  No matter what it takes, we stand up for what we feel is right.”  She then placed her hand on Batman’s shoulder, prompting him to turn back around.  “That, and I have no intention of telling anyone who you are.”  Batman gazed into her eyes once more… then nodded.
“We need to hurry.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” scoffed Maxwell to two of his bodyguards outside the Cecille Art Gallery.  “Mr. Cecille calls me all the way down here to look at some new paintings, and this place looks like it hasn’t been open for hours.”
“Yes, amigo,” said the voice of Bane, who stepped up behind him.  Maxwell’s security approached him, but didn’t last long.  “The gallery is closed to the public, but exceptions have been made for… special guests.”  Before Maxwell could react, Bane grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him inside.

The large, green, question-marked power station was practically inside the Chubby’s Roadhouse parking lot.  The folks inside the roadhouse seemed too occupied to notice it or the arrival of Commissioner Gordon and his officers.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” said Gordon.  “Things look pretty quiet here, but approach the station with caution.”  With firearms in hand, the officers crept toward it, and almost reached it when Riddler’s now infamous green smoke rose from hidden nozzles in the grass.  Then, from the nearby woods, Riddler’s henchmen emerged with automatic rifles and surrounded them.
“Drop your pop-guns, cops,” said one of the goons.  “Or we’ll show ya how real guns work.”  Gordon and the others complied, but as they raised their hands above their heads, another squad of officers ran out of Chubby’s Roadhouse with automatics of their own.  Their arrival distracted the henchmen long enough for Gordon and the officers around him to pick up their guns.
“I think it will be we who teach you the lesson, gentlemen,” said the Commissioner.  The criminals then dropped their weapons as Gordon deactivated the station.

In Historic Gotham Park, the Riddler watched with little concern as the station’s shutdown was announced on his laptop.
“One down, two to go,” he said to the pair of large thugs behind him.  His computer then revealed a map with a blip signaling the Batmobile’s approach.  “Our masked friend is on his way.  Let’s prepare his reception, shall we?”

“I swear, Bane,” gasped Maxwell as the monster had him by the throat and pinned against the wall.  “I was going to get you out of jail.  I just needed time to turn down the heat.”
“Stupid little man,” growled Bane.  “My departed papi once told me… one lie does not erase another.”
“I’ll give you anything you want.”  Maxwell’s face was almost purple and he could barely speak.
“I no longer have the patience to wait to be given, amigo.  Now, I only desire to take what I want… starting with your life.”  Maxwell then pointed to a nearby window.
“Bane… look.”  Bane turned to see Catwoman on the verge of shutting down the station outside.
“Gracias, Mr. Maxwell,” he said.
Catwoman grabbed her whip as Maxwell’s body was launched through the window.  Bane then stepped out and briefly admired his handiwork.
“Why so grouchy, kitty?” he asked.  “I thought you would be happy to see this coward get what’s coming to him.”
“Men like you and Nygma are just as evil as he is…” said Catwoman.  “And just as much a threat to this town.  Time to short circuit your scheme.”  She then returned her focus to the station, prompting Bane to charge her.  She shook her head in annoyance, leapt over him, and ripped through his back with her claws in the process.  The blood and Venom flowed out of him, rapidly draining his artificial strength.  Catwoman then kicked him into the station, putting both him and it out of commission.  Maxwell then staggered to his feet, only to be kicked down as well.
“I might have saved your life, Maxwell,” said Catwoman.  “But that hardly means I like you.”

The Riddler’s reception consisted of mini-mines, green smoke screens, and crossfire from his two remaining cronies.  Thankfully, the Batmobile had blast armor, exterior fans, and bulletproof glass.  As the park drew near, the Riddler decided to make an appearance inside the vehicle.
“With all your roadster’s toys, I assumed you had a mobile computer… and I was right,” he said.  “The clock is ticking and the game is coming to an end, but I think there is time for a bonus question: Look away from me, there’s but one of you, but turn back around and then there’s two.  What am I?”
“A mirror,” said Batman, who’s eyes then widened as he approached a wickedly grinning Riddler.  “A mirror!”  The Batmobile came to a screeching halt.  Batman then operated the car’s sonic beam, which shattered the glass baring the Riddler’s image and revealed the concrete wall of one of Historic Gotham Hill’s recently abandoned buildings.  Batman emerged from the Batmobile’, and swiftly dispatched the two henchmen with his Bat-a-rang.  He then saw the Riddler fleeing towards the station and gave chase.
“Time’s almost up, Batman,” yelled his crazed foe.  “Only seconds left to go, and the filthy rich become the dirty poor.”  Batman quickly removed a magnetic grenade from his utility belt and threw it at the station.  With two seconds remaining, the device exploded, not only thwarting the Riddler’s plan, but forcing the evil genius to the ground as well.  The Riddler went for his cane, but Batman arrived to kick it away.
“Why’d you do it?”  The Riddler’s saddened voice began to sound more like the Edward Nygma that Batman once knew.  “Why did you help all those rich swine?  Why are they allowed to go on living their spoiled and pampered lives?”
“It’s because I stand for all citizens in this town,” answered Batman.  “No matter their race, gender, or economic status.  The difference between you and I, Nygma, is that I am still trying not to fall to the greater evil that spawned me.”
“Bruce Wayne!” said the Riddler.
“What?”  Batman’s voice had a hint of nervousness.  How did the Riddler know…?
“Bruce Wayne was always a good friend, who stood up for people like me.  Could you tell him that I never intended to ruin him?”
“I’ll give him the message.”  Batman’s voice now had a hint of relief.

When the police arrived to take the Riddler away, the Catwoman was with them… in handcuffs.
“I turned myself in,” she told Batman.  “I figured it was the most honest way to get my revenge against Maxwell.”
“When Catwoman broke into Maxwell’s safe, she found enough shady contracts and under-handed business deals to put him away for a long time,” said Commissioner Gordon.
“What about the Mall of Gotham?” asked Batman.
“It and everything legally owned by Maxwell Corporate Properties is up for sale,” said Catwoman, who then winked at Batman.  “Do you know of anyone’s who is interested in buying it, and using it to serve the community?”
“I might know of someone,” said Batman.
“May we have a moment alone?” Catwoman asked the Commissioner.
“Sure,” said Gordon.  “And don’t worry.  What you’ve done for this town tonight has already earned you a great deal of time off for good behavior.”
“So what about Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne?” asked Catwoman as Gordon walked away.  “I guess all this has dampened that relationship.”
“When you get out of prison,” said Batman.  “You may be surprised to find Bruce Wayne standing there with wine and roses.  Until then, may I escort you to your ride?”

Later that night, Batman stood across from the Mall of Gotham, a building that Bruce Wayne would soon use to serve a greater good instead of a greater evil.  As with Oswald Cobblepot, he only felt a miniscule amount of accomplishment in the arrest (and potential rehabilitation) of the Riddler, Catwoman, Bane, and Christopher Maxwell.  He would feel the same way when he caught future members of their breed.  The day Batman would be satisfied and more than willing to hang up his mask and cape, was the day he stopped the greater evil itself, and prevented it from corrupting others (and himself)… forever.