> Rogue's Gallery > by MDNGHTRDHTLN > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > One > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Batman stood in silence, surrounded by a group of many thugs. A few were carrying lead pipes. He could tell they were from Penguin’s gang because of the clothes they were wearing. Their black balaclavas didn’t offer their faces much in the way of protection, but their padding underneath their jackets did. Another two thugs brandished large knives, and yet another three unsheathed small submachine guns. A chorus of taunts echoed throughout the chamber Batman was standing in. “We’re gonna kill you, freak!” “Say your prayers, Bat!” “Nighty-night, Bat-freak!” A gruff chuckling sounded out. As soon as the thugs heard it, they stopped their taunting and stood to the side. A small man in a black coat shambled out of the shadows, using his umbrella as a cane. “Welcome to my home, Batman,” the small man said. “After you stopped me in Arkham City, I decided I’d get my revenge. Fast-forward a few weeks, and here we are!” The man chuckled again. “I stopped you once at Arkham City, Penguin,” threatened Batman. “I’ll do it again.” The Penguin laughed yet again. “No, you won’t.” He turned to his thugs. “The man here who kills the Batman gets a promotion!” He laughed again, and shambled out of the room. Batman surveyed the area around him. Fifteen thugs. Two with pipes, two with knives, three with guns. He smiled, cracking his knuckles and entering a fighting stance. This’ll be easy. A thug rushed Batman. The thug’s punch was easily countered by Batman, who took his fist, twisted his arm, and threw him aside, making him hit the stone wall and rendering him unconscious. One down. Then, the other fourteen rushed, screaming and hollering obscenities and threats. A thug with a knife lunged. Batman jumped back, grabbed the thug’s wrist, and broke it. The thug cried in pain, but he soon stopped as Batman brought him to his knees and kicked him in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. Two down. A thug with a pipe jumped towards Batman, swinging the pipe in a downwards motion. Batman brought his forearm to his face to block the blow, then elbowed the thug, grabbed his pipe, and hit him in the stomach and face in a one-two. He then swung the pipe around him, knocking another two thugs unconscious. Five down. Batman heard the signature click of a magazine being loaded into a gun. His focus rushed to a thug near him, who was carefully aiming a gun at Batman. Batman reached into his belt, pulled out three Batarangs, and sent one flying towards the armed thug. The Batarang connected with the thug’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and the gun out of his hands. Batman did the same for the other two thugs, knocking all three out cold. Eight down. Another knife thug tried to cut Batman, but Batman ducked under the sideways slice, popped up from behind the thug, and elbowed him in the back of the head. He then countered a pipe thug, taking his weapon and knocking another two thugs out cold with it, and then finished by bringing the pipe back to its former owner’s head. Twelve down. The final pipe thug tried to catch Batman off-guard, but Batman rolled out of the way and pulled out his Batclaw. He fired at the thug, grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulling the thug towards him. He used the thug’s momentum to knock over the thug behind him, knocking both out. Fourteen down. Batman calmly looked at the last thug, who was quivering with fear. “I surrender!” the thug shouted. “Just, please don’t hurt me!” Batman grabbed the thug by the neck and pushed him against the wall. “You’d better talk.” “I-I will! Just, j-just please! D-don’t hurt me!” “Tell me where the Penguin is.” “In the m-museum? W-well, he likes to hide out in the curator’s office. But he’s surrounded by g-guards. And t-they’ve got some top-notch gear. Military-grade.” “Like what?” “Guns, mines, goggles, grenades...anything you’ve seen the Penguin handle before, but better. He always keeps the best stuff for himself. I swear, that’s all I know! I promise!” “And I promise you get to take a nap.” Batman brought his fist to the thug’s head, rendering him unconscious. Batman activated his wireless comms channel to Alfred. “Yes, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked. “Alfred, it’s going to be a long night. If you could put dinner in the fridge, that’d be great.” “Right away, sir.” Batman had no idea just how long that night was going to be. Twilight looked at Celestia, who was standing before her in the library. “So, Twilight, you really want to try this spell out?” Celestia asked. “Yes. I think that insight into the minds of some of the human world’s criminal masterminds would help us understand how some of our criminal masterminds think.” Celestia sighed. “You do understand that whoever you bring back will be unpredictable and dangerous, right?” “Well, of course. That’s why I’ll have the Elements with me when I cast it.” Celestia sighed again. “Well, alright. If you need anything - anything at all - just send a letter.” “Don’t worry, Princess! It’ll be fine.” “Whenever somepony says that, something goes horribly wrong.” “Would you rather me say that everything will go wrong?” “You have a point. Well, I leave it in your capable hooves, Twilight. Just...do be careful.” “I will!” Celestia teleported herself away. “Now, let’s see...who to bring here?” Twilight asked herself. “Hm...this guy...Edward Nigma...calls himself the Riddler,” she said, flipping through the Unicromicon, a magical tome that provided insight into all universes, dimensions, and planes of existence. “Says here he’s obsessed with riddles and proving himself smarter than others. He has a need for attention. He’s also not very physically dangerous. Hm...he sounds like a good candidate.” “So, girls, you know why we’re here, right?” Twilight asked her friends. “To invite people to a party!” Pinkie said. “Well, kinda. We’re doing research.” “Research? Like what?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Well, we’re doing research on criminals. Why they do what they do, and how they work,” Twilight explained. “Like…what’s the word…” Applejack said. “Criminology?” “Yeah! Criminology.” “Precisely.” “And, pray tell, darling, who exactly do you plan on bringing to us?” Rarity asked Twilight. “Well, we’re starting with people who aren’t dangerous. I’ve found a guy...calls himself the Riddler. He’s highly intelligent, and obsessed with riddles. He’s physically harmless. At least, he should be.” “Should be?” Fluttershy piped up, worried. “He has no superpowers. He’s a completely normal human being, apart from his intellect.” “Oh…” “I brought you girls here, just in case something goes wrong. Like, he’s really dangerous, or we bring the wrong person. Are we ready to start?” The girls nodded their approval. “Here we go…” Twilight said, gritting her teeth and focusing. After a few moments of heavy concentration, Twilight gave up. She had felt nothing happen. “Sorry, girls,” she said, turning around. “It didn’t work. We couldn’t bring the Riddler here.” The girls just stared at her, jaws open in amazement. “Girls? What’s wrong?” “Twilight? Please look behind you,” said Fluttershy, hiding behind her mane. Twilight turned around, and soon her expression of disappointment became one of amazement. Standing there was a man. He was wearing a green suit, which was covered in small, yellow question marks with a large one on the back. His purple fingerless gloves had a similar question mark on the backs of the palms. The hands these gloves covered were gripping a golden rod with a hook on the end shaped into a squarish question mark. “This isn’t my hideout,” said the Riddler. “So, let me get this straight,” said the Riddler. “You’re a princess. You decided to bring me here to see how I do things. I’ve been sucked into another dimension so you can see what I do.” “Yes,” said the girls in unison. “Oh. Okay. I believe you.” “Really?” “NO! Of course not! This is probably Scarecrow’s work. Hey, Scarecrow!” he shouted. “I’m not afraid of pastel horses! You might want to check your fear gas for flaws, because it isn’t working!” “Uh, Riddler, this isn’t Scarecrow’s doing. Whoever that is.” Riddler laughed. “Ha! You really think you can outsmart me? The Riddler?” Rainbow Dash got up and flew over to the Riddler. “Hey, listen, pal. We’re not lying to you, okay? So just...relax.” “You really expect me to believe that?” “Yeah.” “Prove it. Prove this is real.” “How?” “Hit me.” “Hit you?” “Hit me.” “Sure.” She knocked Riddler square in the forehead. Not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to feel it. “Ow!” he said, holding his forehead with one hand and sticking out his other to stop any more blows. “That hurt!” “Now, need me to do more? Or do you believe us?” “I believe you!” “Good.” “Rainbow Dash!” Twilight said. “There’s no need for violence!” “Yeah!” Riddler said. “Don’t hit me!” Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, whatever, egghead.” “Excuse me?” Twilight and Riddler said in unison. “You heard me, egghead.” “You will not address me as an egghead, you little brat!” Riddler berated. “She was talking to me,” Twilight explained to him. “Oh? So, you’re an egghead, are you? A bookworm? The smart one?” “Yep!” Pinkie said. “She’s super-duper smart! She knows, like, everything!” “She does, does she?” “Yep!” Riddler smiled. “I have a riddle for you, bookworm.” “My name is Twilight Sparkle.” “I have a riddle for you, Twilight Sparkle. One I’ve used on many a psychologist.” “What is it?” “What starts walking on four legs, then two legs, and then three?” Twilight thought for a moment. “Oh! One of your species. A human. You crawl on all fours as a baby, walk on two as an adult, and then use a cane as an elder.” “Close, but no. You can use ‘a baby’ for all three.” “Really?” “Allow me to explain: it’s true, a baby crawls on all fours. But, if you cut off two of its legs, it can move around on two. Give it a crutch, and it’ll hobble around on three.” All of the ponies in the library sat with a look of disgusted horror on their faces. Rarity finally spoke up. “How could you ever joke about something so…so...horrid?” “Easy,” Riddler said, smirking. “It’s not my baby."