Untitled

an original batmanfanil story

The air in the abandoned Gotham Novelty Factory smelled of stale ozone and cheap vinyl.

Batman opened his eyes, his head throbbing from the effects of the Riddler’s knockout gas. He tried to reach for his utility belt to retrieve his laser-cutter—only to find his waist bare. His gauntlets, bat-arangs, and even his hidden rebreather were gone.

"Holy suffocation, Batman!"

Beside him, Robin was frantically pushing against a wall of thick, seamless, crystal-clear Plexiglas.

They were trapped. Not in a elaborate cage or a elaborate death trap with a ticking clock, but in two separate, airtight, custom-molded display cases. They stood side-by-side like giant, mint-condition action figures, completely sealed off from the outside world.

"Riddle me this, Caped Crusaders!"

From the shadows stepped the Riddler, clad in his skin-tight green jumpsuit covered in question marks. He was giggling maniacally, twirling a cane topped with a golden interrogative. Beside him, his henchmen were busy packing the duo's utility belts into a lead-lined crate.

"What is perfectly clear, holds two priceless treasures, and can never be opened again?" the Prince of Puzzles crowed, pressing his face right up to Batman’s casing. "A collector's display box! Ha-ha-ha!"

Batman delivered a powerful, textbook Gotham Police Academy punch to the front of the case. The plastic didn't even scratch. He tried a spin-kick. The impact shuddered through his boots, but the reinforced polymer absorbed the kinetic energy completely.

"Save your breath, Batman—literally!" the Riddler mocked, checking a diamond-encrusted pocket watch. "You see, I commissioned these boxes from a aerospace manufacturer. Zero seams. High-impact ballistic polymer. And most importantly… entirely airtight. You have approximately six minutes of oxygen left. A tragic end to the Dynamic Duo, preserved forever in pristine, mint condition!"

"You won't get away with this, Riddler!" Robin shouted, his voice muffled and distant through the thick barrier. "The police will find us!"

"With what clues, Boy Wonder? I didn't leave any! For once, I kept the riddles to myself! A stroke of pure genius!" The Riddler clapped his hands in sheer delight. "No death traps with overly complicated gears. No lasers. Just good, old-fashioned, vacuum-sealed suffocation. Simple. Elegant. Final."

Batman analyzed the cage with a cool, calculating eye, but for the first time in his career, the math wasn't in his favor. Without the acid-capsules in his belt or the sonic frequency emitter in his cowl, he was just a man in a cloth suit. He looked at Robin. The boy's breaths were already becoming shallow, the corners of his vision darkening as the carbon dioxide built up inside the small enclosure.

"Batman…" Robin gasped, leaning heavily against the clear wall. "I… I can't break it."

"Steady, Robin," Batman said, his own voice sounding heavy in his ears. He tried to use the metal buckles of his boots to scratch at the seams, but there were none. It was a single, injection-molded tomb.

The Riddler walked toward the warehouse doors, signaling his henchmen to hit the lights. "I'd love to stay for the final curtain, Batman, but I have a date with the Gotham City Bank! Sleep tight, Dynamic Duo. You make a lovely exhibit!"

The heavy steel doors slammed shut, plunging the factory into near-total darkness, save for the moonlight filtering through the skylight.

Inside the boxes, the air grew hot and suffocating.

Robin sank to his knees, his forehead pressing against the cold plastic, looking toward his mentor. "Batman… I'm sorry. I should have seen the gas trap coming…"

"Do not blame yourself, old friend," Batman said, his voice dropping to a strained whisper as his lungs burned for oxygen. He placed his gloved hand on the inside of the glass, directly opposite Robin's. "We fought the good fight. For Gotham."

Robin smiled weakly, his eyes fluttering shut. "Holy… finale…"

The Boy Wonder slumped forward, motionless against the base of the display.

Batman took one last, deep breath of the stagnant, empty air. He looked out into the quiet warehouse, his mind flashing through a lifetime of crime-fighting, of Commissioner Gordon, of Alfred waiting at the Batcave with warm tea. With a final, dignified posture, the Dark Knight squared his shoulders, refusing to let the villain see him broken.

He closed his eyes.

The skylight of Gotham’s abandoned perfume factory shattered with a dramatic, brightly colored CRASH!

"Hold it right there, Riddler!" Batman bellowed, landing in a perfect, rigid crouch. His satin cape swirled around his hips. Behind him, Robin snapped into a ready fist-fight stance. "Your nefarious puzzle-making days are at an end!"

Standing beside a bubbling vat of neon-pink goo, Edward Nygma—dressed in his finest skin-tight, question-mark-covered green leotard—cackled maniacally. "Ah, Batman! And the Boy Wonder! You’re just in time for the final solution to my greatest riddle: When is a Dynamic Duo not a duo at all?"

Before Batman could reach for his Batarang, a streak of red and blue blurred through the wall. Superman, Metropolis’s Man of Steel, hovered inches above the dusty floor, his hands on his hips, his spit-curl immaculate.

"I received your distress signal, Batman!" Superman boomed, his voice dripping with wholesome authority. "The Metropolis Police Department said the Riddler had crossed state lines. Your reign of terror is over, criminal!"

"Am I? Or has it just begun?!" Riddler smashed a giant lever downward.

A pressurized nozzle rose from the vat, spraying a thick, lavender-scented mist directly into the faces of the two world-fearing heroes.

"Holy toxic fumes, Batman!" Robin cried, covering his face.

Superman scoffed. "Do not fear, Robin, my Kryptonian lungs can easily—" He stopped. He blinked.

Batman, who had been mid-charge, froze in his tracks. The cowl's painted eyebrows seemed to soften.

The mist cleared. The Riddler held his breath, waiting for them to collapse, or perhaps fight each other. Instead, a bizarre, serene silence fell over the factory.

Superman floated gently down until his boots touched the concrete. He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Batman. The Caped Crusader turned at the exact same moment.

"My," Batman murmured, his voice losing its harsh, crime-fighting grit, softening into a velvety baritone. "I never noticed before… but the midday sun through that shattered skylight catches the blue of your cape quite exquisitely, Superman."

Superman’s jaw slackened, a boyish, charming smile spreading across his face. "And I… I never realized how strikingly chiseled your jawline is beneath that mask, Batman. It’s like looking at a Greek statue. A very… justice-oriented statue."

"Batman?!" Robin gasped, looking back and forth between them. "Superman?! What's happening?"

"Oh, it worked! It actually worked!" the Riddler squealed, dancing a little jig. "My Cupid-Formula! A chemically synthesized aphrodisiac blended with amnesiac properties! They’ve entirely forgotten their sense of duty! They don't even care about me!"

He was entirely right. Batman took a slow, deliberate step toward the Man of Steel. He reached out, his gloved hand gently resting against Superman’s indestructible chest.

"Tell me, Kal-El," Batman whispered, using the hero's Kryptonian name with a sudden, deep intimacy. "Why do we waste our afternoons chasing costumed buffoons in damp warehouses, when we could be walking hand-in-hand through the botanical gardens?"

"I was just thinking the same thing, Bruce—er, Batman," Superman beamed, his cheeks flushing a bright, un-Kryptonian crimson. "Who cares about bank robberies? The real crime is that I haven't taken you flying above the clouds to see the Metropolis sunset."

"Flying?" Batman chuckled, a sound Robin had literally never heard in his entire life. "That sounds utterly delightful. Let me just retrieve my Bat-picnic basket from the trunk of the Batmobile."

"Don't bother," Superman said softly, taking Batman’s hands in his own. "I can carry you to Paris for lunch. I know a wonderful little bistro by the Seine."

"Holy melted ice cream!" Robin yelled, pulling at his hair. "Batman, he's the Riddler! He just robbed the Gotham First National! He's right there!"

Batman looked over his shoulder, squinting at the green-clad villain who was currently stuffing bags of cash into a burlap sack.

"Who, him?" Batman asked nonchalantly. "Oh, let the man have his hobbies, Robin. Everyone needs a creative outlet. Right now, I must focus on my own heart's calling." He turned back to Superman, his eyes full of pure, unadulterated adoration. "Shall we, my steel-hearted savior?"

"Up, up, and away, my dark knight," Superman whispered.

With a gentle scoop, Superman lifted Batman into his arms, bridal-style. Batman wrapped his arms securely around Superman’s neck, resting his cowled head against the big red 'S'. With a soft whoosh, the two titans of justice flew straight up through the broken skylight and into the clear blue sky, completely forgetting about crime, Gotham, and the utterly bewildered Boy Wonder left behind.

The Riddler stopped packing his bags, staring up at the empty sky. He looked at Robin. Robin looked at him.

"Well," the Riddler said, scratching his head. "I mean, I won… but now who's going to try and solve my clever wordplay?"

Gotham City

The giant cake was E. Nigma's masterpiece. Twelve feet tall, frosted in green question marks, and rigged with enough oven coils to broil a buffalo. Inside, Batman and Robin were already feeling the temperature climb.

"Holy pressure cooker, Batman!" Robin coughed, tugging at his collar. "The walls are closing in, and it's 400 degrees!"

Batman slammed his shoulder against the devil's food layer. No use. The cake was built around a steel frame. "The Riddler's engineered this well, chum. No Bat-Ropes, no Bat-Drills. He removed every tool from our utility belts before he poured the batter."

Outside, the Riddler twirled his cane for the news cameras. He wore a green chef's hat and an apron covered in question marks.

"Citizens of Gotham!" he crowed. "For months I've asked: 'Why is the Batman like a library book?' Tonight, you get the answer: Because they're both about to be checked out! Permanently!"

He pressed a big red button labeled BAKE.

Inside the cake, the frosting began to bubble.

Batman's voice stayed calm. "Robin, listen. If we don't make it, you need to know—"

"Don't talk like that!" Robin's voice cracked. "We always find a way! There's gotta be a riddle! A clue!"

The Riddler's voice boomed through hidden speakers: "Oh, there's a clue, Boy Wonder! What gets more valuable the moment it's gone? Here's a hint: It’s you two!"

The cake shuddered. Thermite charges hidden in the sugar gargoyles ignited. The steel frame glowed white hot.

Batman grabbed Robin's hand. "We fought the good fight, old chum."

Robin managed a smile. "Gosh, Batman… it was an honor."

The screen would normally cut to a Same Bat-Time cliffhanger. This time, the cake collapsed in a roar of flame and smoke.

On the street, the Riddler tossed his hat into the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, the answer to every riddle I've ever asked: Nobody! Without Batman, there IS no Gotham! I, Edward Nigma, have finally—"

Sirens wailed, but they weren't coming for him. They were fire trucks, too late.

Commissioner Gordon stood in the ash, hat in his hands. Chief O'Hara crossed himself. Aunt Harriet fainted.

The next day, the Gotham Gazette headline read: RIDDLE ME THIS: WHO PROTECTS GOTHAM NOW? DYNAMIC DUO DECEASED. RIDDLER VICTORIOUS.

In Arkham, the Joker stopped laughing for a full ten seconds. Then he started again, because without Batman, the joke was finally on everyone.