Batman Tales #16

The fluorescent lights of Toys R Us hummed, casting a pale glow on the scene. A line of eager children, clutching pastel-colored baskets, snaked through the aisles, their eyes wide with anticipation. It was Easter morning in Gotham City, and despite the city’s reputation, the spirit of the holiday was alive and well, at least within these brightly colored walls. At the front of the line, a slightly oversized Easter Bunny costume bounced nervously, its floppy ears twitching. Even in Gotham, some traditions held strong.

The anticipation in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, the door behind the giant inflatable dinosaur creaked open, and the Easter Bunny emerged! But something was off. The bunny seemed… too tall? Too menacing? Then, with a flourish, the head came off, revealing the sneering face of The Riddler.A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Before anyone could react, he pulled out a brightly colored paint gun, but instead of harmless dye, it was filled with thick, crimson paint. He splattered the horrified children, their Easter outfits now ruined, their screams echoing through the store.

“Riddle me this, kiddies! What’s red and white and crying all over?” The Riddler cackled, then pulled out a bizarre-looking wand. With a flick of his wrist, the display of Talking Care Bears actually came to life. Their sweet voices twisted into menacing growls as they lumbered off the shelves, claws extended, ready to terrorize the children and help The Riddler rob the store. Easter in Gotham had taken a decidedly dark turn.

Sirens wailed in the distance, a familiar soundtrack to Gotham’s Sunday morning. But miles away, at the manicured greens of the Gotham Country Club, a different kind of chaos was brewing. Bruce Wayne, impeccably dressed in golf attire despite the grim set of his jaw, was hosting the annual Easter Golf Tournament. Beside him, Dick Grayson, ever the picture of youthful energy, was attempting to juggle golf balls, failing miserably.

Suddenly, Commissioner Gordon’s car screeched to a halt near the first tee. He leaped out, his trench coat flapping in the wind, his face a mask of urgency. “Wayne! Grayson! We’ve got a situation at Toys R Us. Riddler. Care Bears. It’s… messy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. “I think you two need to see this.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “Care Bears? Gordon, you’re not pulling my leg?” He exchanged a grim look with Dick. “Looks like our golf game is indefinitely postponed.”

Within minutes, the Batmobile, a sleek black beast amidst the pastel Easter decorations, roared out of the country club and sped towards downtown Gotham. As they approached the city center, a new, equally bizarre sight met their eyes. A swarm of Barbie dolls, wielding miniature crowbars and purses overflowing with stolen jewelry, were making their escape from JCPenney. These weren’t your average playthings; they were life-sized, plastic-faced criminals with a surprisingly effective smash-and-grab operation.

“Well, this is just getting weirder,” Robin quipped, adjusting his mask. “Looks like The Riddler’s really outdone himself this time.”

Batman slammed on the brakes, the Batmobile screeching to a halt. “This is escalating quickly,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “Riddler’s gone completely off the rails.”

And there, standing in front of the Mattress Firm, bathed in the flickering orange glow of the growing flames, was Dora the Explorer. But this wasn’t the friendly, map-toting Dora from the TV screen. This Dora was hardened, her usually cheerful expression replaced with a cold, calculating stare. She casually tossed a Molotov cocktail (fashioned, ironically, from a sippy cup) into the store, ensuring the fire would spread. The store, closed for Easter, was now engulfed in flames, the smell of burning mattresses filling the air.

“Dora the Explorer? Setting fires?” Robin exclaimed, incredulous. “What’s next, Blue’s Clues robbing a bank?”

Batman’s gaze narrowed. “This isn’t random. Riddler’s playing a game, and these toys are his pawns. He’s targeting specific locations, creating chaos and misdirection. We need to figure out his endgame, and fast.”

“Blue’s Clues robbing a bank? Don’t give him any ideas, Robin,” Batman muttered, already analyzing the situation. The escalating absurdity was a clear sign that The Riddler was pushing his own boundaries, reveling in the chaos. The toy-themed crime spree was no longer just a series of random acts; it was a carefully orchestrated distraction.

As if on cue, the Bat-Signal flared to life on a nearby rooftop, its beam cutting through the smoke and the faint pastel hues of the Easter decorations. Gordon was summoning them, and Batman knew whatever was happening, it was likely the culmination of Riddler’s twisted game.

Before they could even reach the signal, however, the Batmobile’s scanner blared an alert. “Multiple alarms triggered at the 1st National Bank of Gotham, Robin. And… wait for it… witness reports of a giant, animated Blue’s Clues plush making off with bags of money.”

Batman gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “This is it. Riddler’s endgame. He’s using the chaos to cover something bigger.” He floored the accelerator, the Batmobile roaring towards the bank. “We need to stop him, and fast, before he pulls off whatever he’s really planning.”

Batman’s mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. The toy-themed chaos, the specific targets, the escalating absurdity… it all pointed to one thing: misdirection. Riddler wasn’t just robbing banks and setting fires for the thrill of it; he was using these outlandish crimes to mask a far more elaborate scheme.

“He’s not after money, Robin,” Batman said, his voice grim. “This is about something else entirely. He’s using the chaos to create a smokescreen, to distract us from his real target.”

Robin, his brow furrowed in concentration, chimed in, “But what could be more valuable than all the money in the First National Bank?”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Something that isn’t in the bank yet. Something he needs to get into the bank.” He paused, a chilling realization dawning on him. “The Gotham Depository. That’s it. He’s planning to raid the Gotham Depository.”

The Gotham Depository wasn’t just a bank vault; it was a secure facility beneath the First National Bank, housing some of Gotham’s most valuable and irreplaceable artifacts, documents, and heirlooms. It was a treasure trove, and Riddler was about to make off with the crown jewels.

“He’s using the toys as a distraction, drawing our attention away from the real target,” Batman explained, “While the chaos unfolds above ground, he’s got a team tunneling into the Depository from below. The toys are just a means to an end.”

“Robin, we have to split up. You deal with Blue and the rest of these… animated abominations. Keep them contained, minimize the damage. I’m going after Riddler and his crew in the Depository.” Batman barked, his voice tight with urgency.

Without waiting for a response, Batman activated a concealed compartment in the Batmobile. A high-powered Bat-laser, usually reserved for cutting through reinforced steel, emerged with a low hum. He aimed it with deadly precision at the oversized Blue plush, who was currently stuffing a sack full of cash into a comically oversized doggy bag.

“Sorry, Blue,” Batman growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. “This game is over.” A concentrated beam of energy shot out, vaporizing the bewildered Blue’s Clues plush in a flash of blue light. The remaining money scattered across the street as the now-deflated doggy bag landed with a pathetic thud.

“Don’t worry, Batman, I’ve got this!” Robin called out, launching a grappling hook to swing into action against the remaining animated toys.

Batman, however, had already disappeared into the depths of the First National Bank, determined to stop Riddler’s plan before it was too late.

The air inside the First National Bank was thick with dust and the smell of explosives. Batman, his cape billowing behind him, navigated the labyrinthine corridors with practiced ease, his senses on high alert. He moved silently, a shadow in the dim light, following the faint tremors that vibrated through the floor.

He finally reached the source: a makeshift tunnel leading down into the earth. The sound of drilling and muffled voices echoed from below. With a silent drop, Batman descended into the darkness.

He landed in a damp, cramped space, illuminated by flickering lanterns. At the far end of the tunnel, The Riddler, clad in his signature green suit and bowler hat, oversaw the operation. Beside him stood a hulking figure, a GI Joe action figure brought to life, its plastic face frozen in a perpetual grimace, wielding a jackhammer with surprising force. Several other henchmen scurried around, loading crates with artifacts from the Depository.

“Well, well, well,” The Riddler chuckled, turning to face Batman. “If it isn’t the Dark Knight, crashing my little party. I must say, you’re a bit late to the game, old friend. But don’t worry, I’ve saved you a riddle!”

“Spare me the riddles, Nygma,” Batman growled, his gaze fixed on the villain. “This ends now.” He raised the Bat-laser, its hum growing louder, and aimed it directly at the animated GI Joe. “You’re playing with forces you don’t understand.”

With a swift movement, Batman fired. The laser beam sliced through the air, striking the GI Joe henchman. The plastic figure, caught in the concentrated energy, began to melt and disintegrate, its rigid features contorting into a grotesque caricature before collapsing into a pile of smoking plastic. The other henchmen scattered in terror.

“No matter,” The Riddler said with a sneer, adjusting his bowler hat. “I always knew you’d be a party pooper, Batman.” He signaled to his remaining henchmen. “Get him!”

The henchmen surged forward, but Batman was too quick. He launched a Batarang, disabling the lights, plunging the tunnel into near darkness. He then moved with blinding speed, disarming the henchmen with well-placed strikes, leaving them groaning on the ground.

With the henchmen neutralized, Batman turned his full attention to The Riddler. He charged, his cape swirling around him, a force of nature unleashed.

While Batman battled The Riddler in the depths of the bank, Robin was facing his own bizarre challenges above ground. The remaining animated toys were proving to be surprisingly resilient, their plastic bodies capable of withstanding considerable punishment.

First, he focused on the Barbies, who were attempting to make a getaway in a commandeered ice cream truck. He lured them into an alleyway with the promise of a “discount sale” on designer handbags, then used the Bat-laser (carefully calibrated to avoid collateral damage) to melt their plastic feet, immobilizing them.

Next, he tracked down Dora the Explorer, who was attempting to set fire to a used car dealership. With a well-aimed Batarang, he disarmed her of her Molotov cocktails (now fashioned from energy drink cans) and then, with a quick blast from the Bat-laser, rendered her inanimate once more.

Finally, he confronted the Care Bears, who were wreaking havoc in a nearby park, terrorizing picnicking families. He managed to lure them into a giant bouncy castle, then used the Bat-laser to deflate the castle, trapping them inside a pile of colorful vinyl.

With the animated toys neutralized, Robin contacted Commissioner Gordon, informing him that the streets of Gotham were, once again, safe for Easter.

The two titans of Gotham clashed in the cramped tunnel, a ballet of brutality and brains. Batman, a whirlwind of controlled fury, rained blows upon The Riddler, who dodged and weaved with surprising agility, relying on his intellect and cunning to evade the Dark Knight’s attacks.

“You can’t stop progress, Batman!” The Riddler shouted, his voice echoing through the tunnel. “Gotham needs a little chaos, a little… enigma to keep things interesting!”Suddenly, The Riddler darted towards a hidden alcove and hopped onto a waiting ATV, a high-powered all-terrain vehicle perfect for navigating the narrow tunnels. He revved the engine, the roar deafening, and sped off into the darkness.

Batman, undeterred, quickly located another ATV, identical to the Riddler’s, stashed nearby. He leaped onto the vehicle, ignited the engine, and roared after his quarry, the chase now extending into the subterranean depths beneath Gotham.

The ATV chase was a blur of speed and adrenaline. The tunnels twisted and turned, a claustrophobic maze beneath the city’s foundations. Batman, his senses honed to a razor’s edge, expertly navigated the treacherous terrain, keeping The Riddler just within striking distance.

Suddenly, The Riddler swerved sharply, taking a previously unseen exit ramp. The ATV burst out of the ground and onto the streets of Gotham, narrowly avoiding a collision with a passing taxi. The Riddler, now above ground, sped towards the heart of the city.

As he raced down Main Street, The Riddler reached into his satchel and pulled out a handful of Molotov cocktails. He hurled them with expert precision at a massive billboard advertising Coca-Cola. The billboard, featuring the smiling face of actress Sela Ward, erupted in flames, the iconic logo quickly obscured by a raging inferno.

“A little chaos, a little anarchy!” The Riddler cackled, speeding away into the crowded streets. Batman, hot on his heels, emerged from the underground exit, his expression grim. This wasn’t just about robbery or puzzles anymore; this was personal.

The Riddler, seeing Batman in close pursuit, swerved erratically through the crowded streets, weaving between cars and pedestrians with reckless abandon. He reached into his satchel again, pulling out another Molotov cocktail. This time, he aimed it directly at the Batmobile.

He hurled the flaming bottle with all his might, but Batman, anticipating the attack, swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding the projectile. The Molotov cocktail sailed past the Batmobile and crashed into a nearby Gotham Transit Shelter.

The shelter, made of glass and metal, was instantly engulfed in flames. The heat was intense, the glass shattering and melting. The fire quickly consumed the advertisement plastered on the side of the shelter. The ad featured the faces of actresses Swoosie Kurtz, Patricia Kalember, Julianne Phillips, and Sela Ward, promoting the show “Sisters” on WGOT CBS 12, weekdays at 3 PM. Now, their smiling faces were obscured by flames, the shelter reduced to a burning husk.

“Oops! My bad!” The Riddler called out, his laughter echoing through the streets as he continued his escape. Batman’s jaw tightened. This was no longer just about stopping a robbery; this was about stopping a madman from destroying the city he had sworn to protect.

The Riddler, fueled by manic energy, reached for another Molotov cocktail. This time, he aimed with more precision, but Batman was ready. He swerved the ATV violently, narrowly avoiding the flaming projectile. The Molotov sailed past him and struck a billboard for Gotham’s Recycling Plant.

The billboard, featuring Miss Frizzle and her class from “The Magic School Bus,” promoting the importance of recycling, instantly burst into flames. The children’s smiling faces, meant to inspire environmental responsibility, were quickly consumed by the inferno, the billboard reduced to a charred mess.

The Riddler, however, had been so focused on targeting Batman that he failed to notice the traffic ahead. With a sickening crunch, his ATV collided head-on with a Yamaha motorcycle, sending him flying through the air. The ATV flipped end-over-end, landing in a mangled heap of metal and plastic. The motorcycle, its front end completely destroyed, lay smoking on the asphalt. The Riddler landed hard on the pavement, his signature green suit torn and covered in grime.

The Riddler lay sprawled on the street, groaning in pain. His green suit was ripped, his bowler hat askew, and a trickle of blood ran down his forehead. The chaos he had unleashed was finally over, brought to a screeching halt by his own recklessness.

Batman dismounted his ATV and approached the fallen villain, his expression unreadable. He surveyed the scene: the mangled vehicles, the burning billboards, the scattered debris. The city was a mess, but the immediate threat was neutralized.

Without a word, Batman activated his comms and contacted Gotham EMS. “This is Batman. I need paramedics at the intersection of Main and Elm. One suspect down, multiple injuries. Code 3.”

He then turned his attention back to The Riddler, who was struggling to sit up. “It’s over, Nygma,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble. “Your game is finished.” He waited patiently for the paramedics to arrive, a silent guardian watching over the fallen villain. The Easter chaos had come to an end, but the cleanup was just beginning.

As the sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, Batman watched as the paramedics carefully loaded The Riddler onto a stretcher. His injuries were severe, a testament to the recklessness of his actions. The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently, stabilizing him before rushing him into the back of the ambulance.

With a final glance at the scene, Batman turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the cleanup to the authorities. He knew that The Riddler would face justice for his crimes, but the scars of his chaos would linger on Gotham for some time. The animated toys were deactivated, the fires extinguished, but the memory of the Easter chaos would remain.

The ambulance sped away, its siren a mournful cry in the night, carrying The Riddler to Gotham Medical Center. There, he would undergo emergency surgery, his life hanging in the balance. Whether he survived or not, Gotham had once again been tested, and once again, it had endured. But the question remained: what new threat would emerge from the shadows next?

The aftermath of The Riddler’s rampage left Gotham reeling. While no one had suffered life-threatening injuries, the damage to property was staggering. The burning billboards, the destroyed transit shelter, the looted stores, the damaged vehicles – it all added up to a hefty price tag. Initial estimates placed the cost of repairs at a staggering $1,000,000.

The city would recover, of course. Gotham always did. But the incident served as a stark reminder of the constant threat that loomed over the city, the ever-present danger posed by its colorful rogues’ gallery. The Easter chaos, though bizarre and outlandish, was a stark illustration of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of Gotham’s glittering facade.

Two months passed. The dust settled, the damage was repaired, and Gotham slowly returned to its usual state of uneasy normalcy. The Riddler, however, was not so fortunate. He spent those two months in the prison ward of Gotham Medical Center, recovering from a severe head injury sustained during the motorcycle collision.

His mind, already teetering on the edge of sanity, had been further fractured by the trauma. After extensive evaluations, doctors determined that he was no longer fit to stand trial. He was transferred to Arkham Asylum, where he would receive long-term psychiatric care.

But The Riddler’s troubles didn’t end there. The destruction he had caused had consequences. Actress Sela Ward, outraged by the defacement of her Coca-Cola ad, filed a lawsuit against him, seeking damages for the destruction of her likeness and the tarnishing of her image. The lawsuit promised to be a long and complicated affair, adding to the Riddler’s already considerable woes.