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The Dynamic Dummy!" Act I: A Pop-Art Predicament

The Gotham City Police Headquarters was bathed in its usual, vibrant neon glow. Commissioner Gordon paced the floor, his brow furrowed so deeply it nearly swallowed his mustache. Chief O’Hara wrung his hands in utter despair.

Suddenly, the Batphone let out its unmistakable, urgent ring. BZZZ-BZZZ! BZZZ-BZZZ!

Gordon lunged for the bright red receiver. "Thank heaven you're there, Batman! It’s the Riddler! He’s struck the Gotham City Toy Museum and left a baffling conundrum!"

Across town, in the cavernous depths of the Batcave, Batman adjusted his cowl, his face a mask of grim determination. "What is the riddle, Commissioner?"

"What has strings but cannot play a tune, yet dances under the light of the moon?"

Beside Batman, Robin—the Boy Wonder—snapped his fingers in his signature green pixie gloves. "Holy Marionettes, Batman! A puppet!"

"Precisely, Robin," Batman said, his voice dripping with measured gravity. "And the moon points to the Gotham Planetarium. To the Batmobile, old chum!"

With a swift slide down the Batpoles, the Dynamic Duo tore out of the Batcave, atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed. They were flying straight into a trap. Act II: The Twisting of the Twine

Inside the darkened Gotham Planetarium, the air was thick with theatrical menace.

"Riddle me this, Batman!" a shrill, manic cackle echoed through the rafters.

Out stepped the Riddler, resplendent in his skintight, question-mark-covered green unitard and a matching bowler hat. Flanking him were three burly henchmen wearing sweaters that simply read GOON.

"Hold it right there, Riddler!" Robin shouted, leaping forward.

"Ah, the Boy Wonder! Always so quick to jump to conclusions—and into my traps!" The Riddler pulled a lever on a bizarre, pastel-colored machine whirring in the corner. "Behold! My Poly-Vinyl Puppet-Ray!"

A blinding flash of magenta light zapped straight into Robin.

ZAP! BANG! CRUNCH!

Batman shielded his eyes. "Robin!"

When the smoke cleared, the Boy Wonder was standing perfectly still. His skin had taken on a glossy, painted wooden sheen. His jaw was detached, held together by visible, tiny silver hinges. Two thin, translucent strings extended from his wrists up into the shadowy ceiling. He was still fully conscious, his eyes wide with horror, but he was entirely a life-like, wooden puppet.

"Holy splinters…" Robin squeaked, his mouth clacking open and shut with a wooden clack-clack-clack.

"You fiend!" Batman cried, stepping forward to defend his ward.

"Ah-ah-ah, Batman!" The Riddler grinned, holding up a small, wooden crossbar controller. "He belongs to my show now. And a puppet must always obey the puppeteer! Robin, standard defensive maneuver alpha—attack!" Act III: The Student Surpasses the Master

Robin’s wooden limbs jerked violently. Against his own will, he flew through the air, propelled by the invisible strings.

"I can't stop myself, Batman!" Robin yelled, his wooden jaw clacking frantically. "Look out!"

POW!

A rigid, wooden fist struck Batman squarely in the utility belt. The Caped Crusader stumbled back, shocked by the sheer density of the mahogany Boy Wonder.

"Fascinating," Batman muttered, recovering his stance. "The cellular density of the puppet transformation has increased your striking mass. But I cannot fight you, Robin!"

"You'll have to, Batman! Because I'm coming in for a flying kick!"

WHACK!

Robin swung like a pendulum from the ceiling, his rigid green boots striking Batman right in the chest. Batman hit the floor, his cape billowing around him. He scrambled for his utility belt. "Perhaps my Bat-Puppet-Retardant Spray…"

"No time for props, Batman!" the Riddler shrieked with glee, twisting the controller.

Robin executed a flawless, gravity-defying flip. Because he was now made of lightweight wood and pulled by strings, he could move faster than any human. He landed on Batman's chest, pinning the Caped Crusader to the floor.

Batman reached up to grapple with him, but Robin's wooden arms were unyielding. With a swift, mechanical jerk of his wrists, puppet-Robin grabbed Batman's Batarang right out of his hands and flung it away.

"Forgive me, Batman!" Robin clacked, as his hands clamped down on Batman's shoulders, pinning him in a textbook wrestling hold that not even the world's greatest detective could break.

"The student… has truly… bested the teacher," Batman gasped, completely immobilized by the rigid, wooden leverage of his sidekick. "Good show, Robin…"

"Hahaha! Victory is mine!" The Riddler danced a jig around the fallen hero. "The Great Batman, defeated by his own wooden dummy! What a joke! What a riddle!" Act IV: A Cliffhanger For the Ages!

With Batman securely pinned by the remorseful but helpless Boy Wonder, the Riddler's goons stepped forward with a large, heavy burlap sack.

"Tie him up, boys! And as for you, my wooden wonder, you’re coming with me to star in my traveling marionette show!" The Riddler cackled, twirling his cane.

Can Batman escape the agonizing grip of his own pine-fresh pal? Will the Riddler turn the entire Gotham City Police Department into a set of wooden dolls? And what will Aunt Harriet say when she finds out Robin needs to be dusted instead of fed?

The Batcomputer traced the flour shipments to the abandoned Gotham Flour Mill on 13th Street.

“Thirteenth Street,” Robin said, bouncing on his toes. “Another baker’s dozen clue!”

Inside, the mill was running. Vats of dough spun. Conveyor belts rolled. And at the center, in a green bowler hat and question-mark apron, stood The Riddler.

“Welcome, Batman!” he cackled. “You’ve arrived just in time for… dessert!”

Before they could move, the floor panels dropped. Batman and Robin plunged into two giant glass mixing bowls. Steel lids slammed shut with a CLANG!

“Riddle me this!” The Riddler shouted through a loudspeaker. “What starts with ‘e’, ends with ‘e’, and contains one letter?”

“Envelope!” Robin yelled.

“Correct! And you’re about to be sealed inside one!” The Riddler pulled a lever. The bowls began to rotate, while nozzles above them hissed. “That’s right — industrial cake batter! In 60 seconds you’ll be Gotham’s largest Twinkies!”

Batman scanned the bowl. “Robin, your Bat-Laser!”

“I… I dropped it in the fall, Batman!” Robin’s voice shook. “Holy half-baked heroes!”

The batter rose to their chins.

ACT II: The Final Clue

The Riddler’s face appeared on a TV monitor inside the bowl.

“Now for my final riddle, Batman. Solve it, and maybe I’ll let you out. Fail… and you’ll be overdone.”

He grinned.

“I have keys but no locks. I have space but no room. You can enter, but can’t go outside. What am I?”

Batman’s mind raced. The batter was at his neck. Robin was already on tiptoe.

“A… a keyboard!” Batman shouted.

The Riddler’s laughter echoed. “BZZZT! Wrong! The answer… is a Riddle! And the only one escaping this is ME!”

With a final KA-CHUNK, the bowls sealed completely. The conveyor belt rumbled, carrying both bowls toward a massive brick oven labeled “The Bat-Bakery 5000”.

EPILOGUE: Just Desserts

That evening, the Gotham Gazette headline read:

RIDDLER SERVES UP DYNAMIC DUO! Batman & Robin Missing, Declared “Done” by Police

At the Gotham Flour Mill, The Riddler stood before the mayor, the commissioner, and a crowd of reporters. He held up two golden-brown, human-shaped cakes on silver platters.

“Behold!” he cried. “I promised Gotham I’d take the cake… and I delivered! The Bat is baked, the Bird is browned, and crime is back on the menu!”

He took a bow as cameras flashed. “And remember, citizens… crime doesn’t pay? Riddle me THAT!”

As the crowd murmured in shock, The Riddler slipped into a green getaway van, honking a horn that played Pop Goes the Weasel. On the passenger seat sat a fresh riddle, addressed to Gotham:

“What’s green, mean, and finally beat the Bat? Yours truly. – E. Nigma”

The van sped off into the night, leaving only crumbs and question marks behind.